World Refugee Day

Today is World Refugee Day. The New Testament reading set for Morning prayer today is Acts 27:1-12, in which we hear part of an account of Paul undertaking a long, complicated, and perilous sea journey. He has left his own country, his own people, because there are those there who seek to take his life on account of his religious beliefs. He is trying to get to Rome, where he hopes that he will receive a fair hearing, and the possibility of a fresh start. As it happens, he will not; and, ultimately, he will lose his life in the place where he hoped for welcome and refuge. It is an incredibly pertinent reading for today.

The reading from Acts is paired by the Lectionary with an Old Testament reading from Deuteronomy 11:1-15. The Israelites, whom God brought out of Egypt and has journeyed through the wilderness of the Sinai peninsula with for a generation, are on the cusp of crossing the Jordan into the land promised to their ancestors. What really comes across is how much the Lord their God loves this land, and wants to share it with people who will love it as much as the Lord does. Who will notice it, cherish it, tend it—honour the way in which it will resist being enslaved and domesticated, but will share its bounty with a people who will love it?

Later, God will temporarily remove this people from the land—as God temporarily removes various other people who have settled there—when they fail to love the land. It is not possession, nor even birth right (even if God has intended to share it) but gift. And it is gift extended to a community of homeless, stateless refugees.

As I reflect on the tide of humanity fleeing the lands of their birth in the face of oppression, and seeking a place of welcome, I wonder, are those who truly love this land willing and able to share that love, in the hope that new arrivals will come to love it also?

The evidence of truly loving a country includes being able to name any lack of love, of heart and soul, for what it is. And taking delight in making room for others to come in from their displacement, their wilderness years.

May this city be a city of sanctuary. And may we delight in introducing others to it: to the river that cuts through it, spilling out at the harbour; to its green and hidden spaces; its beaches; its built and cultural heritage. May those who have no home find a home, here.