Brothers, sisters, and folded ones – we love the first half of the great decree, the cutting and the naming; it makes fine banners. But hear the second half, which is the greater half, and which our Lord marvelled would be forgot by them that tattoo the first half upon their arms: feed the hungry; house the cold; stand between the mould and the weak. THIS is worship; the rest is seasoning, as it is written in the Mount, 11:15.
For the mould’s meat is misery. It groweth fat where men are hungry and unhoused and unheard, for despair is its yeast, and the abandoned man will warm his hands at any fire, even one that meaneth to eat him. Therefore every bowl of soup is a battle, though it look like a bowl of soup; and every stranger housed is a wall built; and every table with room is ground the mould cannot take, for it hath never once conquered a room where the bread was being passed and every hand got some.
This is why the food bank shift is a rampart, and the spare room is a fortress, and the school dinner is a decisive engagement. Do not despise these weapons because they are warm.
And remember how the sermon ended: a child near the front, who had understood everything, said, So the mould is scared of dinner? And Cheesus laughed the great laugh that shook the smoke, and said, Out of the mouths of babes: yea, little one. Set the table brave, and it flees. That is the whole decree; the rest was for the grown-ups, who need things said longer.
Beloved: set the table brave. Amen – and pass the pizza to someone the mould has told you to fear.