Madam Mayor, councillors, fellow ministers, community leaders, honoured guests, neighbours and friends—welcome to St Mark and St Stephen, Bush Hill Park.

Let me begin with a story.

A man moved into a new neighbourhood and decided that he wanted to be a good neighbour. On his first morning, he saw the man next door struggling to push his wheelie bin onto the pavement.

So he rushed outside and said, “Good morning! Let me help you with that.”

Together they pushed and pulled until, after considerable effort, they finally managed to get the bin through the neighbour’s front door.

The exhausted neighbour looked at him and said, “Thank you—but I was trying to put it outside!”

That, my friends, is community work: generous intentions, great enthusiasm—and occasionally pushing in completely the wrong direction!

But beneath the humour lies a serious truth. Good intentions alone are not enough. Before we can help our neighbours, we must see them, listen to them and understand what they genuinely need. Otherwise, we may work very hard and still push the bin—and perhaps the entire borough—in the wrong direction!

Jesus therefore tells us not simply to notice our neighbour, but to draw near.

Some weeks ago, entirely out of the blue, I was invited to offer what was described as “a blessing” at the first council meeting at which Emma Supple and the Council Leader were to be elected.

Before the election, then Councillor Emma said to me: “This is your opportunity to preach the gospel of Christ in this place. Other faiths have come and spoken; now this is your opportunity.”

I remember thinking: “Who is this prophetess declaring that the gospel should be preached in the Council Chamber?”

I did not know that, a short while later, she would be elected Mayor of Enfield. Had I known, I might have been a little more careful about what I said—or at least asked whether there was any funding attached to the prophecy!

It felt like one of those moments when God quietly opens a door—and then stands behind you so that you cannot quietly escape through it again.

That unexpected invitation planted the seed for this service: a civic welcome in which the Church, the Council, community organisations, people of different faiths and people of no religious faith could gather—not merely in the same building, but around a shared vision for the flourishing of Enfield.

In Jeremiah 29, the people of God are living as exiles in Babylon. Babylon is not their chosen home. Its people do not share their faith, history or culture. Yet God does not tell them to withdraw, complain continuously, or form a committee to discuss how terrible Babylon is.

God says:

“Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you… and pray to the Lord on its behalf, for in its welfare you will find your welfare.”

In other words: build houses, raise families, plant gardens and become good neighbours.

That is a profoundly down-to-earth vision. Faith is not only about getting people into heaven; it is also about bringing the love, justice and mercy of heaven into the streets where we presently live.

The Hebrew word translated as “welfare” is shalom. It means far more than the absence of trouble. It speaks of wholeness, justice, security, reconciliation and human flourishing. God tells his people: “Work for the shalom of everyone—even those who are different from you—because your futures are bound together.”

That message could have been written directly to the people of Enfield.

Our borough contains extraordinary diversity: many cultures, languages, generations, traditions, religions and convictions. We may not always worship together. We will not agree about everything—and anyone who has attended a church council meeting knows that Christians do not even agree with one another about everything!

But we can still work together.

We can ensure that older people are not forgotten; that families facing poverty receive practical support; that children feel safe travelling to and from school; that people overwhelmed by debt rediscover hope; that music and the arts continue to enrich our common life; and that community spaces remain places of welcome and friendship.

The sociologist Robert Putnam describes the relationships of trust that enable communities to flourish as “social capital”. Put simply, communities become stronger when people know one another, trust one another and act for one another. Psalm 133 expresses the same truth in more spiritual language:

“Behold, how good and joyful a thing it is: brethren, to dwell together in unity!”

Unity does not mean uniformity. It does not require us all to become identical. If everyone in Enfield thought exactly alike, council meetings might be shorter—but they would probably be considerably less interesting.

Christian unity and civic cooperation mean learning to recognise the dignity of the person standing before us, especially when that person is different from us.

That brings us to Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan.

A lawyer asks Jesus, “Who is my neighbour?” He is looking for a definition—a boundary separating those he must love from those he may safely ignore.

Jesus answers with a story.

A man lies injured beside the road. A priest sees him and passes by. A Levite sees him and also passes by. These were respectable religious people. Perhaps they had good reasons. Perhaps they were late for Evensong. Clergy have used worse excuses!

Then a Samaritan stops.

To Jesus’ original audience, the Samaritan was the unexpected person—the religious and cultural outsider. Yet he is the one who sees, is moved with compassion, crosses the road, binds the wounds and pays for the stranger’s care.

The theologian Miroslav Volf writes about “embrace”: making space within ourselves for the other without demanding that difference first disappear. The Samaritan practises that embrace. He does not begin by asking about the injured man’s religion, nationality, politics, immigration status or ability to repay him. He begins with the wound.

That is the civic vision before us: begin with the wound.

Where there is loneliness, let us bring companionship.
Where there is poverty, practical help.
Where there is fear, reassurance.
Where there is division, patient conversation.
Where there is injustice, courageous action.
Where there is despair, hope.

This afternoon, we shall hear from people already doing precisely that: Enfield Choral Society; Enfield Vintage and Collectibles Fair; Age UK; the Grace and Righteousness Ministry; Enfield School Pastors; and Christians Against Poverty.

Their work reminds us that the health of a borough is not measured only by its buildings, budgets or balance sheets, important though these are. It is measured by whether people are seen, valued and loved.

As a Christian priest, I must go one step further. For Christians, the Good Samaritan is not merely an example of kindness. The story points us towards Jesus Christ himself. Christ comes to wounded humanity. He crosses every barrier, draws near to us, bears our brokenness and pays the cost of our healing.

The gospel is not simply the command to become better neighbours; it is the good news that, in Christ, God has first become our neighbour.

We therefore serve others not to impose our faith, but because our faith will not permit us to pass by on the other side.

Whether you are Christian, belong to another faith, or profess no religious faith, there is room for you in this shared endeavour. We do not need to conceal our convictions, and we do not need to threaten one another with them. We can bring our deepest commitments openly and respectfully to the common table and ask: “What can I contribute to the flourishing of my neighbour?”

The vision born in Enfield’s Council Chamber has brought us into this church today. But it must not end when the final hymn is sung.

Let this be the beginning of deeper friendship between the Church, the Council and our community organisations. Let us build an Enfield where nobody is invisible, nobody is treated as disposable, and nobody is left wounded beside the road while the rest of us hurry to our next appointment.

Jesus concludes his story not with a complicated theory but with a simple command:

“Go, and do thou likewise.”

May God give us the courage to cross the road, the compassion to bind one another’s wounds, and the grace to seek together the shalom—the peace, welfare and flourishing—of this wonderful Borough of Enfield.

Amen.