“Why do we fast, but you do not see?
Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?”
Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day,
and oppress all your workers …
… Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
[Isaiah 58.1-12]

At the heart of every Christian community resides the act of worship.

Worship may be our simple act of prayer, which draws us to God and to each other, or a full liturgical movement of scripture, song and silence, prayer, proclamation and our opportunity to respond to the invitation of God. Worship turns our attention – and our hearts – toward God, In hope and appreciation.

One of our church’s ancestors, John Wesley, saw holy communion as a “converting ordinance”, where people’s hearts are changed by the articulate presence of Christ in bread and wine.

Our more recent forebears, when crafting the Basis of Union, spoke almost entirely of worship as wedded to witness and service. The clear intent is to assert that each element is affected by, and affects, each other.

Our God of the Hebrew Scriptures speaks through Isaiah to challenge the worshipping community, time and again. Isaiah’s song is drawing towards its conclusion. This wonderful piece of poetry and prophecy speaks to the heart of his community, and to each which has heard these words since.

There is a profound resonance with faith communities even now. as we enquire of God as to why our community hasn’t flourished; alternatively, we wonder how our discipleship appears to remain unchanged, even as our attendance grows.

Isaiah’s community remonstrates with God. God replies that their worship and their fasting, even the questions they are asking, arise solely from self-interest. “Our worship, our fasting, our humility” are all styles with which we are accustomed, in our contemporary world where self-interest is lauded and preyed upon – for marketing, for elections, for “salvation”.    

When Jesus is asked about the greatest commandment, his answer defines our lives and, thus, our worship. True worship is when we turn to God, and are attuned to our neighbours.  

We can fast all we like, but if our neighbour remains hungry, what does it mean? We can confess, hear forgiveness and pass the peace, but what if we still refuse to forgive? If our employees remain unfairly paid, if our neighbours are persecuted for their faith, or their race, or their sexuality, what does it matter if we raise our hands in worship and kneel for bread and wine?

We know that worship, witness and service are bound together. When they are separated, they risk becoming the empty actions of self-congratulation.

When we worship, we turn our lives to Jesus Christ, and the world for which Christ died. As such, we serve that world, with bread and justice and hope. We bear our witness in our bodies and our words, a witness articulated in the bread we offer to all who hunger.

In turn, our worship is transformed by the stories and the lives which return to us from our witness and our service. Wesley’s converting ordinance is not constrained by liturgy, or church walls; it is discerned when we share our bread with those who are hungry, when we welcome the homeless and when we clothe those in need with garments and dignity.

Salt for the earth. Light for the world. Flavoured and illumined by the risen, crucified Christ.