There’s a book on my shelf called The Gecko’s Foot. It’s a fascinating read, all about how the wonders of nature have inspired scientists and engineers in developing new technologies and clever ways of solving everyday problems.

Chapter two is about self-cleaning windows - glass that doesn’t get dirty because it repels water so completely and so well that any dirt on the surface is entirely washed away every time it rains. (Good news for everyone except window cleaners!) It’s a system that works through a particular micro-texturing of the glass’s surface, reverse-engineered from the effect visible on certain plant leaves. In particular, the inspiration was drawn from the leaves of the giant lotus, though it is not unique to that plant. You may have seen the effect: that perfect little ball - almost like quicksilver - sitting on a leaf after it has rained. Plants (and other materials) that exhibit this behaviour are collectively known as 'hydrophobic'. Literally, of course, that means ‘the fear of water’ - but obviously, neither the plants nor the windows are actually afraid. More practically, it means ‘repelling water’. Water just can’t get in; it is pushed away and rolls off, unaffected by the plant, and, in turn, unable to affect the plant. I think that’s a really useful reframing of the word fragment -phobic, particularly when we consider our churches, our communities of faith. It’s a reframing that shifts the focus from our attitudes and feelings to our behaviours and interactions. If, for instance, I were to ask, ‘In what ways is our church -phobic?’ I’m suddenly not asking, ‘Whom do we hate?’ but ‘Whom do we repel?’ That is, ‘Who are the people who sense they may not be welcome - who can’t be “absorbed” into this community, and instead roll away without the joy and benefits of knowing us, and us knowing them?’ Unfortunately, that is the experience some people have of churches, for a sadly huge variety of reasons. It could be due to a safeguarding failure; a comment in a sermon; an unkind word or behaviour experienced or witnessed; a child tutted at for being a child; an expectation that they should look, dress, or behave a certain way; a refusal of the church to recognise their way of loving through the sacrament of marriage; canons that mean we can only 'legally' offer wheat bread and alcoholic wine at communion; a building with no level access; a difficulty parking, using a toilet, or changing a child… You get the idea (and then some). It shouldn't be this way. Surely, if we're called to make the grace of God known, we should be doing everything we can to remove or mitigate the barriers we place in the way? Even when it makes us uncomfortable? Even, maybe, when it brushes up against our fears? Among other things, that’s what I see in our readings this week (Colossians 3.12–17 and John 19.25–27). ‘Bear with one another… clothe yourselves in love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony’ in Colossians calls us to build a community in which all are welcome, safely held by each other, and supported to grow in grace and love. Again, in the gospel reading, we see that same concern in Jesus, as he ensures his mother will be included in a community after his death. Literally as he's dying, his thought isn’t for his own safety or comfort but for those he loves - that they might still be welcomed home.

We might think these are self-evident truths, and we may want to reassure ourselves that, of course, we're welcoming. But this can't always be something passive or implied. There are some parts of our society - some groups and individuals- for whom we need to make that welcome overtly clear, because the narrative and experience they know tells them otherwise. We may believe everyone is welcome, but unless that ‘everyone’ believes it as well, then it doesn't really matter. So I ask you to join me in making our PCC’s objective of making our church as inclusive as it can be a reality - so that whoever you are, wherever you've been, whatever you've done, you know, when you step through the door, that you've been welcomed home into the love of God and invited to take your next steps with him. Look again, notice anew, and value afresh the things that say that—that give the reassurances that are needed. And particularly, please, notice if anything is missing, if anyone is being repelled, and let me know so we can do something about it together.

Remember, God loves you; and he loves everyone else as well!