A Lack of Economic Viability

So, as of Friday, we’re handfeeding two orphaned lambs, Esau and Jacob. Esau has a hairy face and Jacob’s behaviour is occasionally suspect, or so Fiona reckons, although there is no indication that Esau will be trading any of his milk any time soon.
We made the decision to keep them despite some pragmatic, hard-nosed advice from a friend, so we now have our mornings and evenings scheduled for a while. At the moment Jacob and Esau remain unconvinced about bottle feeding and need to be fairly firmly encouraged. The “aren’t they cute” rhetoric will soon fade and we will be able to contemplate more enjoyable ways of spending our time.
The vocation of ministry has a great deal of appeal to many of us and the joys of being part of care, of justice, of reconciliation, are significant. Often and often ministry is like every other job, salted by tedium and frustration and illegible results. No surprises there.
If we try to measure the role of ministry by economic viability we are wasting our time. The market finds it difficult to measure the efforts of justice, the role of the carer who sits listening for hours at a time, the preacher who offers hope to a congregation of two hundred, or amongst a gathering of two or three.
The Commission for Audit has just released its Report and many of the issues addressed within are critical for conversation and action. There will be arguments for economic expedience and the role of the market economy; there will be voices raised from all corners about budgets and taxes and “entitlement”.
How will we find our way in the hullabaloo? What does it mean for us that some elements of our society, like health and education, are never going to be “viable” in the economic marketplace? How do we find our place when pragmatic elements vie with voices of compassion? It is rarely as simple as one way or the other.
Jesus calls the disciples for the umpteenth time, inviting Peter three more times to respond to his call: Do you love me, do you love me, do you love me?
Yes.
And without a breath of hesitation, Jesus invites Peter each time to care for Jesus’ people. No doubt he was offered some hard-nosed advice, and some of those for whom he cared needed some convincing, and there would often be little return on investment made.
Perhaps Peter found his way because of the initial investment from the dominant shareholder – everything God had, for all of us, for always.