Yesterday they came. I thought at first they must be nuts. Then I realised they were bananas, and Fairtrade bananas at that.

One takes such things in one's stride, of course, even if they seem somewhat unconventional. One moment, all was as normal: Emily and Richard busy in the kitchen, Annabel and I in the office, and various customers seated at their tables enjoying Fairtrade coffee and cake - Stan, Simon and Patrick among them. The next moment, two bananas arrived to check out our credentials. (Which are, of course, as near impeccable as we can manage.) They came as part of the Fairtrade Fortnight campaign to raise awareness of Fairtrade.

Our consciousness of where our food comes from has already been raised by concerns over horsemeat, DSM and MSM. Cheap food comes at the cost of eating...we know not what, and are horrified when we find out. 

Fairtrade (http://www.fairtrade.org.uk) highlights a different but related issue. It urges us not to put cheap food above the needs and rights of those who produce it. It's about proper prices, decent working conditions, local sustainability, and fair terms of trade for farmers and workers in the developing world. Not so they can exploit us, but so we (and the middlemen) don't exploit them. It secures the long-term future of individuals and communities, and reduces reliance on aid projects.

The Fairtrade vision 'is of a world in which justice and sustainable development are at the heart of trade structures and practices so that everyone, through their work, can maintain a decent and dignified livelihood and develop their full potential.' Surely that's an integral part of loving our neighbour as we love our own self, and worth paying a little more to achieve.

The Fairtrade Foundation works with businesses, churches, other community groups and individuals in order to achieve its aims. Leamington achieved Fairtrade Town status in 2006 (Coventry Diocese and All Saints' Leamington Spa were already committed to Fair Trade), and since then there has been significant progress nationally with the Fairtrade cause. But for many individuals, opting for non-Fairtrade products remains a real temptation: often they're cheaper, and sometimes it's down to personal preference. Some of these products may have been produced under terms and conditions which we'd feel comfortable with, but others will not have been. Checking for the Fairtrade label reassures our conscience and helps us to fulfil part of the calling expressed by the prophet Micah: to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God.

Today, I have an earworm I'd like to share. It's the hymn tune Gwalchmai,  written by J D Jones (1827-1870) for George Herbert's poem, 'King of glory, king of peace, I will love thee.'

George Herbert died on this day in 1633, just short of his fortieth birthday. He came from an aristocratic Welsh family, and his early career was illustrious. He went to Westminster School and Cambridge, became a Fellow of Trinity College, Public Orator in the University, and then an MP. 

He was made Deacon in 1626 and ordained Priest in 1630, taking the living of Bemerton just across the water-meadows from Salisbury. He was considered saintly and diligent in parish duties, but had ample time to devote himself to writing and poetry.

Most of his poems were published posthumously in 1633 in a volume entitled 'The Temple'. Some remain familiar, 'Teach me, my God and King' and 'Let all the world in every corner sing' among them. But the collection is far more substantial. The themes and the layout of the poems represent the layout and purpose of a church building. 

He also wrote 'A Priest to the Temple, or the Country Parson', a handbook for clergy published in 1652. It gives us an idealised picture of the priest's role and way of life in a society very different from our own. It has been influential in shaping public perceptions of how clergy should be, not always helpfully - what is appropriate and achievable in a tiny 17th-century community in an hierarchical society is not necessarily appropriate and achievable today!

Herbert's poem Lent includes the following stanza. It encourages us to do our best in walking the way of faith, striving as far as we are able; and striving too to live lives which are holy.

It's true, we cannot reach Christ's forti'eth day; 
Yet to go part of that religious way, 
Is better than to rest: 
We cannot reach our Saviour's purity; 
Yet we are bid, 'Be holy ev'n as he, '
In both let's do our best.

'Humankind's wounds, those huge sores that litter the world, do not stop at the blue and red lines drawn on maps. Wherever men go in ignorance or despair, wherever women sell themselves for bread, wherever children lack a book to learn from or a warm hearth, Les Miserables knocks at the door and says: "open up, I am here for you".'

So wrote Victor Hugo, who was born on this day in 1802. His novel, one of the longest ever written, resulted from over thirty years reflecting on the issues of poverty and injustice he observed around him. Within hours of publication of the first instalment, it had sold out; the social issues he highlighted became matters of public concern and the French Government was compelled to consider them.

In the Preface he wrote, 'So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation, which, in the face of civilization, artificially creates hells on earth, and complicates a destiny that is divine with human fatality; so long as the three problems of the age—the degradation of man by poverty, the ruin of women by starvation, and the dwarfing of childhood by physical and spiritual night—are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible; in other words, and from a yet more extended point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, books like this cannot be useless.'

Perhaps his current popularity - and that of his near-contemporary across the Channel, Charles Dickens - can be attributed to the unease today about the divisions in society and the impact this has upon the poorest. William Beveridge, then Director of the London School of Economics, produced a report in 1942 at the request of the Government. He identified five social evils which the Welfare State would seek to address: want, disease, ignorance, squalor, and idleness. In 2010, Professor Danny Dorling of Sheffield University Department of Human Geography identified five new social evils which perpetuate injustice and inequality: elitism, exclusion, prejudice, greed and despair (Injustice: why social inequality persists, Policy Press). His research indicates that our society is more unequal today than at any time since 1854, when Dickens wrote Hard Times; and that 25% of educational spending goes on the most privileged 7% of children.

Hugo lost his Catholic faith (and his Royalist leanings) in the face of a corrupt and worldly Church which was keen to perpetuate the status quo. Nevertheless he served humanity well, putting his own self-interest to one side in the pursuit of the best for all the people of his country.

The challenge before us today is to look afresh to the interests of others, resonating with the concerns raised by writers in the area of social justice, and doing whatever lies within our power to bring equality, inclusion, acceptance, generosity and hope. Such things lie at the very heart of the Gospel - and of God.

Pounding footsteps. Shaking earth. Heavy breathing. A glimpse of Lycra, water bottle, sweatband. I brace myself so as not to get caught in the slipstream as another jogger passes, sylphlike or otherwise. Mostly otherwise.

Who could forget last summer's Olympics, as Usain Bolt consolidated his reputation as the fastest recorded man ever?

Or the exploits of the Blade Runner, Oscar Pistorius, whose fame for speed and determination may yet give way to notoriety in the face of the most serious and tragic of allegations?

Running is one of the most basic of sports. It can be done without special equipment, alone or in the company of others. It developed as a sport out of necessity: runners escaping danger, runners carrying messages, runners hunting food or chasing enemies. Notwithstanding the wisdom of Ecclesiastes - 'The race is not to the swift' (9.11) - we're firmly of the opinion that faster really is better. The first to complete the distance wins.

St Paul used running as an illustration: 'Do you not know that in a race all the runners compete, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it' (1 Corinthians 9.24). Winning a race doesn't just happen. It requires dedication, self-discipline, focus, and the time and effort of training. The very things needed for true discipleship.

But what does it mean to win in St Paul's terms? Surely 'all who call upon the name of the Lord will be saved' without difference or degree? It's not really a competition, is it?

St Paul continues: 'Athletes exercise self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one.' It's clear from uses of the word elsewhere by St Paul that the 'imperishable wreath' isn't so much our own salvation or glory or reward, but the people who make up the Church. The prize we aspire to is the commitment of other people to Christian faith in a world of competing faiths and ideologies. The other running teams are secular humanists, Buddhists, pagans, Muslims, political activists of varying shades, anarchists, and so on.

That's not about coercion, or crusades, or moralising, or seeking the reigns of power in the world. It's about living out our faith as if we really mean it; living out our faith in such a way that others find it appealing. Our willingness to listen and to love, to give and to receive, to belong together in community and to worship and serve are the hallmarks by which others will recognise our authenticity - and be attracted by a faith which is genuine, compelling and profound.

'Promises are all very well. What are you going to do about my future?'

In such terms, Abram (later renamed Abraham) questioned God in a vision (Genesis 15).

Perhaps Abram then woke and felt unable to settle. Perhaps he needed space to think, outside the confines of his tent. In any event, he realised that it was God who'd led him outside; God who'd turned his gaze upwards to contemplate the night sky.

And in that contemplation, the answer came. His future was assured; his descendants would be as numerous as the stars shining brightly above him. He knew for sure that God was speaking, and he believed what God was saying.

I can relate to that, and vouch for the significance of contemplation. Years ago, at a time of considerable uncertainty, I spent a few days away on retreat. A very similar question to Abram's was on my mind. 'What are you going to do about my future?' I asked God. 'What do you want me to do about my future?'

Answers were elusive until I went out into the grounds of the retreat house for a quiet, thoughtful walk. It was December. Chilly gusts of wind sent clouds racing across the sky above me. The beech hedge rustled and rattled, its dry, shrivelled leaves clinging on to the branches as if afraid to let go.

God spoke to me. Don't cling. Don't put your trust in worldly securities. You'll be sucked dry, lifeless, purposeless; just an empty noise.

I walked on. There before me was a compost heap: thousands of leaves, damp. black and rotting. Was that my destiny?

God spoke to me again. The answer was no.

Then a great gust of wind tore through the garden, bearing a shower of leaves like sailing-boats on a stormy sea. Trusting in the wind, travelling where it took them, they seemed alive and free. 'Trust me,' said God. 'The future's in my care.'

Storm Leaf
Whisper your fragile mystery, crisp wisp,
Cocoon of cool in summer, fierce fall-fire:
Death's rattle now curtails your desire.
Your shrivelled secrets shiver, beechen swing
Clasped fearful-fast; but me? I will not cling.

Silence your sodden sleep in leaf-pall deep
Moist melancholy! Earth to earth unfold.
Vivid departs: your hue of red, green, gold
Extinguished; now with winter slumber blessed
To clay decay; but me? I know no rest.

Exultant shout, sing out, spread spinnaker
Surfing the storm-wind, Spirit-tossed, star-set:
Journey the hidden breath divine, nor fret
At risk, uncertainty; let God enthrall
Your soaring soul; and me? That is my call.

There's a great deal of affluence in Leamington Spa. But there are also many households in which money is tight - not for luxuries, but for basics such as food and heating.

Nevertheless, last week's news report that over a quarter of children in Brunswick Ward are living in poverty is a shocking statistic. 

Local churches are already working to establish a food bank, and in the meantime the Leamington Christian Mission (Steph & Geoff) and their helpers continue their less formal work  of handing out food and other essentials to the needy. That's important - but is it enough?

There are a number of issues to reflect on here. The first is the impact of austerity, which falls disproportionately on those living on low incomes. You've probably noticed the steep increases in the price of basic food, electricity, gas and petrol over the last year or so, and those increases are likely to be followed by further price rises as the pound devalues. For people on low incomes, redundancy or occasional unexpected bills can lead very quickly to cold, hunger, or debt. Such stresses increase the risk of family breakdown, with further serious consequences. Jesus taught clearly that in serving the needs of others, we serve him (Matthew 25), and in failing to serve the needs of others, we fail to serve him. So what is an appropriate response from us to the needs of the poor?

Secondly, politicians and the right-wing media have been working hard to drive a wedge between those who receive benefits and those who pay for them through their taxes. Doubtless there is room for greater self-reliance in some quarters, but that's only a tiny part of a much larger and more complex picture in which the whole of society is implicated. The vast discrepancies between the incomes of the rich and the incomes of those in poorly-paid work undermine social cohesion and contentment. The mechanisation of farming followed by the closure of factories and mines has reduced job opportunities for the educationally less able.  We won't enjoy true community or long-term social stability unless we all feel we have a decent share in society and the opportunity to belong fully and to matter. The ministry of Jesus was notable in affirming the marginalised and despised people of his time and including them in his Kingdom: the sick, the poor, the outcast. What does it mean for us to work for a truly inclusive society?

The Living Wage Foundation claims that a realistic wage is at least £7.45 per hour - significantly higher than the minimum wage of £6.19. It has the support of organisations including Save the Children, politicians including Boris Johnson and Ed Miliband, and various forward-thinking businesses. As a society, surely we should pay people sufficient to live on through their work. Put yourself in the place of the recipient in the photo above: what would it do to your self-esteem, confidence and ability to achieve if your low income made you reliant on handouts?

The Trussell Trust currently runs a network of more than 300 food banks nationwide, and estimates that a further 300 are needed. It expects a quarter of a million people to receive food through the food banks this year. The executive chairman said earlier this week 'We would like to see food banks everywhere, but want to see far fewer people needing them far less often.'

Handouts are not enough. They're necessary for many in the short term and for a few over the long term, but they can do no more than ameliorate child poverty. The challenge to the Church is to look more deeply into the underlying social needs. It may be that a mix of responses is needed: family support, mentoring, after-school clubs, childcare, parental training, and so on. How can we discern and address the needs on our own doorstep so that the current generation of children grows up with a better quality of life and a true sense of belonging?

Generosity. Kindness. An excellent listener. Good with children. These were among the tributes paid to Rita at her memorial service this afternoon, which I conducted at Holy Trinity. She was well into her 80s before I met her: a tiny, frail figure bent almost double. My predecessor's predecessor's predecessor wrote that he remembered her as tall and gracious.  But whilst her physique had changed with age, her astute mind, learning, faith, and character remained.

It's a great tribute to her that although her peer group has largely died out - she was born in 1916 - some 80 or so people gathered to remember her with thanksgiving. She touched other peoples' lives, and those people wanted to pay their respects.

What are the characteristics for which you will, one day, be remembered? What would you like to be remembered for, and by whom? It's a good discipline every so often to reflect upon such matters - not in terms of unattainable dreams or fantasies, but in terms of aspirations which we can strive for. Most virtues require an effort of the will for the first few years or even decades, but eventually the habits are formed and they become part of ourselves (subject, of course, to the times we let ourselves down, which we all experience). The £10 note seems terribly large when we first give one away, especially if we can ill afford to do so. But over time, the habit of generosity grows within us such that we'd rather give than grasp. Going out of our way for someone else feels inconvenient at first, something which merits a reward, but over time that changes: it becomes second nature to be attentive to others. And it's interesting that as we learn our way towards generosity and kindness, we also find ourselves more open and ready to receive what others give and do for us. As my late father used to say, 'It's more blessed to give than to receive - so why deny someone else a blessing?' 

This Lent, look in the mirror at the person you are. Look again to discern the person you'd like to be, the person others will remember. And by prayer and self-discipline gain the bearings, the inspiration and the motivation you need in order to become the person you should be.

Old-fashioned workshops are fascinating places. I visited this one today to collect a newly repaired item, and as always warmed to the location: numerous tools in perhaps the same place as they were a hundred years ago; more tools and all sorts of other items scattered across heavy workbenches; pools of bright light illuminating work in progress; artisans focused on the work in hand; the gentle hiss of a burner; an indescribable smell. It's a step back in time to a more human, personal, one might say hand-crafted era - and a photographer's paradise too!

Out of this place, so full of character, emerges beautifully made silverware. Its elegance and sparkle contrast sharply with the worn, toned browns, functional layout and gentle down-to-earth camaraderie of the workshop. Sleek computerised assembly lines in stark over-lit industrial units may produce consumer goods with great efficiency, but the creation of works of art paradoxically requires the detritus of the craftsman.

If we're growing as people - growing in grace and virtue; producing character of real beauty and worth - then our lives will resemble the workshop more than the factory. Creativity and growth arise as our character forms, not according to someone else's ideal, but as we become who we're created to be.

So who are we created to be? How can we discover more truly who we are? 

Christian teaching is that we need to learn to be attentive to God. We listen in prayer and silence. We open spaces for God through worship, through contemplation of beauty, art and nature. We heed the words of others when God speaks through them. We persevere through the hard times, and remain faithful through the good. Yes, it's untidy, unscientific, inefficient even. Yet little by little, imperceptibly, God works in us and through us. And our lives become real: neither sanitised nor chaotic, but individually suited to the calling which God has given us.

Because God too is a craftsman, and his work is your life and mine. As St Paul wrote, 'We are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.' And only if we allow God to craft us will we in turn produce the fruits of goodness, creativity and beauty which are our true vocation.

Tonight's Lent group, on the book 'Abiding' by Ben Quash (Bloomsbury), will touch on the important theme of stability. This was (and is) one of the vows made by Benedictine monks, and was in part a reaction to the problem some 1500 years ago of freelance monks wandering around without discipline or accountability. So the Rule of Benedict places an emphasis on staying in one place, one community.

This was, and remains a challenge - and rightly so. Living closely and faithfully over the long term with a miscellaneous group of people whom one hasn't chosen can only work if there's a mutual commitment to growth and transformation. It won't work unless communication is maintained, forgiveness readily exchanged, and others loved and respected despite their different attitudes and priorities. Over time - perhaps over a lifetime - rough edges are smoothed, understanding grows, and relationships deepen. The stability of the monastic community and the way in which it transforms people are gifts of hope to offer to the world.

The parish church, rooted in its community, is also called to be a place of stability. We don't choose other members of the congregation - they may or may not be people like us. It's not an interest group which we join or leave on a whim. Its stability is of the monastic kind: 'the sort of community that changes me', as Ben Quash puts it. Its presence in the community for the long haul, and its gathering-in (ideally) of people from across the spectra of age and background give it the potential to transform us, even if that work takes a lifetime. It may be only one expression of the Kingdom of God among many, but it's our expression, and our calling is to develop it.

It's fashionable nowadays for people to choose a church which suits them, and of course that's easy to understand. The danger is that it becomes a church for the like-minded, and no longer a place in which growth is demanded of us. But as Ben Quash reminds us, a stable, diverse community is an anticipation of the Kingdom - and the Kingdom is not homogenous.

Clearly there are challenges in a mobile society. It isn't practical for many of us to commit to living in one place throughout our lives - and even if we do, many of the people around us will change. However, we can examine whether we're consumers or participants when it comes to the life of the church - and seek community with others however different from ourselves they may be.