May I speak in the name of the blessed trinity, one God in three persons.

As I have recently been reminded, being ill isn’t fun. Not only is sickness painful and debilitating, it interrupts plans; brings work to a halt, and – perhaps – isolates us from others. It is why the people who have the skill and patience to care for the sick is so important. Important to particular individuals and also important to society as a whole. If we haven’t already drawn on the services of the NHS or St John’s Ambulance, we all know that such a time will come.

Recently I visited a member of the Minster congregation. A woman advancing in years, she shared with me an experience she had here in the Minster while singing the hymn that began our service this afternoon Immortal Invisible, which contains the words: ‘We blossom and flourish like leaves on the tree we wither and perish but nought changes me’

She had suddenly been struck by these words and said to me:

“I decided I was in the withering phase, not yet the perishing phase”. It made me laugh out loud but also prompted me to reflect on my own physical and mental phase of life – If you’re interested I think I’m mid-leaf!

I hope you had chance, before the service, to read the introductory notes. The Order of St John has a long and noble history. The values, character and commitments of the Order goes back a long, long way. You may also have reflected, as I did, how little seems to have changed in a thousand years. That we are still talking about, and doing what little we can to help, a situation that has at its heart the city of Jerusalem.

It was in this city that the Order of St John, known as the Hospitallers, began to care for pilgrims. As it says in the Order of Service, “their work was centred around the care of the sick and the poor of all faiths – treating Christians, Muslims, and Jews alike”.

The word ‘hospitaller’ still exists, remarkably, in at least one hospital in the UK. The chaplain at St Thomas’ in London still carries the title ‘hospitaller’. At the Reformation, when the old monastic hospitals were dissolved, their many different chaplains were pensioned off and retired. However, when the institutions were re-founded in 1546, out of all the clerical roles that once existed, it was the ‘hospitaller’ who survived. Perhaps it was because this was seen to be the most practical, and the one closest to meeting both the physical and spiritual needs of the sick.

Today, we see all too clearly that health is effected by many different things. In Gaza, Israel and Lebanon, conflict has led to homelessness, an increased risk of disease and the emotional strain of an uncertain future. This is also true of many other parts of our world, including Ukraine and Sudan. As the World Health Organisation declared in 1948, health is about more than the absence of disease. It is about effective and caring communities; about spiritual wellbeing; and the prospect of a safe and stable future.

It can be no surprise that this kind of definition came out of the ashes of the Second World War. A time when Europe and many other regions of the world had experienced the worst effects of destruction and deprivation. To care for the sick without discrimination or prejudice is one of the founding principles of all the professions that serve in health care. Like the Order of St John, this is a commitment built upon our sense of common humanity and compassion.

While it may seem – understandably – that religion is part of the problem and not the solution, that would be a rather partial view of history. Despite the difference between faiths there have been many places in which different faiths have lived together constructively. Six years after the founding of the Order of St John, in 1076, Al-Nasir, the Muslim Ruler of present day Algeria, wrote to the Pope asking him to appoint a bishop for the Christians living in his Islamic domain. Pope Gregory VII responded positively to the request, writing:

‘one should not do to others, what one does not want done to oneself. You and we owe this charity to ourselves especially because we believe in and confess one God, admittedly, in a different way, and daily praise and venerate him, the creator of the world and ruler of this world.’

It seems to me that today – and in any era – Pope Gregory’s phrase is an excellent one: “we owe this charity to ourselves”. Beyond war, disagreement or difference, the fruit of the Gospel is healing, in all its many forms. It is, if you like, even in our self-interest to care for people whose faith or identity is different from our own.

When Jesus tells the disciples ‘to cure every disease and every sickness’, he doesn’t say ‘of the Jews’ or ‘of the Samaritans’ or ‘of the Gentiles’. He simply says, ‘every disease and every sickness’ – regardless of who is experiencing it.

So, as we give thanks for the Order of St.John this day and all those involved in health care let us not  forget that we have a duty of care too to all our brothers and sisters of whatever faith, so that we can sing out with confidence ‘brother sister let me serve you, let me be as Christ to you’.

This is our individual and collective calling.