‘Feed the Hungry, Clothe the Naked’: The Social Conscience of John Wesley

Wesley giving money to free a debtor husband from prison

One great reason why the rich, in general, have so little sympathy for the poor, is because they so seldom visit them.  John Wesley

John Wesley (1703-1791) is rightly honoured as a travelling evangelist, revivalist preacher, theological writer, and pioneer of the Methodist movement. Less well known are his lifelong labours on behalf of justice for the poor and destitute.

As a student at Oxford, he was impacted by Jesus’ call to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, welcome the stranger, care for the sick, and visit those who are in prison (Matt.25:35-40). He would fast regularly, dedicating the money he would otherwise have used for dining – as well as all the money, food, and clothing he could solicit from others – for the poor, whom he would regularly visit. This remained a passion throughout his life. Even at age 80, he trudged the snowy streets of London, begging alms for the poor, making himself ill in the process.

It was this proximity with destitution and misery that moved him from distant sympathy to a visceral bond with suffering humanity – a course he urged on all Christians. After spending three days visiting the sick and others at the abominable Marshalsea paupers’ prison (which he described as “a picture of hell upon earth”), Wesley records in his journal: “I found not one of them unemployed who was able to crawl about the room. So wickedly, devilishly false is that common objection, ‘They are only poor because they are idle.’ If you saw these things with your own eyes, could you lay out money in ornaments or superfluities?”

Marshalsea debtors’ prison, London

Wesley’s asceticism was not designed to save his own soul, but rather so that he might give the more generously to the poor. Throughout his life he was not ashamed to beg for them. From the sale of books and pamphlets during his lifetime he is estimated to have amassed £30,000 which he gave away. In 1785 he formed the Strangers’ Friend Society “instituted for the relief not of our [Methodist] society but poor, sick and friendless strangers”.

He built schools and almshouses, and established free medical dispensaries in London, Bristol and Newcastle. He recognised the injustices which meant that so many were condemned to a life of poverty, speaking of “the many who toil, and labour, and sweat … but struggle with weariness and hunger together“. Once, when asked by a tax official to declare all his silver plate on which he should be paying excise duties, he replied: “Sir. I have two silver teaspoons at London, and two at Bristol. This is all the plate I have at present; and I shall not buy any more while so many around me lack bread.”

Mark Mann writes that ‘out of the Foundry [in Bristol], the early Methodists provided much that a contemporary rescue mission might: food, clothing, shelter, medical care, and even financial support in the form of small loans to those without work wanting to start their own businesses. Wesley also founded a home for poor widows, a home for orphans, and several schools aimed especially at the education of poor children.’

In every town where a large church had been planted, Wesley would always appoint seven or twelve men with the special task of visiting and caring for the poor. And this was not only spiritual help, but also the giving of food, clothing and coal for the winter.

In his extensive diary this heart of compassion often shines through. For example, in 1742 at Newcastle, “I walked down to Sandgate, the poorest and most contemptible part of the town, and began to sing a Psalm. Three or four people came out to see what was the matter, who soon increased to four hundred. They stood and gaped at me in astonishment… [That afternoon,]  the hill was covered from top to bottom. I knew only half would be able to hear my voice. After preaching, the poor people pressed around me out of pure love and kindness, and begged me most earnestly to stay with them a few days.”

Destitution polemicised by Wesley’s contemporary, artist William Hogarth

A year later, also near Newcastle, we read: “I had a great desire to visit a village of coal-miners that has always been in the front rank for savage ignorance and wickedness. I felt great compassion for these poor people, the more so because all men seemed to despair of them. I declared to them Him who was ‘bruised for our iniquities’. The poor people came quickly together and gave earnest heed to what I said, despite the wind and snow. As most of them had never claimed any belief in their lives, they were the more ready to cry to God for the free redemption which is in Jesus.” He would subsequently refer to the converts there as “my favourite congregation.”

In his book Good News to the Poor: John Wesley’s Evangelical Economics, Theodore Jennings shows how Wesley’s theology demystifies wealth. In absolute contrast to today’s “prosperity gospel”, he ‘regarded Ananias and Sapphira’s sin (Acts 5:1-11) as akin to the fall of humanity in the Garden of Eden. It was the first test of early church, and exposes the love of money as her primal enemy. Therefore the love of money, even possessing excess money, is an ever-present danger to the Christian.’ In later life, however, Wesley ‘was oft to say that the Methodists had proven exceptional at following the first two parts of his essential teaching on wealth (earn all you can and save all you can) but an utter failure at the third (give all you can).’

Even so, his efforts were not in vain. Of Bolton, Lancashire, where the mob had once tried to lynch him, he wrote in 1749: “My heart was filled with love and my eyes with tears. We were able to walk the streets unmolested, none opening his mouth except to thank and bless us.” He could write of many places: “The streets do not now resound with cursing; the place is no longer filled with drunkenness and uncleanness, fighting and bitterness. Peace and love are there.”

When, many years later, a young preacher visited a poor part of Cornwall, he remarked to a miner what an upright people they seemed to be. “How did it happen?” He asked. The old miner bared his head and said, “There came a man among us. His name was John Wesley.”

 

 

 

 

 

How Needy is ‘Needy’? Some Early Church Thoughts

Basil of Caesarea  (330-379) was a highly influential leader in the Early Church, who laboured and wrote extensively for the rights of the poor. His stance on wealth and poverty is blunt and uncompromising. It is also very relevant to today, where consumerism has achieved almost god-like status.

This piece shows that Basil was also a keen and unflinching observer of human nature – and human excuses. The writer identifies ‘the human tendency to adjust the definition of “need” to fit one’s current level of income.’

Basil was on to this 1600 years ago. His homily (practical sermon) on the man in Jesus’ parable, I Will Tear Down My Barns [and Build Bigger Ones], treats the barns not so much as symbols of wealth but rather as representing our definition of needs based on our circumstances.

‘In effect’, continues the article, ‘Basil says that if we never have any extra to share, this is due to the fact that whenever we find ourselves in possession of a surplus, we immediately adjust our definition of need to fit the new situation.’

(You say) “I will pull down my barns and build larger ones.” But if you fill these larger ones, what do you intend to do next? Will you tear them down yet again only to build them up once more? What could be more ridiculous than this incessant toil, laboring to build and then laboring to tear down again?

In his sermon “To the Rich”, Basil sees this as a form of madness. “Those who have acquired wealth and have great possessions, desire more of the same, nursing the sickness by perpetual accumulation. Having so much here and now fails to bring them happiness, since they grieve over what they don’t have, and convince themselves they’re lacking. ‘We’re poor!’, they say. And it’s true, because a poor person lacks much, and much are you lacking because of your insatiable desires! What was it that killed Naboth? [1 Kings 21] Was it not King Ahab’s greed for his vineyard?”

And so, Basil concludes, you commit injustice to so many when you could have helped them – which applies to any level on the scale of wealth.

Increasing numbers of UK people are reliant on Food Banks  Image: mirror.co.uk

The issue of varying levels of need came particularly to a head in the monasteries. After all, if you live together, perceived inequality can be a death-knell. So Benedict of Nursia (480-c.545) had to address the matter in his Rule (which still governs Benedictine houses today, 1500 years later). He does so with great wisdom, rooted in scriptural principles, in Chapter 34:

“Whether All Should Receive in Equal Measure What Is Necessary:  It is written, “Distribution was made to everyone according as he had need” (Acts 4:35). We do not say by this that respect should be had for persons (God forbid), but regard for infirmities. Let him who hath need of less thank God and not give way to sadness, but let him who hath need of more, humble himself for his infirmity, and not be elated for the indulgence shown him; and thus all the members will be at peace. 

Above all, let not the evil of murmuring appear in the least word or sign for any reason whatever. If anyone be found guilty herein, let him be placed under severe discipline.”

I get the feeling that if this sentiment was more universally accepted and applied, a good measure of stress could be removed from our lives today.