The ‘books of wisdom’ in the Bible can seem strikingly relevant – recently I have discovered the book of Ecclesiasticus and its author’s perceptive and hopeful reflections on the joys and struggles of life.  It is full of shrewd advice for good conversations, like ‘keep to the point when speaking’, and ‘kind words are better than gifts’, but it also raises profound questions about the fundamental meaning of life.  In places it gives voice to the familiar human sense of being overwhelmed, by the vastness and immensity of the universe, by irrelevance of one person among a great crowd.  One speaker within the text wonders if God will even notice them in such a cosmos: ‘Among so many people I am unknown, for what am I in a boundless creation?’ (16.17)  

The wise author of the book welcomes these questions and is quick to respond.  For them, God’s care and concern is infinite; it cannot be diluted even in such an expanse of space and time.  The book is full of a sense of God’s order and purpose, even when we experience chaos or disorder or the loneliness of being in a crowd. God, says our author, ‘makes room for every act of mercy’, as if the universe must expand to include the kindness of God, to make space for every moment of love. Here we find the God who Jesus tells us cares for every sparrow, and so much more for each one of God’s children.