This summer I didn’t have a ‘summer holiday’. I camped for a couple of days each in Wales and Dorset. I visited friends for a couple more, and I volunteered at a festival.

In every case, someone shared.

Some friends shared their garden for camping and others their house for more refined sleeping. To prove that generosity isn’t always about ‘stuff’, my daughters gave their time to come to Dorset- and, believe me, to camp with your Dad at 17 and 19 is a mighty act of sharing.

The festival I went to is called Greenbelt. It’s an extraordinary, beautiful event, 41 years old, where Christians of every stripe and age gather to listen to music, to watch theatre, comedy and dance and to debate questions of life, faith, politics, art and community.  And, occasionally, to have a pint in a remarkable pop-up pub, The Jesus Arms.

Although it has a small staff, the festival is sustained by volunteers – 1487 this year – who stand in the rain shepherding crowds, stewarding gigs, running venues, managing parking and finding the lost children of 12,000 or so campers. I help introduce bands and speakers and am reliant on a huge number of others, stage-managing, operating sound systems, looking after the artists, all sharing their time, energy and expertise.

Jesus demonstrated the value and potential power of sharing what we have, however little it might appear to be. None of his friends thought five bread rolls and two fishes could feed a crowd. I didn’t think that a couple of chilly weekends could make a summer. But they did, and they do, because the best part of sharing good things is not the things but the sharing.

Greenbelt continues to be a remarkable and enduring example of a gathered community that enriches the lives of its members even when they are far away from one another; especially pertinent in this pandemic year, when the festival is cancelled for the first time in its 46 years of life.