"So that place"-Sermon for Lent 4, Joshua 5:9-12
“Home is where I want to be. But I guess I'm already there. I come home, she lifted up her wings. I guess that this must be the place”. Perhaps you recognized those lyrics, especially if you are as crazy about 80’s New Wave music as I am. They are from the song “This Must be the Place” by the Talking Heads. It was the fourth song performed at mine and Ashley’s wedding reception nearly 18 years ago in Port Aransas, TX…just after “I Melt with You” by Modern English…keeping it in the New Wave family. And, indeed, I have found my home in the marriage we share and the life and family we have created together. It is where I want to be, and she does lift me up on her wings…as we “make it up…as we go along…feet on the ground…head in the sky”. I’ll stop before I start singing.
And, though I don’t know if it is ever very far from my mind because I love it so much, this song, “This Must be the Place”, came to mind, as I read of all things the Old Testament lesson that sits before us today. For our lesson from the Book of Joshua is the story of a homecoming. After 40 years of wandering in the deserted places between Egypt and Israel, God’s people have finally crossed the Jordan River, which served as the eastern boundary of the Promised Land…the land flowing with milk and honey. Thus, their time of wandering in the wilderness has ended, and they have come home…this was, indeed, the place…the God-provided home long promised. And, just before our lesson begins we learn that, in fact, like the Red Sea that God parted before the People of Israel allowing them to escape slavery in Egypt, God, once again, parted the waters…supernaturally drying up the Jordan River to allow God’s people, who had grown significantly in number during their 40-year journey, to enter their new home on dry land. God parting the waters at the beginning of their journey and God parting the waters at the end. Which puts me in mind of the waters of Baptism that we part as we welcome people beginning their journey as a part of God’s family…our family…who share this home. And, at the end of our journey in this life, God will act again to part the “great” sea, the sea of death, that no human could ever cross on their own…that we might enter our Promised Land, which is our everlasting and forever home…our hearts finding their eternal resting place…held from forever to forever in the everlasting arms of love. Or, as Jesus says in the 14###sup/sup### chapter of John, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.”
Now, I can’t wait, and I mean that, to come home to Jesus…for Jesus to come again and take me to himself, so that where he is, I may also be. Or, as that great African-America spiritual that we sing from time to time in this place, reads, “I looked over Jordan and what did I see, coming for to carry me home. A band of angles coming after me, coming for to carry me home.” And, friends, I do think that a band of angels will sing (better than me) to greet each and all as we cross over the sea of darkness and into the land of perpetual light…and I am, again, very much looking forward to it…but…but I am also fine if they wait somewhat longer before those angels begin coming after me. I feel quite at home in the life I am blessed to live now…in the present…in the homes I now occupy…especially St. Julian’s and the home I share with my family.
I’ve recently learned a new definition of the word nesting. When my daughters come home from school…or just being out and about…often they immediately go to their rooms and close their doors with very little human interaction proceeding. After one such occasion, I turned to my wife and said, “What…they don’t like me anymore?” And, she responded, “No, dear, they are nesting”. And, the truth is I love to nest too…I love to be home. I love to get my aforementioned New Wave jams rolling…get something simmering on the stove…and dance with anyone brave enough to enter the kitchen. And, occasionally at night, after everyone has gone to bed, I love to sit in my favorite chair in the corner of my living room and just take it all in…the art, furniture, photos, things collective over a lifetime…but most especially…just revel in and think about the three precious people soundly snoozing over my head. Home is where my heart is.
But, friends, I don’t think the feelings I am describing hold a candle to what God’s people were experiencing as they crossed the Jordan…as they came home. They named the place where they first entered the Promised Land, Gilgal, which is the Hebrew word meaning “roll”. For God had finally rolled away the shame, fear, exhaustion and uncertainty that accompanied their 40-years lost in the wild…the generational wounds left from their experience as enslaved people in Egypt…the fear that more loved one’s lives would end before ever reaching their new home…the exhaustion of decades on the road with scant food and resources…the uncertainty that they would ever actually find the Promised Land…a home for their great family. I am sure, as the Jordan was crossed, that countless tears were wept for what was and what now might be…hope springing eternal…a chance to put down roots, live in relatively safety, feast off of the abundance of good crops growing in good soil.
But…there’s that word again…but the new reality that God’s people were actually facing was quite different than what I just described. Just a cursory look at the rest of the Book of Joshua and a brief study of the history of the People of Israel reveals a continuous story of violence, captivity, and dislocation. Yes, there were moments of peace and prosperity…families settling and growing…homes established…a nation formed…judges appointed and kings anointed…but also unimaginable heartbreak as well…both for the People of Israel and all the people already living in the Promised Land when they arrived…all of which continues to painfully play out before our eyes today…thousands of years after that glorious homecoming briefly described in our Old Testament lesson today.
And, this is not just the story of the People of Israel. It remains the story in war torn and deeply impoverished countries…those we pray for every Sunday and many others. It is the story of migrants all over this world that continue to flee violence and poverty…risking life and limb…leaving beloved homes and people behind to find a better sort of life in foreign and unfamiliar lands…hoping against hope that they find welcome and acceptance and care in the places they go. And, as I think about this, it both breaks my heart and…and makes me enormously grateful for the home I have…and the joy, comfort and relative safety it provides me and those I love. And, I hope such realizations, the heartbreak and the gratitude, call us all to offer care, empathy and action for those who are unhoused…in the many forms and for the many reasons they may be…to help make them a home among us. For, life is fragile and uncertain, and, as the saying goes, change is often the only constant.
Thus, is it so vitally important to remember that home is where the heart is. It is not land or buildings, even precious ones like this spiritual home that we have just built together and the homes where we lay our weary heads down to sleep each night. Home is, instead, found in the hands in which we place our hearts…and in the hearts placed in our own…the wings that lift us up…that’s where we want to be…that must be the place. For, the church is always a people that we pray, love and serve alongside and not a building….and a home is always the people we share our lives with…who make our lives rare, rich, joyful and full of meaning…and often those people literally don’t live in our homes…friends and our extended families…whether family by blood or choice. Home is found in love freely given and freely received. And, if home is where the heart is, then home can be wherever we are and with whomever we stand…and there are no square footage limitations. For the love we share is as infinite as God…for God is love, and, as Jesus says, in God’s home, there are limitless dwelling place…there is room for all to find a home.
Brene Brown writes, “Empathy is not finite, and compassion is not a pizza with eight slices. When you practice empathy and compassion with someone, there is not less of these qualities to go around. There’s more. Love is the last thing we need to ration in this world.” And, I hope we will not. That, instead, we might let love expand our hearts such that many, especially those around us who need us most, might find home. A home that reflects and points all of us to the Promised Land…our final and forever home…not a plot of earth surrounded by walls or human defined borders…but God’s limitless kingdom with room for each and all…deeply connected and madly in love…past the Jordan and across the sea of darkness…where the angels sing…where there is no sighing or tears…only life everlasting…all together in the very heart of God, who is our home.
But, for now, in this unsettling and dislocating world, in this home, with this beloved family…I will end as I began, with the Talking Heads, “I got plenty of time. You got a light in your eyes. And you are standing here beside me. I love the passing of time. Never for money, always for love…Home is where I want to be…this must be the place.” Amen.