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There’s No Place Like Home

A sermon by Rev. Rebecca Segers

Luke 15:11b-32
Romans 14:1-12

There’s no place like home. These famous words immediately bring to mind the Kansas farm girl, Dorothy, and her initial wish to go “somewhere over the rainbow” only to discover that if her heart’s desire wasn’t in her own backyard, it didn’t belong to her anyway.

Our prodigal son is in a similar predicament. He, like Dorothy, wants to go someplace new. Someplace. Someplace that’s not black and white – but in living color. So he comes up with a plan. A plan that is the ultimate insult. He goes and asks his father for his inheritance while he is still alive. This is tantamount to telling his father that he wishes he were dead.

The Bible doesn’t tell us how the father feels about this, however. The next line is simply, “So he divided his property between them.” And the young man leaves his home and goes off to a foreign country to make his way.

Thoughts of “home” have occupied me a lot this past month. The books I’ve read: Gilead and Cold Mountain are the two that immediately come to mind as they were both truly evocative of living in a certain place in a certain time, but even the fluffy beach books I breezed through were redolent of place as well, the fact of being in a foreign country for a month, the Psalms that we’re reading right now were written while the Israelites were in exile – all these factors and more have put me in the frame of mind where the idea of “home” is uppermost.

So what is “home?” What does the word mean? The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, fourth edition defines home as:

A place where one lives; a residence.
The physical structure within which one lives, such as a house or apartment.
A dwelling place together with the family or social unit that occupies it; a household.
1. An environment offering security and happiness.
2. A valued place regarded as a refuge or place of origin.
The place, such as a country or town, where one was born or has lived for a long period.
The native habitat, as of a plant or animal.
The place where something is discovered, founded, developed, or promoted; a source.
A headquarters; a home base.

As I read these definitions, I hear some truth in them, but they are all defining home in terms of a physical place. None of them seems to encompass that emotional something that home embodies. They seem somehow sterile and flat in their connection to matter, to material, physical presence, not really grasping the character of what “home” is – or what we would like it to be.

Home is more complex than that. And for we Christians, who believe that there is life after death, home transcends earthly existence. We believe that we have homes here on earth, but when we leave this world, as our beloved Doris Opitz left us on August 8^th of this year, we do not simply pass away, but instead become part of a great cloud of witnesses. Witnesses to faith in God through Jesus Christ. Witnesses who are still with us, watching over us and loving us, even as we still are aware of them and love them.

These are fitting thoughts as we come home today, to our church home, the Presbyterian Church of Sweet Hollow, after weeks or even months away. Especially on this day of days. September 11^th. A day that we can rejoice because it is the day that brought Caroline Martin into the world. A day that we will also always hold in mourning because it was the day that so many were called to their eternal home before their time. The day that the World Trade Center was attacked and imploded, killing almost 3,000 people. People that we knew, that we were connected to, people that through our geographical proximity to were a part of our “home,” the home we know and relate to as New Yorkers.

You see, home is not simply a building, a dwelling place, but a complex combination of parts, emotional and spiritual as well as physical, often encompassing people and all their individual dynamics as well as perhaps things, possessions, pictures and pocket watches, a locket that belonged to your great-grandmother or a painting that your son made when he was three. Home can mean colors, lines, corners and rounded arches, spaces wide and cramped, visual combinations that comfort and define us. Home can also be a specific area of the country and the identity that that imparts.

There is an old adage that “home is the place that when you go there, they have to take you in.” That may be a debatable definition for some of us. The home we grew up in may not exist anymore or it may not be a welcoming place for a variety of reasons. But if we are to truly live out Christ’s love, Christ’s community here within this church community, wouldn’t the definition stand? If we could fulfill Paul’s injunctions in his letter to the Romans that we heard today not to judge one another, but to leave that to God and instead to put our focus on Jesus Christ, who he is and how he would have us live, wouldn’t the Presbyterian Church of Sweet Hollow become home? Not only to those of us who’ve been coming here for decades, but for those of us who are here for the first time – or even for those who’ve not yet walked through our doors?

This is exactly what the Father in our parable today does. His younger son – who through tradition should be dead to him, as the son’s actions have proclaimed him dead to the son – his younger son has failed miserably in his quest for another different life outside his father’s household. He has squandered his money, lost his fair-weather friends, and ends up taking care of pigs. Now, remember pigs were unspeakably filthy to the Jewish mindset. You didn’t eat pigs, because they were garbage-eaters themselves. They were unclean and impure and forbidden, and here the younger son is taking care of them, starving while doing so, wishing that he could eat from those very pigs’ trough himself!

Now he does this for awhile, but then the Bible tells us, “when he came to himself he said, ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, “Father I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.”’

I love this part, because here the son has been out there in the wilds, and then, the Bible say, “he came to himself.” He’s been so messed up in his thought processes that he hasn’t even realized that he has options. Isn’t that just so…so…so human? Don’t we all do just this? We get ourselves in a bind and we don’t know what to do. We think we’re stuck. We think that there’s simply no way out. That we have to live this way or do this thing forever. And then we come to ourselves. These words – he came to himself, I came to myself, she came to herself. In coming to ourselves, in a sense, we come home. Think of it as the Spirit indwelling who is there when we call. When we come internally to God, when we ask for help from our Creator, when we stop thinking in our heads, and start thinking with God’s heart, we come home. We recognize whose it is that we are and thus who it is that we are.

As I speak these words, I am mindful of the people in the New Orleans area who’ve lost their earthly homes, perhaps for good. And those in our own community of Melville, Huntington, Suffolk County, Long Island who’ve not got homes to go to, or homes that are not safe because of alcohol or drug abuse or domestic violence. I think about those who feel unloved, uncared for, neglected in their own homes. Or those who don’t even have a home, but instead sleep in the woods or in shelters or in doorways.

As the church of Jesus Christ, I believe we are called to be God’s home, Christ’s home on earth. The place where when you go there, they have to take you in. Not only they have to take you in, but they delight in taking you in. They come running down the street to meet you.

For this is what the father of the prodigal son does. The Bible tells us that he sees his son “while he (is) still far off.” He’s out there waiting for his son, watching for his son. He couldn’t have seen him while he was still far off if he was doing otherwise. So there he is – out there on the porch, every day, watching and waiting and wondering and wishing that his son would come home. And one day, he sees him! He recognizes him while he is still a dot on the horizon line. Perhaps it’s the way he walks, or how he holds his walking staff, or the faded color of the tattered robe that he’s wearing – the same robe that he wore when he left. But whatever it is, the father recognizes him, has compassion for him and runs to meet him. As we are called to run to meet those in need that come across our paths today. As we are called to reach out to a world desperately in need. As we are called to care for our brothers and sisters in this community and beyond.

I want you to know that right now, today, this is not a purely theoretical let’s-feel-good-about-ourselves-as-we-walk-out-the-door statement. Many of you have come to me asking about the people who are victims of Hurricane Katrina and our response here at the Presbyterian Church of Sweet Hollow. Nowhere is it more evident to me how important home is and how fleeting it might be on our earthly plane than in thinking about this disaster. There are many things we can do right now, through the offering we just took and the health care kits that Sukey Walter is supervising. But an even bigger request has come to us. A request that requires we do more than send money and towels and rubber gloves. It requires that we run to meet those who are looking for home.

As you may know, New York state officials have agreed to resettle 5,000 of Hurricane Katrina’s victims. One busload of evacuees is already on its way. The help of the churches is needed immediately. I received an email from Tom Castlen, the Executive Presbyter of the Presbytery of Long Island, on Friday afternoon requesting a response from congregations willing to help by receiving one or two families into their homes. What is required is housing, social services, pastoral care and hospitality. For how long, you ask? I don’t know. Nobody knows. Presbyterian Disaster Assistance and Church Worldwide Services have agreed to provide continuing financial assistance along with the state assistance. And that’s all we know.

This is not a request that can be referred to a committee for study. It needs a decision now. All pastors of the Presbyterian churches here on Long Island are to get back to Tom Castlen with a response by tomorrow morning.

This will be a mission of hospitality and a journey in faith. This mission, if we choose to accept it, will change our lives. I want you to know that Grace and I have discussed it and we have decided that we are willing to step out in faith and accept a family into our home, providing the church and session’s approval. Clearly since the manse does not belong to us, we cannot make this decision alone. So if you are a current Elder on session, I ask that you please come back into the sanctuary after we take our congregational picture outside, so that I may ask for your vote on our decision.

I also want you to know that we did not make the decision lightly or without thought, even though we made it quickly. On Friday evening, I asked Grace what she thought about inviting a family who had been left homeless by Katrina to come into our home and live with us.

Her first response was, “Yay!”

Her first question was, “Will they have any kids?”

“I don’t know,” I answered.

She thought about that for awhile, and then she asked, “Will they be nice?”

“I don’t know,” I said. That made her stop in her tracks, let me tell you. But after I spent my own time in thoughts and prayers Friday night through Saturday morning, we came back to it later Saturday night and she told me, “Mom, I think we should do it.”

I think we should, too. Whether it be through using the manse, Grace’s and my home, or if another of you, of us, will step up to the plate and offer your home, I believe that our church community should not only send supplies, but offer ourselves as living sacraments to God’s will. That this should not be an individual or one family’s decision, but that we as a community of faith take this responsibility on together. Whether we end up with one person or a family, he/she/they will be bereft. They will need food, clothing, shelter, love, attention, maybe to be enrolled in the school system, love, help finding a job or jobs, love, an automobile, friends, love and who knows what more? If we choose as a congregational family to invite a displaced family who has lost everything in Hurricane Katrina into our home, our church home, God’s home, let us remember it will be a blessing and it will sometimes feel like a curse. There will be issues and problems attached that we cannot possibly foresee on this day, September 11, 2005. But as we remember those in our own community who were left bereft on September 11, 2001, can we be the ones reaching out in response as people from across the country reached out to us?

If you are willing to step out in faith, to offer up your home or to help with food, clothing, relocation resources like school enrollment, job searches, whatever, would you please let me know at the end of the service. I will be greeting at the back of the sanctuary as usual, but this time, I will have a pad and a pen and will be taking names and offers as you head out into the sunshine for our glorious family picture.

When we read the Prodigal Son, ten times out of ten, we read ourselves into it as either the first Son or the second Son. We know that we are the one who has betrayed the Father who needs forgiveness upon our return. We know we are the one who has been faithful and are angry with all the attention given to the ones who’ve gone astray when we’ve been here all along doing all the work and not getting the credit. But today, I call you to look at our mission to be the Father. To be Christ’s body on earth reaching out to a world desperately in need. To be the one who not just is there when the problem comes to you, but instead to run to meet the need. To run to joyfully greet and celebrate the one who is coming home. And lest we forget the end of the story, we are also to run to love and care for the one who has always been in our midst working faithfully alongside us. For when the Faithful Son won’t come inside and celebrate, the father goes to him as well. Loving both well and equally, no matter who they are or what they’ve done.

This is who we are called to be. Truly, we are the Prodigal Son and the Faithful Son. Every one of us has been both in different aspects of our lives. But who we are called to be is the community of Jesus Christ, who was Love Incarnate. Who we are called to be is God’s Home on earth before we go to live with the Lord in the heavenly bliss that is our true home.

So welcome home, folks! Welcome back to the Presbyterian Church of Sweet Hollow. Welcome back to all you are and all you can be. There’s truly no place like it. There’s no place like home! Amen.