Home Is Where the Heart Is

Matthew 7:21-29

A sermon by K. Toivanen at EMUC, 2/9/2008

I’d like you to take a moment and think about what being at home means to you.
What emotions do you associate with being at home?
What do you see in your mind’s eye?
What memories are the most powerful?

Glenys Huws in her book of reflections on home, makes the distinction between house and home. A house is a structure, a building whether we are talking about a mansion, a cottage, an apartment or a one-room shelter. On the other hand, a home is about relationships and belonging, refuge and shelter, security and rest. We become attached to our house, not so much because of how it is built and designed or the way in which it is decorated. Rather our attachment is to whatever and whoever embodies the Spirit that dwells in our house.

Let me elaborate with a few stories. When I think of my childhood home, I remember that our house was located on a cul de sac at the end of the street. And because we lived in an isolated northern mining town, just behind the circle of houses on that cul de sac, was what we northerners called ‘the bush’.

Some of the memories of home that are most profound for me are those long summer days when my siblings and friends and I played outside together, roaming from back yard to back yard, hiding from each other in the bush, or exploring the creek or a new path into the woods. I remember the slam of screen doors as we moved freely in and out of each others houses. I remember the popsicles and the cold drinks that were liberally dished out of any number of kitchens on that street.

And I remember running into my house in to the arms of my mother or my father seeking comfort and solace for a bruised spirit and body after a competitive game escalated into a fight or after an over zealous activity ended in a scraped knee or a cut finger.

And I remember lying in bed at night, with the bedroom door open, and the hall light on, feeling safe as I drifted off to sleep listening to the familiar murmur of my parents’ voices.

So for me, my childhood home meant being part of a close knit neighbourhood, living in close relationship with the bush and the creatures that lived there. Above all, home was a place where I could be with those who were a source of love, comfort, protection, peace and safety.

Just this past week, tragedy struck Tennessee, Arkansas, Kentucky and Alabama as tornadoes wreaked havoc, wiping out neighbourhoods and leaving as many as 50 dead. When some of the survivors were interviewed in front of houses that had turned into matchsticks, people didn’t exclaim so much about the structure or the stuff in their houses, they spoke with grief about the loss of a family member or a neighbour or the death of pets and livestock.

Over and over again, these folk gave thanks that they and their loved ones were alive, remarking that in time, houses and neighbourhoods could be rebuilt.

What these stories lift up is that to speak of home and of what it means to be at home, means to speak of deep loving relationships with certain people, roots in a particular geography or environment, and a spirit that creates a space where we know we can be true to ourselves, where we know we have a place, where we know we belong.

In the best of all possible worlds, this experience of home would be the experience of everyone. Sadly we know that this is not the case. In part, at least in North American culture, I think it is because we have made our homes too small. Now by this I don’t mean that our houses, the structures that we live in are too small - in fact, given the environmental concerns of this day and the need to conserve resources, we’d be better off with a move to smaller houses.

What I mean is that in our society we tend to narrow our understanding of home to mean those people with whom we share a living space. I often hear folks say words to this effect - ‘my home and family come first and then if there is anything left over of my time, compassion and resources, I’ll give to the community or to the church or to a particular group or need.

Now I want to be clear that I am not debating the importance and the blessing of what a home and family can be.

What I am saying is that we need to enlarge our understanding of family and home; we need to understand that we are called to extend our concept of home and hospitality beyond the doors of our various dwellings.

In telling the parable of the house built on a rock, Jesus speaks to what makes for a strong foundation in the houses, the structures and the homes and lives that we build for ourselves. A strong foundation is built upon a relationship with the God we know in Jesus Christ. It is a relationship that will continue to be strengthened as long as we attend to the knock on the door and as long as we open it wide to welcome the Christ who seeks to dwell with us and be at home with us.

And so in seeking to build homes with strong foundation, we need to be mindful of how we respond to these questions:
Is Christ at home with the way that we treat one another in our homes?
Is Christ at home with the priorities we place on our time, talents and resources?
Is Christ at home with the values that are at the heart of our home life?
Is Christ at home with the doors of our homes? Do they open easily to welcome others over the threshold?
And do we regularly accompany Christ by walking out those doors, as we seek to extend the blessings of being at home with the communities we live in and the world that is home to us all?

In what for me, is a modern version of the parable of the house built on a rock, Glenys Huws tells a family story of how two different households once lived out their understanding of what makes for a firm foundation for building a home. (read p. 18 in Where the Spirit Dwells)

As we continue with reflections on the meaning of home throughout the Lenten season, I’d like to suggest that we incorporate a spiritual practice into our daily lives. This week, I’d like to invite us to practice ‘home security’, not by making sure that we lock the doors or install electronic security systems or put bars our windows. I’d like us to practice a different kind of ‘home security’ - the kind of security that was expressed by a four year old who said, "When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You know that your name is safe in their mouth."

We practice home security when in all that places that we would call home; our names are safe in another’s mouth. Because when your name is safe in another’s mouth, you will not be disparaged, humiliated, threatened, or otherwise abused. You will be noticed and encouraged, not neglected or ignored. When your name is safe in another’s mouth, they will assume the best, not the worst, about you and will hold you accountable and tell you the truth in love.

God calls each one of us by name and in God’s mouth our names are safe. And when our names are safe in one another’s mouths, we are at home with each other and with God. And when our homes and congregations are places where our names are safe in another’s mouth, we can taste the Word of God.
And when we experience this kind of home security, we are better able to work together to build a world home that offers that kind of home security for all God’s children.

Let us pray:
We are safe in and with you, Watchful One, who in your caring for us neither slumber nor sleep. You call our names and we know your voice. We know our names are safe in your mouth. Throughout this week, keep us alert to the responsibility of keeping others safe at home, in this church home and in the home of our community and world. Amen.

-excerpts in italicized print are adapted from p. 24, 25 in Where the Spirit Dwells by Glenys Huws