Journey Home in the New Year

Journey Home

Psalm 72:1-7, 12-14     John 1:1-18           

Which of these statements is true?

  When Dorothy returns from her whirlwind trip to Oz, she realizes that "there is no place like home." She discovers that home truly is where the heart is, and she revels in her family's love and nurture. 

On the other hand, Thomas Wolfe's famous novel informs us, "You can't go home again." You might be able to physically return to the place of your birth, but nothing and no one, including yourself, will be the same. The "home" of your memory no longer exists.

  Who's got it right? Can you go home again? Or not?


For many of us, the New Year means moving farther away from the place of our birth, farther away from home.  The longer we are away, the more the chance that the home we knew no longer exists or is changed beyond recognition. Our idea of home has shifted, with a wider vision of blended families, multiracial, gay or straight, on the West Coast or East Coast or in the middle.  For others the New Year may mean a return or a rededication, or the creation of a new home.  But for most, we create home where we are, with a shifting sense of belonging, and a longing for a feeling of sanctuary and unconditional acceptance.   Robert Frost said that “home is a place that when you arrive at the door, they have to let you in.”   We all need a place like that, and we long for a lasting home.

On this Epiphany Sunday, we remember wise men from the East, who found their way to Mary and Joseph’s house, to offer gifts and praise to the baby, Jesus.   Ironically, when he is grown up, Jesus returns to his home in Nazareth, where people remember him as Mary’s son, son of the carpenter, Joseph.  But then they scoff at him, wondering how such a poor and scruffy kid can grow up to pretend to be some holy man. Perhaps it is true that ‘you can’t go home again.’

 In our reading from John we hear that the Christ is not only the man Jesus, but also the “Word,” the ‘Logos’ or truth, logic, wisdom of God.  Christ was with God when all things were created. “He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:2-4)   Epiphany is the season of light, when the universal radiance and glory of Jesus is revealed.   Yet, many of us miss seeing holiness and the hope of God.  

Returning to God, returning home to our Creator, is returning back into the light, and in the light we rediscover life, a life that darkness cannot overcome. Christ is eternal, and offers us an eternal home.

         Let me share with you a true story by Jeannie Ecke Sowell in her words:

This is a family story my father told me about his mother, my grandmother. In 1949, my father had just returned home from the war.  On every American highway you could see the soldiers in uniform hitchhiking home to their families, as was the custom at that time in America.

         Sadly, the thrill of his reunion with his family was soon overshadowed.  My grandmother became very ill and had to be hospitalized.  It was her kidneys, and the doctors told my father that she needed a blood transfusion immediately or she would not live through the night.  The problem was that Grandmother's blood type was AB-, a very rare type even today, but even harder to get then because there were no blood banks or air flights to ship blood.  All the family members were typed, but not one member was a match.  So the doctors gave the family no hope; my grandmother was dying.

My father left the hospital in tears to gather up all the family members, so that everyone would get a chance to tell Grandmother good-bye.  As my father was driving down the highway, he passed a soldier in uniform hitchhiking home to his family. Deep in grief, my father had no inclination at that moment to do a good deed.  Yet it was almost as if something outside himself pulled him to a stop, and he waited as the stranger climbed into the car.

My father was too upset to even ask the soldier his name, but the soldier noticed my father's tears right away and inquired about them.  Through his tears, my father told this stranger that his mother was lying in a hospital dying because the doctors had been unable to locate her blood type, AB-, and if they did not locate her blood type before nightfall, she would surely die.

It got very quiet in the car.  Then this unidentified soldier extended his hand out to my father, palm up. Resting in the palm of his hand were the dog tags from around his neck.  The blood type on the tags was AB-.  The soldier told my father to turn the car around and get him to the hospital.

My grandmother lived until 1996, 47 years later, and to this day no one in the family knows this soldier's name.  But my father has often wondered, was he a soldier or an angel in uniform?

Homecomings can be traumatic, but they can also be healing and a source of joy.   God wants us home.  God seeks in holy love to return us from exile back to the warmth and safety of community, to offer healing and redemption.   

Shauna Niequist in her book: Bittersweet: Thoughts on Change, Grace, and Learning the Hard Way, says this about home:

"Everybody has a home team: It's the people you call when you get a flat tire or when something terrible happens. It's the people who, near or far, know everything that's wrong with you and love you anyway. These are the ones who tell you their secrets, who get themselves a glass of water without asking when they're at your house. These are the people who cry when you cry. These are your people, your middle-of-the-night, no-matter-what people."

God intends for us to find this kind of family, or community, or group of folk who embrace us with unconditional love.   It is not easy to find.  It is delicate and rare and doesn’t last forever.  But when we find it, it feels like light and life and joy.   Sometimes we carry a memory of this experience with us inside; and this memory sustains us, gives us hope and inner security and esteem.  We know we have been loved and that love is possible.   Frederick Buechner writes:   “You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.”

We search for this kind of home, this place of light and life.   This is what the Epiphany season is for: making the journey toward our home in God, in the way the wise men journeyed across the desert following a star.   God is our star, our hope, and our inner longing tugs us toward what is most fulfilling.  When we find it, then we can rest and find relief and peace.  Then we are truly at home.

There's a fable that comes from the Jewish tradition. It's the story of a man who left his own home to seek the great city of light far away. He walked and walked all day. Just before sunset, he stopped and found a likely place to camp for the night. Before going to bed, he carefully placed his shoes on the ground, facing in the direction he was headed. That way, he figured, he would set out in the right direction the next morning. 

In the middle of the night, something happened. A stranger came along and turned the man's shoes around. In the morning he awoke, put on his shoes and set out on his journey again. Thinking he was headed for the city of light, he walked and walked all day. Just before sunset, he looked down the road and saw a city that looked rather familiar to him. He entered through the city gate, and found a neighborhood that also looked rather familiar to him. He entered the neighborhood, and came to a house that looked rather familiar to him. He entered into the house. And there he lived happily ever after. 



The journey of faith is always a journey homeward.  What is your home?  How are you making your way there or creating a spiritual household?  

Church community is a spiritual home, a place of authentic acceptance and caring, a place of meaning and inner feeding, a refuge of calm and comfort. Home is a sanctuary, a place of security and love. God resides in the sanctuary, in the holy-of-holies, where there is perfect peace.  And we can find this in a variety of settings, church being one.  

Maren Tirabassi wrote this in the UCC devotional for New Year Day:

Where are you on New Year's Eve? I'm in an AA meeting, one of God's strong sanctuaries, even though they are often located in church basements. Some of you will be there, too, later today – it's the kind of holiday that is hard to take "one day at a time." Others of you will be in Watch Night services, Weight Watcher meetings, airplanes headed back to college, Alzheimer's Care units, dialysis chairs, homeless shelters, online with others leaving situations of domestic violence. Some of you will go to a party and others will watch the ball drop in Times Square with a single good friend.  Most personal victories come less from tomorrow's resolutions than today's good sanctuaries of physical, emotional, financial and spiritual support. Sanctuaries are found where one or more are gathered to care, to help, and then to just shout in joy for another's success. Sanctuaries are found where God is present in community. 

Recognize the sanctuaries in all their diversity. Plan to be in one when you need help; plan to be in one when someone needs you.

Home is Sanctuary. Sanctuary is family, friends, community, and loved ones.  Sanctuary is church, where we find healing, fulfillment and peace. This is what I pray we will each find in this New Year. Because there truly is ‘no place like home.’  Amen.