c. 2003 Religion News Service
(Tom Ehrich is a writer and computer consultant, managing large-scale database implementations. An Episcopal priest, he lives in Durham, N.C.)
(UNDATED) In a variant of “buyer’s remorse,” my wife and I wish we could stay home on this Saturday before Christmas and listen to “A Prairie Home Companion.”
But our son wants to see a favorite teacher perform in her church’s Christmas pageant. So off we go to share an evening with strangers.
The pageant turns out to be wonderful. Instead of children being cute, it is more than 100 adult choristers and actors, teenagers and children energetically weaving together one family’s alienation from God, the Christmas story, and the larger story of Jesus’ life.
The family’s issue is Dad. He works too hard, tells too many lies and never comes home on time. People start to pray for him. He gets jolted out of his complacency by bad news on health and career, pours out his heart to a stranger, visits his pastor and finds his way home to God and to his family.
You can see the ending coming, but that doesn’t lessen its poignancy. For his story touches us all: the lies we tell in order to get by, our self-serving journeys, getting lost, hurting those who love us, forgetting where home is. I could do without the neat-as-a-bow theology _ prayer works, the lost sheep comes home, his cancer diagnosis was erroneous, he gets promoted rather than dismissed and his family shares a group hug. But the promise of home rings true.
“That was really touching,” says my 12-year-old son. “I would like to do more at our church.”
This is a season of “home.” People decorate their homes with lights, inflated Santas, mechanical reindeer, treasures accumulated over the years and Christmas trees. Grown-up children come home. Entire families endure congested airports and highways _ and terrorist alerts _ to go home.
People yearn for homes they once had. People sense afresh the absence of those who made home happen. Many ask painful questions about death during this season, such as the reader who asks, “Why did God take my mom home to be with him when he did?”
I don’t know that death occurs because God has called someone home. Just as God must wait for the sinner to yearn for home, so must God wait for our bodies to suffer more illness, accident or warfare than they can bear. But I do believe that God makes a home for us, both here on this mortal coil and in eternity. Like the father in Jesus’ parable, God scans the horizon for our return and rushes to greet us.
The “why” of death’s timing is beyond our understanding. But the why of God’s “welcome home” has a clear answer: God loves. Surround that truth with overwrought music, sermons that are too long and stories that are too simplistic, and the truth remains: God loves. Argue as we will over who deserves God’s favor, and the truth remains: God loves.
Home is where we are loved without condition, without our having to pay any price or to earn any favor. Some grew up in homes like that. Some didn’t but are trying to give home to their children. Some believe that they deserve home-love, even if those who ought to love them aren’t able to give. Some look into other windows and wonder when their turn will come.
When home works, we know we are loved. Our lies are overcome by patience, and our failings are occasions for comfort. When home works, we can dare to grow up, then dare to leave, then dare to return chastened, then yearn to return bearing partners and offspring. At home, lovers wait for us to come to our senses.
We might or might not attain such a home in this lifetime. The more I see of life, the more I realize how differently and, yes, unfairly the blessings of home are apportioned to God’s children. But the promise of faith is that God prepares such a home for every one of us. As difficult as this life might be, as untimely as our homecomings might seem, God looks for us.
It is God who sang, “Joy to the world!” before we knew the tune.
DEA END EHRICH
