Sacred Place 8
BFC 2016
Psalm 16
October 9, 2016
Guys like us, we had it made. Those were the days.
And you knew who you were then, girls were girls and men were men.
Many of you probably
remember that as the opening theme song sung by Archie and Edith Bunker for the
award-winning 70s television show, “All in the Family.” The song framed the show, gave texture to how
Archie Bunker thought of what it meant to be “home”, the setting for the show
almost entirely within the confines of the Bunker home in Queens, New
York. For Archie Bunker, home was a
vague nostalgia that hearkened back to a time when Glenn Miller was playing in
the background, a guy like Archie ruled the world, and there was no doubt who
was the head of the household. Guys like
Archie remembered a day before the New Deal when personal responsibility was
the rule and industry and business hummed like it was supposed to, carried the
day without work stoppage or strike. It
was a time when America was great in a way that was more a feeling than
anything that was tangible or something you could get your hands on. But those were the days.
To a degree, I remember defining home
in a similar, vaguely nostalgic way more about feeling rather than anything I
might define in concrete, material, or tangible “things.”
The garage was underneath my bedroom
so each day when my dad would go to work, I would hear the car door open, the
door slam shut, and then the car start.
I knew the inevitable was about to happen. I would hear the car door open back up, the
door from the house open, and then the car door slam shut again. I would burrow down into my pillow, knowing
that my dad remembered me. It began by
mistake, really. I would leave my
baseball glove in the car, dad would spot it, and then he would dutifully make
sure I had it for the day by removing it from the car and putting it into the
house. This was home to me, a way that I
knew that my dad had a thought for me.
As time went on, I would intentionally leave my glove in the car so I
could hear that morning rhythm day after day.
I know I was lucky. Not all
parents who are care for their children as mine did. Not all houses we live in are safe and
thoughtful and loving. Little rituals
like that developed my understanding of a spiritual practice as something that
is regular, consistent, and persistent.
I never even gave much thought to how my dad thought of this little
“dance.” My dad just did it every day. Whether my dad knew it, he was participating
in a form of spiritual rhythm for his oldest son.
And that
was when I knew I was home. Even when I
was asleep, someone had a thought for me—that the universe was fundamentally
friendly. It was something that happened more in my head though, loosely
connected to the “thing” that was my baseball mitt.
I think that’s important because as
Christians living in the good ole U. S. of A., some of us have never had to
worry about a meal, where we might sleep for the night, a location where we
might get potable water, how we will make it in the world of material
deprivation.[2] So we
are susceptible to being deceived by the intangibly and vaguely nostalgic
rather than a rootedness that recognizes the human condition requires basic
“things” for us to know we are home—food, shelter, water.
One of the criticisms I have of spirituality
in Western Christianity is that it has seemingly become increasingly only about
our interior. So as Christians define
what it means to be “home”, that definition becomes less and less about common
and public space and increasingly about an inner, spiritual life. Spirituality moves from the town square, to
inside the gated community, to only practiced inside the picket fence, and,
finally, each to their own, inside the heart of the individual believer. We are told to find our home not only inside
our body but to shrink it down to reside as feelings within our heart.
The
unifying feature of Psalm 16, the Scripture passage Joy read for us, is that
God cares for our external “thingness.”
And the “thing” invoked is the land, the place where God bestows material
blessing. My Hebrew Scripture professor,
J. Clinton McCann, would remind us that land, for ancient peoples, was access
to life. Psalm 16, this ancient song
echoes language from the book of Joshua, a time when the Children of Israel
were working out whether they had the courage to claim the promised land. We
can hear those references to land in Psalm 16 through words like “portion”[3]
and “lot”[4]
and “boundary lines”[5]
(in the New Revised Standard Version, “portions”) in verses five and six, and
“inheritance” or “heritage”[6],
translated “home” in verse six of the Common English Bible.[7]
And
“inheritance” and “heritage” should remind us of that story from Naboth’s
vineyard. The family farmer, Naboth,
will not give over his inheritance, his heritage, to King Ahab for temporary
gain. For the land was given by God to
Naboth, as an inheritance, to keep his family free, to continue to give them
access to life. And so I remind you of
God’s values spoken in that iconic story of Naboth’s vineyard:
o God owns the land. It does
not vest in the State or the multinational corporation or the local or
transnational financial institution. God
owns the land.
o The land is given for the shalom of the whole community (Shalom
meaning peace, wholeness, connectedness).
So if the land usage or residence or treatment does not, in its
materiality, its “thingness”, provide access to life, then it falls outside the
will of God.
o The land is not for sale. (You and the Land are one.) And if the land is up for sale, best bet is
that you can be bought and sold as well.
o Keeping the land in the
“family” keeps the community free.
o The land can be redeemed to avoid debt slavery and provide sabbath
o The land requires rhythms of Sabbath and rest. If the people and the land are one, rhythms
of production and consumption cannot be the governing or sole rhythms. The commandment, of all the 10 commandments,
that receives the most attention is the Sabbath. We are to remember that those people and
places that operate solely in a way that produces and consumes are known by one
name—slaves. God did not liberate the
Children of Israel from Egypt only to become slaves in the promised land.
So for the ancient Jew, “home” began with a
concrete, tangible, external “thingness” in the land that cares for our
material well-being, with allusions to food and drink, portion and cup in verse
five. But then extended out to other concrete
things that a tangible sense of place provides--safety, refuge from threats,
and belonging, found in the first two verses of the Psalm.
Hear
the strong political connotations of those verses. Who are the people that need a safe
place? Those who are under threat of
violence or death. Who are the people
who require refuge? Refugees. So often the case for the Jewish people,
perhaps any people living in the crosshairs of advancing empires.
Finally,
Psalm 16 ends with the other things that should define what “home” means. Home provides you with roots, or a sense of
rootedness. Home should teach us
familiar rites and rituals where we learn a way of wisdom that brings, or helps
us to recognize, joy and beauty.
I
am so thankful to Tracy for this. She
regularly teaches this to Sophia in a way that I hear Sophia now
appropriating. I remember falling in
love with Tracy as I witnessed this. She
would regularly bend down and name a flower or an herb, take the zest between
her fingers, smell it herself as a source of delight, and then offer it to
Sophia or me if we were walking along with her.
I have to regularly chide Tracy for taking pictures of her drive to
Columbus, as she drives to Columbus, to show off to others on Facebook. She tries to tell us that she stops to take
the pictures but Sophia and I are highly suspicious of this claim. When we are with her, she will regularly
point to beauty and ask us to observe it with her. I now see Sophia walking in this way,
appreciative of the beauty found in the world.
It is a way that Tracy has taught, and Sophia has learned, how to
recognize beauty in the world. Hopefully,
Sophia will continue to recognize the beauty and selectively eschew her
mother’s penchant for taking pictures as she drives. Home is a place of rootedness, the anchor,
where you learn the rites and rituals where we learn a way of wisdom that
brings, or helps us to recognize, joy and beauty.
Today
is one of those Sundays when I am going to ask for your input on what is “home”
to you. But before I do that, I thought
I would relate some unique definitions of home I found in our wider culture:
o
Well, I’m going home, to the
place where I belong, and where your love has always been enough for me. (pop song, Christ Daughtry, “I’m going home”
o
A warm bed that you can’t get out of in the
morning, a tiny pink toothbrush in the bathroom, and the sound of my husband’s
key in the door at the end of the day.
o
Love is to come home dying from
the world and find life there.
o
Home is the place, where, when
you have to go there, they have to take you in.
o
There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. –Dorothy, Wizard of Oz
So
now I am going to turn to you with a couple questions. In just a couple minutes of minutes, I will
ask you to break into groups of three or four to discuss these questions:
o
What is home to you: Its geographical “thingness?” Characteristics that rhyme or do not rhyme
with Psalm 16?
o
How is Billings First
Congregational, or how should any faith community be a “home?” How do we work at Billings First
Congregational becoming a spiritual home?
(A
minute of silence followed by discussion with the presenting questions.)
In
Western Protestant Christianity, we have increasingly taught that “home” can be
found in an ever smaller, more private space.
But hear this, Biblical Christianity tells us that the earth is our home—the
floor, the ground of the good earth on which we walk; the vaulted ceiling, the
sky that displays the promises of God in the stars. If we know that to be true, we cannot see
suffering and death, the lack of the material bases of life, the “thingness” on
our part of God’s good earth and not on another and believe that it is home
sweet home. In the end, what the Bible
really teaches is the paradox that the earth is our home and that we must find
home within ourselves. What we have done is so shrink that idea that we get
ourselves off the hook.
I began this sermon with a song from a
couple decades ago and spoke of home as a “feel good nostalgia” that was short
on thingness. In contrast, this is a
song by Jason Mraz called, “93 million miles” which shares that poetic paradox
of finding home within ourselves and home upon this good earth. I end with this beautiful song. As you listen, may you experience God’s good
intent for our joy on this good earth, our home. Amen.
93 million
miles from the sun
People get ready, get ready
'Cause here it comes it's a light
A beautiful light
Over the horizon in to your eyes
Oh, my, my
How beautiful
Oh my beautiful mother
She told me
Son in life
you're gonna go far
If you do it right
You'll love where you are
Just know that wherever you go
You can always come home
240 thousand
miles from the moon
You've come a long way to belong here
To share this view of the night
A glorious night
Over the horizon is another bright sky
Oh, my, my
How beautiful
Oh my irrefutable father
He told me
Son sometimes
it may seem dark
But the absence of the light is a necessary part
Just know, that you're never alone
You can always come back home
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
You can always come back home
Every road is
a slippery slope
There is always a hand that you can hold on to
Looking deeper through the telescope
You can see that your homes inside of you
Just know,
that wherever you go
No you're never alone
You will always get back home
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh oh
Oh oh
93 million
miles from the sun
People get ready, get ready
'Cause here it comes it's a light
A beautiful light
Over the horizon in to our eyes
[2] Again, so much of what I
have been working with her is from Belden Lane, Landscapes of the Sacred: Geography and Narrative in
American Spirituality (Baltimore: John Hopkins University
Press, 2001).
[3] Joshua 19:9
[4] Joshua 18:6, 8
[5] Joshua 17:5
[6] Joshua 14:3, 17:6
[7] J. Clinton McCann,
“Commentary on Psalm 16,” WorkingPreacher,
https://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1716
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