Earth Day

Showing posts with label Wendell Berry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wendell Berry. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 24, 2019

Twenty-fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time, "The Four Horsemen," September 22, 2019


C Revelation 2 BFC 2019
Revelation 6:1-8
September 22, 2019

          It is that time of year again!  It is the time of year when I go through the seasonal ritual of dashed hopes and impossible dreams of the University of Illinois college football team going through the season undefeated . . . Ok, maybe to a bowl game?  Or playing .500 ball?  Maybe winning one or two Big Ten games?  How about just beating the lowly Eastern Michigan Eagles?  Or hold Nebraska under 700 total yards?  No.  Drat.  The dollars and pageantry poured into college football recognize a long history of mythology created to make it a nation-wide phenomenon. 
Early 20th Century sportswriter, Grantland Rice, had a way of writing which elevated sports to something beyond the everyday, ordinary, and mundane.  In the 1920s, Grantland Rice wrote about the Notre Dame backfield, under famed coach Knute Rockne, as the four horsemen of the apocalypse.  Today they sound like your State Farm insurance agent:  Harry Stuhldreher, Don Miller, Jim Crowley, and Elmer Layden.[1]  Most of these guys weighed less than 160 pounds.  I may not be as fast as these guys, but I bet I could still take Elmer Layden? dowwwwwwn!  Four horsemen!?  Pfffft.
          That is the purpose of mythological, particularly apocalyptic, storytelling.  Whether Grantland Rice or John of Patmos in the book of Revelation, use of the apocalyptic is to elevate the stakes, make something bigger than life so that we recognize deeper meaning or something more than the everyday, ordinary, or mundane.  For John of Patmos, it was about helping Christians of his day see a crisis unfolding such that they would move to non-cooperation with the Roman Empire, to speak out in a way that might very well create suffering for them, and to recognize that they were part of a long line of faithful ancestors who would work to bring God’s shalom to all of creation. 
Throughout history, those who espouse hate and violence to the most vulnerable have done so in a way that de-humanizes or belittles, calling them “rats or cockroaches”, “animals or savages”, “murders or rapists” and continues the imagery by herding people into cattle cars, boarding schools, or detention centers.  In so doing, we deny our connection and justify our humanity by declaring some as less than human. 
Lisa and I remarked about the three people who made incredible statements on Facebook about the immigration and refugee forum being offered this Friday.  One even carried her objection over to Lisa’s weekly offering of communi-tea with Lisa responding in such a beautiful and elegant way that no response followed.  I was less charitable.  When another person asked what I was doing about the persecution of Christians in China, I tried to be kind in my first go-round, but after being accused of carrying a political football, I responded by saying, “It sounds like you don’t care about the persecution of Christians at our border?”  Yeah, I don’t think it occurred to them that the people at the border might have a faith.  Take that.  Put that in your pipe and smoke it.  Triple snap. 
(scolding myself) You are a pastor, Mike.  A pastor.  Deep breathing.
What Jewish and Christian writers have historically done in response to unjust and dehumanizing words and actions aimed at vulnerable populations is to help the faithful see the principalities and powers, the systems and structures as the true monsters, hybrid wild beasts, animals with excesses in things like teeth (representing appetite) or horns (representing power).[2]  John has these mythological figures doing horrifically graphic things, like drinking the blood of the martyrs, so that the faithful do not accommodate to or get used to their everyday, ordinary, and mundane violence.  If the images John uses scare us or cause revulsion, John might say, “Yeah, you get it then!  Wake up!  Don’t try to pretend this anything less than horrifying!”
The root of the word “monster” is “a sign, to show, or to warn.”  And John is revealing these terrible monsters as a way of warning the faithful of the ordinary violence, regularly perpetrated by the conquering empire.  Don’t be co-opted, don’t accommodate, don’t cooperate, don’t pretend their sly and subtle invitations to be like them or to aspire to be them are innocuous or without the destruction of others.
John conveys that there is something deeper than the everyday, ordinary, and mundane world you experience, something more real.  As it is with the four seals in Revelation that are opened, opened as if to give entrance to the soul[3], the cosmic order broken open to the chaos that now ensues.  The first rider that emerges with the breaking open of the first seal is conquering Rome in all of its imperial glory on a white horse.   White is symbolic of victory and that was a primary mission statement of Roman imperialism: “Peace through military victory.  The Roman mantra was “RELIGION, WAR, VICTORY, PEACE.”[4]  Rome conquers and conquers and conquers ever more.[5]
Just to emphasize, when the second seal is opened, the chaos emerging is a bright red horse.  On that horse is a rider who comes with a sword to take peace from the earth so that the people would slaughter one another.  This is a countercultural statement over and against Rome’s claim that it brought peace to the earth.  “(F)rom the point of view of those who were exploited by the Empire and opposed it, this was not real peace.  It was an imposed peace.”[6]  All of this is to emphasize Jewish thought, story, mythology, and values.  Violence is the original sin.  Rome is rife with it.  John’s monsters are calling forward not only chaos but unmasking and revealing Rome as run through with this sin.  John is interpreting a narrative to charge Christians in Asia Minor with a necessary spiritual exodus from Roman cooperation and accommodation. 
The third seal is opened and coming forth is the black horse, black a symbol of economic misfortune.  The rider of the black horse, holding scales in his hands, makes us aware that this is about economic injustice.  There is a severe shortage of the staples, the essential food, the wheat and barley.  But the luxury items like olive oil and wine, now those are protected.  “Do not damage the olive oil and wine!” it is declared.  The monstrous, inhuman, and violent are shot through all representations. 
Finally, the fourth seal is opened and the fourth horse is called forth.  Death and Hades come with them and the horse is a pale green color.  They are given authority of one-quarter of the earth to kill with the sword, famine, pestilence, and by the wild animals—all signs that the earth has been overrun. The Greek word used to describe the color of this horse is also the one used for grass and other vegetation.[7]  The ever-more conquering in war, the widespread violence against the vulnerable, and the economic exploitation leads to ecological catastrophe, death and hell now loosed upon the earth.   The fourth horse and rider are pictured as ecological devastation. 
All seems graphically and tragically hopeless, right?  Revelation is filled with such gross images, vivid bloodletting, and horrific mythology that we would want to turn our head away.  For many of us living in middle class America, we would rather that the decision had been that Revelation not be included in the Bible.  But I am reminded of a quote I repeat over and over again to explain the Bible from English author, G.K. Chesterton, “Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.”[8]  
John wants his readers and listeners to know that evil is real, results in real consequences for the earth and all of its inhabitants, particularly the most vulnerable.  John is pleading with the faithful not to go along just to get along, only to avoid their own persecution.  Do not harbor evil because you are safe.  Do not participate in it.  Do not collaborate, conspire, or contribute to it.  Do not partner with that evil which defined unfaithfulness from the very beginning of the Jewish.  John the prophet knows it leads to ruin, and is not in keeping with God and Christ.  Evil is real and evil abounds.
I will admit that Revelation frightens the heck out of me because I wonder how much I have collaborated, conspired, and contributed to the war, violence, economic exploitation, and ecological catastrophe which seems to be the death march my country is on regardless of party. 
I think Creator could care a whit about my prolific Facebook sparring ability.  If there is a God, if there is a deeper story, I know my commitment to the care and relationship with our earth does not compare with the historical resistance of Native and indigenous peoples, does not hold a candle to the 16 year-old Swedish activist, Greta Thurnberg, who asks, matter-of-factly, why she would go to school on Fridays, instead of protesting, when the adults won’t listen to the science taught at school, when present policies and practices leave her no hope for the future. 
We would all like to believe we are not collaborators with evil.  That kind of self-inventory sounds like too much of old-time religion.  But Wendell Berry, the poet-farmer from Kentucky, asks me tough questions.  He writes:

How much poison are you willing
to eat for the success of the free
market and global trade? Please
name your preferred poisons.

For the sake of goodness, how much
evil are you willing to do?
Fill in the following blanks
with the names of your favorite
evils and acts of hatred.

What sacrifices are you prepared
to make for culture and civilization?
Please list the monuments, shrines,
and works of art you would
most willingly destroy

In the name of patriotism and
the flag, how much of our beloved
land are you willing to desecrate?
List in the following spaces
the mountains, rivers, towns, farms
you could most readily do without.

State briefly the ideas, ideals, or hopes,
the energy sources, the kinds of security;
for which you would kill a child.
Name, please, the children whom
you would be willing to kill.[9]

          Those are hard questions—not questions I want to answer.  I might have to change my life!  Not unlike John of Patmos, Wendell Berry wants me to wake up and calls me to a deeper faithfulness.  Like a questionnaire on a job application, Berry unmasks my everyday, ordinary, and mundane cooperation with evil.  But . . . it is too much.  Take Revelation out of the Bible and Berry away from me.
          All this next week, Montana Interfaith Network and Billings Sanctuary Rising and the leadership of this congregation have events which offer us an opportunity to live more faithfully and to come out to be part of movements that say we will resist the four horsemen and their plans for war, violence, economic exploitation, and ecological catastrophe.  As people of faith, we are not promised ease but we are promised deep meaning.  Evil is real and evil abounds.  But the book of Revelation reminds us that dragons . . . and the four horsemen . . . can be beaten. 
          God is at work . . . deeper . . . from underneath.  Let us join Creator and collaborate in the coming of the saints, our beautiful ancestors, who have stitched and woven together a world which is waiting for us, a city that requires us to be awake with eyes to see it.   Amen. 


[1] Grantland Rice,”The Four Horsemen,” Sports Illustrated, October 31, 1955.
[2] Heather MaCumber, “A Monster Without a Name:  Creating the Beast Known As Antiochus IV in Daniel 7,” Journal of Hebrew Scriptures.  Volume 15, Article 9 DOI:10.5508/jhs.2015.v15.a9, pp. 2-5.  In his book, Philosophy of Horror, Noel Carroll shared the characteristics of the hybrid monster we see in Dracula or Frankenstein:  1) Must be a dangerous or threatening entity to one’s person or society at large; 2) Impure beings crossing normative categories by fusing disparate characteristics (zombie-living and dead; werewolf-human and animal) 3) Originate on the periphery of society or known world and considered other or alien to the society they infiltrate. 4) Emotions aroused by audience create fear in community with hope that restoration of cosmic order will be restored.
[3] “455: ἀνοίγω,” Thayer’s Greek Lexicon, https://biblehub.com/greek/455.htm. 
[4] John Dominic Crossan, “Peace through victory,” The Challenge of Jesus, https://faithandreason.org/images/uploads/COJ_Participants.pdf. 
[5] One of Richard Horsley’s critiques of early Christianity is that Christianity borrows the language of empire to critique empire.  So when we sing at Easter, “Thine is the glory, ever-conquering Son!” we impute the values of Rome to Jesus and pave the way for Christendom’s ever-conquering empire. 
[6] David J. Hawkin, “Globalization, the American Empire, and the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse,” Churchman, Winter 2014, pp. 320-321.
[7] David E. Aune, (Word Biblical Commentary) Vol. 52b: Revelation 6-16 (Dallas, Texas: Word Book Publishers, 1998), p. 400.
[8] GK Chesterton, Tremendous Trifles (London:  Pantiano’s Classics, 1909)
[9] Wendell Berry, “Questionaire,” Leavings (Berkley, CA:  2010), p. 14.

Rally Day, "The Grasshoppers Cometh," September 15, 2019


Revelation 1 BFC 2019
Daniel 7:1-14, 12:1-4; Revelation 1:7-8, 12-15; 2:27-29
September 15, 2019

          Sometimes the literalism of religious faith creeps up on me.  We have had a hurricane that decimated life for so many in the Bahamas with the threat of another hurricane coming.  We have had two hailstorms in the Billings area—evidenced by the number of contractor signs appearing on lawns across town.  And Kate Rosetto, one of few remaining Community Supported Agriculture vegetable shares in the Billings area said the hail storms destroyed her whole farm.  She is thinking of hanging up the hoe and selling. 
          And then the grasshoppers.  I have never seen so many grasshoppers in the five years I have been in Billings.  One day they surrounded me as I got in my car just outside the church.  I could not get in my car without some of the bounding in the car with me.  Could it be that a plague of locusts is gathering?  One stayed on my windshield and stared at me with suspicious eyes. 
          Sometimes the literalism of religious faith creeps, bounds, and stares at me.  And I wonder.  Is the apocalypse upon us?  Are the prophecies in Revelation being fulfilled?
          No.  And yes. 
         
          No.  Revelation is written to interpret the time for a specific situation for specific faith communities.[1]  How is the larger narrative of God playing out for Christians living in Asia Minor, modern day Turkey, in the First Century, in the heart of the Roman Empire.  All seven of the cities John of Patmos, the author, addresses have places of worship for Rome’s emperor and the protectorate goddess, Roma.  Six of the seven had dedicated temples to Rome’s empire.  Five of the seven cities had imperial altars and priests.  And one of the cities, Pergamon, was the center of Roman worship and the first in Asia Minor to declare Caesar as the one who should be worshipped.[2]
          Rome was divinely chosen to rule the world, the center of all trade, and any threats to the ordered peace as dictated by the goddess Roma were brutally and violently neutralized.[3]
          John of Patmos looks deep into the ancient Jewish world to try and interpret the times for his readers and listeners.  His theology matters because lives are at stake. 
          People look all around the world in Asia Minor and see nothing but Rome as god.  On your daily walk to the market, Rome rules.  On your daily purchase of bread, Rome’s Caesar appears on all the coins which declare him as son of god.  If you choose to act upon your notion that there is something other than Rome, you, your family, and your people are violently visited with Roman law and order.  Rome is everywhere.   Rome’s reach touches everything.  By their power over others, Rome declares, “Can you not see?  God blesses us.  Can you not hear?  God is with us.  Do you not know?  We are the chosen and God is us!”  Rome inundates your Facebook thread, dominates your Twitter feed, and overruns every nightly news show and the monologue of every talk show host. 
          John of Patmos looks back and sees the prophet Isaiah in a situation where his own nation, Judah’s royalty, have declared that they are the blessed, they are the chosen, and that God is with them even when they act outside the character of God.  Therefore Isaiah imagines a God who is far more distant, cannot be trapped by any plans or schemes, any machinations of Judah’s royalty, put in a box to be used as a justification for any cruelty or injustice they could imagine.  The prophet Isaiah says that God is not your plaything or puppet, not a participant, has been removed from their plots and schemes, is broader and wider and more transcendent than the small-heartedness of Judah’s rulers.  Isaiah wants people to imagine God as a deeper memory than their justified wars, rationalized wealth, and bloody violence done to the most vulnerable.  God is a deeper memory who knows the Jewish people to be connected to one another in neighborly justice. 
          John of Patmos remembers prophets like Isaiah and asks Christians in Asia Minor to lift the veil of everyday existence where Roman status quo parades as all-important and ultimate.  John shows them to be of secondary importance to the call of God.  John is trying to lift the veil from contemporary actors, events, and options, and asks us to imagine something deeper than the present reality.[4]
          To oppose the beastly, carnivorous monsters of empire, like the prophets Isaiah and Daniel before him, John creates a transcendent heavenly entourage that is more transcendent and resplendent than anything Rome has to offer.  He calls Rome Babylon, the great empire Isaiah and Daniel witnessed, and he asked Christians to come out from Babylon, courageously denounce it, recognizing that you may suffer for your public opposition to it. 
          As in John and Daniel and Isaiah’s time, we are in a time when God is neatly packaged, always a god of immanence—a domesticated god, who is on a chain, under lock and key, the god who is always with us, forever blesses us or our people and, therefore, god becomes us.  Does God call us out of what has been normalized and domesticated to something wider and deeper—a common memory that might help us build true community?
          Michelangelo’s “The Creation of Adam” is one of the most well-known works of art in the Western world.  Harmonia Rosales, a Chicago-based, Afro-Cuban painter decided to re-imagine something different.  She painted God and the first human created, reaching out to one another in connection, as both black women.  God, as black woman, reaching to touch another the first human, another black woman, in Divine love.  Though Rosales’s painting attracted thousands of likes when posted on social media, the backlash referenced the painting as “disgusting” and a “desecration of an artistic masterpiece.”  Not unlike John of Patmos, Rosales sought to create a counter-narrative to the normalized, domesticated narrative of what is fully human and fully divine—two white men.[5]
          Now that is just art, but it reveals our captured imaginations—what is human and divine in public policy, criminal justice reform, and immigration.  The benevolent bearded white god reaches out in creative power to touch the white man.  And that . . . that is everywhere. 
So no, Revelation is not literally interpreting or predicting the future.  But yes, Revelation does relate how the all-consuming worship of empire requires us to normalize its violence so that law and order, Rome’s peace, might be served—in every age.  And John wants a deeper memory to be served.
John is critical of those Christians who have made an uneasy peace with the Roman Empire.  In hope that they might escape persecution and notice, Christians choose not to poke the bear.  They want to look just like every other, every day Roman.  Bleccccch!
One of the great gifts I received from a congregational member was a framed, word art quote from Revelation which has Christ saying about the church in Laodicea, “Would that you were hot or cold, but you are lukewarm, so I shall spit you out.”  That quote forever reminds me that I am called out from a god who is not like me, who transcends me, and who calls me out from my everyday lukewarmness.  Or . . . grasshoppers.  And they stare long and hard at me, “Mike, were that you were hot or cold.”  Yeah, I hear ya, grasshoppers.
What John reveals is a God who will not participate in Roman plans and schemes.  John’s imagination of a God who is resplendently removed gives Christians in Asia Minor a critical distance from Rome—so that they may see what is truly real.  It is as Wendell Berry and Henry David Thoreau said, “The work of the critic is to locate where the poisons are dumped and then turn back on oneself and ask:  ‘What is my place in all this?  Is it possible to live differently?  And if so, how can I begin?’”[6]
Like John, I believe we need an imagination, acts of courage, stories, of a deeper memory so that we can gain critical distance from the reality Rome, Voldemort, or white dictates so we do not believe that is all there is in the world.  My prayer is that this blessed church is once again poised to live out a more transcendent vision of a God who calls us to a New Jerusalem, to the stars of our faithful ancestors who have gone before us, and to the Morning Star who knew and lived out knowing that Rome and its Caesar were not god.  May we, as Christ’s followers, live today as if that were so.  Join in.  Engage.  Rally.  Amen. 



[1] David A. DeSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way:  The Rhetoric in the Book of Revelation  (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 14.
2Ibid, pp. 41-42
[3] Ibid, pp. 38, 40, 44.
[4] Ibid, p. 14.
[5]Vicky V., “Artist Receives Huge Backlash,” Fem Positive, April 4, 2019.
[6] Jedidiah Britton-Purdy, “A Shared Place:  Wendell Berry’s Lifelong Dissent,” The Nation, September 9, 2019.  https://www.thenation.com/article/wendell-berry-essays-library-of-america-review/.

Saturday, October 15, 2016

Sacred Place Worship Series 8, October 9, 2016, "Home as Sacred Place"

Sacred Place 8 BFC 2016
Psalm 16
October 9, 2016

Boy, the way Glenn Miller played. Songs that made the hit parade.
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.
Mister, we could use a man like Herbert Hoover again.
Didn't need no welfare state. Everybody pulled his weight.
Gee, our old LaSalle ran great. Those were the days.[1]


          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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