The Path Home

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On this weekend in 1983, I graduated from Penn State with an accounting degree. After commencement, I rode home with my parents, a long, 3-hour drive. We nattered about the graduation service, about my time at Penn State, and caught up on local news.

The following day, mom and dad invited me to “have a seat” at the dining room table. I recognized the formality of the moment, but I had no idea what was coming. Dad began the conversation:

“Paula, you’ve completed your college degree and you’ve done well. It is time for you to find your way. You will always be welcome here, but this is no longer your home”.

I don’t remember what I contributed to the conversation…but I do remember feeling the weight of those words. One day I was in my parents’ nest … dependent on them for housing, food, and clothing. And then I was sent forth toward a new life.

Our reading from Exodus takes place shortly after God led the Israelites out of Egypt. By this part of the story, they had been camping in the desert for about three months and they were grumpy. Just a few months ago, they had homes…food….water. Yes, it was in a foreign land and, yes they were oppressed and enslaved and yes, they were dependent on Pharoah for everything. But, looking back, it sure felt safe compared to this.

Now, they are dependent on Yahweh. They have all day to grouse about the fact that they used to have a nest in Egypt….but, now, they are itinerant-- in a barren wilderness.

God led his people from their past to a liminal space—a time in which God will wait for them to change…to become a people who are able to enter covenantal relationship with Yahweh.

From the peak of Mount Sinai, God spoke to the people: I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery; you shall have no other gods before me.

And thus began the path toward a new life.

One of my good friends likes to say, “You do not prepare the path for the child. You prepare the child for the path”.

For 21 years, my parents had been preparing me to leave the nest and begin a new life…on the path to which I was called. The road was a little bumpy in the first six months. I didn’t have car—or, at that moment, a job. It was scary. But in retrospect, they were right: they had prepared me for the adventure of life.

The Israelites will slowly awaken to a new relationship with God. It will require many years for them to make this transition. God began their preparation with the 10 Commandments.

The first four commandments are about our relationship with God:

You shall have no other gods before me.

You shall not make for yourself an idol.

You shall not use God’s name wrongfully.

You shall keep the Sabbath.

The last six commandments are about our relationship in community:

Honor your parents…those who nurture you.

You shall not murder.

You shall not cheat on your spouse.

You shall not steal.

You shall not lie.

You shall not covet others’ stuff.

These commandments have been passed down from generation to generation for 3,000 years. And they are still relevant.

God did not prepare the path for the Israelites—or for us. We are free to choose our path. But God did equip the Israelites, and us, for all that was, and all that is, to come.

Over the past year, St. Christopher’s has intentionally built a Christian formation program for all ages. It is our responsibility to invest in the spiritual lives of our congregation—and we are doing it.

Early on, the choir re-formed—some days there are 12 people in our music room after church. They are singing hymns, talking about the lyrics, and forming community. It is an aspect of Christian formation that we experience every Sunday. They support our singing and they raise up the joy in our worship.

Irreverently Faithful is a Zoom-based ministry that intersects current literature with our experiences of God in this world.

J2A—Journey to Adulthood—intentionally prepares young people to make good decisions and become leaders in adulthood.

Our adult Sunday school class is growing….in every way. Last Fall we read Matthew and talked about the culture of fear in that Gospel—and what we could learn from Jesus about living in our own present-day culture of fear. This Spring, we’re delving into Mark, a Gospel of action. We’ll follow Mark with a series of conversations about our own discipleship and action.

And a new thing is coming: for the last few months, many of you have been quietly building and sewing and designing all the props for Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. This program will invite our youngest Christians into the wonder of God’s story. And because so many of us are participating in the creation of the props, we are part of that story, too.

We are building legacy as a congregation—even now in our liminal moment.

These are just some examples of the ways in which we are preparing ourselves for the path—leaning more deeply into the life of Christ.

The path we walk in this world is not perfect. The Ten Commandments are broken every day. Some days by us. And some days, the path feels lonely, scary.

But there is much good news for us. God is guiding our preparation. We do not walk the path alone—we walk together as a Body of Christ—and we walk with the Holy Spirit, whom God sent to be our Advocate and Guide.

The path we are following is not random. It is the path that leads us Home—to a new life.

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Where Love Abides

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When I turned three years old, my mom took me to the pediatrician for a 36-month check-up. Dr. Lynn did all the usual things and then he folded arms and observed me for a while. Eventually, he turned to my mom and asked, “Betty, is she always like this?” Mom said, “yes—this is who she is.” Dr. Lynn said, “I think this is ADHD…Ritalin would calm things down for her.” But, there was a caveat. If Dr. Lynn was wrong, and I did not have ADHD, Ritalin would cause a counter-reaction—and I would be even more hyper than usual. Spoiler alert: I do not have ADHD. My parents talked it over and decided that Sunday morning would be a perfect chance to test Ritalin. Of course, my parents didn’t go to church. They sent my sister and I with Grandma. On Sunday morning, my unsuspecting Grandma picked us up and we went to the little Baptist church in my hometown. By the time Rev. Bolster was leaning to his sermon—waving his arms and shouting for Jesus, Ritalin was coursing through my veins. I wanted to preach, too. So, I slid off the pew and under the pew in front us. Then I began to army crawl toward the front of the church. And, wow, suddenly I noticed all these shiny dress shoes without shoelaces and I began gathering people’s shoes along the way. When I popped up in front of the first row, I had an armful of shoes. I dropped them and ran up the stairs to stand beside Rev. Bolster. None of this activity had affected his sermon. He was still waving his arms and shouting, and was I mimicking everything he did. Grandma finally had enough and came to get me. My first sermon ended very abruptly. Because I was so young, I have no personal memory of this event or the rest of the day before Ritalin wore off. The reason I know the story so well is because, in my family, Sunday dinner was a command performance. After church, my aunts and uncles and cousins gathered at grandma’s home for a big meal. When the dessert plates were finally cleared, the coffee pot came to the dinner table. Everyone pushed their chairs back from the table and then the story telling began. Stories, like the day of Ritalin, were told over and over again. I heard stories about my parents and my aunts and uncles when they were children, stories about when our family came to America, stories about families in our community. We sat at the table for hours. Sunday dinner was holy space, a weekly ritual where the real dish being served was relationship. Today’s Gospel reading places us at the Maundy Thursday dinner table. Jesus has already washed everyone’s feet, Judas has gone into the night to betray Jesus, and now everyone’s pushed their chairs back from the dinner table. It’s that time in the evening when they’re expecting Jesus to teach. Maybe it will be a new parable or a recalling a particular healing or that time when the disciples went out on their own, two by two. But tonight’s conversation will not be a trip down memory lane. Instead, Jesus will speak to them for hours…Chapters 14, 15, 16, and 17 of John’s Gospel are called “the farewell discourses.” All of it happens after the meal. These are the words Jesus felt he needed to say to his family and friends before he moved to the Garden of Gethsemane and the cross. What he chose to say was all about relationship. “As the Father has loved me, [he said], so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. It sounds circular because it is. Jesus is part of God’s life in the Trinity. He has extended his love to us. We are invited to abide in Jesus’ love which abides in God’s love. This is an ever-evolving, never-ending relationship into which the incarnate Christ welcomes you and me. “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends”. Because Jesus said this at the Maundy Thursday meal, it seems like he is referring to the cross. This week, I wondered if he is also reflecting on all of his life. From the moment of Jesus’ birth, his life invited people to come and abide in God’s love. The shepherds, the wise men, Herod—all of them felt a new Presence in our world. Wherever Jesus went, he welcomed people into relationship. He listened, he told stories about his relationship with his Father, and he taught us a new way of being in relationship: As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. He tossed the keys to his life to us, and said “You are my kin…come, abide in me”. Many of you know I grew up in Appalachia, where passing down stories from generation to generation is the fabric of community. We know one another’s stories—and we hold them for one another. We do much the same thing in our congregational life: We read Scripture that tells us about God’s engagement with our world over thousands of years. We recite creeds. We pray as a community for our community. We sing together. We break bread and share the cup of Christ’s new covenant. And then what? We pass these stories to new generations of followers through Christian formation, through our welcome of guests who come to see what the Church means today. We abide in God’s love when we feed the hungry, clothe the naked and bind up the wounds of need. We abide in God’s love when we listen deeply and hold one another’s stories. This is relationship. It is what Jesus offered to us. We are called to toss the keys to our life—St. Christopher’s life—to a community of people desperate to know Love. Amen.