Abstract
Home: it’s more than the place where you live. Home is where the heart is.
Just hearing that phrase triggers a very particular ear-worm; one that takes me back to the synth pop of the late 1980s and early 1990s and Erasure’s “Blue Savannah” from the album Wild! It’s a song with lyrics that talk about the pace of life and separation, and of course home.
Whether or not you know the track, resonates with the longing for home. In the early hours, in a restless world, on the open highway: home is where the heart is. Racing across a desert—however metaphorical—through the clouds and thunder; living life at a hundred miles an hour: home is where the heart is.
The refrain captures a sense of home as place of emotional connection and fond memories; a place we are happy to return to and where we are met by the welcome of loved ones: ‘My home is where the heart is /Sweet to surrender to you only / I send my love to you’.
The saying (or something like it) is not new—some attribute a version of it to Pliny. It’s appeared in novels and is the title of a TV series; Elvis Presley sang about it long before Erasure did! Not all of us will equate home with the place we live now. For some it is the palace we were were born, for others where we’ve lived longest.
That range of responses reflects something of the connection between a sense of home and feelings of belonging, identity and security; having a place of safety which connects us to the rest of the world. The song “Blue Savannah” ends with a question: ‘Will I discover that your love will bring me home?’.
A concern for ‘home’ runs through today’s readings. We encounter King David ‘settled in his house’. It’s a place of rest and sanctuary; a place away from the threat of enemies. Yet, the king is also unsettled by living in a house of cedar whilst the ark of God is in a tent. Nathan’s first instinct it to encourage the king to do what he has in mind—to create a more permanent resting place for the ark.
That night the prophet receives a word from the Lord which reframes David’s desire. The Lord has moved about amongst the people of Israel; but a cedar house was not spoken of. The Lord called David, the shepherd boy, to lead this people: and still the Lord was among the people wherever they went.
David had gone from overseeing sheep and pasture to overseeing people and a having a home. Instead of being called to create a permanent dwelling place for the ark of God, his calling is to make a house and lineage. This promise echos that made to Abraham and Sarah: a name, descendants and a land.
This is a promise of home: of being rooted; of finding peace and stability. It’s a house not of cedar but with God at its heart. God dwells with them and establishes them. We might improvise on Erasure’s lyrics and say home is where the ark is; home is with the Lord. Wherever they are—including the time travelling across the desert—the kings and people trust in that sense of home and the feelings of belonging, identity and security.
It is to a woman betrothed to a descendant of that house that God sent the angel Gabriel. He greets her as favoured one; and she is perplexed and ponders its meaning. In this exchange there is the promise of conception—a son who will share the lineage of King David.
If home is where the heart is, the dwelling place of God is now among mortals in flesh of our flesh. Mary’s heart will beat along with that of the unborn child. As John Donne writes of this blesséd mother in La Corona: ‘thou art now / Thy Maker’s maker, and thy Father’s mother, /Thou has light in dark, and shutt’st in little room /Immensity, cloister’d in thy dear womb.’
The body that Mary carries in her body is God with us. She looks for his coming as our saviour with birth pangs; amidst the birth pangs of this present age, we look for our great salvation.
The body she carries, his heart beating, will be at home with us; and also calling us home turning our hearts back to love. Through him, we find our belonging, our identity and our security in God.
This body will console and provoke; teach and heal; feed and bless. This body comes to a restless world to bring forgiveness; bringing us home; restoring our belonging and identity in peace. This body will be betrayed, denied and beaten before being lifted up on the cross. But in dying this body destroys death and brings new life.
The body who bore him with pain and joy, will have her heart pierced too. Yet, through him the house of Israel is glorified; and the nations enlightened. This is the mystery of revelation of which Paul wrote in his parting words to the Romans. In those words, he sums up his hope that in Christ Jesus all nations are brought to the obedience of faith.
Perhaps Erasure’s lyrics give voice to the cry of humanity: will we discover that God love will bring us home? If home is where the heart is, will be send our love to God in worship and our neighbours in service?
This Advent, we prepare to celebrate a birth; but we also prepare to face judgement. Through the power of the Spirit, we are called to witness to the good news that God’s love was revealed in Jesus Christ.
In the early hours, in a restless world, on the open highway; in the desert, the clouds and thunder; and when life’s lived at a hundred miles an hour: may our human hearts find their home in God; may our human hearts bring peace, justice, healing and hope to our world.