Going Home



Exodus 12:1-14



Matthew 18:15-20


Last night was the big bonfire at the amusement park were Robby has been working for the summer. It was the biggest bonfire Robby had ever seen. There were a few pallets of wood and a couple of tree trunks. But, mostly, the fuel for the fire was all the wild grapevines that Robby had spent hacking down from the trees and wrestling to the ground during the mornings before the park opened for the day. The vines had all week to dry out from the deluge of rain last weekend, so they burned quickly and fiercely, the flames lapping up toward the half-moon hanging low in the sky.

Monday is the last day the amusement park is open for the summer. Robby thinks it is quite fitting that his last day at the lever of the Tilt-a-whirl will be Labor Day. He was surprised at how much work the job was. Not the actual ticket-taking and lap-belt buckling and lever cranking. No, the hard part - the real work of the job - was simply getting through the long, mundane day. Too much time to think about his dad.

Or maybe it was just enough. Because, the truth is, he’d been running away from his dad’s death for nine years now... doing anything possible not to face the truth that he’s gone.
It’s amazing what happens when we’re forced to face what we’ve been avoiding. It’s labor, to be sure... to be confronted with the ways we’ve lied to ourselves... to be confronted by the ways we’ve lied to others. Hard stuff.

But, maybe it’s all a part of coming home.

And, that’s what we want, isn’t it? To know that Robby is going home. Back to his mother, Cheryl, whose heart has been breaking for him all summer long since he left her without so much as a word. We can imagine the prodigal moment, her hurt and anger melting away into sobs of joy as she throws her arms around him.




Come to think of it, we want her cousin, Roy, to find some peace in retirement, too. It would be nice if clarity would descend upon him like a light from heaven, that his bible reading would give some sense of purpose in his retirement. While we’re at it, it would be nice if the deer would leave the tomatoes in his garden alone.

And, we can’t forget Jinny, Robby’s friend from college? How great would it be if she were to dedicate her life to being a midwife. Her father would not approve at first, but he would come around. We can imagine all those little babies she would bring into the world... to her it would be awesome every time.

Who knows, maybe she and Robby could have a future together?

Speaking of being a midwife, we can’t forget the couple who gave birth to a child in a shack a couple of weeks ago. It would be nice to know that things work out for them. That, somehow they find a way to put food on the table, that they wouldn’t get deported, that their child would have the privilege of growing up and going to school as a citizen of our great country.

And last, but certainly not least, we want the baby bird - the one we found trembling on the ground after having fallen out of the nest - we want it to live.

We want it to fly.

Every year, our Jewish sisters and brothers - our ancestors in the faith - tell the story of the beginning of the flight to freedom for their people. In a feast, specific it’s details, they re-enact God’s great liberation. The mighty Empire - that had enslaved the Hebrews and decimated their young - would get a taste of their own medicine as the Angel of Death passed throughout the land.




But, the Hebrews would be spared - freed by the blood of the lamb. This intervention of Divine justice would be the beginning of their journey home.

It would take years: of wandering and soul-searching, of conforming to God’s expectations and falling way short. But, one day, they would have a land of their own. With the Passover feast, they were on their way.

And, those of us who call ourselves Christian, we have our own feast of liberation. Next week, we will gather around this table and remember the man who gathered his friends around for the Passover meal. We remember how he told them that he was giving everything he had - even his own blood - for their freedom... and for ours.

Every week, we gather in this space and we tell stories about this man who gives us freedom, who calls us home. We tell stories of how he healed the bent over and gave sight to the blind. We tell stories of how he confronted the rule-keepers and how he loved those people who were unlovable. We tell stories of how his love brought him to the cross and how the empty tomb changed the world.

We dare to believe his promise that he is with us - wherever two or three are gathered - when we are united in honesty and in love.

We tell these stories over and over again... sadly, sometimes our eyes glaze over in the telling. But, we tell these stories not because it is an obligation or a duty. We tell these stories in the trust that - if we pay attention, if we are open - the Spirit will work in us. We tell these stories because they can change our lives.

They do not always go the way we want them to go. They do not always make sense. Such is life. Indeed, life rarely goes the way we want it to go, and it rarely makes sense. We can’t predict how it will end. All we can do is follow the story... to move forward, one page at a time.

And, we share our stories with others. Sometimes that’s what makes the read even better. And, sometimes, that’s the only way we can have the strength to turn the page. Wherever two or three are gathered, Jesus promised...

Last night, before the big bonfire, the boss sponsored a pig-roast for the entire amusement park staff. Robby and his friend Dan ate their fill. The whole staff did. There was nothing left. They stayed up late talking... about the rain from last weekend, about the time the Ferris wheel got stuck, and about that group - they thought it was a family reunion - that channelled their aggression through the bumper cars and managed to break every single car.

Tomorrow is his last day at the amusement park. Robby isn’t the kind of guy that plans ahead, but he’s been thinking about what’s next. Maybe he’ll track down Jinny. Maybe he’ll visit his Mom. Every hour or so, Robby reaches into his pocked several times a day to rub his fingers over the smooth pearl ring he won... finally.

I can’t tell you what’s next for Robby.

But, I can tell you this. He’s going home. Maybe in a couple of days, maybe in a couple of months, maybe in a couple of years. I don’t know when, but he’ll get there.
We all will. We’re all on our way home.

Amen.