"The Move"

In the name of God—Creator, Redeemer and Holy Comforter. Amen.

Tom and I have moved. We’ve moved out of the house we’ve lived in for 35 years into a nearby condominium. Two years ago when we first got serious about downsizing, it seemed like a good idea, but as the months rolled by, I began to feel homesick for my house and my life there even before I ever left it.

I realized that I wanted to turn back the clock by 20 years. I wanted Tom to go to the office each morning, and the girls to go to school, and everyone to come home for dinner so I could keep track of them. (There were things about those years that were not so sweet, but in my nostalgia, I’d forgotten them, of course.) Over the years in that house, I had gone from being a 20-something newcomer in Atlanta to being a grandmother. All that living had taken place under the roof at Belvedere Drive—babies born and grown from teenagers to women, parents seen through their last days, a garden created, sermons written, holidays celebrated. No wonder I was nostalgic.

It’s not as if I had never moved. In the first 25 years of my life, I moved from Panama to Nashville to England to New York to Virginia to Los Angeles. When I finally got to Atlanta, I just wanted to stay put in one house. Most of us want a place to belong, to put down roots, know our neighbors, grow our gardens. Having a sense of place is a beautiful experience, the security of “home.” But, the danger is in thinking that this place represents all of reality; our vision can become limited and our lives can shrink.

Moving comes at many stages of life, of course. I have a friend whose health has worsened over the last few years. She had become dependent on her husband to drive her places. When his health took a sudden turn for the worse, they were both housebound and isolated. Their children helped them move into a senior community, and both of them are thriving, delighted to be back among people. Although the move required sacrifice and acknowledgement that they need assistance, they have bloomed in their new home.

Another friend is about to start college in two weeks. She is excited and a little anxious about this new life. She only knows one person among the 15,000 students. She has never met her roommate. We can all remember the craziness of the first fall semester—trying to find the classrooms, trying to make friends, trying to be cool. I think you have to be 18 years old to have the courage to make this kind of move away from home and into the world.

There are the moves that young families make into a larger home or to a new job in a new city. Andy and Jana Delfino are moving to Washington, D.C. with their two precious children. We have loved having them be part of our Christian community, sharing with them the excitement of new babies. Their move makes us sad, but we wish them every blessing in their new life.

In the end, moving is really a spiritual journey. There are bitter sweet hours as you go through boxes of family photos, fragile letters from ancestors tucked into envelopes with 1 cent stamps on them, notes from friends when your parents died, kindergarten drawings from the children. Your whole life seems to swirl around you on the attic floor.

Another part of the spiritual journey of moving is having to confront all your “stuff.” Having to deal with your possessions makes you deal with the reality that you fell like a rock for consumerism, went after material possessions like a fish for a baited hook. I thought I was outfoxing consumerism, shopping at sales and looking for bargains, but all I did was outfox myself and end up with too much “stuff.” I discovered that you can only pass on so much “stuff” to your kids until they start to protest that their home has become a museum to your home. And you have to ask yourself some really hard questions —

What spiritual emptiness was I trying to fill with possessions?

What longing for by-gone days and people made me cling to things?

How much of my stuff will become a burden to my children?

Isn’t it my responsibility to clean up after myself and put my life in order?

The ordinariness of a move can become a sacramental experience. Moving is a time of surrender, of letting go of material possessions, letting go of old images of “home,” accepting that part of your life is behind you and there is no going back. There is a moment when your old life is all in boxes and your new life has not yet begun. You are living at the threshold, the numinous place betwixt and between.

There are so many biblical stories about moving—

Adam and Eve having to leave the Garden;

Abram and Sarai moving from the land of Ur of the Chaldeans to the land of Canaan where they become Abraham and Sarah;

Jacob moving back to his homeland, spending the night at the Jabbok ford and wrestling with a stranger who changes his name to Israel;

Moses and the Hebrew tribes fleeing from Egypt out into the desert for 40 years; Ruth following Naomi and saying, “Your people will be my people.”

David changing from a young shepherd in the fields into the King of Israel in a palace in Jerusalem.

God’s people are always on the move, crossing over thresholds into a new life, trusting that God will be present with them as they step into the unknown. Jesus himself spends 40 days in the wilderness being transformed from a simple Galilean peasant into The One who would manifest God’s love and word to others over two thousand years.

We are here today because we seek an encounter with our God. We have gathered to share the Eucharist together, to find comfort at Christ’s table, to connect with The Holy One who goes with us on the journey from childhood to old age. We have come to find strength and courage to go into the world rejoicing the in the power of the Spirit, to be God’s people in the world wherever we are called to go.

Amen.

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Readings

2 Samuel 18:5-9, 15, 31-33

David the king ordered Joab and Abishai and Ittai, saying, “Deal gently for my sake with the young man Absalom.” And all the people heard when the king gave orders to all the commanders concerning Absalom. So the army went out into the field against Israel; and the battle was fought in the forest of Ephraim. The men of Israel were defeated there by the servants of David, and the slaughter there was great on that day, twenty thousand men. The battle spread over the face of all the country; and the forest claimed more victims that day than the sword. Absalom happened to meet the servants of David. Absalom was riding on his mule, and the mule went under the thick branches of a great oak. His head caught fast in the oak, and he was left hanging between heaven and earth, while the mule that was under him went on. And ten young men, Joab’s armor-bearers, surrounded Absalom and struck him, and killed him. Then the Cushite came; and the Cushite said, “Good tidings for my lord the king! For the Lord has vindicated you this day, delivering you from the power of all who rose up against you.” The king said to the Cushite, “Is it well with the young man Absalom?” The Cushite answered, “May the enemies of my lord the king, and all who rise up to do you harm, be like that young man.” The king was deeply moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept; and as he went, he said, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!”

Ephesians 4:25-5:2

Putting away falsehood, let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors, for we are members of one another. Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and do not make room for the devil. Thieves must give up stealing; rather let them labor and work honestly with their own hands, so as to have something to share with the needy. Let no evil talk come out of your mouths, but only what is useful for building up, as there is need, so that your words may give grace to those who hear. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with which you were marked with a seal for the day of redemption. Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice, and be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you. Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.

John 6:35, 41-51

Jesus said, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.” Then the Jews began to complain about him because he said, “I am the bread that came down from heaven.” They were saying, “Is not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know? How can he now say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” Jesus answered them, “Do not complain among yourselves. No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up on the last day. It is written in the prophets, ‘And they shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who has heard and learned from the Father comes to me. Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father. Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.”

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