GOING HOME . . .
The Revd Deacon Polly M. Bowen
“When you take me home for burial, remember to make a good vacation of it; it’s a beautiful place.” These were words my husband spoke to our daughter Holly as she cared for him during the last years of his life. Last month the time came, and we journeyed to the Adirondacks to Hadley, a little town near Lake George. My husband’s sisters had graciously asked me to officiate at the service, and I in turn invited them to participate. I was surprised to find about 50 of his cousins, nieces, nephews and their offspring there, and a lovely reception offered at the home of a nephew. At the end of the service Holly and her brothers Rob and Chip received the flag commemorating their father’s service as radioman aboard ship at the height of the Pacific battles of World War II. It was an emotional time for all of us.
But when we returned to our motel, Holly reminded us of the words her father had spoken. The young girls (13 year old Holly and her niece, 10 year old Deanna) had never been there before, so we thought it appropriate to do some “tourist” things. We spent two days doing just that; a boat trip on Lake George, a visit to Fort William Henry, a trip to a “haunted house,” a side trip to Howe Caverns, and (for the adults) the “mandatory” trek up Hadley Hill to locate the remote place where Dad was born and spent his early years.
We crowded as much fun as we could into a three-day weekend, interspersing the tourist things and the joy of breaking bread together as a family with visits on the motel patio while the girls swam and we reminisced – exchanging Dad/Grandpa stories late into the night – laughing, crying, sharing. We pondered the passage of time – how the grandchildren who joined us – Evan, Carla, Brandon – are all twenty-somethings and doing the driving for us on this trip, how the “in-laws” – Lorri, Martin, arlene and Jake – are so much a part of the family now. And we wondered why it is that it always takes a sad time for us to remember how much we love each other.
There’s something poignant about family get-togethers at “crisis” times. These are the times when ties stretched thin are strengthened, when memories long forgotten are recalled with new perception of their significance.
It happens in our liturgical family relationships, too. When there is a crisis or a turning point in the Church, we tend to cling together, holding on to past consolation, pledging constancy and unwavering faith in “the way we were.” But slowly, almost imperceptibly, things change. Children grow up and leave, or stay and become the new “pillars of the church.” Inevitably things are done a little differently. New people come in, bringing new traditions, and it isn’t until something startling happens – something that may be as old as scripture but unnoticed until now – that the family perceives a crisis.
We are at one of those crisis times in the Church now (or perhaps we’re always at one of them.) As surely as things change in our personal families, things will change in the Church. It can’t be otherwise. The apostles felt it when Jesus was crucified, and again on the Day of Pentecost. They felt it in the ensuing years as the fledgling Church was born and grew, as Peter and Paul argued about who was in and who was out, and what the “Outs” had to do to become “Ins.”
Twenty-one centuries piled black on black have marked changes in the Church as saints were born, lived and died, as God’s people worshipped together one day and argued the next, and Life went on. Coming together at the crisis times, sharing the stories and The Story, breaking bread and praising God, the Church survived. Does it look like the Church the Apostles left behind? Perhaps not, but the foundation is ever the same and the rudimentary structure is there, battered, splintered perhaps, but still the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic church that supports and nourishes us.
Don’t be afraid of the changes. Each of us ultimately goes “home.” For me, home will be a niche in the columbarium, where I will join my mother, Owen, Lee, Bill, Harry, Tom, Howard and Elaine and many other dear friends that I knew and loved in this place. But, as St. Paul said, “our true home is in Heaven,” and as the people here on earth commemorate our lives and recall the good times together, we will joyfully celebrate our new life in the timeless presence of our Lord, as his greeting, “Well done, good and faithful servant” ushers us into the place where relationships are forever new and where blissful peace is a given.
And to those left behind: don’t be afraid to make a party of it; we are in a beautiful place.
