Home

It’s time to go. The holiday has come and gone; we’ve gathered, some from a long distance, others from somewhere closer. But we’ve gathered together to celebrate somehow. Maybe with excitement and enthusiasm, maybe with quiet consolation and a passing of peace. And even if our home was the locus of the gathering, we’ve been in a new space as we host the gathered loved ones. This gathering unsettles all. It can be and hopefully often is a joyous unsettling, but unsettling, nonetheless. Schedules are changed, routines are upended, and expectations are shifted regularly.

But now it’s time to go home. The shepherds, who rushed to the side of the manger with the angelic announcement still ringing in their ears, now take their leave. They go back to their flocks left grazing on the hillside in the surrounding countryside. They fulfilled their commission to go and see this thing that had been made known to them, and now they returned. It’s what we do, part of the rhythm of how we live in this world. We come and we go.

Hannah and Elkanah went home too. They went to the temple, like everyone went to the temple, and then they went home. It’s what we do. Except they didn’t come as everyone else came. Yes, they came to worship; it was part of their faith, part of the ritual practice. But they also came for Samuel. Their little boy whom they delivered to Eli as the result of a promise made to God was there working in the temple. They came to make a connection, to hope he remembered them, his parents who had given him up to the Lord. Hannah made him a new robe every year and brought it to him. Maybe got him to try it on so she could adjust it, take it in here, let it out there, so that he could wear it longer; so that he could wear it proudly; so that everyone who came to the temple would know that he wasn’t abandoned, but that he was loved and a part of a family who loved him. Then they went home. With broken hearts? With pride as they saw Samuel taking his place in the temple of the Lord? Both? Something else?

Mary and Joseph also went home. Not only were they changed, but home was changed too. It is an odd little story tucked away here in the gospel of Luke. A rare glimpse of the childhood of Jesus. But even in this little story we have a reordering of how we think about the world and our place in it. You know the story; Jesus gets lost along the way on the Passover trip to Jerusalem. The parents among us want detailed information as to how such a thing could happen. We don’t know. It happened and there was panic and consternation. Mary lets him have it, and then is given a glimpse into a whole new way of seeing. A whole new way of being. “Did you not know I must be in my father’s house?” (Lk 2:49 NRSV). Must be? I must be, he says. The boy says, the boy Jesus, who Luke implies had an inkling of who he was or was becoming. Like Hannah and Elkanah, Mary and Joseph left their son at the temple because he must be in his father’s house. And though in this case, the boy is not left behind again, they all go home changed. Jesus goes and, Luke says, is obedient to his earthly parents, even as he grows in wisdom and years and in divine and human favor. And we can assume, Mary and Joseph did their share of growing too.

Here's a reality to embrace today. We go home transformed. We go home changed. I know it isn’t Luke’s story, but we go home by a different way. Even if the road is the same one we took to get there, the way is different. Because we are different. Something happened in the gathering. Maybe we grew closer, maybe we overcame differences that have kept us apart longer than they should have. Maybe new rifts grew between us as we realized that we are different people and unable to understand and be understood. Maybe we became aware of the passing of time and now have learned to love in new ways, to see with new eyes, to appreciate with new determination. Maybe we realized that our circles of connection don’t overlap like they used to, and we now have choices to make.

We go home changed. That’s the message of this grand celebration, this holy holiday. Incarnation comes to bring transformation. The shepherds returned glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen. They didn’t just return to their work, they returned with glory. They returned with praise. It makes you wonder what it was like in those fields in the region around Bethlehem. Was there spontaneous singing breaking out at unusual times during the day? Was there more laughter than usual, or laughter that lifted up instead of knocked down? Was there a larger vision that didn’t ignore the needs of the sheep, but saw serving sheep as somehow holy work now, God-infused work, instead of a dirty, smelly chore fit only for the folks on the margin? We don’t know, except that we know how we look at our work, our rituals, and our habits when we have gathered together in the light of love and joy of the Lord. We know how we are impacted by a significant event, transformed by connection and by hope.

Hannah and Elkanah went home transformed every time, you can count on that. And when it came time to return to the temple, they didn’t go reluctantly. They went with anticipation and with joy. Because they weren’t going to perform some common rituals and join in religious observance. Or rather they weren’t going only to perform some common rituals. No, they were going to connect with family as well. They were going to see someone they loved, to see someone who belonged to them and to whom they belonged. The time and distance did not diminish the relationship and the love. They carried it with them at home and in the temple and on the journey there and back home again.

It’s time to go home. But we go home transformed and being further transformed. We go home and carry a part of our gathering – love of family, shared worship, traditions, and new observances – with us as we go. Emmanuel goes with us; it is what the name means after all. Encountering Emmanuel in this glorious Christmas season has a transformative effect. Our gatherings have changed; our homes have changed; we have changed. And it is still time to go home. Let us go in hope; let us go in joy; let us go glorifying and praising God.

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Rev. Dr. Derek Weber, Director of Preaching Ministries, served churches in Indiana and Arkansas and the British Methodist Church. His PhD is from University of Edinburgh in preaching and media. He has taught preaching in seminary and conference settings for more than 20 years.