NOVEL SERMONS:  The Gospel in Literature and Life

5.  “Home”

Luke 15:11-32

First Presbyterian Church of Jamestown , New York

The Reverend Thomas A. Sweet

July 26, 2009

Sacrament of Holy Communion

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Well, you know that parable, right?  You’ve heard it a time or two before?  It is no secret that I love the prodigal son, Mary Oliver, and John Calvin, though the order of my devotion varies at various times.  My affection for the Bible’s best parable is one of the reasons I enjoyed so much Marilynne Robinson’s novel called Home.  Home is a prodigal son story, too, with one major difference from scripture’s version.  While Luke in his gospel tells the story of the circumstances leading up to that prodigal’s homecoming, Robinson anchors her story in what happens to her prodigal and his family following his return home.  While one can get the sense from the Bible that that prodigal lived a fairy tale “happily-ever-after life,” what happens to Robinson’s prodigal led one reviewer to write that Home was “one of the saddest books I ever have loved.”

Home is a companion novel to Robinson’s 2004 Pulitzer Prize-winning novel entitled Gilead .  Gilead was on the New York Times’ bestseller list for a long time, so many of you may have read it.  If you did, then you know the characters of Home, for they are all the same.  Neither prequel nor sequel to Gilead but what one critic calls an e-quel, Home tells of the same events as the earlier book but from a different perspective.  Gilead is written in the form of a letter from a 77-year old Congregational minister named John Ames to his 7-year old, late-in-life son, Robby.  In part of it, he tells Robby about John Ames Boughton, called Jack, who is the ne’er-do-well adult son of Ames ’ best friend, the Reverend Robert Boughton, Gilead ’s retired Presbyterian minister.  Home is told from Glory Boughton’s vantage point, Glory being one of the Reverend Boughton’s eight children and one of Jack’s siblings.  Glory is thirty-eight years old and just recently returned home herself after a failed engagement, and now is caring for her father who is frail and ill.

Without explanation, Jack returns home after a twenty year absence.  Jack drinks too much, spent time in prison, fathered a daughter out of wedlock, and, worst of all for his father, is a non-believer, though Jack knows the scripture better than most and plays hymns by ear on the piano for his father.  He also has a broken heart over a woman who did him nothing but good but with whom he cannot sustain a relationship because he drinks too much, spent time in prison… Jack comes home seeking reconciliation, though that is easier wished for than accomplished.  While Jack is at home he gardens, fixes the old DeSoto, visits the neighbors, and goes to church a couple of times.  The father, the Reverend Boughton, is tired and sad.  He falls asleep at dinner, falls deeper and deeper into dementia, and is tormented at how and why Jack has fallen into his sorry state.  Glory is the peacekeeper who moves between accepting people as they are, trying to fix them, and enabling them.  Each of them has secrets that define them, roles that have been assigned to them for decades, memories both pleasant and painful, all come together in a house full of family ghosts. 

Robinson knows and does not fear to tell us what a messy thing a family can be and has Glory sigh and say, “This life on earth is a strange business.”   And she prays, “Dear God in heaven, please help us.  Dear God, please help everyone we love.”  Robinson writes movingly of old age as she pictures the old man, the father, looking back on being young, saying, “It’s like remembering that I used to be the sun and the wind.”  Now, his hair “brushed into a soft white cloud, like harmless aspiration, like a mist given off by the endless work of dreaming,” he mostly naps and sleeps.  And, finally, he knows something like peacefulness with “the extinction of that last hope, like a perfect humility undistracted by the possible.”   

It is Jack, however, who most touches our hearts, or at least he did mine.  Though he was loved by his family in the ways that it could love him, he somehow never felt himself really to be a part of it, never felt as though he was fully understood even as he could not fully understand.  Even after returning home and staying for a while, trying to work on and figure things out, he left again, the narrator explaining that he has “fallen back on estrangement, his oldest habit.”

I read an interview with Marilynne Robinson and, in it, the questioner asked her if it is hard to write a “bad” character like Jack?  To which she says, “Calvin (Calvin!  Robinson loves Calvin, too!) says that God takes an aesthetic pleasure in people.  There’s no reason to imagine that God would choose to surround himself into infinite time with people whose only distinction is that they fail to transgress.  King David, for example, was up to a lot of no good.  To think that only faultless people are worthwhile seems like an incredible exclusion of almost everything of deep value in the human saga.  Sometimes I can’t believe the narrowness that has been attributed to God in terms of what God would approve and disapprove.”

Amen to that!  All through the story, his trouble, travail, turmoil, and torture notwithstanding, Jack seems to me the most interesting and human of all the characters, the one, in the words of David’s confessional psalm, “whose sin is always before him” and yet who is “a man after God’s own heart” even if Jack never quite knew it or never really could believe it.  It strikes me that in the novels I have read this summer for this sermon series, it is the deeply flawed character with whom I most identify.  In The Bird Artist, it was Fabian Vos, the young painter of birds who in a flare up of simmering anger killed Botho August, the lighthouse keeper who had had dalliances with his mother and his girlfriend, who most appreciated the beauty of life, who seemed to me the most full of it.  Last week in A River Runs Through It, it was Paul, Norman Maclean’s younger brother who was a Rembrandt with a fly-rod but who otherwise had a hard time of it before he was murdered, who seemed to me most passionately and fully alive.  And now Jack who knows that life is deeper and more profound than most people admit or allow.  How to say this?  Jack’s acting out over the years might just be his exasperation with a world that prefers moralisms to love and conventions to passion.

How often do we fail to live at home with ourselves because to do so would invite disparagement by others whose own sense of “home” would be upset by our doing so, and that is more than we think we can bear?

The gospel of Jesus Christ proclaims that in God we always have a home, and in that home, we may without fear dare to become and to be who we really are, to learn what we have to learn, and to do what we have to do in order finally to honor the unique humanity that has been entrusted to us.  In the Bible’s parable, the turning point for the prodigal arrives when he, in Luke’s language, “comes to himself.”   Authenticity seems to be the holy grail that God sets out for each of us to find in our lives and not until we find it shall we be free.  So to find ourselves – so often lost in “shoulds” and “oughts” and “conventions” and “customs” and “others’ expectations” –  is also to find God and then we shall know ourselves to be at home.  As John Calvin rightly said – “The knowledge of God and the knowledge of ourselves is inextricably intertwined.”

That is the gospel word that the novel Home suggests to me that I pass on to you.  I hope Jack gets that word.  Come to think of it, maybe he did, and that is why he felt he had to leave again.  Augustine said that “our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God.”  We find God in finding ourselves and in finding ourselves we find God. 

Where your heart is is where your home is.  Listen to your heart and let it lead you to your truest self, and thus also to God.

Amen.

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