I don’t have a home in this world anymore….
Thursday, June 16, 2022 began like any other day for the
people of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, Vestavia Hills, Birmingham, Alabama:
a parish group of pilgrims led by their rector, The Reverend John Buruss, began
walking in the footsteps of Paul in Athens and Corinth, Greece; The Reverend
Katherine Harper led a Live-Stream of Morning Prayer; others, no doubt, were
preparing for the evening’s upcoming pot-luck supper. Later that evening, at
St. Stephen’s, and for many throughout the country, life was changed by a
senseless act of violence that took the lives of three people at the supper. In
the words of rector John Buruss+, “hearts are broken…and I cannot begin to
fathom how painful this is for our entire church, and the larger community.” I
once attended a luncheon in a church basement where the guest speaker observed
that wherever there is pain somewhere in the Church, we all hurt. It is safe to
say this is true in the world, not just the Church. With each mass-shooting
event, there are thousands, if not millions for whom the pain and grief is present,
almost as if they were there.
Having been through a similar event ten years ago at St
Peter’s Ellicott City, the seemingly never- ending onslaught of such
mass-shooting events means the triggers that result from the trauma of such an
event fire-off: immediately sometimes, and in delay other times. Lately, given
Buffalo, Uvalde, and now St. Stephen’s, those triggers have no time to reset.
In 2022 alone there have been more than one mass-shooting event per day. Every
day. After hearing about St. Stephen’s, I reached out to a friend who is from
Birmingham and who was also at St. Peter’s when a man walked into our office, shot
and killed my two closest colleagues in ministry: Brenda Brewington and The
Reverend Mary-Marguerite Kohn. She knows people at St. Stephen’s. After we talked,
I proceeded to swim laps in the pool to work off some of the anxiety that was
building up in me – PTSD can be a whole-body, mind and soul experience. I then
pushed myself to post a Live-Stream Prayer Service for St. Stephen’s, with
prayers and a Psalm from the Book of Common Prayer. It was an act of self-care
as much as an outreach to others who might need a few words of strength to
continue their own day upon hearing the news.
A diocesan official texted to see how I was doing, who also knows
people at St. Stephen’s. Someone else called to check in. Then I did what I
most often do at such times: I picked up my guitar and began to play My
Heart with Filled with Love by Joyce Andersen, Mercy Now by Mary
Gauthier, and I Ain’t Got No Home in This World Anymore by Woody Guthrie.
It can feel like that for survivors of these mass-shooting events. The reality
is, we are all survivors. I was recently asked if survivor’s guilt is a real
thing. It is.
For Sunday, I was planning to pick up on the theme of “Going
Home” at the end of this week’s gospel, Luke 8:26-39. Jesus invites the crowd
of disciples traveling with him to visit a man in Gentile territory so
possessed by demons who had been chained with no clothes in a tomb far away
from his home town. Jesus restores him to his right mind. When his neighbors
see him now clothed and in his right mind we are told, “they were afraid.” More
afraid than when he was possessed and they removed him from town.
Understandably, the man wants to travel with Jesus and his companions, but
Jesus says to him, "Return to your home, and declare how much God has
done for you." We all need to return home. It is Augustine who reminds us, “Lord God, our
hearts are restless until we find our home in thee.”
Whether or not I am in my right mind is open to
interpretation, but it is this instruction that leads me to share all of this
with all who care to listen. The implications of an event like that at St.
Stephen’s or St. Peter’s, or Buffalo and Uvalde and, and and, is far reaching.
Each event, of which there have been more than one for each day of this year,
triggers a crisis of faith and of feelings and a sense of déjà vu for countless
numbers of people throughout our church and throughout our country. To quote a
friend of Woody’s, “when will it ever end, when will it ever end.” [Pete
Seeger] By which I mean, when will we stop the tsunami of guns, including
weapons of warfare, into our society?
I write. I sing. I run. I swim. And I am fortunate there are
those who know my survivor-story that call or text or email to see how I am
doing each time. Checking in on one another is God’s way of making a difference.
This is how I have learned to cope over the past decade. I invite you to sing
along, or listen, or call your congress person or senator, or call someone you
know is hurting today, or whatever helps you to sleep after each time we
re-live one mass-shooting event after another. We are all of us survivors over
and over again. As the old spiritual says, “I sing, because I’m happy/ and I
sing because I’m free/ his eye is on the sparrow/ and I know he’s watching over
me….” Sing for St. Stephen’s and everyone everywhere who carries the burden
of the endless carnage that ravishes our good land. We are all looking for home
in the steadfast love of God and one another. This is what God has done for me.
Share with others what God in Christ as done for you. It will make you and all
of us whole once again. Which is what healing is all about: wholeness and love.
As it is for the man in the story – there is a home for us in this world when
we walk together as children of God.
You Are Home
Be unbound
Go back to your home
You are free
You are whole
You are loved
You are home once again
You are home
Be made whole
You are no longer alone
You are free
You are whole
You are loved
You are home once again
You are home
You are home
You are home, once again
Copyright
Sounds Divine
Kirk
Kubicek
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