All of us are 'homesick for Eden'

 I named this blog, “Homesick for Eden,’’ because of a song recorded by Paul Smith and written by Claire Cloninger. The song says, “All of us are homesick for Eden. We yearn to return to a place we’ve never known.” I think that captures, beautifully, that longing that I know I have always had and that I believe most, if not all, humans have for “a place that we know is home,” (also from the song); a part of a deep belief that we were created to live in a better world than the one in which we find ourselves.

As I read what we commonly refer to as “The Parable of the Prodigal Son,’’ it occurs to me that a great part of the history of the people in the Bible is one of being exiled, and longing to return to that idealized place where we feel we belong.

Go back to the Babylonian exile. Prophets wrote books about the children of Israel hoping to go back to Jerusalem, to rebuild the temple and re-establish life in the Promised Land. It was the dream of Daniel, Ezra, Nehemiah, and so many others who were forcibly removed from their land.

King David, before he was king, was driven into exile, even hiring himself and his army out to rival kings. He could have remained in these foreign lands and lived “like a king” in some places where he aligned himself. But he believed in the promise that one day he would indeed be king of his homeland, Israel, and always looked for the opportunity to return home.

Think of the exodus from Egypt. Joseph’s family went into exile in search of a better life during a time of extreme famine, but from the beginning there was the hope that one day they’d return. Jacob’s last wish was that his bones would not be buried in Egypt but kept until they could be returned to his homeland. And the Israelites spent 40 years wandering, when they could have undoubtedly settled down in any number of places along the way, fueled by this dream of a land they had never known but only heard about.

For that matter, Jacob tricked his father, cheated his brother, and went into exile until such a time as he was felt he had to return home, willing to face the wrath of his brother (fortunately for him, his older brother was much more forgiving than the one in our parable).

Shoot, go back to Adam and Eve. They were driven from the actual Garden of Eden, and in a sense, as you look at the history of the world, people have been trying to recreate Eden, dreaming of creating an ideal society of equality and prosperity, where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average (as author and humorist Garrison Keillor describes the town of Lake Wobegon).

So while it is important that we read the Parable with the understanding of who Jesus’ intended audience was (the faithful Jews, Rabbis and Pharisees), it is also true that we can take secondary meanings from parts of the parable.

The younger brother believes he can go off and live life on his own terms (like Adam and Eve making the decision to eat of the forbidden fruit). The reality is that it doesn’t take long for his world to fall apart (as it did for Adam and Eve), and the longing set in to return to “home.”

It is a consistent theme of the Bible - humanity in exile, yearning to return to a place we feel like we belong, where things will be better than they were here, wherever ‘here’ is.

But all these returns described in the Bible failed to deliver the full promise of what the people longed for.

In the end, just like at the end of the Prodigal parable, there is a feast. The book of Revelation tells us there is a celebration, a great feast, the marriage supper of the Lamb. Death and decay are gone, and the New Jerusalem comes down and becomes the whole earth. “He will wipe away every tear. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” (Revelation 21:4).

Whenever I wonder if I will ever find my true ‘home,’ I’m reminded of the words of C.S. Lewis, who said, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Or in the words of Homesick for Eden:

“In the back of our minds is a time before time, and a sad irreversible fact. We can't seem to think why left there, and we can't seem to find our way back. 

“Deep is the need to go back to the Garden, a yearning so strong, to a place we belong, a place that we know is home.”

 

The prodigal me

 Somewhere in some book I read some years ago, the statement was made, “Even if there was no promise of eternal life, of heaven, I would still follow the words of Jesus because they are true.”

It is an interesting question, I think. Would I continue to live in the way Jesus’ said to live, even if there was no promise of reward upon death?

My philosophical side said “yes,” without question, because it is the truth. I asked a friend the same question though and he said, “Absolutely not. Why would I, if there was no reward in the end?”

I thought of this while reading (rereading) what we call the “Parable of the Prodigal Son.” Pastor and author Timothy Keller refers to it as the “Parable of the Two Lost Sons” or even “The Prodigal God” (he has a book with that title).

Years ago, my brother Rick, the theologian, sent me some material he’d put together on the Parables of Jesus, in which he taught me that we have to look at the audience to really understand the meaning behind Jesus’ parable. The parable of the two sons is one of those that really requires understanding of who Jesus was directing his comments toward to get the real impact.

We in our Western culture like the story of the younger brother, who takes his inheritance, spends it selfishly (Prodigal is defined as “spending money or resources freely and recklessly; wastefully extravagant”), and then is not just accepted but celebrated upon his return to the family by the father. I think we like that story because we all desire to be accepted unconditionally, despite what we have done, and we tend to think of this story as being about non-believers coming to Jesus.

However, if you look at the chapter from which this story comes (Luke 15), you see the intended audience was made up of “older brothers,” the faithful Jews and religious class. They were the ones who would identify as the “older brother” who remained faithful, denied themselves the “riotous” living of the younger brother, stayed on the farm because that is what custom and culture expected.

Because it was the “right” thing to do.

And yet at the end of the story, while the celebration goes on for the younger brother who is undoubtedly overwhelmed at being restored to his place in the family, it’s the older brother who has gone his own way, staying outside and, essentially, taking his leave of the family.

Is what the older brother done, in intent, really any different than that of the younger?

While we’d look at the older brother and say his actions were correct, was he not expecting to one day inherit all that was left of his father’s wealth and legacy? When the father restored the younger brother, did that not threaten the inheritance of the older, because of the possibility the father would take care of the younger in some way, perhaps even restore him to a place of inheritance again?

So why do I do what I do? Do I follow Jesus because of the reward, because if I go to church and read my Bible and take care of the poor and help the suffering, down deep I expect the Father to look out for me?

When I was a kid, our church often had guest speakers come in and give their “testimony,’’ the story of how God had saved them. Often they were former gangsters who’d lived lives of crime, or musicians who had lived lives of wanton excess, or athletes or businessmen who’d made enormous amounts of money with lavish lifestyles. All of them had some encounter with God that made them realize the way they were living was wrong and they repented, turned their lives around to live more in line with how God intended.

And my friends and I longed to have such a testimony. Oh, to live the life of a successful gangster, musician, businessman and enjoy the apparent rewards of such a life, and then find Jesus and be celebrated in the church and admired by a whole new crowd of righteous-living people!

Oh, we said it would be so we could have a greater, more significant impact for Jesus. But down deep, wasn’t it because wanted the best of both worlds?

In essence, we were or are all “lost sons.” Too many of us don’t fully understand what it means to be accepted into Jesus’ family.

Do we ‘live for Jesus’ because it’s truth? Or because it offers us eternal reward (the old “fire escape from hell”)?

Elizabeth Elliot wrote her own parable, in which Jesus says to his disciples, “I’d like you to carry a stone for me.” There was no further explanation, so they all looked around for stones. Peter, being practical, found a small stone that was easy to carry since Jesus didn’t give any requirements for size or weight. Then Jesus said “follow me’’ and took off. At lunch time, they all stopped and Jesus did one of his Jesus-things and turned each stone into bread and said, “take, eat.” Peter’s meal didn’t last long, of course.

When lunch was done, Jesus said again, “I’d like you each carry a stone for me.” This time Peter says, “I understand it now!” and looked around for a stone of considerable size and weight. Jesus again said, “follow me’’ and they all start off again, Peter lagging behind because of the burden he was carrying. When night came, Jesus led them to the side of a river and said, “Now throw your stones into the water.” They did, and nothing happened. Jesus said again, “Follow me” and started off down the road.

Peter and the others looked at Jesus in disbelief, just standing there. Jesus sighed and said, “Don’t you remember what I asked you to do? Who were you carrying the stone for?”

Like the older brother, Peter in Elliot’s parable expected his sacrifice and actions to pay off in some way for his personal benefit. When it didn’t, he was confused and perhaps even outraged.

So again, I have to ask myself, why do I follow Jesus? Is it because of the promise of something better? Or because it’s the truth?

Is it wrong of me to follow Jesus to gain the reward of Heaven?

And when I see that both brothers in Jesus’ parable are lost, I wonder: Do I really understand Jesus’ message after all?