Longing for home

  31st March 2022

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The Lord says to his people,

“When the time comes to save you, I will show you favour
    and answer your cries for help.
I will guard and protect you
    and through you make a covenant with all peoples.
I will let you settle once again
    in your land that is now laid waste.
I will say to the prisoners, ‘Go free!’
    and to those who are in darkness,
    ‘Come out to the light!’
They will be like sheep that graze on the hills;
    they will never be hungry or thirsty.
Sun and desert heat will not hurt them,
    for they will be led by one who loves them.
    He will lead them to springs of water.

“I will make a highway across the mountains
    and prepare a road for my people to travel.
My people will come from far away,
    from the north and the west, and from Aswan in the south.”

Sing, heavens! Shout for joy, earth!
    Let the mountains burst into song!
The Lord will comfort his people;
    he will have pity on his suffering people.

But the people of Jerusalem said,

“The Lord has abandoned us! He has forgotten us.”

So the Lord answers,

“Can a woman forget her own baby
    and not love the child she bore?
Even if a mother should forget her child,
    I will never forget you.
Jerusalem, I can never forget you!
    I have written your name on the palms of my hands.

Isaiah 49.8-16

That reading reminds me of those in some parts of Ukraine at the moment – those hiding in cellars, those who don’t have power or easy access to food and water, and how they must long to be set free.

And it also makes me think about those who are now refugees – in exile, like Isaiah’s Jewish readers. I was talking with a group of students on Monday about what it would be like to be a refugee. We were trying to imagine how that might feel. We asked, what one thing would we want to rescue from our house and take with us? We had some interesting suggestions – a hard drive with photos, a journal, a dog, some vital medicine. I settled on my guitar – which might be good for me – possibly not for everyone else…

Then we asked what one thing would we miss about living in this country if we had to leave and live somewhere else? People said, the landscape… The NHS. The safe roads. The seasons. I wonder what it would be for you?

And we thought about one thing we might do for a refugee family if we were welcoming one here. Give them their own private space to escape to. Treat them as individuals. Offer them a routine: a chance to cook with us, or go for a walk with us each day. Give them opportunities to give back. Take them to the pub…

Isaiah offers the Jewish exiles the one thing that is more important than any of those – he gives them the promise that they will be able one day to go home – to return to their own country and live there in peace. We can imagine how that might feel for the millions who have had to flee from Ukraine and live in unfamiliar places, trying to make a life for themselves and their families – separated from their loved ones and their community and all the security and comfort of home. We can imagine how it might feel for the people of Mariupol to be told that one day they would be able to come out from the places where they are hiding and live in freedom, and that their city would be rebuilt.

The first response of Isaiah’s hearers is understandably disbelief. How can we trust God’s promise? It feels like he has abandoned us and forgotten us.

Isaiah then passes on the strongest image of God’s faithful love that he can offer. God could no more abandon his people than a mother could abandon her child. We might think of the Ukrainian mothers holding on tight to their children as they make difficult journeys. And even if the love of human mothers is not always perfect – God’s love is stronger. He has our names written, as it were, on very the palms of his hands.

We are not physically in exile, like the people of Israel, or Ukraine – or shut away in cellars in a war torn country. But there will be times when we feel that we are in exile in other ways. When we feel that in some way we are far from anywhere that feels like home. When we long to be in a safe and peaceful place where we can be fully ourselves. When we feel imprisoned in some way, internally or externally, and we need to be set free, and to hear those words ‘Come out into the light’.

When we are in those places, which can seem very dark and very hopeless, we may well say to ourselves ‘The Lord has abandoned us. He has forgotten us.’ In those times, Isaiah’s words are for us too:

“Can a woman forget her own baby and not love the child she bore?
Even if a mother should forget her child, I will never forget you.
I can never forget you! I have written your name on the palms of my hands.

• We think of those who are living as refugees – from Ukraine, and from other places of conflict in the world – and those who are welcoming them, and offering them hospitality and love. Lord of the exiles, may the love and welcome that is offered be a sign of your constant care and compassion, which carries with it the light of hope.

• We think of those who are living in other sorts of exile now – the exile of loneliness, or mental or physical illness, or addiction. The exile of family breakdown or homelessness. Lord of the exiles, help us to be people of healing and hope, holding out your love and welcome to those we meet.

• We come to you with our own longings to be safe, to be loved, to be free. Lord, you know us better than anyone else, and you love us more deeply than we can imagine. Help us to trust your promise that you will never forget or abandon us, you will have pity on us, and you will lead us to a place where we can live in peace.