Longing to return to the familiarities of home

By Stephen Broache

(Editor’s note: Part 8 in a series in honor of the 160th anniversary of The Battle of Gettysburg, July 1-4, 1863.)

“How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land? If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither!”

— Psalm 137: 4-5

At Christmastime, I tend to think of childhood places, people, and events. I long for home. The times weren’t all that great, but they were my times, my home.

When I hear Glen Campbell sing “There’s No Place Like Home,” my vision obscures …

The children of Israel also long for home. They were in a foreign land. The word “wither” in verse five has been variously translated, “forget its cunning (or skill)” or “cease to function.”

It was about being so sad — away from Jerusalem — that you forget how to play music. There is no joy.

The poor Southern boys, up north in the summer of 1863, probably felt some of the same feelings. I’m sure there was some excitement about taking the fight to the North after so many 1862-1863 successes.

There is some documentation of their amazement at seeing the fertile lands with the neat and orderly (German influence) farms.

Remember the scene from the movie “Gettysburg” where the aide brings General Lee some cherries and says, “Compliments of the state of Pennsylvania?”

They looked good — and probably were also for the hungry Army of Virginia.

But it was an adventure far from home. Perhaps their “hands withered” as a result of the violence of battle.

They probably had some withered feet too after long and desperate marches.

Their spirits were also longing for home and hearth — that “be it ever so humble ” thing: even warmer than Adams County, with more humidity and fewer cherries and peaches perhaps. The farms might not be as beautiful or well kept and orderly, the houses in most cases smaller, but it was … home.

It was magnolia trees and black-eyed peas and moss on the live oaks.

Quite a few of those soldiers did not return, we know.

But for the lucky ones who did, I’m sure this northern minivacation left them changed — by the trauma of death and dismemberment, by the lasting lesson of clashing ideologies and simply by their separation from all that they held dear behind them.

When those soldiers finally clasped them in their arms again, it was an embrace remembered for all time.

“Let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy!” — Psalm 137 shouted back, “Maybe they are farther down the river. Let’s go!”

Prayer: Home is people and things you give to us, O Lord. Thank you for your gifts, for they make us who we are and fulfill us. Amen.

They propelled themselves quickly through the water before we could alert them to the manatee’s presence.

As we continued our slow river trek, I thought about those three people. Distracted by their efforts, they did not hear the hushed voices that led others to the manatee. They failed to notice us, still and quiet, gazing into the water.

Later I wondered: How often am I like those kayakers? What acts of service go undone or prayers of intercession go unspoken because I am too distracted or too hur- ried to attend to the Holy Spirit’s nudges?

There are times when we must make preparations like Martha. Like the three kayakers, we may find cause for forging ahead.

However, Jesus values Mary’s choice to listen. I hope to follow Mary’s example and become a diligent listener — listening with my ears, with my eyes and with my heart.

TODAY’S PRAYER

Dear Father, help us to listen as we study your word, interact with your children, and seek your will. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.

— Terry J. Burns, Florida