Sermon 5.3.26
Not by the Heels of Ruby Red Slippers,
But Only Because CHRIST IS RISEN
5th Sunday of Easter, 2026
We opened the gift of God's word last Sunday with the note that Jesus was the master teacher. He had a way of taking things from every day life...things that people would understand from their own experience...and turn them into marvelous lessons about the kingdom of God—a lost sheep...a wayward son...a farmer scattering seed. With wonderful word pictures he would paint eternal truths so clearly that his listeners could just close their eyes and see it all in their minds.
The same is true in today's Gospel. It's part of our Lord's farewell discourse in the gospel of John...words he spoke to his disciples in the Upper Room, mainly to comfort them and prepare them for the ordeal that was soon to follow. And it's indeed remarkable that, even on this night of terror, Jesus didn't stop being the Master Teacher, painting wonderful word pictures to bring comfort and assurance to those he loved.
Let me prove it. I'm going to ask you to close your eyes for a moment while I say one word, and let's just see what happens. Are you ready? Eyes closed... “HOME”
Now, let your mind go free for a moment, and I know each of us will begin to see in our mind's eye our own vision of home. A few, but not all of us, may see the place where we now live. But many others may see the place we long to go back to. Each of us will see our own vision of home...our happy place (hopefully)...the place...the people...where we feel we belong. You can open your eyes, but hold on to that while I tell you a little story.
Who has watched, over the past few years, the wonderful series on Sunday nights on PBS called “All Creatures Great and Small?” (Raise your hands if you've watched “All Creatures Great and Small.) It's taken from the memoirs of a Scottish veterinary surgeon whose name was James Alfred Wight, but he went by the pen name James Herriot. If you didn't raise your hand, I strongly recommend you go to the public library and borrow the DVDs of the first 6 seasons. Watch them, and then be ready to watch season 7 next January. You will not be sorry. The scenery itself is absolutely beautiful, and the stories are truly heartwarming.
The story I'm about to tell you is the last episode of season 3: During World War II, when the Germans were bombing London, many children were moved out of the city to safer places in the English countryside. James and the other main characters of the story took into their home a little Jewish girl named Eva. It was Christmas eve, and the family was trying to make a heroic, but feeble, effort to celebrate both Christmas and Hanukkah to bring some semblance of joy to the little girl's heart. They were all gathered around the Christmas tree when they gave her a special present. In sheer delight Eva opened her gift—a beautiful pair of shiny red shoes.
Eva couldn't wait to try them on. Oh, how beautiful they looked on her little feet. She stood in the middle of the room in her new red slippers and clicked her heels together. Nothing happened. Again she clicked the heels of her ruby red slippers...and again. Nothing happened. Then, with tear-filled eyes, she spoke the heartbreaking words: “They don't work. They don't work.”
Someone once said, "We are incapable of going home again, but undaunted, we keep trying." Wouldn't it be nice if we could just click the heels of our ruby slippers, just like Dorothy did in the Emerald City, and magically go back home? I don't doubt the disciples, in the confusion and terror of that night before their Teacher was crucified, would have done it in a heart beat—would have clicked the heels of their ruby sandals and magically wake up back home in Galilee.
You know, in all of this, I believe there's a reason why God created us with an insatiable desire to go home...and it's not because home is a place. It's more because home is a person. So, in his farewell words, Jesus said to his very confused and terrified disciples, “Let not your hearts be troubled. In my Father's house are many mansions...many rooms. I am going to prepare a place for you...and I will come again and take you to myself, that where I am, there you shall be also.”
In those days it was not uncommon for a young man to build an addition onto his father's house before he took his bride's hand in marriage. Starter homes back then weren't sweet little cottages standing one by one along a tree-lined street. Many dwellings were rambling structures, with one addition added after another, as generations grew up and married and started new families. Once the addition to the father's house was finished, the young bridegroom could go for his bride, and the wedding celebration would begin.
In the book of Revelation the Church is referred to as the "Bride of Christ." We believers are the bride of Christ, and when the mansion is ready, the bridegroom will come. We don't know the day or the hour that the bridegroom will arrive. But we do know this—Christ is risen! (CHRIST IS RISEN INDEED!) And he will come for his bride in due time.
It was St. Augustine who said these words 16 centuries ago in a prayer: "Our hearts are restless, O Lord, until we find our rest in Thee."
Where is home? Where heaven is I do not know. But then again, our true home is not a place. For us Christians, home is not a geographical location. It's a mystery for us to grasp with our weak and mortal minds, but our true home is not made of bricks or boards. God is our eternal home, our refuge, our happy place. And, not by clicking the heels of our ruby red slippers and chanting “There's no place like home,” but only by God's grace...by God's grace alone, will the Bridegroom...our Savior...take us home. Til then, keep the faith. Amen.