House and Home

We're approaching Sukkot, the Festival of Booths. Allow me a brief history of this holiday. Following receipt of the Ten Commandments at Mt. Sinai, the Jews wandered the desert for 40 years. During that time, they lived, according to the story, in booths made of flimsy materials (i.e. what they had available), but with the roofs relatively open such that they could still commune with the heavens and God. Later, when the Jews settled in Israel, they lived in these same types of structures during harvest season, as it was easier to live in a tent in the fields rather than haul miles home for a two hour nap. As such, harvest season and a variety of allegorical timelines lead us to the occurance of Sukkot right after Yom Kippur.

Today's posting links to those tents. Was that home? Could someone really call a flimsy array of sticks and leaves home?

I've moved around a lot. I was born in Baltimore, lived near Chicago, lived in Indiana, went to high school near Philadelphia, and then went off to college, graduate school, and medical school. I've lost track of how many different addresses I've had. A history like this leads to some interesting introspection as to what I define as "home" for me.

In general, people use the term many different ways. Some say home is "where the heart is" while others define it as a place they feel safe. Many define it historically, i.e. where they're from, where their family is from, or where their heritage is from. But in the end, what makes something home?

In recent years, I've finally found places I can call home, but I still can't define the term. I am tempted in this forum, however, to ask if there isn't a spiritual manifestation of home?

"...Make yourselves at home in my love. If you keep my commands, you'll remain intimately at home in my love...." (John 15:9, The Message)

"I've made ... God my home." (Psalm 73:28, The Message)

Can God's love make us feel at home with ourselves? Perhaps leaving the roof off your sukkah makes that simple booth into a home by allowing God in. This holiday, I'll certainly look at that silly little tent differently. For now, however, I'm going home.