May 25

May 25, 2008

Kirkin’ of the Tartans Nostalgia
for a Country I’ve Never Been To and
a Home I’ve Never Seen
a sermon on Hebrews 11.8-16
by David C. Mauldin
Westminster Presbyterian Church, Mobile, Alabama Why do we Kirk our tartans? Because the Presbyterian Church has its roots in the Scottish Reformation. Not all of us are Scottish, but our church is. Why do we Kirk our tartans? Because some of us are Scottish, and we value our heritage. Why do we Kirk our tartans? I know the reasons we give. I want a deeper answer. Why do we have tartans at all? Why form a society like the Scottish society of Mobile? Why do Scots love their heritage? Why does everyone else love theirs? Let’s make it personal. When I was a boy, I asked my grandfather, “Where did our family come from?” Consider: What makes a young child ask such a question? He told me: “Originally they were in Scotland, but they spent time in Ireland before coming to America.” Unlike many Scots here, I cannot trace my lineage. I don’t know what clan or clans I come from, if any. I know I also have English roots, and probably some others thrown in for good measure. I have never been to Scotland, although I would like to go. I haven’t played golf since I gave it up in 1989. From one angle, I am not much of a Scot. And yet I love my Scottish roots. It is important to me. Can anyone tell me why? What about you? Whatever your heritage, why do you feel about it the way you do? Why do we Kirk our tartans? Is it nostalgia? Do we wish to live as our ancestors did before the modern world disconnected us from nature and one another and made us so busy? I doubt it. Let me tell you about the old Highland culture, from whence tartans originated. Journey with me back before Culloden. Back before 1745 when Bonnie Prince Charlie tried and failed to return the Stuart kings to the throne of Scotland and England. What was life like back then? The church in Scotland was Presbyterian. Society was organized around the clan system, which was based as much on land as on family bonds. Clan chiefs had a lot of power. The story is told of visitors to the Highlands who informed a chief that they had been disappointed because the hospitality they had received had not lived up to the Highlands’ reputation. The chief grasped the hilt of his sword and asked them for names. He promised to bring them the heads of the offenders. The visitors at first thought he was joking, then realized he was serious, and only with effort talked him out of it.
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The people were poor, especially in the Highlands. The economy of Scotland was based on three things: farming, raising livestock, and stealing your neighbors’ livestock. Cattle raids were a way of life. (Now, I just said they were Presbyterians. For those of you who aren’t, I should say that our church does not endorse stealing and killing. In fact, we are against them. Then as now, however, people did not adhere to the teachings of Christ as well as we might hope. It seems every age has blind spots, areas where people have trouble doing the will of God.) Highland culture was militaristic. Every man was a warrior. Clan relationships were plagued by violence. Men fought. Women and peasants farmed. Another story is told of a visitor who observed a woman plowing a field while her husband sat on the porch in full regalia. The visitor asked the woman’s mother why she didn’t tell her son-in-law to at least help his wife with the work. “What?!” the mother answered, “Then he wouldn’t be a gentleman.” Arthur Herman in his book, How the Scots Invented the Modern World, adds this: “Duels, murder, and feuding were constants in the Highlands ... Lairds routinely burned down the houses and seized the livestock of tenants who displeased them” [p. 129]. Our ancestors were tough. They were brave. They had faith in God. They loved freedom, although the average person had little freedom compared to us, and the nation has a checkered history of independence. They were stubborn. We can love them. We can admire them. We probably would not want the lives they lived. Nor would they want such lives for us. So why do we dress like them? Why do we eat haggis at the Burns dinner? Why do we Kirk our tartans? I think the deepest answer lies in the default programming of every human heart. There … and in the grace of God. Deep down, every human being has at least two important hungers. The hunger to know who I am, and a longing for home. Identity and home, these innate desires are a holy longing. I believe we have them because God gave them to us in his grace. We needed them because we do not know who we are, and we are not home. When humanity fell into sin, when our race became alienated not just from God but from our selves (because sin is that destructive), God had compassion for us. He created us to know who we are, and we did. He created us to enjoy a home fit for us, which the Bible calls Eden and describes as a place of communion with God, nature, and other people. We destroyed that by rebelling against God. We became lost. God put within us a desire to know who we are and a longing for home, because he wanted us to realize we are lost. He wanted us to realize it because he intended all along to restore us, to give us a new name, and to bring us home. My hunch is, our love for our heritage is one way that these deep desires show up in everyday life. All our deepest needs and desires show up in everyday life. Alone of all the creatures, humans ask, “Who am I?” All creatures have a habitat, many have homes. But for humanity alone home is more than a place.
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Walker Percy once proposed a thought experiment: You are a native of New York City, you live in New York City, work in New York, travel about the city with no particular emotion except a mild boredom, unease, exasperation, and a dislike especially for, say Times Square and Brooklyn, and a longing for a Connecticut farmhouse. You make enough money and move to a Connecticut farmhouse. Later you become an astronaut and wander in space for years. You land on a strange, unexplored (you think) planet. There you find a road sign with an arrow erected by a pervious astronaut … “Brooklyn 9.6 light-years.” Explain your emotion. [Lost in the Cosmos, p. 28] Abraham has been called the father of faith. In his letter to the Romans, Paul points out how everyone comes to God the exact same way Abraham did, through faith plus nothing else. Abraham believed God’s promises, and therefore God considered him righteous. Hebrews chapter 11 is about faith, and naturally it has a lot to say about Abraham. So what does it say? How does it describe this great hero and example of faith? It says he spent his whole life looking for something he never found. God promised to make him a great nation, and in his old age, he and Sarah had a son. God promised to give him the land of Canaan. In faith, Abraham went to live there, but he never possessed the land. Instead he lived there as a stranger—he and his son and his grandson. “He looked forward,” Hebrews tells us, “to the city that has foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” Hebrews adds, “They were seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of the land that they had left behind, they would have had an opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one.” Deep in our souls, we need to know who we are and we long for home. Because we have been created by God and specially designed for a relationship with him, our true identity and real home can only be found in him. We are complex creatures. Our identity and our home have many layers, but the deepest is most important. I am Rosalyn’s husband, Joseph’s father, and the pastor of this church. We have a home here in Mobile. Those are all wonderful things, but they are only a start. I am an American with roots in Scotland and England. True and good, but not enough. I grew up in Knoxville and still cheer for the Volunteers. In one sense, the place you are from will always have a feel of home, but maybe you haven’t been there in years. What is home? How do I know who I am? We can find many answers, and on days like this we can have fun doing it. But the deepest answers can only be found in God. We ask these questions and try to answer them because he has put them in our hearts. He wants us to search until we find the deepest answer. He has made us so that when we hear him calling us by name, we will know his voice and understand who it is who calls us. Not only is Abraham a good example of how we ought to trust God, he is an example of what life is like for someone who does. Abraham knew who he was. God gave him promises, and those promises defined him. God also gave him a new name. He had
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been Abram. God called him Abraham, which means “father of multitudes.” Abraham lived in a covenant relationship with God. A covenant is a relationship of promise. God made promises, and Abraham believed. He trusted God. Consequently, he knew who he was. He knew God had chosen him. He did not know the details of how God would keep all those promises, but Abraham knew who he was. However, while that hunger was satisfied, his longing for home was satisfied only provisionally. Abraham had a home, and God told him to leave it. “Go from your country and your kinsman and your father’s house to a land that I will show you.” As I said, Abraham lived in Canaan, but as an outsider. He and Sarah and their household lived in tents and wandered from place to place. I think that in these two respects, the Christian’s life is like theirs. When a person comes to faith in Christ, that person knows who he or she is. Like Abraham’s, the Christian’s identity is rooted in God’s promise. The Christian has a covenant relationship with God. Baptism is the sacrament that satisfies the hunger to know, “Who am I?” The answer is: You are a child of God. If you have faith, as Abraham did … if you trust God’s promises … if you come to him not on the basis of your own holiness but because Christ died for you … then you are God’s own child, once estranged, but now welcomed again by your Father. You are “in Christ,” to use one of Paul’s favorite expressions. When you are a Christian, the question “Who am I?” is answered at the deepest and most important level. Everything else becomes secondary. You may be Scottish, Eastern European, African, Asian, or something else. That’s great, but it is nothing compared to belonging to Christ. You may be a Campbell or a MacDonald, but more importantly, you are a child of God. One of the great things about the gospel is the way it unites all kinds of different people. Different nationalities, different races, different languages, male and female—all of us are one in Christ Jesus. So we know who we are. That hunger is fully met in this life. We do not have to wait for it. Our longing for home, however, like Abraham’s, met only provisionally. I am speaking of the church. In this life, the church is as close as we come to our heavenly home. Here we find—hopefully we find—the Word of God taught and lived, grace, love, encouragement, help, forgiveness, and the presence of God. God creates the church because he designed us for love and community. He created us with a need for home. That’s what the church is for. Its other big purpose is to reach out into the world. We are not a holy huddle—at least we’re not supposed to be. We are supposed to be like that sign on Percy’s distant planet. The astronaut sees the sign pointing “Brooklyn 9.6 light years,” and he is stirred by nostalgia. He gets a feeling of home. That’s what the church is for, so that people who have not received God’s grace will see us and get that feeling and know they do have a home. Grace is on offer.
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Of course, our true home is with God. Our true home is his coming kingdom. Someday, according to God’s promise, Christ will return to raise the dead, judge the world, and set things right. He will establish God’s kingdom in all its fullness. Heaven and earth will be joined together and renewed; and God will be all in all. Then, at last, we will be home. No more sin. No more death. No more pain or sorrow or fear. Instead a joyful communion with God and one another. Lasting peace. A life too thrilling and happy to imagine. Why do we Kirk our tartans? Because it helps us know who we are … and it gives us a feeling of belonging … of home. If you have a tartan, you have brought it to the right place. And if you do not, you have come to the right place. Because this morning is all about our deep-seated desire to know who we are and our longing for home. These fundamental human needs can only ultimately be met by God through Jesus Christ. The desires that have brought us here today are holy, because they point us to him. So whether you are a Scot or no, whether you be a MacDonald or a Campbell, know this: The promises of God are for you. Christ has died for you, to reconcile you to God and give you an eternal home. Trust him, and be at peace. Amen.

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