The other day, I had a conversation with my chaplain colleague at the hospital, who told me the news about a physician who has decided to return permanently to his country, Ghana. She continued sharing how she could see the joy and happiness that seemed to exude from his whole body when he returned from visiting his home in Africa. She curiously looked at me and asked whether I was the same way. Without hesitation, I replied, “My home is here in the States since, for me, home is where my mom, dad, and family are! Though my parents are no longer living, their bodies are buried in this land, and my whole family is living here in the States, so my home is here in the States.”
Deep down in my heart, however, I know that the State can never be home in the complete sense as I know Korea cannot be home to me any longer. By saying this, although I can detect nostalgia for losing my home, I can calmly accept that both countries cannot be my home. When I first realized that, however, I panicked; it was when I returned to Korea for a visit for the first time after living in this country for 15 years, ever since our family moved to the States. Until then, whenever I was stressed out or frustrated having to live in a foreign country, having to learn the language, adapt to new culture and customs, and, at times, deal with racism, I used to remind myself that I have a home back in Korea, and it would not be like this if I were to live in my home country. Telling myself I had a home where I would not be treated as a stranger/foreigner brought comfort and serenity.
So, it was a shock to realize that Korea was no longer home to me when I went back to Korea for a visit after 15 years of living in the States. I did not feel at home in Korea; I felt like a stranger to Koreans and Korean customs. I was thinking frantically: if Korea is not my home and America is not my home, then where is my home? Have I lost my home? I was emotionally devastated. I still feel the shock I felt at the time. The shock lasted for quite a while, and I went to church on a Sunday morning. As soon as I set foot in the church, I felt all the familiarities I could feel at home. I shouted inwardly then, “This is my home; I haven’t lost my home! This is my home!” How happy I was, and I felt relieved that I still had a home!!
As a person living on the margin/border, not belonging to any countries, I try to picture how Jesus must have felt having to live on earth. Sinless, he came from Heaven to the sinful world that he must have felt out of place, staying/living in but not of this world. Was that why he felt so right at home at the temple when he came to Jerusalem at twelve? Was that why he forgot to return to Galilee with Mary and Joseph but was engrossed in talking about God, enjoying Himself at home in the temple?
February 14th is Ash Wednesday this year, kicking off the Lenten season. It is time for us to walk with Christ on his way to cross out of love for us. I pray that God would open our eyes to see the agony and pain he endured to love us unto death, –the reason for leaving His Home in Heaven and living in a place where He did not belong. Sweet Jesus, open our ears to hear your outcry, ‘For you, I am hanging on the cross!’
My Lord and My God, help me to love you with the love you have loved me with!! Amen!