Both those words are rich in meaning. "Hospitality" comes from the Greek work "philoxenia", love of the stranger. It's the very opposite of the sickness that seems so rampant in our world today, "xenophobia", fear of the stranger. Our homes are meant to be places that have room to welcome not only our friends but strangers too, particularly those who, like Jesus himself, are forced to be refugees from their own homelands. Homes too are places of "companionship", which comes from a Latin word meaning "sharing bread". Jesus' habit of breaking and sharing bread became his most easily recognized characteristic, and is still the abiding symbol of sharing his life and his love with us all. His first miracle was performed at the blessing of a new home, in the wedding feast at Cana. And almost his last words on earth were a request to his friend John to provide a home for Mary his mother. So yes, Jesus was a home-lover. No wonder, therefore, that when he wanted to describe to us the joys that await us even beyond this life, he chose to describe them in terms of a homecoming, where our own place has already been prepared for us.

So what does that term "homecoming" mean to you? I discovered its real meaning after my first venture at running away from home. My father was a minister, which meant that we moved home every three or four years. We had, as they say "no fixed abode". At one point Dad was threatening to send me to boarding school, where many children of the manse in those days went in search of a more stable education. So I decided to run away. The escapade lasted only a few hours, for I soon became hungry, grubby and tired. Deciding to risk even the wrath I knew I would face from my anxious parents, I wearily turned back home again. To my astonishment I was greeted with open arms, a warm bath, and a good supper. It was only after I was tucked up in my nice, clean bed that my parents made any reference to my wrong doing and to the anxiety I'd caused them. Then in our prayers they quoted the words of an old children's hymn about the "beautiful home he's gone to prepare for all who are washed and forgiven". If heaven is as welcoming as that, then we need to have no fear when the time comes for us or any of our loved ones to go there.

"Home" means, then, that place where we're welcomed, not because we deserve it, but because we're loved. It's that place we can be made clean from all the grubbiness of our lives, and eat what we most enjoy and lay down the burdens we've carried with us on our journey. I remember, during my own most itinerant years when I was working for the Methodist Missionary Society, one of my favorite songs was a Simon and Garfunkel lyric called "Homeward Bound". It expressed the feeling of sitting in a railway station, coming home from a "gig", in my case a preaching engagement, just longing for the train to come and speed me back home again.

That longing for home persists throughout our whole lives. Even when those who made a home for us have passed on, or when we have chosen to leave the family home, we still need a home of our own. For over twenty years now I have lived alone, but "home", my home is as important to me as any family base. One of my neighbors who also lives alone told me recently how her son had been remonstrating with her for wanting to stay in her own apartment instead of going to live with him and his family. She said, "I simply replied, I stay here because it's my home, it's where I belong!" I know exactly what she means. Despite the fact that no one else lives with me, I still feel, as I turn the key in my door, that a welcome awaits me. I can put down whatever burden I've been carrying, make myself a cup of tea, and put up my feet. Often I can feel then an almost tangible presence of Someone sharing my life with me.

In family homes the most important times are meal times, for eating is at its best a social activity. That's the reason why I always welcome hospitality in other people's homes, and feel it important to take the trouble to entertain guests in my own home at times. On the days when I am alone, I rarely succumb to the temptation not to bother to lay a tray or table as for a guest. As I pause to say grace, it is often then that I am most aware of the presence of the One comes as my unseen Companion and who makes Himself known in the breaking of bread.

The other times when I feel most conscious of sharing my life, even though I am alone, is at the beginning and the ending of the day. One of the joys of home life is being with companions with whom one can talk over the day's events, share one's anxieties and seek advice. One of the aspects of living alone that many people dread most is having no-one to talk things over with like that. For me, prayer-time becomes an important time of such conversation, in which I can reflect on what's been happening, think through what lies ahead and spend time quietly hearing what the Word of God has to say to me. I welcome all the aids to prayer and Bible study that come my way. It really helps to make the conversation two-way.

I have recently been encouraged by discovering a book of Susanna Wesley's prayers. She did not find prayer easy. The mother of nineteen children and the wife of a somewhat feckless rector, she must have found life strenuous and stressful. She longed for the times when she could quietly talk over with God the things that concerned her most. Some of her prayers even read like arguments with the Deity! Many of them reflect all the pressures she was under. Far from living alone, for most of her life she must have felt overcrowded at home. In one of her prayers she expresses her longing for a quieter life, but she comes to a realistic acceptance of the fact that we have to make the most of whatever life we have, and she ends with the honest recognition that both bustle and quietness bring their temptations. She prays:

               "Were I permitted to choose a state of life,
               or positively to ask of You
               anything in this world,
               I would humbly choose
               and beg that I might be placed in such a station
               where I might have daily bread with moderate care,
               without so much hurry and distraction
               and that I might have more leisure
               to retire from the world without injuring my dependents."

But she concludes:

               "Perhaps there might be as many temptations
               in a quiet and private life
               as there are in this."

Susanna was right. Even the quietness and privacy of one's own home can become a temptation to complacency and selfishness. I never did like that line of the popular ballad called "Bless This House", which thanks God for "those walls so firm and stout, keeping want and trouble out". My own love of home should make me all the more sensitive to the needs of those who are victims of one of the most tragic conditions of our time: homelessness. In Britain recently the young people in the Methodist Church have made this a real concern of theirs, and on one freezing cold night last winter many of them slept out in the street themselves as an act of solidarity with and protest on behalf of the thousands of their own age group who have no home to go to. Their action has prompted many of the rest of us to a greater awareness of what a social scourge homelessness is. They've urged us to do all we can by lobbying those in power and by supporting those charities that give what shelter and care they can to those who have no homes. We are reminded of the words of Jesus that whatever we do for one of these homeless ones, we are doing for Him.

And there is a growing need at the other end of the age scale, too. For those of us who are older, there may come a time when we need to give up our own home in order to find more sheltered care. There may even come the day when we become so dependent on the help of others that we may need full time nursing care. Such a prospect has seemed much less threatening to me since I have visited the kinds of provision which is now being made, both here in the States and in Britain, for the care of elderly people, though certainly in Britain this is becoming an ever more urgent need. At every stage of our lives people need a home where they can feel safe and loved. And because this is a life long need I feel certain that even when this life is ended there will be one final homecoming.

Jesus, who had no permanent home here on Earth, has promised us that in his Father's home there are many rooms, and that he will be there when the time comes, waiting to welcome us home. There we shall lay down the baggage of our earthly lives, be washed clean of our grime and be reunited with all those we've loved. I once caught a glimpse of that home in one of those near death experiences which I have heard other people describe but which became most vivid for me during a stay in hospital a few years ago. I had lost a lot of blood, and suddenly felt that I had left my body behind altogether and was floating above the bed towards a light shining so brightly that it dazzled my eyes and I could only faintly see what seemed like familiar figures ahead. I heard clearly a voice saying, "Welcome home." But the moment for me to go had not yet come. I also heard other, urgent voices calling my name, tapping my hands and bringing me back into consciousness in the bed where I lay. Now, I know there are medical or psychological explanations of what causes such visions. But for me it was a wonderful glimpse into what I am sure lies ahead when the time comes for me to join those members of my family who have already made heaven a home to my heart.

It is such an experience that it's given me the confidence to commend to you the sure hope that all our lives we are homeward bound and that finally we shall all come home to the Father's house. And there is no place like that Home! Amen.

Lydia Talbot: Dr. Webb, your distinguished career as a broadcaster for the BBC, a writer, a theologian, a former English teacher; as you reflect back on your career in religion and media, what's inspired you most along the way?

Pauline Webb: Oh, I think the opportunity of being able to give good news to people. I mean, there's so much bad news around the world that to be able in radio and television, and so on, to share with people some good news, the good news that really the love of God is there, whatever is happening in people's lives. There's always a sign somewhere of love.

Talbot: Good news! And you did a live broadcast from Chicago just before taping this program, for the BBC in a slot called "Pause For Thought".

Webb:  That's right. Each day on the BBC, well, several programs, but certainly on Radio Two, which is a program - a popular music program - we always have a "Pause For Thought", where in the middle of all the music we stop, and in the middle of some of the nonsense too with the disc jockey, because he's a great humorist, we have a pause for thought, when we give a religious slot.

Talbot:  Now, in London the BBC takes religion seriously.

Webb:  Well, we like to think it does. There's a Department of Religious Broadcasting belonging to the BBC, yes. And we have a daily service every morning, a religious service on the Radio Four, and these pauses for thought and the thought for the day and so on. So this is an old tradition; it's gone on since the beginning of the BBC. I hope it'll go on for a long time.

Talbot: "Homeward Bound," the title of your earlier message, Pauline, is an inspiration to so many. You say you've lived alone for more than 20 years, but I must ask you: what is your dialogue with God, at the beginning and at the end of each day?

Webb:  Well as I say I like to have aids to prayer. I read quite a lot of spiritual writing, and I enjoy Bible study very much. But I also draw a lot of help from friends. I enjoy having friends in an evening for a meal and over a meal you chat and then after they've gone you think of the things they've said. And often I think God speaks to you through what other people say.

Talbot: I have the sense that you are always sharing your life, because you connect the Biblical concept of home with the concept of justice and as we're called to be in solidarity with the homeless.

Webb:  Oh absolutely, yes. I think this is something that, the more you realize what the love of God means, the more you want everyone to have that. I mean justice is the horizontal dimension of love, isn't it? I mean, unless we live in a just world where all God's children can enjoy the riches that He gives.

Talbot: Your current book, Facing Home Truths, is advice to those who are elderly and considering a change.

Webb:  That's right. I'm coming to terms myself now with what it's like to be getting older. I think it's something we need help with. We need people to help with how to face the increasing demands of old age, and also the possibility of being dependent on other people. It's hard for a lot of us. But that book is to help people to face those home truths. And, in fact, even to have to face possibility of going into residential care, which some people dread, but I don't think they need to because there's marvelous places that care for people.

Talbot: Well thank you today for helping us face some of the timeless truths. Thank you so much, Dr. Pauline Webb.