I once heard a story about an Indian elephant that had gone crazy in a circus. Its master tried all sorts of ways to calm him down, but nothing worked. They were about to kill him when someone from the crowd asked if he could try to calm him down before they shot him. He carefully approached the elephant, speaking in a low and soft voice, and soon the elephant became quiet and then stood still as the man came up to him and continued to talk in a language the circus people didn't recognize. The man's name was Rudyard Kipling and he spoke in the elephant's native language, Hindustani.
American culture is like that crazy elephant.
We need someone to speak to us of home in the language of our soul. That is the greatest promise of Easter. God is here. Speaking to us. Calling us home.