Christ Episcopal Church
November 7, 2010
All Saints Day
One afternoon about two years ago, I received a call from the husband of my close friend and mentor of about 35 years. His wife, my friend, had been sick for a year. I had been to Arkansas to visit her twice during that year and both visits were deep and rich. We talked some about her illness, a lot about our respective churches, and shared memories of past times. We had the kind of relationship where we could be apart for several years and then pick up right where we left off, like no time had elapsed at all.
When her husband called that afternoon, the news was not unexpected. The situation was deteriorating rapidly and my friend was only expected to live a few more hours, or a day at best. While the news was not unexpected, it was crushing nonetheless. I was in Ohio, where I was supposed to be, and she was in Arkansas, where she was supposed to be. I knew I could not get to Arkansas in time, and really did not feel called to be there. So I asked her husband "What can I do?" Of course, I thought he would say "Keep us in your prayers." Instead, he said "Just get out there and be the best priest you know how to be."
On All Saints Day, we remember those who have gone before us. This feast day is a favorite for many of us. The music, the candles, and the names evoke powerful emotions within us as we remember those who, in the words of the Burial service, "we love but see no longer." On All Saints Day, we remember and celebrate the lives of those who have gone before us, those who were famous, those of whom there is no memory, and everything in between. We remember those whose lives touched our own, as well as the people the church has named the "official" saints, like St. Peter or St. Mary. All Saints Day evokes tears of both joy and sadness as we celebrate these lives that are now lived in the nearer presence of God, and we pause for a moment to simply dwell in those memories.
The danger on All Saints Day is in becoming overly sentimental about those who have gone before us, simply dwelling for a moment in our memories, letting the music and the prayers wash over us, and dreaming of a future in which God will reunite us with those who have gone before. In the gospel lesson this morning, Jesus jolts us into the reality of the present with the words we know as the beatitudes. The reassuring words "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God" quickly become "Woe to you who are rich for you have received your consolation." The comforting words "Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh" become "Woe to you who are laughing now, for you will mourn and weep." Jesus begins the beatitudes with words of comfort which quickly turn to words of challenge and judgement. These are not the words I want to hear on All Saints Day.
Jesus is giving us a stern warning against putting our trust in those things that feed us, keep us warm, pay our bills, cause us to laugh, or make us popular. And that point is well taken. However, Jesus fed thousands of hungry people with a few fish and loaves of bread. Jesus had mercy on tears of grief and raised the dead. Jesus befriended the poor and the outcast, healing the lepers and the blind so they could rejoin society and be productive. Jesus certainly did not glorify hungry, sorrow and poverty with his actions. If Jesus worked so hard with his actions to feed the hungry, comfort the sorrowful, and lift people out of poverty, what could his words this morning possibly mean?
On All Saints Day, Jesus does not tell us that hunger, poverty, and misery are good things. What Jesus does tell us, and what the lives of the saints remind us, is that if we insist on feeding ourselves, by ourselves, we will be hungry. If we try to heal our grief by ourselves, we will mourn. If we insist on believing that our riches, whatever they are, are entirely of our own doing and for our own use only, we will be poor beyond measure. The beatitudes remind us that it is Jesus who feeds us, heals us, and blesses us. When we understand that, we can do the seemingly impossible things Jesus asks of us. We can love our enemies. We can do good to those who hate us. We can bless those who curse us and pray for those who abuse us because we know we are not called to do those things on our own. We can do what seems to be impossible, which is what we are called to do as people of God, because we know that it is Jesus who works through us.
On All Saints day, we remember those who have gone before us, not as an act of sentimentality or as a way to dwell in the past momentarily. We remember those who have gone before us because they remind us with their lives to let Jesus work though us so that we can be the people God calls us to be. We sing the great hymns, light the candles, read the names, and say the prayers, not just because they make us feel good, but because they remind us that we, like all the saints, are called to live as the people God created us to be. When I asked my friend’s husband what I could do in the face of her death, he did not say to me "light a candle, say a prayer, or sing a really good hymn." He said "Get out there and be the best priest you can be." The saints in our lives are the ones who call us, who challenge us, to trust in Jesus and get out there and be the people God calls us to be.
Amen.
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