All Saints Sunday

Revelation 21:1-6a

On this All Saints Sunday, we name those who have died during the last year. While here at Ascension, only one congregation member is listed this year, there are many more names of family and friends that remind us of the tremendous losses that the last year has contained. And we must not ignore the hundreds of thousands of deaths here in the United States and millions worldwide from COVID-19.

Grief has been described as “a foreign territory with rules all its own that one only discovers by traversing the unwelcome terrain.”[i] It has its own customs and language. And often, at least in modern Western culture, it’s not a destination - someplace we want to stay. Instead, it is seen as something to “get through” like a desolate stretch of Route 66 in Nevada.

In his “Sermon on Preparing to Die” Martin Luther wrote “we should familiarize ourselves with death during our lifetime, inviting death into our presence.” He argued that we must look at death while we are alive, seeing sin in the light of grace and hell in the light of heaven and so, disarm the devil who would fill us with dread and send us running away from death and God.[ii]

Grief and death cannot be ignored or outrun, and when we try to, we risk missing the sacredness of the journey. 

In the Book of Revelation John of Patmos “narrates the reality of suffering” as he writes

a letter of comfort to seven churches undergoing persecution, urging their members to remain steadfast and assuring them that despite all appearance to the contrary, the Roman Empire’s power is not absolute; it is God who reigns supreme.[iii]

The first things that John writes about are the sources of suffering that we experience on earth.[iv] Faith does not exempt us from pain and suffering, but our text today promises us that God is present with us even as we live with feelings of anguish, sorrow and fear.

The vision John has of a new heaven and earth is one where the sea is gone. Remember that in the ancient world the sea was a place of chaos where evil and corruption prevailed, so when John says “the sea was no more”, he is saying that, in this new world that God creates, the strongholds of death, mourning and pain are destroyed. In this new world, we know a new reality unlike anything we experienced before, one where God is victorious.

The second part of John’s vision is the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from heaven. Contrary to popular, fictional ideas, we are not raptured into a pristine kingdom and we do not escape this world for a heavenly reward or stars in our crowns. God comes to us. God comes down to dwell with mortals, and we find healing and new life in God’s presence.

Writing this letter of consolation, John reminds these first century communities, and us, that we know the end of the story. On the cross Christ takes your sin from you, bears it for you, and destroys it… He takes your death upon himself and strangles it so it may not harm you...In that way, Christ [is] the picture of life and grace over against the picture of death and sin.[v]

And knowing the end of the story makes all the difference.

God is present with and among us now and we are invited to ask, “Where can we see glimpses of the new city here and now?”

I believe it’s visible when we tell stories of those who have died and laugh together. Or when we share a memory, knowing that if tears come to our eyes, the person listening to us understands. Or when we hold something that belonged to the person who died or smell a familiar scent and instead of experiencing pain, we are comforted. It’s visible in each one of those moments when pain, sorrow or suffering is transformed by God’s regenerative power to make all things new again.

Let us pray…

Holy God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus whose life, death and resurrection testify to your power over death and the grave.

Help us as we mourn those who have died to remember you weep with us and hold us in our sorrow.

By your Spirit, awaken us to the life we have with you, where death, mourning and pain are destroyed.

We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.

Amen.

[i] Joy J. Moore on Sermon Brainwave for All Saints Sunday, November 7, 2021. https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/810-all-saints-sunday-nov-7-2021

[ii] Martin Luther. “A Sermon on Preparing to Die.” Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 2nd Edition. Timothy Lull (Ed.) 420-421.

[iii] David L. Bartlett; Barbara Brown Taylor. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Kindle Locations 8440-8443). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

[iv] Rene’ Such Schreiner. “Commentary of Revelation 21:1-6a”. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[v] Luther. 422.

All Saints Sunday 2017

I wonder today, how would you describe a saint?

On this All Saints Sunday, we remember the lives of saints who have moved from the Church Militant, a way to describe the Christian labor of life on earth, where sin and evil persist. With great love, we celebrate that these beloved ones are now in the Church Triumphant, where they have entered an eternal presence and heavenly rest with God.

More regularly we name saints who are recognized by the church universal: Saints Peter and Paul, Matthias, Joseph and Mark; Philip and James; Barnabas, John, Mary and Matthew; Michael, Luke, Simon, Jude and Andrew; Bartholomew, Thomas and Stephen. This group includes Mary and Joseph, as well as apostles of Jesus, some of whom were martyred for their faith.

But in both the Old and New Testaments of the Bible, the word “saint” which translates as “the holy ones” never refers to people who have died; it always refers to living people.

So while it is good and right that we should remember those who have preceded us, we do so because they are witnesses to us.

Scripture is one record of the witnesses who came before us.

Revelation was written in the late first century during a time of Roman dominance when authorities were insistent that emperors be worshiped as gods, and early Christians were facing persecution.  Its author, a disciple named John, wrote to encourage the early Church with a vision of hopefulness for the future.

We are invited to read this book with a holy imagination, forgetting what popular movies or books have portrayed and setting aside any discomfort we have with the text. Instead we are invited to experience God’s Word with all our senses, like we do on the Day of Pentecost when we see the flames of the Holy Spirit dancing above the apostles’ heads and hear a chorus of voices praying in different tongues.

Here, the text says there is a great multitude of people. Whether that evokes images of New York’s Grand Central Station, Keeter Stadium during the American Legion World Series, or the stores on Black Friday, nothing about a multitude of people evokes solemnity or quiet. A multitude of people, even holy ones, would be chaotic and noisy, in a joyful and raucous way.

But no one is shushing anyone. Instead this crowd is crying out with loud shouts of praise and the angels and elders around them are singing. We cannot know if their singing is the four-part harmony of a skilled choir or the imperfect pitch of congregation song; we can imagine that while it was reverent, it was not reserved or even rehearsed.

Like the saints welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem before his arrest and crucifixion, these saints are robed in white and carrying palms. Perhaps their vestments were heavy coarse cloth, or woven from rich silk, or maybe there were both kinds, depending on where they traveled from in the world. Like our paraments today, the color white symbolizes light and joy in the celebration of our Lord, in the Resurrection and in the mystery of the Holy Spirit.

Visible, noisy and active, this great multitude shows up to worship God with confidence and with thanksgiving for the promises God makes to God’s people. 

Saints can be described as humble, hard-working and honorable; pious, prayerful and persevering; compassionate, caring and centered on God, but we must acknowledge that we are describing living and breathing human beings who, as often, are imperfect.

The Good News is that we are not saints because of how we have lived, but because God - who cares about our well-being and our very lives - has made us holy, sanctified us. And not just us, who can be counted here in these pews on a Sunday morning, but people from all nations and peoples and languages.

The text gives us a hope-filled image for the world God promises. As one writer said, it is “a candle’s flame shouting against what is otherwise the overwhelming darkness of midnight.”

Despite our limitations and our faults, we are made the keepers of this great light, given the freedom to respond to the world where we live and “to take responsibility for the world and actively resist evil and injustice.” Our worship prepares us to live boldly and continue to bear witness to God’s transforming grace, that works through us.

Let us pray…

Sheltering God,

We give you thanks that you deliver us from the great ordeal of sin and separation from You;

Renew us in springs of the water of life.

Free us from fear and make us faithful witnesses to your transforming grace.

Amen.