Her mother died on September 1. Two months later she was seated in her home sanctuary, feeling the import of All Saint’s Day. She sat with her elderly father whom she had reluctantly placed in a nursing home just three weeks earlier. She wondered if her mom would have done the same if she were alive. I asked my friend to tell me about this experience: “The closing hymn was the traditional one for All Saints’ Day and as we sang it I became very aware of [my mother’s] presence. I could see her marching at the end of the line of recently arrived believers to Heaven. Then, after the hymn, she was standing next to me as we stood together for the benediction. I could not touch her, as there was a transparent curtain between us. We did not use words, but we communicated with one another. I told her I hoped she approved that I had moved Dad into a care facility, and she told me she did. I can still see it all so clearly. A very precious time.”
Today we pause in the Christian faith to remember the saints. We give God thanks for those who left an indelible mark on our lives. We celebrate the saints we did not know but who left a holy imprint on their generation. At unexpected moments, the veil is parted and we are blessed with a holy encounter that assures us that our deceased loved one’s are well! On All Saints’ Sunday we look backto better understand who we are today so that we can set our sights on Jesus for the future.
In chapter 11 of the Book of Hebrews, the writer reminds the Jews of their ancestors who anchored them in their faith. In chapter 12 he draws a conclusion with a beautiful exhortation from this breathtaking review of Jewish heroes: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, 2 fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”
I wonder who comes to mind as you consider those on the other side of the veil? What gift did they leave for you? To what path did they point you that enriched your earthly trek? I recall several individuals from an earlier parish where I served.
I remember calling Florence to offer to pay her a pastoral visit. Sweetly, she told me she would be glad to see me, but only if I had no one else to visit. She assured me that, even though she lived alone, she was never lonesome. She always felt Jesus’ presence.
I remember a seamstress named Jean. Her fiancé died before they could marry and she remained single for the rest of her life. This tiny woman claimed her home congregation as family. From the youngest Sunday School child to her oldest friend, she greeted people by their name. She welcomed all. When she moved into a care facility near the end of her life, she was hunched over such that she could not look up to see peoples’ faces. How would she get to know a new community? I learned that she taught herself to recognize her new friends by their shoes. It mattered so much to her to offer a wide embrace that she used her existing abilities to be able to call them by name.
I remember Doris with her gentle southern accent. She labored for her church family tirelessly. Her mother died well into her 90’s. As I talked with Doris about her loss, she shook her head and said, “I’m gonna miss my mama’s prayers!” She explained that her mother prayed for her every single day of her life. That assurance gave her a comfort and courage unlike any other.
The unavoidable question for us as individuals and members of worshiping congregations is what will be our ongoing legacy? We can’t walk forward if we only focus backwards on the Saints of the past. Our community and world are different than they were before Covid, different from ten, 25 or 50 years ago! Many churches are in a period of lament as empty pews remind them of the members they have lost and the challenge to grow. As ugly politics divide families and nations, those challenges enter into the Body of Christ. Many pastors have left parish ministry and those churches in times of transition are discovering that fewer resumes are forthcoming. We must continually evaluate how we shine the light of Christ as we move into the unknown future? Is it through our prayers that intercede for those around us? Is it through extravagant welcome to those who are often overlooked and ill-treated? Is it by assuring those around us that we live with the reassurance that Jesus runs the race with us? What stories will be shared by our loved ones when a time of remembrance is being planned? Who will be glorified?
I was asked to lead a memorial service for a friend’s step-father. The man had been a well-respected journalist, loving husband and caring step-father to several children whose biological father died when they were very young. He was a Christian and servant of his community. I arranged to meet with anyone in the family who wished to share memories of the man and shape the memorial service. On a cold January evening, I walked into a luminescent multi-generational gathering of more than 25 people, from toddlers to the 84-year old widow. Grace and joy filled that room as people shared stories through laughter and tears.
In contrast to that, I was asked to officiate at a funeral for a non-member family. An older woman had died and I made arrangements to meet with her son. Sitting around his deceased mother’s kitchen table, it was just the two of us. He shared with me that no other family member expressed a desire to be part of the planning. When I asked him to tell me about his mother, he shrugged and motioned to the table where we sat. “She liked to play cards.” Hmmmm. I pushed for a bit more information so as to personalize the service. He smiled and added, “And she loved to cheat!” That’s what I had to go on! I struggled to find a fitting scripture passage to celebrate her life. The spirit to those two memorial services was distinctly different.
Years ago, during a Lenten faith study, I placed a 25-pound blob of clay on a table in the church dining room and invited folks to pull off a chunk. They were urged to make some sort of vessel. After initial protests that they lacked the necessary artistic gifts, they got to work. Concentrating on shaping something that could hold a votive candle, each class participant formed a unique piece of art. As the end of the class neared, I instructed them to pierce some holes in their sculpture. What!? A cry went out from the sculptors who had worked diligently on their pieces. Why would we make holes in our projects?
How does Christ shine a light through us, I asked? Most clearly, through our cracks. Through our imperfections. Through the times when we learned tough lessons. When did our ancestors shine most brightly for us and their communities? When times were hard and they, nonetheless, persevered. They set their sights on Jesus, the pioneer and perfector of the faith, laying aside every weight, settling for nothing less than eternal life with their Savior.
This will be a difficult week for our nation. We are in a time of transition that seems to have cut the heart of our country in half. Many worshiping bodies are in a time of transition with memories of loved ones sitting in the pews with them. All of us are marked by hard-earned wisdom from the past. That great cloud of witnesses anchors us in the here and now. They point us ahead, urging us to let the light of Christ shine through the chinks in our armor. As Paul wrote in his second letter to the believers in Corinth, “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. 8 We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; 9 persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. 10 We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body.” (2 Corinthians 4)
On All Saints’ Sunday we look back, remembering those who serve God on the other side of the veil. We celebrate how they enabled us to arrive at this present moment. We are emboldened by their examples of faithful courage to set our sights on Jesus and run the race He has set for us. Lest you despair that you don’t have the strength, Paul reminds us that the power to persevere comes from God and not from us. From that assurance, hope springs eternal!
Preaching Life 