For All the Saints

Meditations on what has become my favorite festival day in the church year. I am grateful to Dr. Kathryn M. Schifferdecker of Luther Seminary whose column this week was formative and which I paraphrase towards the end.

John 11:32-44

³²When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

³³When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. ³⁴He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” ³⁵Jesus began to weep. ³⁶So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” ³⁷But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” ³⁸Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. ³⁹Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” ⁴⁰Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” ⁴¹So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. ⁴²I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” ⁴³When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” ⁴⁴The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

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Dear beloved saints and children of God, grace to you and peace from God through Christ, whose love for us is both boundless and forever.  Amen.

At the risk of stating the obvious – it’s been a rough couple of years.

If we are to really hear the good news in these sacred stories today, we must first acknowledge the loss we have all sustained – not only as Shepherd of the Hills, but as a society and as humanity.

We have lost too many of our own beloved saints.

Over 750,000 Americans have died from COVID-19.  And worldwide, that number is over 5 million.

As Jesus wept over Lazarus, he weeps over these as well.

A report from the US Fish and Wildlife Service dated September 30^th of this year lists 23 species of mammals, birds, fish, and plants that are now considered extinct and should be removed from the Endangered Species List.

Surely God weeps over the loss of these, God’s own creations, as much as God weeps as Jesus at Lazarus’ grave.

And yes, last year on All Saints Day we were already beginning to see the devastation that COVID would wreak.  But we weren’t able to gather in person at all, and if there’s one thing that is meant for community, it’s grief.

So many of you have mentioned to me how difficult it’s been when funerals aren’t possible, when graveside services are limited, when to gather for a lunch afterwards would be incredibly risky.  For those are the times when our grief is truly shared; the weight of our burden made a bit lighter by those who help us carry it.

Even as we’ve been able to gather in person for worship again, we’re not yet at 100%.  This pandemic continues, sad to say.  And so part of our grief is also at being separated from friends and family, both here at Shepherd and at greater distances.

These stories, from three different eras, recount God’s hearing our cries and sharing our grief.  Would they have the impact they do if we had never suffered a loss?  Do they hold even more impact this year, as we have collectively been through a lifetime’s worth of sorrow?

And at the same time – do we see ourselves saying Martha’s and Mary’s words: “Lord, if you had been here…!”  The subtext of which is, of course, “Lord, why weren’t you here?”

Death really is the great equalizer.  In this passage from Isaiah, death is the shroud, the sheet covering all people.  It is much more the enemy than any of the ancient powerful armies of Egypt or Assyria.

Death has swallowed up many, many lives in the last two years.  It is the shroud covering all peoples.  If you have felt physically weary, felt a weight on your shoulders that won’t leave – I’ve wondered if it’s the shared weight of that shroud.

That is why I give deep and heartfelt thanks for All Saints Day this year.  I need to remember the saints.  I need to remember and give thanks for their lives and their witness to God’s love.  I need to see these pictures all around us, to think of the great art that imagines the communion of saints, to remember that God has not and will not ever leave us.  When we proclaim our faith in the words of the Creed today, we proclaim faith in the One who continues to hold us, together with them, in the great cloud of witnesses that stretches across time and space. 

Our lessons today speak against an enemy more fundamental than political opponents or social media trolls. Death is the universal enemy, and in the stories for today, God becomes the death of Death:

On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food…..and he will destroy on this mountain the shroud that is cast over all peoples…..he will swallow up death forever.

See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them…..Death will be no more.

Many years ago at my home congregation, the reader went to the lectern to read the lessons for the morning.  She read the words from Isaiah of the “feast of rich food” and so many of us smiled at the mention of the “well-aged wines strained clear.”  (God does have good taste in wine.)

As she began to read the words of John’s Revelation, she began to struggle.  To be sure, they are powerful words, deeply moving.  She almost couldn’t keep going, but she gave it her best try.  She apologized for her emotion when she finished, since the entire room was in tears by then as well.  The pastor assured her that her reading had brought the text alive for us in a way we would never forget.

What we didn’t know was that that day was the anniversary of her son’s death by suicide.  I don’t know for sure, but I like to think that as she read the lesson from Revelation, she heard for the first time that God had wiped the tears from her son’s eyes as he was welcomed into God’s embrace.  The pain that had pushed him into the darkest place was no more.  He was with God.

Dear friends: Death, the great devourer, will, itself, be swallowed up forever. We will celebrate this final victory together with all the saints at the great feast of the Lamb. And the only tears allowed at that feast will be ones of joy at being back in the presence of those we have loved and lost.

These are powerful images to anchor our hope on this day.  To do so in the midst of the amount of loss we have collectively suffered is an act of great courage and faith.  It is yet another paradox, the holding at once of two radically different things: life and death. 

It is Martha meeting Jesus, wild with grief over her brother’s death, who yet finds the words to say “yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

It is Jesus, through his tears of grief and anguish, raising his prayers and calling to Lazarus to come out.

All of us go down to the dust.  But even at the grave, we make our song: Alleluia!  And we proclaim the sure promise of the One who is the Resurrection and the Life.

Because in these days, more than ever, we need to hear: “See, I am making all things new.”

Yes, Lord Jesus. May it be so.

Amen.