A sermon for Hallowmas
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| Saints of Mount Athos Icon in Vatoped, Unknown Artist 1810 (PD) |
A little over a week ago, my phone rang while I was in my office.
It was a someone from our congregation who wanted me to speak with a family member who had been sent home from school.
Now, one would think that a student would be sent home from school because they had been misbehaving, distracting others, or just being a general troublemaker
Not this one.
They had merely shared some feelings regarding the death and loss of a very close loved one many years ago, 7 years ago to be honest.
Friends, teachers, and the school’s guidance counselor thought it best that the student head home for the day, so they came by the office and we had a talk.
Initially I was truly concerned, until we began talking and then I was completely mystified.
I asked what happened.
“Did you get in a fight?”
“Did you yell at someone or start sobbing uncontrollably?”
“Did you ask to leave?”
On all accounts the answer was no, what they did was share with their class what they were feeling, still today, about the loss of this member of their family.
That’s it!
Now that was just the start of the week!
For the rest of the week, I got a phone call about a family friend from one of my father’s previous congregations who had died unexpectedly, and then discovered that one of the Marines I had served with in Iraq had also died under tragic circumstances.
Much like this parishioner I spent the afternoon with, I found very few people comfortable talking with me about these situations.
Most often, personal loss due to death and tragedy is dealt with by using the magical combination;
"Thoughts and prayers!"
On top of that, we don’t even like to use the term dead or death at all.
We much prefer the term “passed on” or “passed away” as if those who’ve died are some kind of dust bunnies blowing around in the wind.
We don’t like death as a society.
We’ve distanced ourselves from death so completely that ambulance services can no longer transport the bodies of those who’ve died, only a funeral service can do that.
This was always an issue I faced as a police officer on the street when we had a homicide or a “DOA” “Dead on arrival”.
We always had to wait for a funeral service following our investigations, even if it took hours.
Even in the hospital, bodies are transported by funeral services, all because we want the reality of death tucked neatly away from us.
Denying the reality of our own mortality and compartmentalizing our own grief.
Long gone are the days of watching grandparents die in our homes, while instead, we as parents try to hide and replace pets for fear of the trauma death will take on our children.
Here is the reality of it all.
Death is something we deny, we avoid it, and we fear it.
Regardless of the number of times we proclaim in worship that death has “lost its sting”
in song,
in prayer,
and in our very actions at the railing and the font.
Even though the church claims authority over death, that authority has been surrendered to mortuary services and funeral homes.
Any remnants of the questions or concerns are swept into a closet of denial, and locked tightly with wishes of “thoughts and prayers”.
But not today.
Today is All Saints Sunday.
Today is the day when we as the Church are called to face the reality of death in its rightful place, alongside of this life we live.
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| New Orleans "Second Line" Parade, traditional funeral procession celebrating the assurance of Christ's promise they leave the tomb. Photo by Infrogmation of New Orleans 2010 (CC) |
We are called to face the reality of the grief it brings, along with the joy that has flavored such grief.
We are called to face the natural fear we have of death, with the confidence of the promise received in Christ.
We are called to face the need to grasp tightly to the memories of the dead, while looking forward to the reunion with them right in front of us.
It is the bittersweet reality of death, two opposing tastes that should never go together, like saltiness and sweet.
This is the reality of the Church, what made the Church a new and different kind of religion.
We were once a people who fully embraced the joy and grief of death together, in spite of a world that would only acknowledge death as sadness.
Much of this has come from the ministry, life, and death of Jesus the Christ.
A resurrection that promised us hope in new life, a life following death.
This is why All Saints Day once fell on May 13th in close association with Easter.
The date connected the death of loved ones with the death and the promise we receive in The Christ.
Until the 8th century, when Pope Gregory began to adapt practices from outside the Church, a practice that Gregory the Great had rightfully envisioned drawing more people to the Christian faith.
It worked too, by adopting dates and practices into Christianity that came from outside the Church, Gregory was not only able to adapt the Christian story to pagan understandings, but the symbols provided a richer understanding for Christians as well.
Decorated evergreen trees at Christmas came to symbolize everlasting life.
Painted eggs came to symbolize resurrection.
And the time of harvest, came to symbolize a bridge between this life and the lives of those who’ve died.
As autumn marks the harvest and death of crops, the falling leaves mark the hibernation of both plants and animals, we are reminded of the cycle we are all caught in.
A cycle of this life and the next.
It was a time of year known to the Celts as Samhain.
They believed that at that time, as the seasons teetered between warm and cold, life and death, so too did the lives of those who had died.
This time of year symbolized a bridge between the living and the dead.
Many would leave treats out for the the dead who, they believed, would return to visit the living,
In some countries still today, they visit the graves of their loved ones to share their favorite foods on Dia de los Muertos or “The Day of the Dead”.
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| Celebrating Dia De Los Muertas in Mexico Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash |
The line between the Celtic practices and the Church’s adaptation of those practices became blurred.
Regardless, there was a clear purpose in the celebration of this time of year; All Hallows Eve, All Hallows Day, and All Souls Day, together known as Hallowmas.
The purpose was to proclaim that we not only do not fear death, but we celebrate our continued connection to those who’ve died with Jesus the Christ serving as the bridge between those who’ve died and those longing for the day in which we are reunited together.
It’s really a beautiful tradition, and despite what so many say about it, an incredibly and uniquely Christian one.
But we don’t know how to deal with death in any context but darkness and grief, so it somehow became more about death than life, more about bitter than sweet.
All because death somehow became more about fear than victory, except in the places where people either cannot insulate themselves from death or choose not to insulate themselves from it.
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A few days ago, during the women’s bible study on Thursday morning, we were reading Luther’s sermons on John 9.
Upon reading one particular quote, some truly beautiful stories were shared about death, life, grief, and joy.
Stories of how all those things should be connected, personal stories.
At one point in his sermon Luther says “Now, the most precious thing God has is death and dying; and Christ accepted it in love, joyfully and voluntarily”
(Yet) “We flee it and consider life more precious than death.”
He goes on to describe the cross and suffering as a “holy relic,” then claiming that “For this relic God himself hallowed and blessed with his most precious will and with the approval of his Father. But now— God save the mark! — we see our bishops and leaders fleeing from this relic.”
Sisters and Brothers, grief is not an anchor to drag us down or hold us back from moving ahead in life.
Grief is not meant to be an anchor that is cut free from our lives either.
Grief is the bittersweet joy and sadness that carries us throughout our lives, as we await the reunion that is promised in Christ.
It should never be denied, and there is no shelf life on grief.
Death is not a topic to be avoided or feared, but a new birth into the true and certain hope we receive in Christ.
A death that takes place at two points in life, in our final breath and in the death we share with Christ at the font.
An adoption through Christ’s death that _________ will share with us today as she becomes our sister in Christ, drawing back the curtain between those we’ve lost this past year and those still being welcomed into the Church’s womb as its newly adopted saints.
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In John’s letter today, there is an odd connection between John’s community and Paul’s community.
Both these communities thought about death and the afterlife differently, yet John and Paul both seem to agree on one thing;
Everything comes back together again.
John claims that as God’s children, adopted in baptism, we will become like the one revealed to us.
Connected intimately, inseparably in fact.
Paul claims the same thing (Romans 11:36) when Paul ends the 11th chapter of Romans with the proclamation of
“For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be the glory forever. Amen.”
And this would be where I would leave it, if I had not met another saint who helped me understand this more deeply.
And I bet our brother __________ never dreamed I would refer to him as a saint!
This past summer, Pastor Stephen and I spent many days with our brother, ____, as he was dying.
At one point he became so weak, we had to put our ear directly next to his mouth to hear him speak.
One day, while holding his hand I asked _____ how he was doing and he told me he was scared.
We had talked extensively about the promise he had received in baptism, so of course, in my arrogance I thought this was just another theological review for him.
I assured him of the promise we’ve received in Christ one more time, then folded my hands contently, as if I was some theological powerhouse.
He then proceeded to explain that he wasn’t afraid of what was ahead, he was afraid of what was behind him.
Naively again, I assured him that he was forgiven of his sins.
Frustrated with my stupidity, he pointed to a picture of his wife and daughters.
Embarrassed, ashamed, and stumped, I was at a loss.
Then John and Paul’s letters reminded me as I leaned down to him and whispered into his ear;
“What if I told you it all comes back together as One? No past, no future, no there, no here, no time, no space. Because it all comes back together as one thing, all of us. All things. Reunited and reconciled through Christ.”
Those were the last words I spoke to my friend, and if not for him I would never have the confidence in the promise I found in that moment this past year.
So I leave you on this All Saints Sunday with that truth, assured by Christ, explained by John, Paul, and ___.
A promise that invites us to hold to the simultaneous joy and sadness of grief for those who’ve died, while looking towards a certain hope of that joyful reunion, when all things come back together in God through Christ.
Amen.
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| © José Luiz Bernardes Ribeiro / |
Sources
Anselmus. Basic Writings: Proslogium. Monologium. Cur Deus Homo. Gaunilo’s In Behalf of the Fool. 2. ed. Open Court Classics. LaSalle, Ill: Open Court Publ, 1962.
Davies, J. G., ed. The New Westminster Dictionary of Liturgy and Worship. 1st American ed. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1986.
Luther, Martin, Jaroslav Jan Pelikan, and Helmut T. Lehmann. Luther’s Works. 51: Sermons: 1. American ed. Saint Louis, Mo.: Concordia Publ. House [u.a.], 1959.
More Days for Praise: Festivals and Commemorations in Evangelical Lutheran Worship. Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2016.
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