Sermon: All Saints Sunday

Luke 6:20-31

²⁰Then he looked up at his disciples and said:
"Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.
²¹"Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.
²²Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. ²³Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets.
²⁴"But woe to you who are rich,
for you have received your consolation.
²⁵"Woe to you who are full now,
for you will be hungry.
"Woe to you who are laughing now,
for you will mourn and weep.
²⁶Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.
²⁷But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, ²⁸bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. ²⁹If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. ³⁰Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. ³¹Do to others as you would have them do to you.

Blessed

I held my nephew in my arms as he pointed to the end of the aisle. He wanted to go see great-grandma again.

So we walked up the aisle, him being four and me being twenty-four, and we leaned over the casket.

“Is that great-grandma?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said as I nodded.

“Can I touch her?” he asked.

“Sure. With one finger.” I said.

And so I leaned over so that my nephew, my four year old nephew, could begin to learn about the cycles of life.

He gently touched her hand. Then he looked up at me with big brown eyes and asked again, “Is that great-grandma?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Mama said grandma is in heaven,” he said.

“Yes,” and I nodded again.

Then he looked back at me with those eyes and asked, “Then, is this heaven?”

And I hugged him close and whispered, “Not yet. Not yet.”

Not yet.

All Saints Day reminds us that this world is not heaven. Not yet.

All Saints Day is twenty-four hours of emotion. Strong emotion. And if its not twenty-four hours of emotion for you today, it will be one day because, well, we will all one day celebrate a saint’s life on All Saints.

And it’s such a mixed bag! At one time we give thanks for a person’s life, for their example, for their joys, and even for those small habits of theirs that become endearing over time.

And at the same time, we wish there was no All Saints Day at all. We wish there was no need for an All Saints Day because here, on this day, we are reminded that we live in an imperfect world. A world that, while good and vibrant and full of life, still experiences pain. Still experiences death.

And that is not surprise to us. All things have cycles; our life revolves around the seasons. Even the Christian life, the Christian calendar revolves around seasons. In four short weeks we will be in Advent, the beginning of the Christian calendar. Which means that here, now, we are in the twilight of our season, celebrating All Saints Day.

And even though it is no surprise to us that life has seasons, that we, as part of the created order still experience those seasons, including death, we long for that day when there will be no need for All Saints Day. We long for that day when we won’t commemorate those who have gone before us because, well, they’ll be right next to us. They’ll be with us. Or, rather, we’ll be with them, along with the whole of creation in that new Zion, that new holy place of God’s being.

And we wait fervently for that day. We cry out for that day. We shout out for that day. And we catch a glimpse of that day and the promises it holds in today’s gospel.

In today’s gospel, known as Jesus’ “Sermon on the Plain” because he is standing on a plain in Luke when giving it, we hear once again that we are a blessed creation.

Blessed are you who are poor,
for yours is the kingdom of God.

"Blessed are you who are hungry now,
for you will be filled.
"Blessed are you who weep now,
for you will laugh.

All of those “you” statements are plural. Jesus is blessing us as a group, as a creation, and giving us promises of life. This poverty that many feel will not be forever. This hunger will not always afflict our bellies. Our eyes will not always flow with tears. The season will change, God has promised that.

It is a promise that is both for the here, and also for the not yet. In the here and now, today, we are to give to the poor, feed the hungry, and wipe the tears of those in pain. In doing so we bless those we comfort, we fulfill that prophecy for today. And likewise, there will be a time when we are in need, when we are hungry, when our tears need to be wiped away and someone, through the grace and love of God, will fulfill that prophecy for us.

And this is what that final piece of this verse is referring to. The “golden rule,” as it has come to be known. It is that piece that encourages us to feed the hungry, give to the poor, and provide for the sad and the weary because there will be a day when we are in their place and will long for food, comfort, and gifts of grace.

But these blessings, these words from Jesus also contain a promise for the not yet, for the tomorrow of creation. God has blessed us through the promise that, when the creation’s tears are no longer consolable, when we have run our course, when we are the saints for whom others celebrate this day for, there is a surprise yet to come.

Even then, even in death, even in that place where darkness seems to have the final say, God promises to feed us, provide for our needs, cause us to laugh, to sing, to dance, to praise, to love. Our cheeks will never again have to turn; our eyes will never well up for feelings of loss. We’ll not have enemies; we’ll not fear others from stealing our possessions because God will be all we have, and all we need.

That day, even that day, contains the promise of life, contains the blessings that we hear today.

And ultimately, we follow the “golden rule,” not simply because we want others’ help on that day when we are hungry, or poor, or weary and crying. But because it is the way that God deals with us. This God, whose love is so radical as to come and stand with us, to come and experience the darkness of death with us, is one that promises us life even as Jesus was resurrected.

This God is the same one who blesses us with the kingdom, with heavenly food, with grace-filled laughter, even as Jesus burst from that tomb to expose death for what it is: an empty hole that only holds some rags and a few angels who tell us the good news once again. Death, like that tomb, is empty.

Death causes us to cry. Yes. It causes us to tear our clothes, yell at God for forsaking us as we bring oils, and flowers, and heavy hearts to those tombs that still dot our lives. Yes. But the blessing still stands, and death is ultimately the bed clothes of old lying in an empty tomb where the gardener tends the living flowers outside because there is no one inside.

Here, on All Saints Day, we give thanks for those loved ones, those ones we have held close, those ones we continue to hold close. We give thanks for their example. We give thanks for their mission. We give thanks for their love.

But more than that, we give thanks to the God who promises that there are surprises still to be had, blessings still to be given; both here in the today and in the tomorrow. God has promised throughout time and space to never abandon us, even in the darkest hour. God has promised that all tombs will one day be empty, and we will stand face to face with each other and our God who keeps true to the blessings given. Who keeps true to the promises given.

This world is not heaven. Not yet. And All Saints Day is a mixed bag, yes. But God has promised that this mixed bag we experience now will be only one thing eventually: everlasting life.

Amen.