November 6, 2016 – All Saints: May God’s words alone be spoken, may God’s words alone be heard. Amen.
There is a Peanuts cartoon where Lucy tells Charlie Brown, “I have examined my life and found it to be without flaw. Therefore, I’m going to hold a ceremony and present myself with a medal. I will then give a moving acceptance speech. After that, I’ll greet myself in the receiving line.” She concludes somewhat sadly – “When you’re perfect, you have to do everything yourself.” Lucy is a saint of her own making.
Today we celebrate the feast of All Saints, when we remember those who have gone before us – the communion of saints. Now, even as we remember them, it is doubtful that any of us would say they were perfect people. We loved them, and they us, but despite Lucy Van Pelt’s assertion, perfection isn’t really possible for humans. So, it’s a good thing that God doesn’t expect that of us. See, All Saints isn’t about perfect people who have died, it is about recognizing that God asks ordinary people do extraordinary things.
As Robert Louis Stevenson once said, “The saints are the sinners who keep on going.”
“The saints are the sinners who keep on going.”
Now I am quite sure that it has not gone unnoticed by anyone that we have an election in two days, and one could reasonably argue that, having survived this political onslaught for the past 18 months or so, that we are indeed eligible for a medal – not so much of perfection, but certainly for endurance…or should I say “stamina.” I think in many ways everyone can understand the words of the prophet Daniel this morning, when he says “…my spirit was troubled within me, and the visions of my head terrified me.” I know I do whenever I turn on the TV news.
We are a deeply troubled and divided nation – with beasts of our own making rising up all around us. Not mythical creatures of the sea, as Daniel portends, but very real, very dangerous beasts: the beasts of hate, anger, derision, and violence. It is a time when we can long for the Matthew version of the beatitudes, ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. ‘Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.’ But that is not what we hear today in our gospel.
See, the Jesus of Luke wasn’t focused on the esoteric pursuit of spiritual renewal, but on addressing the very real need of people who were hungry and thirsty, poor in means – whose very ability to live day to day were in doubt. But there is another difference too…Jesus doesn’t talk about those who are blessed as some other “they,” as in Matthew, but to those right there “blessed are YOU who are poor…You who are hungry.” The need is present there in front of him and his disciples.
And it is present here with us too.
The anguish of this election season has been seen in the very real angst of the forgotten and the lost, their pain coming out of very real fears of a changing world in which everything they know about how to work and live is fading into the past. And fear can be a very dangerous incubator for intolerance and hate, which, if festering long enough, and given a voice, can erupt into the most vile and horrific ways that do nothing to help, but spread fear further in an ever expanding web of darkness.
Perhaps that is at the core of why Jesus in Luke is focused on those who are poor, hungry, and thirsty, because he knows that from great need can come great fear, which can manifest itself in ways that push those very people even further away from feeling the love of God. And he “looks up at his disciples” did you notice that? See, even the setting was different than in Matthew. This is NOT the Sermon on the Mount, but what is called the Sermon on the Plains – a very clear and purposeful distinction this author is making…Jesus was among the people, not looking down from a perch on the mountain. He “looks up” and tells his disciples “But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”
I sometime think he should have added, “for nothing will annoy your enemies more.” To be clear, Jesus isn’t telling us, who are listening, that we should allow ourselves to be abused – not at all. He is saying that we should not allow that abuse to be continued by holding tightly to our anger and desire for revenge, because that only condemns us to that deep and dark place out of which hatred is born.
So what does this mean for us in this time of election anxiety, derision, and angst? Well, it means that on November 9th, we will have work to do – the everyday work of being a saint of the church.
Yes…you are all saints of the church too. Being a saint isn’t about dying, but about living.
“The saints are the sinners who keep on going.”
You see, in our baptism we already died to the things that would hold us back, and are reborn into a life that propels us to keep on going. We are sealed and marked as Christ’s own forever, and as part of the household of God, we become the living saints of the church. And today, we welcome into that life little Christopher Cash O’Neil, who will become the newest saint of the church.
Now I am sure his parents will find that his sainthood does not result in perfection, pure godliness, or a life without difficulty. It won’t mean he will eat all his broccoli, get straight As, or respect his parents at every turn. If that were true there would be lines outside of every church door with loads of parents wanting their kids baptized (or re-baptized because they felt it didn’t take the first time). But that is not what sainthood in the church is all about. It’s not about doing everything right or being perfect, but about being who God has created and called us to be – every single one of us. And all of us are called to be saints.
It doesn’t mean life will be easy. I remember somebody saying “Some days everything goes right. Some days everything goes wrong. Some days it’s “Good morning, God.” Other days it’s “Good God, it’s morning.”…. Of course, nearly all the days of our lives fall somewhere in between these two extremes – thankfully. A steady diet of either one or the other would succeed in making us either insufferably arrogant or incapacitatingly depressed.”[1]
What this sainthood we all are called to live into does mean is that we are not without meaning or purpose, if we will only be open to the Christ that bids us to listen…if we will, as the author of Ephesians speaks about “set our hopes on Christ.” Then we will be able to authentically be the saints we were baptized to be.
And it also means that this life of a saint isn’t for solo artists, much to Lucy Van Pelt’s astonishment, I am sure. It is something we do together. As is true for all baptisms, not only will Cash’s parents make a commitment on his behalf to raise him in this new life in Christ, but we too, as a faith community, make that same commitment to nurture him as he grows. It is a model of interdependence grounded in love that is also a message we can bring out to the world.
Our own well-being is tied to the well-being of everyone around us. We cannot claim to love our neighbor, when we do nothing in the face of their pain, their hunger, their thirst. This earthly life we live is a temporary one in which we are able to do great things in even the smallest of ways. Our saintly existence is a day to day struggle to remember our real purpose – which isn’t to amass great wealth, but expand the experience of God’s love. It isn’t to build up empires, but to tear down walls. It isn’t to gain the light of star like fame, but to be a beacon of hope.
And when we feel we are lost, when we feel we have nothing to give, when we feel the weight of the world pulling us from our calling, when we feel darkness overshadowing our ability to be saints of light, when we forget who we are…it is then that perhaps we need to remember these words by the entertainer Gracie Allen, who said “Never put a period where God has placed a comma.” And that comma – that is what we come to know here – in this place we call Christ Church. Nourished at this table, and strengthened by this community of faith – a community made possible by the saints who have gone before us – we remember that darkness and death never has the last word in our lives, but light and life do.
That is what All Saints celebrates, this continuity of sainthood – the living and the living – those here now, and those who are alive in the light of God, who we no longer see. And it is when we thank those of this church, with names like Arnot, Brinkerhoff, and Martinak, who made it possible for new life now. Because they understood that their death was just a comma in the grand scheme of things, and that more of their life in Christ needed to continue – the sentence needed to still be written. So, as we do every Sunday in Stewardship season, today you will be given a gift, blessed at the altar. Today it is a construction hat.
Now, I wouldn’t use this for any real protection stemming from construction, but it is a reminder that the Infrastructure Project we just completed, which will breathe new life into both the church and the Nursery School, was possible only because of each of you who pledge to the church, but most especially by those saints, the faithful departed, who remembered the importance of this parish as a place where one can set their hope on Christ. They didn’t do this because Jesus calls us to build beautiful buildings, but because Jesus calls us to build a life of love and service. And because of what happens here, we are able to live as disciples in the world. We are able to offer a Nursery School that is based on an ideal of ministry, not profit making. We are able to serve the poor and forgotten in our food and animal ministries. We are able to ensure that LGBT people know that they are beloved children of God just the way they are, just as God created them to be. We are able to call out injustice where we see it, and work toward a day when all people will know the fullness of God’s all abiding grace and love.
It doesn’t take a hero’s heart, but a humble one, to make a difference in the lives of others, to change the world. It just takes a willingness to be the ones “who keep going.” To not mistake a period for a comma.
“There is a […] a story about [one who kept going.] His name was Elzeard Bouffier, and […] his home was in the countryside near the French Alps, where mountains and meadows come together. He had lost his wife and son and farm during the terrors of World War I and sought solace in the silence of his aloneness.
The country Bouffier settled in had once been beautiful – but no more. War machines had crushed it, armies had deforested and devastated it. There was barely enough grass to nourish his small flocks – and even then he had to keep moving them on to new pastures. Gradually, Elzeard Bouffier became convinced that it was the terrible lack of trees that was keeping this land so blighted and all who lived within it struggling to maintain a mere subsistence level of existence.
Bouffier began to plant trees. Every day, as he wandered the empty, pitted land, he carried with him the seeds of a new forest. He used his shepherd’s crook to poke a planting hole for each seed, and thus dropped in the potential for a new tree with every step he took. On a good day, Elzeard could plant nearly a thousand seeds. Elzeard Bouffier continued to plant trees from seed for the next 50 years. He planted different types of forests – beech, oak, birch, maple. Slowly the seeds took root and matured. Gradually, a miracle was born over the face of that devastated land. Where there had once been barren wastes, there stood forests. Streams that had clogged with eroded earth began to flow again and feed the meadows. Farms and whole communities were once again able to claim this region as a fruitful, joyous home.
Elzeard Bouffier was neither saint nor sinner – he was both. Though he intended to cut himself off from his fellow human beings, he succeeded in shepherd- ing a reborn creation into existence and brought a new possibility for life to his neighbors.”[2] He refused to put a period, where God had placed a comma, and stepped into the next part of his life one seed at a time.
In other words, Bouffier was one who kept going, doing the small things every day that reaped miracles in a lifetime. So the questions that beg to be answered are: What small seeds can you plant that will, in the end, leave a mark? Where have you seen a period, where God has placed a comma?
No matter what the outcome, November 9th is not a period in the ever flowing sentence of God, but a comma. We have the ability to be a part of the next phrase, because God is still speaking, and calling us to live this life of saint in a world so much in need. A world where people are still sold into slavery. A world where people are killed for the color of their skin, the God that they worship, for who they love, or for the crime of being female. A world where our Native American brothers and sisters stand defiant against all odds to protect God’s creation from abuse. A world in which leaders that traffic in fear and hate find a voice on the backs of the oppressed.
We are the saints today.
The ones who are called to keep going.
The ones to see the comma, not the period, and forge ahead.
The ones Jesus beckons to listen.
Let us be the saints through whom others find life in the knowledge of God’s grace and love, changing the world, one small seed of hope at a time.
Amen.
For the audio from the 10:30am service, click here:
[1] Multiple sources.
[2] Homeliticsonline. The author noted: “To read a complete version of this remarkable story, see Jean Giono, The Man Who Planted Trees [Toronto, Ont.: CBC Enterprises, 1989].”
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
November 6, 2016
Pentecost 25 – Year C – All Saints Sunday
1st Reading – Daniel 7:1-3,15-18
Psalm 149
2nd Reading – Ephesians 1:11-23
Gospel – Luke 6:20-31
