November 7, 2021 – The Feast of All Saints: May God’s words spoken, may God’s words be heard. Amen.
Wow! How great it is to be back in the pulpit and seeing all of you gathered here today. I have really missed you’all! And, I know that you all have missed one another. It is poignant too that it is on All Saints that we, the saints militant, the saints here on earth, are able to gather here once more, on a day when we also remember the saints triumphant – those whom we love but see no longer, and those stalwart saints recognized by the church for their extraordinary faith. It is though all of heaven rejoices with all of us here on earth for what is happening here today. Or, as is said in the preface of the Eucharist – “we join with angels and archangels, and all the company of heaven!”
And it is also perfect that in this Year B of our lectionary we read this gospel from John and the passage from the book of Revelation (which, btw, is a book of the bible that is enough to scare anyone away from using drugs – I mean, it could be used in the anti-drug abuse commercial with the line “this is your mind on drugs.”) But before we go to that land of whatever was in John’s head – the land of Revelation – let’s look at the gospel.
The gospel story is the familiar raising of Lazarus from the dead. Now last Sunday was Halloween, or in church lingo – All Hallows Eve – the beginning of Hallowtide or All Hallowstide, which really just means Holy Tide, or Holy Time. We start with the scary day of the dead making mockery of death. Then we have All Saints, on November 1st, and All Soul’s on the 2nd. And so, I think this story of Lazarus is perfect for today, don’t you? We should’ve played Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” as the gradual, right? Okay…maybe not.
Anyway, the best part of the story, as I mentioned when it came up in Lent in previous years, was the reaction of Martha to Jesus when he tells them to roll away the stone. The guy’s been dead for four days she tells him. There is a stench – or the best version of it in the King James “Lord, he stinketh!” Yeah, I would think so. Jesus calls to Lazarus to “come out” and then tells the people to unbind him, as Lazarus walks out of his tomb, mummy style.
This is a story made for that first frightful night of Hallowtide, isn’t it?
It is also a story for All Saints and baptism.
And the place to start with this story is inside of the dark tomb – the place where the one that Jesus loved, Lazarus, spent four days. It is a place we make fun of on Halloween, I think in part because we feel uncomfortable there. Think about how often we need to make jokes when we are in those weirdly uncomfortable places – we call it “gallows humor.” My guess is – Lazarus wasn’t laughing. He was dead.
While most of us can likely say that we have never been dead – physically anyway. I said most, not all, because, well – some people actually have been dead – having come back to life after NDEs (near death experiences). But, most of us can remember a time in our lives, or the lives of others we know, who were or are dead – emotionally or spiritually. They may be suffering from depression, grief, addiction, or loneliness that covers them like a tomb. They are the walking dead, and they aren’t scary, and they are often people we know and love. It may even be the one we see in the mirror.
Certainly this time of pandemic has seemed like a time in the tomb. We have been in isolation, separated from one another, from this very place. We have also experienced the hate, violence, and oppression that has infested our country and the world. And we have mourned those we love but see no longer, who died from COVID or other causes over this long year and a half.
It has been a dark and often scary time. And it is there that Jesus goes. It is to the darkness of our lives that God enters. But first, God weeps. Jesus wept.
Jesus wept. Think on this…feel this in your heart, because it is one of the most powerful verses in all of scripture. Jesus wept. The God, who loved us so very much as to become incarnate and walk among us, even while knowing the cost – wept. And the thing is, God is weeping for us now too.
See, that is the thing about these difficult times in our lives. As you know, I don’t believe for a moment that old nonsense about how “God only gives us what we can handle” – to that I think Lazarus, and a whole lot of other folks too – would say “Now hold on there God – obviously you overestimated my abilities.” No, God doesn’t give us what we can handle – God doesn’t do this to us – no loving God would, right? Yes, the bible does have that pesky story about Job, but we know that God does not work that way.
We are God’s beloved children. Would any good parent willingly do that to their kids? Torture them with pain? We would call any parent deliberately putting their children in pain – physically or emotionally – a case of clear child abuse. Now, I know there are times when teenagers THINK that is what their parents are doing (and vice-versa) or we can think the in-laws are the devil incarnate, but God? No.
We are God’s beloved children, and sadly, we are part of this imperfect human filled world. Wonderful things happen in life, and difficult things too. What God does do in these hard moments, these times in the tomb, is grieve…and then goes to us. God meets us where we are, calls to us – calls us out of the dark places. God meets us in our brokenness with grace that unbinds us from what keeps us in darkness. That is when God is saying “See, I am making all things new,” as we heard in the Revelation to John.
There’s two words for the newness God creates – resurrection and transformation. When we are emerging from our dark times, we are still the same person, not some new being. The wounds – emotional, physical, and spiritual – are still part of our DNA. In the encounter with Jesus, Lazarus was brought back from the dead – he experienced resurrection. He still looks like the old Lazarus – okay, probably like one with a four day hangover – but essentially, he is still the man Jesus loved – the brother of Martha and Mary – same legs, arms, and of course, the same memories.
And yet – do we really think Lazarus was ever the same?
Life had to have been different for him, sweeter maybe, for having experienced the depths of darkness – for having been so very dead, and now alive. And everyone Lazarus encountered was changed too, I have no doubt about that. They were never the same for having encountered God’s grace in the face of Lazarus. And that resurrected and transformed life, that new creation, is what All Saints is all about, because it is a day when we celebrate all of those who have died in Christ and now live, and a day on which we baptize others into the body of Christ, and baptism is absolutely a resurrection experience of transformation – of God making all things new.
Today we baptize Wilhemina Herrera & Sophia Reynolds. What a joyful day for them, their family, and for all of us. In baptism, they will experience what Lazarus experienced. Baptism is a death and resurrection experience that transforms our lives. These two children will be changed forever in this sacrament – this outward and visible sign, of an inward and spiritual grace. And on All Saints, it is an especially important day for baptism, because we not only remember those who have died, but we remember them as saints of the church.
No, not saints as in they led perfect lives, but saints are those who lived their faith as best they could – looking to love and serve as part of the body of Christ – a life they began in baptism. And now it is our turn. You see, All Saints is about you and me – and the world today. It is about baptism, and our lives before and after. It is about call, and what it does for us, and with us. It is about our life as children of God, modeled for us by the saints who came before, modeled for us by our savior, Jesus Christ – the one who went to Lazarus, the dead one in the tomb.
In our own baptism, we are called to be the Jesus alive today that meets people where they are rather than just expecting them to waltz in the front doors of the church.
We are called to feel their pain, to weep, and then to go and bear witness by loving them.
We are called to put an end to whatever is keeping them bound up in despair – to stand against injustice, to stand up for the marginalized, and to speak for those with no voice.
And, we are called to this place and in this time as the saints who worshipped here before, to give of our life and labor, that we, and generations of saints who follow us, can continue to experience God’s all inclusive love and grace here, and in the work we do in Christ’s name in the world.
As a parish now emerging from our pandemic tomb, we can see just how damaging this time has been for the body of our church. As the bounds of our isolation is removed, we come to realize the devastation it has had on our parish financially, emotionally, and physically. So what are we to do?
While the scriptures do not tell us this, I suspect that the friends of Lazarus did not stand around doing nothing after he emerged from four days in the tomb. They likely got him food and drink, and helped him to heal from his experience.
Christ has led us out of our pandemic tomb time that we may live out our call in the world. We cannot hope to do this if we do not also nourish this very place in his name with our offerings of our life and our labor.
This moment in our lives, and in this parish, is pivotal, and God is ready to make all things new here. Christ is calling us to new life. The Holy Spirit is alive in our hearts, leading us forward to live out our saintly call.
What will be our response?
Will we participate in the transformational healing of our parish, that from here, we may transform the world?
Will we be the people God created us to be living out our own baptismal covenant?
Jesus has unbound us in baptism to live a life full of grace and truth, and to spread the message of God’s love to all – most especially to those who live in tombs of despair, oppression, hopelessness, poverty, loneliness, and grief.
It is not an easy life, and it will require a lot from us. Yet as we heard in our processional hymn this morning, For All The Saints, when “the strife is fierce, the war-fare long” we will hear the voices of those who went before us, those stalwart saints of our parish, and of our faith, and they will “steal on the ear the distant triumph song.” That song reminds us that neither they in their time, nor we in ours, live this life of Christ alone. God is with us. Jesus and the saints are beside us. The Holy Spirit guides us.
And because of that, our “hearts [will be] brave and [our] arms [will be] strong,” to live out our faith here in this parish for generations to come, loving and serving the Jesus we meet here, and in the world.
Amen.
For the audio, click below, or subscribe to our iTunes Sermon Podcast by clicking here:
The Rev. Diana L. Wilcox
Christ Church in Bloomfield & Glen Ridge
November 7, 2021 – 1st In-Person Worship Since Pandemic
Pentecost 24 – The Feast of All Saints – Year B
1st Reading – Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9
Psalm 24
2nd Reading – Revelation 21:1-6a
Gospel – John 11:32-44
