Sermon for All Saints Sunday 2014
Sermon for All Saints Sunday
2 November 2014
The Rev. Carrie B. Smith
Lutheran Church of the Redeemer,
Jerusalem
For photos of this All Saints Service:
Grace and
peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.
On Friday
afternoon, the German, Arabic and English congregations here at Redeemer
Lutheran gathered in the main sanctuary for the annual Reformation Day service.
It was a good crowd, in spite of the weather and the turmoil in the city. I’m
also learning to appreciate these joint services as “holy chaos”!
My favorite
part of the afternoon was the prayers of intercession. Clergy and lay people
from around the world gathered to pray in Swedish, Dutch, Danish, English,
Arabic, German, Finnish, and Norwegian. Did I understand much of it? No…but God
did!
Even though
it was Reformation Day, seeing that diverse group praying around the microphone
made me think of the first reading for today, All Saints Sunday, from
Revelation chapter 7:
“After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no
one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages,
standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm
branches in their hands. They
cried out in a loud voice, saying, “Salvation belongs to our God who is seated
on the throne, and to the Lamb!”
This is, of course, an
image of heaven, and of the great communion of saints gathered around the
throne of God. However, a “great multitude from every nation, from all tribes
and peoples and languages” could also be a description of our little
worshipping community on Sunday mornings! Here at Redeemer we are often joined
by visitors from all over the world. We love to hear from our visitors at the
end of the service, to know where they came from and why they are here
(visitors, there is your fair warning!) Just hearing the list of countries
gives us a glimpse of what it will be like at that heavenly feast, when all
nations and tribes will be gathered around the throne. It is a wonderful,
weekly reminder that the communion we share in Christ transcends distance,
language, race, and culture.
And on All Saints Day
we celebrate that this communion also transcends death, for we are united with all the saints through the waters of baptism.
A few days ago, I was
sitting and praying in the Chapel of the Apparition, around the corner at the
Holy Sepulcher Church. One of the blessings of living in Jerusalem is the
opportunity not just to walk through holy places (as I did in my first visits
here) but to have the opportunity to really get to know some of them. Since my
office is located so close to the Holy Sepulcher, this is the spot I’ve been
trying to get to know first. I sat for a long time in this particular chapel,
watching people come and go. At one point, I looked more carefully at the
altar. I was sitting a ways away, so I couldn’t be absolutely sure that I was
seeing it correctly, but then decided I was: I saw that the base of the altar
is stone, and carved in the stone are many faces. These are not stylized icons
or perfect chiseled statue faces, but just regular people’s images, forming the
basis of the table itself.
At first, I thought
this was a little creepy, to be honest! But then I saw what a beautiful
representation it is of the communion of saints. And how perfect that it be the
basis of the communion table! For when we come to the table each Sunday, as the
body of Christ in this place and in this time, we are joined there by the rest
of our beloved community—those who are across the ocean, and those who have crossed the
Jordan.
Orthodox
theologian Alexander Schmemann put it this way:
“The
Eucharist is communion with the whole Church. It is the supreme revelation of
the communion of the saints, of the unity and interdependence of all the
members of the Body of Christ. …It is given to me, personally, in order to
transform me into a member of Christ, to unite me with all those who receive
him, to reveal the Church as a fellowship of love.”
Apart from
funerals, All Saints is the one day in the church year we devote to
contemplating such mysteries. As such, I’ve been thinking about how the oddness
of our little community of faith here in Jerusalem is also a blessing. We are a
temporary community – some here for a day, some for a year, some for decades.
We are a diverse community – the church stationary says “Lutheran”, but on any
given day we are also Catholic, Mennonite, Disciples, Presbyterian, Methodist,
Franciscan, or simple “Christian.” We are both home (as in “Jerusalem, my happy
home) and far from home.
These
realities of our existence here can often be a challenge. But they are also a blessing!
For although we still see as through a glass darkly, the gift of this community
is experiencing firsthand that the unity we share in baptism is not formed by
genetics, or shared memories, or a common culture. Rather, we have the blessing
of living out the heavenly truth that the communion of saints transcends all
our earthly divisions, and remains undivided even in death.
Hear again the prayer of the day,
written by Thomas Cranmer:
Almighty
God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the
mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace to follow your blessed
saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable
joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ
our Lord. Amen.
As a knitter, I can’t resist this image!
It calls to mind Psalm 139, of course, which says “For you have created my
inmost parts, you have knit me together in my mother’s womb.” But I also think
of that glorious moment when I’m starting a new project, and I sit with just
the yarn and the needles and a pattern. By itself, the yarn isn’t worth much,
except as amusement for the neighbor’s cat. But the appeal of knitting is how
that plain ball of yarn magically, bit by bit, becomes something beautiful to
see and useful to wear. Stitch by stitch, ever so slowly, the garment starts to
take shape, until you bind off the yarn and have a scarf, a sweater, a pair of
mittens.
When it’s done, most people will then
look at the finished product and will see “scarf” or “mitten.” But a knitter
will look at someone’s scarf and see 10,000 individual stitches. A knitter
knows that each stitch is interwoven and connected to the other, holding
together the fabric. Drop one stitch, and things sort of all apart. Cut the
thread, and all is unraveled.
On All Saints, we remember all the
stitches in the beautiful fabric that is the church. We remember the ones at
the beginning, and the ones newly added (like Mark and Susanne Brown’s new
granddaughter). We remember those whom we never met (like the saints of old)
and the ones we knew well (like our grandparents, parents, and friends.)
On this day, we remember that each of
them remains with us—part of the fabric of our lives:
We remember Isaac and Rebecca, Abraham
and Sarah.
We remember Mary and Martha, Stephen
and all the martyrs.
We remember Luther and Katie and all
the Reformers.
I remember my Grandma Goldie, Robert’s
dad and brother, and all the saints I have buried in my years as a pastor.
And we remember your beloved saints,
each of them, for whom we lit candles this morning. We remember, and we thank God for
them. In a few moments, we will come to the table, knowing that soon and very
soon, we will all be joined again at the heavenly feast. Until then, we take
courage and strength from the witness of their lives.
Until then, we are
nourished by the presence of the risen Christ, in, with and under the bread and
the wine.
Until then,
we have each other, a community knit together in love, through Christ our Lord.
May the
peace of God, which passes all understanding, guard your hearts and minds in
Christ Jesus. Amen.
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