All Saints Sunday 2016: "I couldn't have done it without my family"

Sermon for Sunday, 6 November 2016

All Saints Sunday

Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, Jerusalem

The Rev. Carrie Ballenger Smith

Luke 6:20-31

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.

“I couldn’t have done it without my family.”

On stage receiving an Academy Award, on the podium after earning an Olympic medal, or on television after winning their first baseball World Series Championship since 1908 (GO CUBS GO!), winners of all kinds will often utter a variation on this phrase: “I couldn’t have done it without my family.” Granted, they may have completely ignored or forgotten parents, spouses, or children on the way up, but in moments of glory most folks take time to acknowledge they didn’t get there alone. 

Most people will recognize there were others who had joined them on the journey to the top—nurturing, encouraging, inspiring, picking them up when they fall, and sometimes kicking them down the path toward the goal.

For this reason, these winners stand before the world and humbly (and sometimes not so humbly) confess: “I couldn’t have done it without my family.”

There are no awards being handed out today, either for standing in this pulpit or for getting out of bed in time for church this morning! But this same phrase is an excellent description of what we are doing here today. These words capture the essence of All Saints Sunday, for on this morning we remember there would be no church, and there would be no Christians today, without the faithful witness of the family we call the Communion of Saints.

In some expressions of Christianity, it is tradition to chant a version of the Litany of Saints—the same litany we sang this morning—at every baptism. It’s as if the congregation is introducing the newly baptized to his or her new family: “Sarah and Abraham, Moses and Isaiah, James and John, Mary Magdalene and Mary the Mother of our Lord—these are your people. Along with us, these are your nurturers, your encouragers, your inspiration. These are the aunties and uncles, teachers and mentors, who will surround you with the strength and love you need to follow the path Jesus sets before you.”

We only need to look as far as today’s Gospel lesson to understand why Christians need this kind of back-up support. The Beatitudes, especially as told by Luke, make it clear that the Christian walk is no walk in the park. The Way of Jesus is subversive. The Way of Jesus is counter-cultural. Jesus’ priorities fly in the face of all that the world counts as valuable, which means following him always puts us outside the realm of the expected and the accepted.

Jesus tells us:

Blessed are the poor—and woe to the comfortable.

Blessed are the hungry—and woe to those whose refrigerators are full.

Blessed are the grieving—and woe to those whose privilege protects them from suffering.

Blessed are the hated—and woe to the popular, the media-savvy, and the well-connected.

These are not the “Be Happy Attitudes” we find in the Gospel according to Matthew. Actually, most of us might rather to stick with Matthew’s version, in which we can simply be “poor in spirit”, instead of Luke’s pronouncement that blessedness resides with the actual poor: the poor and hungry, the poor and homeless, the poor and imprisoned, the poor and displaced. Matthew allows us to spiritualize Jesus’ teachings a bit, whereas Luke leaves little room for misinterpretation. Here, it is clear that when Jesus says, “Follow me,” he’s leading us away from all that the world prizes. He’s leading us to the cross.

Now, five million people will gather in Chicago to honor a winning baseball team.

And millions will pledge their allegiance—and their votes—to anyone bold enough to stand on a podium and declare, “I’m a winner. The greatest winner. I know it. You know it, everybody knows it!”

But there are no Academy Awards for standing with the oppressed and the occupied. No one gives you a raise for dismantling racism or sexism or homophobia. No one grants you tenure for visiting the sick or the imprisoned. There is no World Series for caring for new babies or holding the hands of the dying.

When we walk with Jesus, we won't be recognized on the world stage.

When we walk with Jesus, we can expect persecution, not praise.

When we walk with Jesus, the only prize we can count on is the weight of the cross.

For this reason, we know we cannot “do” discipleship without our people—the prophets, priests, and troublemakers who have gone before us. We need their witness of holy living. We need their stories of perseverance in times of trial. We need their maps for walking the unpopular path.

And so, today, we remember St. John the Baptist, who everyone thought was crazy, but prophesied the coming of the Prince of Peace.

We remember Mary, who in faith said “yes” to God and gave birth to the salvation of the world.

We remember St. George, patron saint of Palestine, whose defeat of the powerful dragon encourages many today to stand up against hatred, injustice, and occupation.

We remember Johann Sebastian Bach, whose music, written to the glory of God, lifts our souls still today.

We remember Nelson Mandela, who overcame great persecution to lead his country into peace and reconciliation.

We remember Dorothy Day, who took it seriously when Jesus said “Blessed are the poor”, and chose to live her life in service to them.

And we remember the others—the saints and holy ones in our own lives, beloved by us but unknown to the rest of the world: The grandparents who taught us to pray. The pastors who instilled in us a love of Scripture. The teachers who taught us to forgive and to share. The poets and authors whose writing inspires us. The children who taught us to love. The friends, sisters, and brothers whose love and support mirrored the love of Christ himself.

These are the ones who walked the way of the cross--and have now earned their heavenly crowns. 

These are the ones who have shown us that the Way of Jesus is possible, even today. Even for us. 

On All Saints Sunday, we remember that we never worship alone. We never pray alone. We never walk alone.

And we light candles.

We light candles to be surrounded by their love. We light candles to be warmed by the heat of their passion for justice, for peace, and the kingdom of God. We light candles so that when we come to the table to share the bread and the wine, we are reminded of their eternal presence with us not only on the path of discipleship, but also at the heavenly table with Jesus.

Dear sisters and brothers, dear fellow disciples, dear lovers of peace, brokers of justice, advocates for human rights, makers of music, creators and dreamers and builders of the kingdom—we could never do this without our family. 

Thanks be to God, we never have to.

For by the cross and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, we are knit together with all the saints, past and present. Through him, we are one body, broken and raised with him. Together with all the saints, we will shine the light of God’s love for all the world to see. Amen.