The First United Methodist Church of Napa, CA

November 4, 2007

All Saints Sunday

Scripture Readings:

Gospel – Luke 6: 20-31¹

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.
²²“Blessed 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.
²⁶“Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets.
²⁷“But 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.

“Let the Wind Turn in the Trees.”

At its very core, life and death are a mystery. And yet, very soon after our birth, we are wrapped up in its rhythms: of experiencing beginnings and endings and everything in between. The person that I was most closest to in my own life, died on May 13, 2002. He was my father. I don’t know where he is now. Much of him lives on in me – maybe even in my grandchildren. But on this All Saints Sunday, in early November, I am comforted by my memories of him, and of the message of the seasons of our lives.

If you had never experienced the Fall, and the Winter to come, you might be afraid that the world was coming to an end. You might believe that all of the trees were dying – spectacularly, colorfully, but dying. But with our first experience of Spring, followed by Summer, followed by Fall again, we come to trust that endings are but a promise of new beginnings, and that in between is the wonderful celebration of life.

Much has been written about the ending of life and the mystery which comes after. If I had nothing but the rhythms of the seasons to turn to for comfort, their message alone would be enough. In Leo Buscaglia’s little story called The Fall of Freddie the Leaf, we have one way of understanding that journey:

Spring had passed

So had Summer.

Freddie, the leaf, had grown large. His mid-section was wide and strong, and his five extensions were firm and pointed.

He had first appeared in Spring as a small sprout on a rather large branch near the top of a tall tree.

Freddie was surrounded by hundreds of other leaves just like himself, or so it seemed. Soon he discovered that no two leaves were alike, even though they were on the same tree. Alfred was the leaf next to him. Ben was the leaf on his right side, and Clare was the lovely leaf overhead.

They had all grown up together.

They had learned to dance in the Spring breezes, bask lazily in the Summer sun and wash off in the cooling rains.

But it was Daniel who was Freddie’s best friend. He was the largest leaf on the limb and seemed to have been there before anyone else. It appeared to Freddie that Daniel was also the wisest among them. It was Daniel who told them that they were part of a tree. It was Daniel who explained that they were growing in a public park. It was Daniel who told them that the tree had strong roots which were hidden in the ground below. He explained about the birds who came to sit on their branch and sing morning songs. He explained about the sun, the moon, the stars and the seasons.

Freddie loved being a leaf. He loved his branch, his light leafy friends, his place high in the sky, the wind that jostled him about, the sun rays that warmed him, the moon that covered him with soft, white shadows.

Summer had been especially nice. The long hot days felt good and the warm nights were peaceful and dreamy.

There were many people in the park that Summer. They often came and sat under Freddie’s tree. Daniel told him that giving shade was part of his purpose.

“What’s a purpose?” Freddie had asked.

“A reason for being,” Daniel had answered. “To make things more pleasant for others is a reason for being. To make shade for old people who come to escape the heat of their homes is a reason for being. To provide a cool place for children to come and play. To fan with our leaves the picnickers who come to eat on checkered tablecloths. These are all reasons for being.”

Freddie especially liked the old people. They sat so quietly on the cool grass and hardly ever moved. They talked in whispers of times past.

The children were fun, too, even though they sometimes tore holes in the bark of the tree or carved their names into it. Still, it was fun to watch them move so fast and to laugh so much.

But Freddie’s Summer soon passed.

It vanished on an October night. He had never felt it so cold. All the leaves shivered with the cold. They were coated with a thin layer of white which quickly melted and left them dew drenched and sparkling in the morning sun.

Again, it was Daniel who explained that they had experienced their first frost, the sign that it was Fall and that Winter would come soon.

Almost at once, the whole tree, in fact, the whole park was transformed into a blaze of color. There was hardly a green leaf left. Alfred had turned a deep yellow. Ben had become a bright orange. Clare had become a blazing red, Daniel a deep purple and Freddie was red and gold and blue. How beautiful they all looked. Freddie and his friends had made their tree a rainbow.

“Why did we turn different colors,” Freddie asked, “when we are on the same tree?”

“Each of us is different. We have had different experiences. We have faced the sun differently. We have cast shade differently. Why should we not have different colors?” Daniel said matter-of-factly. Daniel told Freddie that this wonderful season was called Fall.

One day a very strange thing happened. The same breezes that, in the past, had made them dance began to push and pull at their stems, almost as if they were angry. This caused some of the leaves to be torn from their branches and swept up in the wind, tossed about and dropped softly to the ground.

All the leaves became frightened.

“What’s happening?” they asked each other in whispers.

“It’s what happens in Fall,” Daniel told them. “It’s the time for leaves to change their home. Some people call it to die.”

“Will we all die?”

“Yes,” Daniel answered. “Everything dies. No matter how big or small, how weak or strong. We first do our job. We experience the sun and the moon, the wind and the rain. We learn to dance and to laugh. Then we die.”

“I won’t die!” said Freddie with determination. “Will you, Daniel?”

“Yes,” answered Daniel, “when it’s my time.”

“When is that?” asked Freddie.

“No one knows for sure,” Daniel responded.

Freddie noticed that the other leaves continued to fall. He thought, “It must be their time.” He saw that some of the leaves lashed back at the wind before they fell, others simply let go and dropped quietly.

Soon the tree was almost bare.

“I’m afraid to die,” Freddie told Daniel. “I don’t know what’s down there.”

“We all fear what we don’t know, Freddie. It’s natural,” Daniel reassured him. “Yet, you were not afraid when Spring became Summer. You were not afraid when Summer became Fall. They were natural changes. Why should you be afraid of the season of death?”

“Does the tree die, too?” Freddie asked.

“Someday. But there is something stronger than the tree. It is Life. That lasts forever and we are all a part of Life.”

“Where will we go when we die?”

“No one knows for sure. That’s the great mystery!”

“Will we return in the Spring?”

“We may not, but Life will.”

“Then what has been the reason for all of this?” Freddie continued to question. “Why were we here at all if we only have to fall and die?”

Daniel answered in his matter-of-fact way, “It’s been about the sun and the moon. It’s been about happy times together. It’s been about the shade and the old people and the children. It’s been about colors in Fall. It’s been about seasons. Isn’t that enough?”

That afternoon, in the golden light of dusk, Daniel let go. He fell effortlessly. He seemed to smile peacefully as he fell.

“Goodbye for now, Freddie,” he said.

Then Freddie was alone, the only leaf left on his branch.

The first snow fell the following morning. It was soft, white, and gentle; but it was bitter cold. There was hardly any sun that day, and the day was very short. Freddie found himself losing his color, becoming brittle. It was constantly cold and the snow weighed heavily upon him.

At dawn the wind came that took Freddie from his branch. It didn’t hurt at all. He felt himself float quietly, gently and softly downward.

As he fell, he saw the whole tree for the first time. How strong and firm it was! He was sure that it would live for a long time and he knew that he had been a part of its life and it made him proud.

Freddie landed on a clump of snow. It somehow felt soft and even warm. In his new position he was more comfortable than he had ever been. He closed his eyes and fell asleep. He did not know that Spring would follow Winter and that the snow would melt into water. He did not know that what appeared to be his useless dried self would join with the water and serve to make the tree stronger. Most of all, he did not know that there, asleep in the tree and the ground, were already plans for new leaves in the Spring.

The Beginning.²

You see it simply as a small symbol in obituaries and in memorial service bulletins. You probably don’t even notice it, because you’re really looking at what comes before and after it. It’s the dash in between that connects the dates of a person’s birth and death. It looks like nothing, really, but it stands for all the days that mattered – the days of that person’s life.³

A woman reflecting on her mother’s death said this:

My mother was in her eighties and had finally, but with difficulty, accepted the fact that death was near. Around her bed stood her husband and eight of her children, many of them loving parents themselves. Even now, there was about my mother that strength that had carried her and my father through the Great Depression, World War II and the death of several of her children. At the very end, a smile crossed her face that said, “I would do it all again; you are worth it all!”⁴

This kind of sanctity is what we celebrate on All Saints Sunday: a trusting embrace of the life that is ours and of the love and generosity that every single moment demands of us.

In the beatitudes, Jesus gives us an assurance that he understands us. We are, and we’re called to be, whole human beings – those who will live, not in splendid isolation, but in the midst of the world. Our emotional and spiritual lives, our interactions with others, our hearts, our minds, and our doors have got to be open enough to let the Spirit of God in! These blessings, then, aren’t just dealt randomly, like so many cards from a deck, but are chosen deliberately by Jesus to describe how the Holy Spirit blows through people just like us.

So I would invite you – with your children or grandchildren, maybe – to take a good, long, close-up look at a fallen leaf sometime today. It may tell you something about your own dreams, floating somewhere between beginnings and endings, and yet kept aloft and carried along by the very breath of God. In the words of the poet, Mary Oliver:

…therefore, let the immeasurable come.
Let the unknowable touch the buckle of my spine.
Let the wind turn in the trees,
and the mystery hidden in the dirt
swing through the air.⁵

* * *