The First United Methodist Church of Napa, CA
November 1, 2009
All Saints Sunday
Scripture Readings:

Apocrypha – Sirach/Ecclesiasticus 44: 1-14¹

¹ Let us now sing the praises of famous men [and women], our ancestors in their generations. ² The Lord apportioned to them great glory [and]…majesty from the beginning. ³ There were those who ruled in their kingdoms, and made a name for themselves by their valor; those who gave counsel because they were intelligent; those who spoke in prophetic oracles; ⁴ those who led the people by their counsels and by their knowledge of the people's lore; they were wise in their words of instruction; ⁵ those who composed musical tunes, or put verses in writing; ⁶ [the] rich …endowed with resources, living peacefully in their homes – ⁷ all these were honored in their generations, and were the pride of their times. ⁸ Some of them have left behind a name, so that others declare their praise.

⁹ But of others there is no memory; they have perished as though they had never existed; they have become as though they had never been born, they and their children after them. ¹⁰ But these also were godly men [and women], whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten; ¹¹ their wealth will remain with their descendants, and their inheritance with their children's children. ¹² Their descendants stand by the covenants; their children also, for their sake. ¹³ Their offspring will continue forever,
and their glory will never be blotted out. ¹⁴ Their bodies are buried in peace, but their names live on generation after generation.

Epistle – Hebrews 11: 1-3²

¹Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. ²Indeed, by faith our ancestors received approval. ³By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not visible.

Gospel Lesson – Matthew 5: 1-12³

¹ When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. ² Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:
³ “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
⁴ “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
⁵ “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
⁶ “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
⁷ “Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
⁸ “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
⁹ “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
¹⁰ “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
¹¹ “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account.
¹² Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

“Who Are These People?”

Lord, I hear of showers of blessing,
Thou art scattering full and free;
Showers the thirsty land refreshing;
Let some drops now fall on me;
Even me, even me,
Let some drops now fall on me.

Pass me not; but pardon bringing,
Bind my heart, O Lord, to Thee;
Whilst the streams of life are springing,
Blessing others, O bless me;
Even me, even me,
Blessing others, O bless me.⁴

Those words from an old gospel hymn of the Baptist tradition reflect what we used to think about the meaning of a “saint.” They resided in a place that God had in store for the least of us – if we did the divine will and lived like Jesus. There was a place even for me. So our eyes, for far too long, were directed by the church to look toward things that weren’t of this world. If we wanted to be, and were faithful and worked hard enough, we, too, could be saints in heaven.

Fortunately our heart’s desire has been redirected from the vertical to the horizontal, so we don’t hear too much talk now about sainthood – except to reflect on how unattainable it is. We are (we say, almost as an excuse), after all, “only human,” as if there weren’t any way to be both blessed and a blessing – at least not in this life.

The stunning truth is that “saintliness” has more to do with the ordinary than the exceptional, because saints simply have allowed the will of God, or the life and teachings of Jesus, to be what motivates their lives so that even the most mundane elements of life become holy. The eighth-century Zen master, P’ang, had this sense when he said:

My daily affairs are quite ordinary;
but I’m in total harmony with them.
I don’t hold on to anything, don’t reject anything;
nowhere an obstacle or conflict.
Who cares about wealth and honor?
Even the poorest thing shines.
My miraculous power and spiritual activity:
drawing water and carrying wood.⁵

What’s just as striking to me is that line from Ecclesiasticus that includes those people of whom “there is no memory; they have perished as though they had never existed.”⁶ They’ve become invisible, no longer even a memory. The poet Richard Wilbur, in describing a home for the aged, catches something of this invisibility of far too many of our saints; he writes:

Promptly the trees
Break bud and startle into leaf,
Blotting the old from sight, while all the birds
Repeal the winter’s grief. ….
Must we not see or hear these worn and frail?
They are such hearts, for all we know,
As will not cheat the world of their regard,
Even as they let it go.⁷

An older man and a nineteen-year-old were overheard engaged in a discussion over a novel by Reynolds Price called The Tongues of Angels. The setting of that story is a summer camp where the first man is manager and the second, the story’s narrator, is an art teacher. The two have just learned that one of the campers, a boy named Rafe, has died of a stroke. Even though he was only fifteen, he was a person of extraordinary compassion and admired by everybody in the camp.

“I loved what I saw deep in him” [says the art teacher].
“Can you give it a name?” asked Chief
I said, “What I mean is, love worked Rafe.”
Chief nodded “To death. It absolutely killed him….” Maybe I meant that Rafe Noren lasted as long as he did because he plainly prized the world, all he could see that was not stingy, joyless or cruel.⁸

“Love worked Rafe.” It wouldn’t be stretching the imagination to say the same of any saint. Whether saints are “in vogue” or not, part of our prayers or not, we seem to need people who’ve gone before us who’ve outdone themselves in loving – we need them to show us just what it means to “love to the death.” At some level we very much need what they have – what they’ve given us to carry on in their name.

There is an interesting irony about all of this, though. We’ve often thought that being “saintly” (and maybe we’ve all had that thought at some time or other) was connected, somehow, with perfection: no angry or hurtful word would ever cross our lips; everything we were to do would have to be done with extra care; but we would, of course, do more than our share in everything that needed to be done…and on and on and on; the list is endless. But our gospel reading for today is a kind of story all its own, a love story; and it’s not about perfection at all, as we normally use the word. It’s about love “working us.” It’s about the kind of sainthood that Jesus had in mind for all of us.

Who are these people? Maybe, just like us, they knelt by a stone in a quiet place and, for a blessed moment, lived into a presence that they couldn’t believe was actually there. Maybe, like us, they walked under a late-October-night sky and, for a blessed moment, experienced a height and depth beyond belief or imagining. Maybe, like us, in the midst of disease and pain, for a blessed moment, laughter and singing was all they felt and heard. Maybe, like us, they too didn’t so much believe, as they trusted in the life that they were given – living by the faith that was given to them by someone else, an assurance of something they only hoped for, listening for all that they couldn’t yet hear, looking for all that they couldn’t yet see. And life, where still we mourn and fear and grieve, is also warm and full and filled with beauty and joy.

Who are these people? You’re looking at them.

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