November 5, 2023 – All Saints’ Sunday
Mother Elizabeth Farr
Today is a good day to talk about time.
In the middle of the night last night, our time changed. We gained an hour, and all parents of young children said, “Gained an hour of what?” Definitely not sleep, but all the same, our clocks today read one hour behind what they did at this same time yesterday.
But the end of Daylight Savings is not what makes “time” so timely today. This past week, we – the Church – observed three Holy Days: All Hallow’s Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls Day. They follow one right after the other: October 31, November 1, and November 2. These three Holy Days are often referred to as Hallowtide. We’ve stretched these three days, and observed Hallowtide over two Sundays: last Sunday and today.
If you were here last week, you know that many of us were in costume. Let’s see how well we remember our call and response:
From ghoulies and ghosties,
And long-legged beasties,
And things that go bump in the night:
Good Lord, deliver us!
And yes, there is a good deal of Celtic and Roman history in the origins of Halloween, but Christianity is there too. All Hallow’s Eve – the Eve of All Hallow’s or All Saints’ Day – a holiday to carve up gourds and put on masks and costumes to claim the light of Christ that we know dispels the darkness of the world.
So that was last Sunday, and then today we observe the rest of Hallowtide. On this All Saints’ Sunday, we celebrate the Saints, and we remember our beloved dead: All Saints’ and All Souls. These departed souls are saints too. We often talk about the big “S” saints and the little “s” saints. God calls them all by the same name – God’s children. The First Letter of John reminds us of that today: “we are God’s children now” – all of us.
And so today, we honor the Saints known by the wider Church: St. Luke, Joan of Arc, Ignatius, Constance and Her Companions, Mary Magdalene, St. Francis. And we commend again our saints – those whom we have lost in our community – to the loving care of God: Barbara, Yvonne, Terry, Clarke, Ian, Beverly, Eleanor, Phil, Ferol.
As we say their names – these Saints and souls and Souls and saints – as we remember their stories – as we hear that “we – all of us – are God’s children now” – time begins to change. Time is no longer about minutes or hours or dates of birth or dates of death. Time is cosmic – with no beginning and no end. This is the promise of the resurrection: that in Christ, time is eternal. That in Christ, all things will be made new. That suffering will be redeemed and that love will continue.
This is the hope we proclaim in this Hallowtide: that in Christ, death is defeated so we are never fully separated from the Saints and souls who have gone before. This should sound familiar to us. This is the hope we proclaim on these Holy Days, but it’s also the hope we proclaim as followers of Jesus every day. It is the Easter proclamation; it is the Good News.
We rehearse the Good News every Sunday. We come to the altar to be re-membered as Christ’s Body. We are never closer to our beloved saints and souls than when we come to the Eucharist. This sanctuary space is bursting with all the Saints and all the souls. We lift up our praise and thanksgiving. We join in song with Angels and Archangels – and with all the company of heaven. Picture that. All the company of heaven. All the Saints. All of our faithful departed.
St. Francis is singing the “Holy, Holy, Holy” with us. Clarke is singing the “Holy, Holy, Holy” with us. Joan, Phil, Constance, Eleanor – all the company of heaven. The great cloud of witnesses. The communion of saints. All of God’s children, lifting our voices as one Body. Past. Present. Future. Eternal. Everlasting. Without end.
On this All Saints’ Sunday, we will take special care at the Eucharist to say the names of those close to our community who have died in the past year. Adam. Shirley. Rick. Frank. Nancy. Jerry. Isabella. Ed. William. It is a special intention of this day, but it’s also an invitation for every other time that we come to this altar.
From Sunday to Sunday, as we celebrate this meal and recognize that time is cosmic and that the veil is thin, say their names. Your Saints and your faithful departed. Your Mary Magdalene and your Beverly. Remember their stories. Sing the “Holy, Holy, Holy” with them. Be joined to them in the Body of Christ.
It is a powerful practice to remember and name the communion of saints as we come to the altar. It is a practice that brings comfort and offers blessing. It may even overwhelm us at times – just how thin the veil is.
It is also a powerful practice to acknowledge the names and the stories that we don’t know. The saints and souls that are being named in other communities, and the saints and souls that are known only to God. They are present and singing the “Holy, Holy, Holy” with us as well. The Body cannot be re-membered without them.
In closing, I’d like to share a story with you. I have a picture here. It’s actually two pictures copied and printed one on top of the other. The top picture shows a log cabin chapel in the woods. Belltower. Windows. A sunny clear day. Vibrant green trees. The light seems to be hitting just right. Makes me wonder about the inside. How the light and shadow play on the walls. How is all the church furniture arranged? Is the altar right in front of those windows where the sun is streaming in? So many questions about this church.
And then as I get lost in my wonderings, the bottom picture shows the church. Not the inside of the building or the position of the church furniture. The bottom picture shows the community. The Body. The children of God. Ages span from not yet walking to walking with some assistance. It’s clearly a community that finds joy in being together.
There’s a short note that comes with the pictures. “Chapel’s 100th Anniversary,” it says. “Family and Friends – perhaps 4 years ago.” The note was written by one of the men in the picture. One of the Body. We met him at an Assisted Living community where Matt served one summer.
Rohen and I showed up one day to have lunch with Matt and were walking the grounds. This man saw us and spoke to us briefly. He knew Matt and was happy to meet me and our then 2 year old. This man was an Episcopalian and excited to swap church stories. He asked if we had a minute – that he had something he’d like to share with Rohen. We did. The man was gone for a little bit, and when he came back, he was carrying this book: I Sing A Song of the Saints of God.
We’ll sing the hymn at the end of our service. This book is the words of the hymn with illustrations. The man was proud to share it with Rohen. He asked if we already had a copy. We did not. His face beamed brighter. He then showed us what had taken him longer to put together. The pictures of his beloved chapel and his more beloved church family. “Chapel’s 100th Anniversary – Family and Friends – perhaps 4 years ago.”
These were his saints and souls, and he wanted us to see their faces. And not only theirs, but in telling us that this was the chapel’s 100th anniversary, he wanted us to know that this picture was bursting with more than just the faces we could see.
He wanted us to see this community, to know even a part of their story, and to literally carry it with us. I do not remember this man’s name. I do not remember the name of the chapel, but these people – mostly unnamed and unknown to me – sing the “Holy, Holy, Holy” with us each Sunday. And we sing the “Holy, Holy, Holy” with them. They are joined with our saints and faithful departed, and we are joined with theirs. Known and unknown to one another, joined through space and across time in the mystical Body of Christ.
All the saints. And all the souls.
Blessed are the ones whose names we can’t remember.
Blessed are the ones we never had the chance to meet.
Blessed are the ones that were never known.
Blessed are the ones whose stories died with them.
Blessed are all of us that we are children of God now.
Year A, Proper 26 – All Saints’ Sunday – November 5, 2023 – The Rev. Elizabeth Langford Farr
