Do you really want to be in that number?
Commentary
I have to admit that Monty Python's Flying Circus is an acquired taste. Yet,
those who have found themselves hooked by this groundbreaking British comedy series
of the '70s often find theological truth jumping out at them in the midst of the odd
humorous bits and pieces that has now become a cult comedy classic. One of the
sketches, titled "How Not to Be Seen," featured a series of failed attempts at hiding that
met with the characters being shot, and blown up on sight. Being seen involved folks
taking a potshot at you.
In that circumstance who would not want to have a means of camouflaging your way through life? One of the ways of doing that is to be dead. The stench alone will keep people away. Sometimes it seems that in some of our struggles in the church we have found a pretty good way of keeping people away and of keeping our vitality fairly well hidden. This past summer, there was an unending string of controversial headline church stories that seemed guaranteed to keep the gospel under wraps and hidden away. My own church lost an entire conference over equal marriage rights. The Episcopal church is set for a rendezvous with schism over the ordination of openly gay bishops. The Presbyterians apologized for their previous stand on divestment from the State of Israel. Like Martha in the story of Lazarus, no matter what side you take on these questions, you get the feeling that we may not be seeing some people because of what is in the air. The saints have outvoted, outmaneuvered, outsmarted, outlasted, and outfoxed each other. On All Saints, this does not feel like what is meant by the communion of saints. Given some of the fearsome statistics that are facing many of our communions, some of us wonder if Mary and Martha are not on to something when they speculate, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." Perhaps a sign of what the communion of saints means is the pain and sorrow that surrounds these events cause us all to weep. If we do not quite "Live in harmony with one another" -- not being haughty, we still "Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep."
In such circumstance, our mood contrasts sharply with the tone set in Isaiah and the book of Revelation. Isaiah writes in the midst of the precarious political world where nations and people are swallowed up by empires, never to be seen again. This was not a world in which it was easy to believe that you would not be eaten up. For most, life was about keeping invisible to the powers that be. For your effort you might get some longevity if not ultimate safety. Of course, John saw a new heaven and earth descending. However, I suspect that there were at least a few who saw just more of the same old world where people got swallowed up by events, never to be seen or heard from again. Keep a low profile, keep your head low, keep your faith under wraps, and keep out of sight: It might not be what we mean by keeping the faith but it would keep you alive. The claims of both Isaiah and John are no less incredible than the claim of the gospel reading that, under the right circumstances, the stone could be removed and people under wraps could walk out into a very new day.
When many want to do a duck-and-cover drill from being outmaneuvered, outvoted, and outtalked, we wonder if there can be a new day, let alone a new heaven and earth, for the saints. It seems that much is being kept out of sight and under wraps. Like Martha, we take the measure of what is in the air before we get too far into conversations with the saints less a pleasant moment be turned into a battle zone. We become careful and cautious rather than connected. This does not seem to be what is meant by the communion of saints.
I read my way through the literature on denominational turnarounds and revitalizations. I find much truth in their analyses and recommendations. Yet, I get the feeling it will take something like a new heaven and earth if we are to come out from the mode of outsmarting, outmaneuvering, outtalking, and outvoting each other. Wrapped up in such things, we may find that we have hidden much of who we are and can be for each other.
I find the first task of being part of the communion of saints is never to take a holier-than- thou attitude. I, too, have my issues that I believe in. I, too, have my agenda, yet I find All Saints pushing for a deeper understanding of what it means to be part of the saints.
Isaiah 25:6-9
Boldly put, it is party time on Mount Zion. One cannot escape the massive effort devoted to the analysis of religion and its influence on our society. For Isaiah, the triumph of God ends in a party on Mount Zion -- in short, it is not over until the party begins for all people of all nations. Nothing is stinted: rich food, not fast food; well-aged wines, not last week's muscatel; rich food for all tastes: vegans and vanquished; the vanguard and the rear guard will be able to gather at this feast. This does not exactly feel like the coffee and fellowship hours that I find in many churches. Indeed many are too cautious to engage in this kind of irrational exuberance. For many, there is too much to be hidden, too many victories to be won, and too many points to be made, or avoided. If you are at the head of the parade, it is better not to reveal that you might not be on the top of your game. If your church is seriously divided over any of the current controversies, fellowship hour can feel more like a minefield than a field of dreams. Knowing "that there is nothing hidden that will not be revealed," does not prevent us from trying to keep things under wraps.
Isaiah helps us to measure the gap between present reality and where we can be. I recently purchased a home in a retirement community. I am 57 years old and have run a personal best of 56:43 minutes for six miles. I was shocked, therefore, to find myself being treated like an old person. The phone installer patronized me by explaining in my native English as if it were my second language how to use the pretty buttons and make long-distance phone calls. I felt as if I was being swallowed up by stereotypes and pander, feeling my life doomed to a series of condensations. Not on Mount Zion -- party on! What swallows us up is swallowed up. All faces will find the tears wiped away. Among the saints, when this happens for those who have just lost in the latest denominational maneuvering then we will be on to something. When the tears of joy that can come in victory are wiped away and replaced with a deep sympathy and affection for those who feel they are losing it as they lose a their sense of place in the world, then we will be approaching something of Zion-like proportions.
Then we will be saying that we are talking about God stuff here. Of course, this is not to say issues that divide us do not matter. It is not to say that we should not seek the mind of the church on these matters or that for many our consideration of these issues is part of their chance at making it up Zion's hill. But it is not over until we are all sitting down to the feast. Then the disgrace of God's people will be taken away.
The prophet focuses on our disgrace the shame of those who want or claim to be in that number when the saints go marching in. There is a long list of folks being swallowed up in our world; a recent urban conference reminds us that many will be swallowed up in urban slums in the midst of globalization. If you live in Bangladesh, large parts of your country may be swallowed up by the rising tide of global warming. Americans find their lives swallowed up by working longer hours than any other people on the face of the earth. If you live in India your family life might be swallowed up serving the computer needs of those in the opposite time zone on the other side of the globe. Let us make no mistake about it. This is not the Zion hill that Isaiah is writing about. The challenge for the saints: Can we model a behavior and devotion that provide an alternative to the path that nations are going down? How can we do that if we do not know how to so identify with each other that we are not satisfied until our own tears are wiped away? When coffee and fellowship hours begin to look like what is happening on Zion's hill where no sorrow is hidden and no one need fear that they must hide, only then can we proclaim victory.
Revelation 21:1-6a
John says God's strategy is to reveal God's purpose and plan. There can be no doubt that there has been much spiritual damage done by those who claim more insight to the plan and purpose of God than God has offered up. To paraphrase Calvin, God has given us sufficient knowledge for our salvation but has never revealed enough to satisfy our unending curiosity. What is revealed here is a God whose will is to make all things new -- not to do away with all things but make all things new. God's intention is a new and different kind of city than the one that is swallowing up people. God's ultimate purpose has massive implications for the penultimate lives of the saints. Eugene Peterson might not be far off the mark when he translates the verse, "I heard a voice thunder from the throne: 'Look, Look! God has moved into the neighborhood.' " A different kind of neighborhood might be one in which a young couple is not swallowed up in the kind of deadly work schedule they must maintain in order to have the heavenly house conventionally understood, as opposed to a place where they feel at home with the growth in maturity and wisdom that God has planned for them. It might be a neighborhood where people don't have to live anonymous lives lest their sexual orientation is found out and they be invited out of the social life of community and church. A new neighborhood might be where people of color do not find themselves stopped by the police because their presence suggests that something is amiss. A new neighborhood might be a place where it is less about being protected from each other and more about being connected to each other.
Sometimes I wonder if the church is ready to receive this bride adorned and if it is ready to party on as a result of what God has joined together. In the literature on church growth and renewal there is in some quarters an emphasis on the need for uniformity and similitude among church members -- good sociology, good theology? There is much evidence that many are seeking safe enclaves among the similar. I would not pretend that there are simple, easy answers here. However, the text here drives us in the direction of rethinking what neighborhood should mean in the age to come. Will it be highly segregated or highly variegated? I go downtown in my new hometown, Manchester, New Hampshire, and I find many folks clearly in Arabic dress. I ran this past weekend in a 10k race accompanied by a woman in Arabic headdress and long pants. I ate dinner recently in an Ottawa pub during the playing of the World Cup soccer tournament. The singing of various national anthems suggested scenes from the movie, Casablanca.
What is the role of the communion of saints in this heady mix -- segregation or variegation? Does it mean seeking out and learning from the saints, conventionally understood, in other faith communities and groups and peoples? Might we learn something in the discovery of what is considered a saint in different faith communities? Certainly, this is a new heaven and would result in a new earth. It is enough to take your breath away as the former things and understandings pass away. Of course, it might be enough to breathe new life into the communion of saints. John makes clear that the voice he hears is both alpha and omega. We might find out that the end might be quite different from the kind of neighborhoods in which many of us had our beginnings! John notes that the sea is no more in the new vision. The old boundaries have passed away and made way for new possibilities.
John 11:32-44
As this story opens, there is no mistaking the fact that the family and friends have worked their way through the denial phase of grief and are well on the way into serious anger. "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." On the whole, here the saints do not seem to do too well in living up to our expectations of sainthood. Some of the crowd also found Jesus' stay for two days in another place unforgivable. Mary (in the section not included in the lectionary passage) got the ball rolling in venting anger at Jesus (John 11:21). Of course, our sympathy moves in the direction of the two sisters, but not for long. As Jesus makes his move against the force of death Martha tries to call a halt to the proceeding by reminding Jesus of the potential stench. It is her brother, for crying out loud! Can't she cut Jesus some slack here? You can feel the room temperature rise as Jesus responds with what seems less than the best counseling skills, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" Jesus is thankful that at least God hears him even if Mary does not.
What we have here is not a counseling session but a confrontation with the reality of the kind of death that we can do something about. If Jesus had been there, Lazarus would not have died. In John's ironical way we already know the answer. If Jesus is there, whatever the stench, there is the potential that folks can come out from their wrappings and live. Jesus shouts for Lazarus to come out before the wrappings are removed. The unwrapping will be left to the gathered saints. Unwrap folk that we may see they need their souls taken care of; they need acceptance, they need accomplishment, they need forgiveness, they need to know and be known. Unwrap folks and see them as flawed but not the sum total of the stupidest things they have ever done.
Whatever else in this story, when the saints get it right it comes when they hold their nose and engage in the unwrapping process that frees people and that lets them go their way. Not necessarily being our way, this can cause some elevated stress. Whatever the stench are we ready to unwrap people that they may go their own conservative, liberal, evangelical, intellectual, social action way? Or must they keep their way under wraps in our presence? Which way will make the church alive, and give vitality to the communion of saints?
Application
As my years in ministry grow, I find myself revisiting the fundamentals of the faith. I find that I am seriously Trinitarian, undeniably evangelical, and totally a believer in the communion of saints. Although I must admit that the doctrines of the church function for me less as a description of metaphysical realities and more as reflections of people who have had very similar experiences to me in their Christian journey. The celebration of All Saints, in light of past history and future hope, causes me to reflect on the gathering of the saints that has come as a result of the birth, life, and death of Jesus Christ. Protestants are normally not quite as comfortable as Roman Catholics when we get to talking about saints. Regretfully, on the Protestant side we see the concept as getting in the way as much as facilitating our relationship with God. However, we would do well to consider the high calling to sainthood and the responsibilities it entails. In 2006, I find my thought ruminating on how the saints are really communing with each other in the here and now. As saints we have the power to unbind and let people go. We can give a new meaning to neighborhood that might make all things new, and prevent many people being swallowed by death. Folks who can do that are candidates for sainthood in my book.
Alternative Application
Isaiah 25:6-9. The traditional understanding of a saint is one whose life is so virtuous that it is a clear example of Christian living that can bring people to faith. When All Saints hits, I find myself reflecting on those who have brought me to faith and pondering just what qualities of their lives move me to Christian living. More often than not they are the folks who I do not want to let down. There is something about them that engages me in a way that causes me not to just emulate them but to find my own way in a manner that is faithful to their example. They are more often than not the voice that comes to me in sermon preparation that will not let me be satisfied with something less than a full effort. Sometimes, I recognize their voice as demanding and challenging. At times, saints are those who, with no questions, still let me into their lives even when I have failed to build on the standards they have given me. Other times, saints are those who let on to enough of their own wanderings in their lives that I can accept my own. Saints do not let me get away with anything. I can fool myself but not them. They are willing to stand with me and up to me at the same time.
Sometimes it seems to me that saints specialize in one or the other of these categories. Sometimes they package them together in various combinations. However, their presence always forces me to consider what I have been specializing in lately as I go off on various paths or to think just what I have packaged together. I understand that the official Roman Catholic understanding of saints is that they can intervene for you with God. I don't know. But I do know that they cause me to intervene in life in ways that I would not have without their presence in my life. This is a day to name them, thank God for them, and perhaps even apply to be one of them.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 24
In American culture, the concept of property is primary. Owning things has a great deal to do with our self-understanding and our way of life. There are tomes of laws and legal briefs dealing with property concerns. Hundreds of thousands of people sue one another over property issues. Our energies are squandered in a mindless drive to own more and more stuff. There's no question about it. We are a people obsessed with who owns what, who's going to get to own it next, and how much we own.
One supposes that it's an outgrowth of what we like to call capitalism. It would be a simple thing to descend into a judgmental rant about materialism, but a bit more difficult to confront the reality in which North Americans exist. What's wrong with owning property, anyway? Anyone reading this, including the author, owns quite a bit of stuff. Cars (usually more than one), houses (sometimes more than one!), electronic gadgetry, toys for young and old; everyone owns stuff, don't they? We worked for it! It's our right to purchase and to own, isn't it?
Yes. But a biblical people living in a culture such as this needs to pause occasionally to consider the path we are taking. As people rooted in the Judeo-Christian heritage, do we really believe that we get to own property and material goods? Or could it be that we are entrusted with such things by the true owner and expected to act as responsible stewards?
If we are unclear about this, Psalm 24 serves to help clarify things. The psalm opens with these simple words: "The earth is the Lord's." Well, that settles that. The deed to the house doesn't mean much in light of this. The title to the new car seems worthless. It all belongs to God. Moreover, it seems that we, too, belong to the Creator.
And, as a people who belong to God, we are confronted with some expectations. The first is that we are to have "clean hands and pure hearts." This is a question well worth investigating. As ones who belong to the "King of glory," are our hands clean? Are our hearts pure? This psalm calls us to clear and careful discernment here. This discernment begins with a prayerful focus on a few questions.
Does our material wealth have a negative impact on others? Are others hungry while our citizens battle obesity? Do we live in large homes while others wander the streets with no place to lay their heads? What effect does our lifestyle have on God's creation? These are difficult questions, to be sure. But as ones called to faithfulness in Christ Jesus, they are worth asking, praying over, and seeking God's will in the answers.
In that circumstance who would not want to have a means of camouflaging your way through life? One of the ways of doing that is to be dead. The stench alone will keep people away. Sometimes it seems that in some of our struggles in the church we have found a pretty good way of keeping people away and of keeping our vitality fairly well hidden. This past summer, there was an unending string of controversial headline church stories that seemed guaranteed to keep the gospel under wraps and hidden away. My own church lost an entire conference over equal marriage rights. The Episcopal church is set for a rendezvous with schism over the ordination of openly gay bishops. The Presbyterians apologized for their previous stand on divestment from the State of Israel. Like Martha in the story of Lazarus, no matter what side you take on these questions, you get the feeling that we may not be seeing some people because of what is in the air. The saints have outvoted, outmaneuvered, outsmarted, outlasted, and outfoxed each other. On All Saints, this does not feel like what is meant by the communion of saints. Given some of the fearsome statistics that are facing many of our communions, some of us wonder if Mary and Martha are not on to something when they speculate, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." Perhaps a sign of what the communion of saints means is the pain and sorrow that surrounds these events cause us all to weep. If we do not quite "Live in harmony with one another" -- not being haughty, we still "Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep."
In such circumstance, our mood contrasts sharply with the tone set in Isaiah and the book of Revelation. Isaiah writes in the midst of the precarious political world where nations and people are swallowed up by empires, never to be seen again. This was not a world in which it was easy to believe that you would not be eaten up. For most, life was about keeping invisible to the powers that be. For your effort you might get some longevity if not ultimate safety. Of course, John saw a new heaven and earth descending. However, I suspect that there were at least a few who saw just more of the same old world where people got swallowed up by events, never to be seen or heard from again. Keep a low profile, keep your head low, keep your faith under wraps, and keep out of sight: It might not be what we mean by keeping the faith but it would keep you alive. The claims of both Isaiah and John are no less incredible than the claim of the gospel reading that, under the right circumstances, the stone could be removed and people under wraps could walk out into a very new day.
When many want to do a duck-and-cover drill from being outmaneuvered, outvoted, and outtalked, we wonder if there can be a new day, let alone a new heaven and earth, for the saints. It seems that much is being kept out of sight and under wraps. Like Martha, we take the measure of what is in the air before we get too far into conversations with the saints less a pleasant moment be turned into a battle zone. We become careful and cautious rather than connected. This does not seem to be what is meant by the communion of saints.
I read my way through the literature on denominational turnarounds and revitalizations. I find much truth in their analyses and recommendations. Yet, I get the feeling it will take something like a new heaven and earth if we are to come out from the mode of outsmarting, outmaneuvering, outtalking, and outvoting each other. Wrapped up in such things, we may find that we have hidden much of who we are and can be for each other.
I find the first task of being part of the communion of saints is never to take a holier-than- thou attitude. I, too, have my issues that I believe in. I, too, have my agenda, yet I find All Saints pushing for a deeper understanding of what it means to be part of the saints.
Isaiah 25:6-9
Boldly put, it is party time on Mount Zion. One cannot escape the massive effort devoted to the analysis of religion and its influence on our society. For Isaiah, the triumph of God ends in a party on Mount Zion -- in short, it is not over until the party begins for all people of all nations. Nothing is stinted: rich food, not fast food; well-aged wines, not last week's muscatel; rich food for all tastes: vegans and vanquished; the vanguard and the rear guard will be able to gather at this feast. This does not exactly feel like the coffee and fellowship hours that I find in many churches. Indeed many are too cautious to engage in this kind of irrational exuberance. For many, there is too much to be hidden, too many victories to be won, and too many points to be made, or avoided. If you are at the head of the parade, it is better not to reveal that you might not be on the top of your game. If your church is seriously divided over any of the current controversies, fellowship hour can feel more like a minefield than a field of dreams. Knowing "that there is nothing hidden that will not be revealed," does not prevent us from trying to keep things under wraps.
Isaiah helps us to measure the gap between present reality and where we can be. I recently purchased a home in a retirement community. I am 57 years old and have run a personal best of 56:43 minutes for six miles. I was shocked, therefore, to find myself being treated like an old person. The phone installer patronized me by explaining in my native English as if it were my second language how to use the pretty buttons and make long-distance phone calls. I felt as if I was being swallowed up by stereotypes and pander, feeling my life doomed to a series of condensations. Not on Mount Zion -- party on! What swallows us up is swallowed up. All faces will find the tears wiped away. Among the saints, when this happens for those who have just lost in the latest denominational maneuvering then we will be on to something. When the tears of joy that can come in victory are wiped away and replaced with a deep sympathy and affection for those who feel they are losing it as they lose a their sense of place in the world, then we will be approaching something of Zion-like proportions.
Then we will be saying that we are talking about God stuff here. Of course, this is not to say issues that divide us do not matter. It is not to say that we should not seek the mind of the church on these matters or that for many our consideration of these issues is part of their chance at making it up Zion's hill. But it is not over until we are all sitting down to the feast. Then the disgrace of God's people will be taken away.
The prophet focuses on our disgrace the shame of those who want or claim to be in that number when the saints go marching in. There is a long list of folks being swallowed up in our world; a recent urban conference reminds us that many will be swallowed up in urban slums in the midst of globalization. If you live in Bangladesh, large parts of your country may be swallowed up by the rising tide of global warming. Americans find their lives swallowed up by working longer hours than any other people on the face of the earth. If you live in India your family life might be swallowed up serving the computer needs of those in the opposite time zone on the other side of the globe. Let us make no mistake about it. This is not the Zion hill that Isaiah is writing about. The challenge for the saints: Can we model a behavior and devotion that provide an alternative to the path that nations are going down? How can we do that if we do not know how to so identify with each other that we are not satisfied until our own tears are wiped away? When coffee and fellowship hours begin to look like what is happening on Zion's hill where no sorrow is hidden and no one need fear that they must hide, only then can we proclaim victory.
Revelation 21:1-6a
John says God's strategy is to reveal God's purpose and plan. There can be no doubt that there has been much spiritual damage done by those who claim more insight to the plan and purpose of God than God has offered up. To paraphrase Calvin, God has given us sufficient knowledge for our salvation but has never revealed enough to satisfy our unending curiosity. What is revealed here is a God whose will is to make all things new -- not to do away with all things but make all things new. God's intention is a new and different kind of city than the one that is swallowing up people. God's ultimate purpose has massive implications for the penultimate lives of the saints. Eugene Peterson might not be far off the mark when he translates the verse, "I heard a voice thunder from the throne: 'Look, Look! God has moved into the neighborhood.' " A different kind of neighborhood might be one in which a young couple is not swallowed up in the kind of deadly work schedule they must maintain in order to have the heavenly house conventionally understood, as opposed to a place where they feel at home with the growth in maturity and wisdom that God has planned for them. It might be a neighborhood where people don't have to live anonymous lives lest their sexual orientation is found out and they be invited out of the social life of community and church. A new neighborhood might be where people of color do not find themselves stopped by the police because their presence suggests that something is amiss. A new neighborhood might be a place where it is less about being protected from each other and more about being connected to each other.
Sometimes I wonder if the church is ready to receive this bride adorned and if it is ready to party on as a result of what God has joined together. In the literature on church growth and renewal there is in some quarters an emphasis on the need for uniformity and similitude among church members -- good sociology, good theology? There is much evidence that many are seeking safe enclaves among the similar. I would not pretend that there are simple, easy answers here. However, the text here drives us in the direction of rethinking what neighborhood should mean in the age to come. Will it be highly segregated or highly variegated? I go downtown in my new hometown, Manchester, New Hampshire, and I find many folks clearly in Arabic dress. I ran this past weekend in a 10k race accompanied by a woman in Arabic headdress and long pants. I ate dinner recently in an Ottawa pub during the playing of the World Cup soccer tournament. The singing of various national anthems suggested scenes from the movie, Casablanca.
What is the role of the communion of saints in this heady mix -- segregation or variegation? Does it mean seeking out and learning from the saints, conventionally understood, in other faith communities and groups and peoples? Might we learn something in the discovery of what is considered a saint in different faith communities? Certainly, this is a new heaven and would result in a new earth. It is enough to take your breath away as the former things and understandings pass away. Of course, it might be enough to breathe new life into the communion of saints. John makes clear that the voice he hears is both alpha and omega. We might find out that the end might be quite different from the kind of neighborhoods in which many of us had our beginnings! John notes that the sea is no more in the new vision. The old boundaries have passed away and made way for new possibilities.
John 11:32-44
As this story opens, there is no mistaking the fact that the family and friends have worked their way through the denial phase of grief and are well on the way into serious anger. "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." On the whole, here the saints do not seem to do too well in living up to our expectations of sainthood. Some of the crowd also found Jesus' stay for two days in another place unforgivable. Mary (in the section not included in the lectionary passage) got the ball rolling in venting anger at Jesus (John 11:21). Of course, our sympathy moves in the direction of the two sisters, but not for long. As Jesus makes his move against the force of death Martha tries to call a halt to the proceeding by reminding Jesus of the potential stench. It is her brother, for crying out loud! Can't she cut Jesus some slack here? You can feel the room temperature rise as Jesus responds with what seems less than the best counseling skills, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" Jesus is thankful that at least God hears him even if Mary does not.
What we have here is not a counseling session but a confrontation with the reality of the kind of death that we can do something about. If Jesus had been there, Lazarus would not have died. In John's ironical way we already know the answer. If Jesus is there, whatever the stench, there is the potential that folks can come out from their wrappings and live. Jesus shouts for Lazarus to come out before the wrappings are removed. The unwrapping will be left to the gathered saints. Unwrap folk that we may see they need their souls taken care of; they need acceptance, they need accomplishment, they need forgiveness, they need to know and be known. Unwrap folks and see them as flawed but not the sum total of the stupidest things they have ever done.
Whatever else in this story, when the saints get it right it comes when they hold their nose and engage in the unwrapping process that frees people and that lets them go their way. Not necessarily being our way, this can cause some elevated stress. Whatever the stench are we ready to unwrap people that they may go their own conservative, liberal, evangelical, intellectual, social action way? Or must they keep their way under wraps in our presence? Which way will make the church alive, and give vitality to the communion of saints?
Application
As my years in ministry grow, I find myself revisiting the fundamentals of the faith. I find that I am seriously Trinitarian, undeniably evangelical, and totally a believer in the communion of saints. Although I must admit that the doctrines of the church function for me less as a description of metaphysical realities and more as reflections of people who have had very similar experiences to me in their Christian journey. The celebration of All Saints, in light of past history and future hope, causes me to reflect on the gathering of the saints that has come as a result of the birth, life, and death of Jesus Christ. Protestants are normally not quite as comfortable as Roman Catholics when we get to talking about saints. Regretfully, on the Protestant side we see the concept as getting in the way as much as facilitating our relationship with God. However, we would do well to consider the high calling to sainthood and the responsibilities it entails. In 2006, I find my thought ruminating on how the saints are really communing with each other in the here and now. As saints we have the power to unbind and let people go. We can give a new meaning to neighborhood that might make all things new, and prevent many people being swallowed by death. Folks who can do that are candidates for sainthood in my book.
Alternative Application
Isaiah 25:6-9. The traditional understanding of a saint is one whose life is so virtuous that it is a clear example of Christian living that can bring people to faith. When All Saints hits, I find myself reflecting on those who have brought me to faith and pondering just what qualities of their lives move me to Christian living. More often than not they are the folks who I do not want to let down. There is something about them that engages me in a way that causes me not to just emulate them but to find my own way in a manner that is faithful to their example. They are more often than not the voice that comes to me in sermon preparation that will not let me be satisfied with something less than a full effort. Sometimes, I recognize their voice as demanding and challenging. At times, saints are those who, with no questions, still let me into their lives even when I have failed to build on the standards they have given me. Other times, saints are those who let on to enough of their own wanderings in their lives that I can accept my own. Saints do not let me get away with anything. I can fool myself but not them. They are willing to stand with me and up to me at the same time.
Sometimes it seems to me that saints specialize in one or the other of these categories. Sometimes they package them together in various combinations. However, their presence always forces me to consider what I have been specializing in lately as I go off on various paths or to think just what I have packaged together. I understand that the official Roman Catholic understanding of saints is that they can intervene for you with God. I don't know. But I do know that they cause me to intervene in life in ways that I would not have without their presence in my life. This is a day to name them, thank God for them, and perhaps even apply to be one of them.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 24
In American culture, the concept of property is primary. Owning things has a great deal to do with our self-understanding and our way of life. There are tomes of laws and legal briefs dealing with property concerns. Hundreds of thousands of people sue one another over property issues. Our energies are squandered in a mindless drive to own more and more stuff. There's no question about it. We are a people obsessed with who owns what, who's going to get to own it next, and how much we own.
One supposes that it's an outgrowth of what we like to call capitalism. It would be a simple thing to descend into a judgmental rant about materialism, but a bit more difficult to confront the reality in which North Americans exist. What's wrong with owning property, anyway? Anyone reading this, including the author, owns quite a bit of stuff. Cars (usually more than one), houses (sometimes more than one!), electronic gadgetry, toys for young and old; everyone owns stuff, don't they? We worked for it! It's our right to purchase and to own, isn't it?
Yes. But a biblical people living in a culture such as this needs to pause occasionally to consider the path we are taking. As people rooted in the Judeo-Christian heritage, do we really believe that we get to own property and material goods? Or could it be that we are entrusted with such things by the true owner and expected to act as responsible stewards?
If we are unclear about this, Psalm 24 serves to help clarify things. The psalm opens with these simple words: "The earth is the Lord's." Well, that settles that. The deed to the house doesn't mean much in light of this. The title to the new car seems worthless. It all belongs to God. Moreover, it seems that we, too, belong to the Creator.
And, as a people who belong to God, we are confronted with some expectations. The first is that we are to have "clean hands and pure hearts." This is a question well worth investigating. As ones who belong to the "King of glory," are our hands clean? Are our hearts pure? This psalm calls us to clear and careful discernment here. This discernment begins with a prayerful focus on a few questions.
Does our material wealth have a negative impact on others? Are others hungry while our citizens battle obesity? Do we live in large homes while others wander the streets with no place to lay their heads? What effect does our lifestyle have on God's creation? These are difficult questions, to be sure. But as ones called to faithfulness in Christ Jesus, they are worth asking, praying over, and seeking God's will in the answers.
