All Saints’ Sunday

31st October 2010: Sung Eucharist 9.00 am

Preacher: The Revd John Chynchen, Cathedral Chaplain

Readings: Daniel 7. 1 – 3, 15 – 18; Ephesians 1. 11 – end; Luke 6. 20 – 31

Whatever the impact of the US mid-term elections next Tuesday on the political effectiveness of the US President may be, we will not easily forget that only two years ago, as November beckoned in 2008, many of us non-Americans around the world, inspired by Barack Obama’s inspirational oratory, were eagerly anticipating this proponent of change to lead global humanity firmly in the direction of our universal destiny under God ― a world where none are pushed aside because they are of the wrong tribe, none excluded simply because they are different.

Today is All Saints’ Sunday and I hope to draw a similar parallel with how we understand the saints of the Church as not simply ecclesiastical celebrities but as reminders of our human destiny, of where we are heading and the vision which empowers us.

We celebrate the saints as our exemplary forebears, in the case of the martyrs, tragic heroes. They’re our trail blazers and role models. We keep fresh the lives of the saints in our calendar and in our prayers because they shape our collective memory. Just as Wayne Rooney shows us, occasionally, how football should get played, the saints show us how the faith should be lived.

Yet we’re remembering today more than just exemplary lives. The readings this morning are asking us to remember the essential nature of our human destiny. They’re both inviting us to look beyond the provisional character of what exists here and now and to see our lives in the light of God’s vision, our final salvation.

Today’s readings point us to some answers. First, we read in Daniel of an apocalyptic vision, the end of things as we know it. Today for all people of intelligent reflection there can be no doubt that we are rapidly depleting the resources of our planet. Our own greed and accumulation of material wealth has an apocalyptic consequence. It cannot go on forever while the gap between rich and poor grows greater with each year. Something has to change, just as it did in Daniel’s time when Israel had lost her bearings and was under foreign domination. But Daniel’s vision includes “one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven” and later, in today’s reading, Daniel receives assurance that all shall receive the kingdom and possess it forever. An apocalyptic vision is followed by a vision of hope, something we need to hear in a time of anxiety.

The majesty of Psalm 149 brings all of creation together and all of humanity in a joyous hymn of adulation at the triumph of goodness and justice – a vision that many wait for in a time of short-term solutions and quick fixes that only postpone the inevitable day when the poor receive justice and the faithful who have served them are rewarded.

The passage from Ephesians celebrates the life of the church as a unique institution that is part of God’s eternal purpose where believers live in unity with God, one another, and those who have gone before, confident of the life to come where full union with those who have gone before us will be restored.

The Gospel reading offered the Lucan version of the beatitudes that are usually read from Matthew. Luke uses the pronoun “you” rather than “they,” so Jesus’ words sound rather more personal. We hear the words of blessing as we are, poor or rich, hungry or satisfied; then we hear the woes for the part of us that has only heeded false prophets and gods of wealth and privilege.

Here we read passages that proclaim the great reversal destined for all who hunger while others rejoice. Cast as woes rather than blessings these passages are troubling reminders that we live in an unjust world where those who cry out for justice the saints are often mocked and dismissed as unrealistic or trouble makers. Sainthood is not just for nice people, it is for those who have laboured for justice and peace for all people, often with no recognition but ridicule. The saints seek not to be spoken well of; they seek rather to serve their God who demands justice and righteousness between all people of the world.

Those described as blessed, or saints, in our gospel text today are also a pretty heterogeneous lot – perhaps an unfortunate and desperate one. They are not particularly popular, or well-off, or prosperous. They are the poor, the hungry, the weeping, and the despised. If they have anything in common, it is perhaps that they are those not in control of things. They are those who are often described as victims and vulnerable.

No one – martyrs and saints included – wants to be victimized, used, manipulated or cheated. And certainly Scripture does not require that of us. We read the daily papers and shake our heads as we learn of all the evil things our fellow human beings are capable of, including the shedding of innocent blood. We certainly do not want such things to happen to us – no matter how committed we are to the Gospel.

But somewhere in our fear of being hurt or made a victim we may, if we are not careful, also lose our ability to be vulnerable; to take a chance on another human being, on life, on God. For if we open ourselves to others it is quite possible, some might say likely, that we will be hurt. But unless we take that risk, we may find ourselves living lives of fear and loneliness – in other words, lives not worth living – lives devoid of human warmth and caring and love.

So the saints do have something in common, in spite of their variety and age and culture.

They have learned to become vulnerable, to be fully human, and to take chances on others, even when it may seem to go against common sense or one’s own self interest. And like it or not, each of us will also be given plenty of opportunity to experience this vulnerability in our own lives – at work, at home, among friends, and sometimes at church as well.

So what about being blessed? What about being a saint? We can determine our state of saintliness and blessing by our willingness to be open to the needs of others. Sainthood becomes not so much some unattainable goal of moral excellence as it does a way of life marked by commitment to others and their needs.

We will not always be good. We will not always get it right the first time. We will fail. We will have plenty of reason to witness to and accept our own vulnerability. But then we are in good company. After all, what words other than “vulnerable” and “committed” can we use to describe a God willing to become one of us with all the messiness of our self doubts, and strings of failures, and hurts, and even death?

It probably does not take much effort to be poor, grief-stricken, or hungry. But being blessed – that is something else. That involves a radically different way of seeing the world. It requires a worldview that embraces the poor, and the exiled, and the remnant, and the refugee. Not just for the reward enumerated by Jesus in the gospel story, but because we recognize ourselves in the very least of those we know. We recognize that our saintliness and blessing comes only in embracing wholeheartedly and without reservation those others in need of God’s blessing. Amen.