Presented November 1, 2020 by Rev. Jesse Larson
Based on Matthew 5:1-12
Today, we celebrate All Saints Day.
It might be a perplexing holiday for many Presbyterians as we don’t really revere special holy men and women as Catholics do. In our tradition, rather than putting any person on a pedestal, we give glory to God for the ordinary, holy lives of believers in this and every age. We subscribe to the scriptural assertion of “the priesthood of all believers.”
Even though we may not consider them to be saints necessarily, we all have those giants in our lives who have had a profound impact on us, maybe even the world. Today, we remember and celebrate those wonderful people—moms and dads, grandmothers and grandfathers, other family members, friends, church members, teachers, co-workers, classmates, you name it—who we cherished, who enriched our lives, and who we miss so very much now that they’re gone.
This year, because over 1,190,000 people have died of the coronavirus worldwide, our hearts are even heavier as we consider so many people who are mourning such tragic losses. Moreover, because of the severity of this disease, it seems as though death has been a present possibility for all of us. 2020 has reminded us that death can strike at any moment, and tomorrow is not guaranteed. And when we do encounter death, it’s devastating.
Last night marked the 4th anniversary of the death of my cousin Brad. He took his own life at age 29 on Halloween in 2016. This shocking act was so unexpected, and our family was left with many questions and much anguish. Halloween has always been a favorite holiday of mine—I love all the costumes, pumpkin-carving and scary movies. But, as you might imagine, it has become bittersweet because I can’t help but miss my cousin on this fateful night.
As I am getting to know many of you—via Zoom and e-mail—I know that you, too, carry wounded hearts from the sting of death. As we hear one another’s stories, we are so familiar with the pain of loss and absence. Our hearts ache for one another, and wish we could make all of the misery disappear. Perhaps the most insidious aspect of this pandemic is our inability to be physically present with all those we care about during the transition from this life to the next, and to be present with one another as we say goodbyes to the dying and mourn them.
It’s really a tough pill to swallow.
We acknowledge that death is a part of life, but man, does it stink when we have to face it. Can’t we all at least live to be a few hundred years old like the ancient ones of Genesis? Jesus, being fully human and fully God, understood the anguish and anxiety that resides within all of us concerning death. Our deepest desire is to love and to be loved in return. Death severs those connections and steals our loved ones away.
Perhaps this is why Jesus began his most famous sermon—the Sermon on the Mount—with the Beatitudes. The Beatitudes are a proclamation of blessings for those who are suffering—the poor, the hungry, the abandoned—as well as for those who struggle because they yearn to live a kind, righteous life in a world of wolves. These blessings name the distressing consequences of unjust political realities and the pains of living. The second half of each of these blessings promises God’s reversal of these difficult situations.
In these frightening times of pandemic and contentious elections, we need to hold on to promises, especially those of our faith. Even as our grief knocks us to our knees or as we ponder what happened to the America we once knew, we must remember that we worship Jesus Christ whos love for us defeated death and sin. No matter how crazy this world may get, Christ is not bound by any earthly powers and he will have the last word.
We cannot forget the great cloud of witnesses of all backgrounds who faced unfathomable storms yet remained faithful. The believers before us held on to the promise of love no matter what, and refused to succumb to hate, bitterness and apathy.
We cannot forget that this very day we have been given is a gift. God’s promised abundance swirls all around us—may we seek it out, engaging all of creation for the joy that it brings.
Friends, food, faith—all are lights to keep the path illuminated, especially when death can make things so dark and heavy. These promises may not heal your pain, but they give us strength and hope—the same things our ancestors clung to—which empower us to stay in the race that God has laid before us.
Listen to this poem by Mary Oliver, entitled, “The Summer Day.”
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
how to fall down into the grass,
how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed,
how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?It is my prayer that we would not spend this one wild and precious life held captive by our grief. Our wounds may be a part of our story, but they are not our story. For we Christians believe that this wild and precious life is a gift from God, complete with friends and lovers, mysteries and magnificence, sadness and joy.
When this journey finally comes to the end, when we meet face to face with death, do not believe that death is final. Our faith in Jesus Christ promises that death is only a transition to heaven.
We believe we’ll go on to be with God in perfect peace, surrounded by all of the ancestors.
We believe that the best is yet to come.
So let us continue on in faith on the path God has laid out before us.
Death is out of our hands, so let’s focus on living for today.
Let’s vote.
Let’s protest.
Let’s pray.
Let’s mourn
Let’s cry.
Let’s remember.
Let’s heal.
Let’s play.
Let’s believe.
Let’s hope.
Jesus reminds us that it will all be ok. All shall be well and all shall be well. This promise is enough to get us through even the darkest of days. Amen.
