All Saints Day
St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Canton OH
Revelation 21:1-6a, John 11:32-44
November 1, 2015
The Rev. Barbara Bond
For All the Saints
How wonderful that we observe All Saints Sunday this year on the actual All Saints Day,
November 1! This has inspired us to “pull out all the stops,” so to speak – incense,
chanting – as if invoking the blessed saints through clouds of incense and the holy
sound of Orthodox chant. Our Eucharistic prayer is Prayer D, the closest to the
Orthodox Christian liturgy. In this holy aura we will name the newest saints, the
Beloved Departed from this past year.
There is another reason I love this gift from the calendar. Hallowe’en was last night, so
the conjunction of these two festivals can’t get any closer. All Hallow’s Eve actually
predates All Saints Day in history. Our Celtic ancestors celebrated October 31 as the
night when the Spirits were free to wander the earth, escaping their confines and
dwelling among us. The Church, in its wisdom, knew a good thing when they saw it, and
made the next day, November 1, a celebration of all the saints, sometime in the eighth
century. November 2 is commemorated as All Souls Day. We usually conflate the two
saints’ observances, and consider all the Beloved Departed, whether recognized saints
or not, as our saints on this day.
So, we have these back-to-back observances, Hallowe’en and the two Saints Days, and
this year, they are as close as possible. In Celtic spirituality, this closeness represents
a particular reverence of time and space, called “thin places,” where the division
between the sacred and the profane is so thin as to be like a porous membrane, when
we can step through to the Other Side. I love that idea. It gives me goose bumps!
Richard Rohr, the Franciscan spiritual writer, feels that we humans are actually spiritual
beings, but don’t seem to know it! Franciscans revere the earth and all creation, finding
the sacred in everything. Rohr says that the spiritual life is natural to human beings; our
challenge is being human! He points to Jesus as the perfect blend of the spiritual and
the human, God’s model for this unity.
In our tradition, we have often torn this unity apart with a dualism, like good and bad,
soul and body, heaven and hell, sacred and profane. To bridge the gap takes some
effort in today’s world. Our readings offer some clues.
The reading from Revelation is exquisite poetry. It is often read at funerals, and is
sometimes seen as evoking a vision of heaven. I think, however, that it is evoking a
vision of heaven on earth, that we can infuse our daily lives with a sense of the sacred.
The voice from the throne makes this clear as it says, “See, the home of God is among
mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself
will be with them.” This vision of a new heaven and a new earth is this coming together,
the sacred encompassing all humanity.
The Gospel reading likewise gives us a bridge, in this case between life and death,
demonstrated by Jesus’ raising of Lazarus. The story goes to great lengths to make
clear that Lazarus is really dead – his sisters are grieving, and they even note that
Lazarus’ body has begun to decay after four days. The body is wrapped up in shroud
cloth and is in a stone tomb – much like Jesus’ body will be. Jesus makes a
demonstration of the power of God – in fact, the scripture implies that Jesus purposely
waits to come, to make sure Lazarus is dead. Jesus orders the stone be rolled away
from the cave; then he prays publically, so that the crowd will know that this is the power
of God. And then he calls Lazarus by name: “Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus does,
still bound up by the cloth. Jesus then orders the people to unbind him and let him go.
The community re-embraces their lost brother and frees him from the signs of death.
This sacred moment is a confluence of action from God, from Jesus, and from the
community. Lazarus has bridged the gap between the living and the dead.
Many cultures have rituals that bridge the gap. I am especially fond of the Mexican
observance of All Saints, called The Day of the Dead. For two days, Mexicans go into
the cemeteries and visit the graves of their Beloved Departed. They bring along
provisions – a celebration meal, enjoyed right there at the grave, amid candle light. As
the Day of the Dead approaches, they prepare with trinkets that make fun of death –
candy in the shape of skulls, skeletons in various poses from earthly life – I’m especially
fond of skeletons who form mariachi bands and ride motorcycles! Through these
customs, the Mexicans befriend death. Death does not hold much horror if you can
make fun of it.
Today our Anglican culture celebrates all the saints who have gone before us – the
famous ones, like Saint Paul, and those dear to our hearts from our own families and
communities. We welcome them into our midst with beautiful ritual and music, and trust
that they are with us now and in all eternity. My favorite description of the saints is from
the Epistle to the Hebrews, where the writer exclaims, “we are surrounded by so great a
cloud of witnesses” (Heb 12:1). And so we are, surrounded on all sides with those who
have gone before, bridging life and death, sacred and profane, spiritual and human, in a
joyous celebration with God.