Welcome again to the road of life and the springs of your baptism

Shrine Mont in autumn

My sermon today is based on the lectionary readings for All Saints Sunday: Revelation 7:9-17, and
Matthew 5:1-12 .

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All Saints Sunday

Nov. 6, 2011

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the annual fall retreat for clergy in the Diocese of Virginia. The retreat is held at Shrine Mont, the same place where we hold our annual parish retreat in the heat of July.

I can assure you that Shrine Mont in the autumn is a very different place than in the summer.

For those who are unfamiliar with Shrine Mont, it is a rustic 19th century camp about two-and-half hours northwest of here, nestled into the mountains a stone’s throw from West Virginia.

Clergy retreats are usually crammed with speakers, small groups, programs, bishop schmoozing, worship services, and they can feel more like the opening act of the annual Diocese Council than a retreat.

This year, Bishop Shannon decided to ease up, and we were given more free time than usual. That was a great gift.

Fire spotter tower at
Shrine Mont with
Cross on top

So I took the opportunity to walk by myself up an old fire road on a small mountain to an old tower where spotters once kept a sharp eye out for forest fires.

As those of you who are familiar with Shrine Mont know, atop the fire spotter tower is a large wooden cross, and this route is known as “The Way of the Cross.”

Along the fire road are the “stations” of the Cross, with signposts marking the events in the last hours of Jesus’ life as he carries his cross to Golgotha.

The signs say things like “Jesus carries his Cross,” “Jesus falls for the first time,” and “Veronica wipes the face of Jesus” – though that last one is not in the Bible, it is a legend that has found its way onto the “way of the Cross” worldwide.


The signs are meant to evoke reflections along the road. You are supposed to pause and meditate on the moment mentioned on the sign.

I have walked “the way of the Cross” in many places; in monasteries, retreat centers, and in a convent. Here at St. Paul’s, we post “stations of the cross” on the pillars around this nave during Holy Week.

First "station" of the Cross
at Shrine Mont

I’ve even walked the way of the cross on the streets of Jerusalem, where Jesus might actually have walked, or in reality, I walked about 20 feet above where he walked.

The ancient streets were buried long ago in earthquakes and invasions, and new streets have taken their place on top of the rubble.

But I have a confession to make: I’ve never been quite sure what I am supposed to get out of the “Way of the Cross.”

Why would I want to reenact Jesus being crucified? Why would I want to put myself on the same cross?
That is not a particularly inviting notion to me.

As I reached the top of the mountain at Shrine Mont, I climbed up the stairs to the top of the fire spotter tower – to the foot of the Cross – and I asked myself again, what am I supposed to get out of this?

I looked out from the tower, and the leaves were just beginning to turn golden and red. It was gorgeous here at the foot of the Cross looking out over the mountains.

I realized that having the cross on top of a fire spotter tower was symbolically perfect – the tower was built to help extinguish fires, and I could see the fiery colors of autumn in the trees.

The leaves will soon wither and die, and the bleakness of winter will soon be here. Spring will come, new life and Easter with it, but that is still far off – not yet – still beyond where I can see now.

It occurred to me then that the way of the Cross is not about me trying to repeat the events of Jesus’ last moments, but really the other way around.

The way of the cross is about Jesus walking on our road to the cross, especially in our moments of pain, our moments of hurt, our moments of doubt.

He walks this road with us to put an end to the way of the Cross.

Sometimes we talk of God being “up there” above us, talking to us from a magnificently powerful, yet detached perch in the clouds. That idea of God above pervades our culture, and it finds itself into our prayer book, as in those prayers that begin “Almighty God.”

But the way of the cross is about God in the person of Jesus Christ giving up the powerful perch, and being down on the road with us, walking on the same gravel path we walk, and carrying our burdens – our cross – on the road with us.

Listen with new ears to the teaching of Jesus today, in this familiar passage we ironically call “The Sermon on the Mount.”

Jesus tells his followers about nine blessings, beginning with “Blessed are the poor in spirit.”

These are blessings not from up on the mount of “Almighty God,” but blessings down here on the road.

Who are the blessed? The poor in spirit. Those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and the persecuted.

When are they blessed? Right now.

Where are they blessed? Here, on the road, in the trenches, in the muddiness of life.

They – you and I – are blessed especially when we are on that hard difficult road because God is walking with us, down here, not up there.

The phrase, “Blessed are you,” comes from the Hebrew word ’ashar, and it literally means, “You are on the right road.”

“You are on the right road when you are poor in spirit and can’t figure out how to pray…” 

“You are on the right road when you mourn and are lonely…” 

“You are on the right road when you are a peacemaker and your world is in upheaval…”

You are on the right road especially in those places; you are blessed on this road because God is dwelling in you and walking beside you.

Today is All Saints Day, and it is appropriate to remember that many before us have walked this same road, and not just symbolically, but in reality, enduring because their faith brought them to a place where they took a stand, and some died for it.

The road of the saints is the same road of our baptism, and the saints of old knew no more about where that road would lead them than we know where ours leads.

Today two children will enter into this epic story of baptism with all the saints. We will welcome them into this household of faith as we “remember Christ crucified,” and we will promise to hold in reserve many more sacraments, prayers and church potluck suppers for them as they grow up, as they embrace their faith on the same road with us.

As I came down off the mountain at Shine Mont, I heard the voices of others hiking up to the Cross. Some were laughing, and truthfully, I found their joy and laughter wonderful.

Sometimes we need to be reminded to laugh and sing, and enjoy this great gift of life. Our task is to end crucifixions, not repeat them.

We close today by hearing about the end of the way of the cross in an amazing – and, yes, strange – vision of an early Christian saint named “John.”

We don’t know much about him, we aren’t even sure if that is his real name. He is exiled on an island, persecuted, and outwardly he may seem as someone with not much to live for.

Yet this saint has a dream, and he writes about it a book we call “Revelation,” the last book of the Bible. John, whoever he is, shares his vision about the outbreak of blessings, and it goes like this:

“They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

Welcome once again to the road of life, and the springs of your baptism. AMEN

All Saints and All Souls Day: Remembering those we love who we see no longer

Today is All Saints Day when the church remembers its martyrs and those considered the holiest in our history (and there is room for debate about some of those we put on that calendar).

Tomorrow is Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed, or "All Souls Day" when we remember all those who have died -- ordinary people -- especially those who have died who are still close to our hearts.

This year we are combining the two holy days into a single commemoration today at 12:15 pm. Instead of a sermon, we will read the names of all those who died in the parish in the last year, and also the names of people who were added to books in the church in the last few weeks. You are invited to join us, and if you have other names you would like us to read, please bring them and we will add them to the reading.

We are we doing this?

First, we need to draw together as a community to remember those who have left us. We needed to pray their names as a community, and pray for ourselves in our grief. We need to remember all those we love who we see no longer.

Today we need to pause and do something that is out of fashion: Lament. Our culture sometimes would rather speed on and forget, and that is a good reason to pause, remember, lament. We proclaim as Christians that there is new life, Resurrection, but that doesn't lessen our own sorrow. It helps, I think, to name it, and to name those names we miss.

So we will gather 12:15 pm and I hope you will join us. The clergy will take turns reading all of the names aloud, and people can kneel or sit in prayer. We will have our Eucharist, and then depart in silence, and we hope, a measure of peace.

Let me also remind you of another tradition, from Latin America, that we are observing at St. Paul's: the ofrenda. We will set up a table in the church for you to display small photos of people close to you who have died. We will keep the table up until the First Sunday of Advent.

Here is the Collect for the All the Faithful Departed:

O God, the Maker and Redeemer of all believers: Grant to the faithful departed the unsearchable benefits of the passion of your Son; that on the day of his appearing they may be manifested as your children; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

All Saints, All Souls: All are invited to the Lord's Table

Today's sermon for All Saints Sunday is based on Job 19:23-27a and Luke 6:20-31.

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There were several great events last week: An election that shifted the balance of power in the Congress, and the World Series where the San Francisco Giants – the team of my tender youth – won for the first time in 56 years.

There was another great event last week, on Tuesday, and millions of people around the globe gathered, and millions were touched to the core of their being in ways that are hard to describe.

They came from cities and small villages. They were young and old and in between. Some were rich, some poor.

They came together in many places to do one thing: to remember their loved ones on the day we call the “Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed,” or All Souls Day.

In Poland, they brought candles to the cemeteries that lit up the sky (photo above).

In Mexico, where they call it El Dia de los Muertos, the people bring mementos representing loved ones to decorate tables, or las ofrendas, in the churches.

And last Tuesday, people gathered here at St. Paul’s to pray and sing a few hymns. All over the world they said prayers, lit candles, and read the names of the departed.

All of these people, each in their own way, each in their own language, in their own prayers, celebrated life and grace, and hope for a better world here and now. And this commemoration continues with us today as we gather for our All Saints Sunday.

Today we remember many, many people; the famous saints of old, prophets and sages and martyrs. And we remember the not-so-famous: the people who somehow touched our lives.

We are surrounded today by a great cloud of witnesses, just over the horizon from our view, reminding us on this All Saints Sunday that there is a way to live without the borders of fear and death.

“For I know that my Redeemer lives,” proclaims Job of the Hebrew Scriptures, “and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and . . . then in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side."

These holy days of All Saints and All Souls are not really about death at all, but about proclaiming God’s healing love that lasts forever.

Still, I don’t know why there is so much tragedy and pain in this world. I don’t know why some people get well, and others don’t.

We must acknowledge that is a fact. Bad things happen to good people through no fault of their own.

But maybe there is more to this.

After all, healing in this world is only temporary. The people Jesus heals – the lepers, the demoniacs, the woman who can’t stop bleeding – all of them depart this earth, one-by-one. Even Lazarus, raised from the dead, dies.

Deeper healing comes in the other world, on another time scale that my mortal brain cannot fathom.

I believe that everyone is ultimately healed of all that harms them, all that wounds them, all that hurts them, all that drags them down.

This deeper healing lasts forever, and we get hints of it in this world.

Jesus says over and over he wants us to experience healing in this world as evidence of God’s abundant love, as evidence of God’s kingdom bursting into the open for all to see.

Your presence today is evidence of God’s kingdom coming into being right here, right now.

Today, with our words and actions, we are showing our connection to the reality of God’s loving, healing kingdom bursting into the open. We will show it in many ways today.

In a few minutes, we are going to baptize Campbell, an infant we are welcoming into St. Paul’s and into the larger Body of Christ forever.

By baptizing Campbell we proclaim that every member of God’s kingdom is valuable and belongs – even the little children – especially the little children.

With her parents and Godparents, we will renew our own baptismal covenant, renewing our promises to follow Christ by loving our neighbors, respecting the dignity of every human being and working for justice and peace.

We will pledge to walk with Campbell, support her and uphold her as she grows.

Next, we will make tangible the words of our baptismal pledge. We will bring to the Holy Table our offerings of clothes for the homeless, Duduza dolls for the children of Haiti, prayer shawls for the sick and hurting in our own community.

The dolls and prayer shawls were made by dedicated members of our parish (see photo at right with Jane Rotch and some of the dolls).

And we will, as we do every week, bless our monetary offerings for this parish.

We will also bless our financial pledges for the coming year. No pledge, no gift is too small. All are building blocks of God’s kingdom.

Our generosity springs from our baptismal promises, and represents the offering of the best of ourselves – it is why we call this our “offering” and not a “collection.”

And then we will come together to celebrate Holy Communion. We will gather not just with each other, but with those we love who are just beyond our horizon. They join us at this Table, sharing in this bread and wine at our Eucharist, a Greek word that means Thanksgiving. This is our offering of thanks and love for them.

To represent those dear to us who are departed but still near, the clergy will read aloud the names of the 26 people who we held funerals for in the last 12 months in this parish. Feel free to add other names silently or aloud.

Then we will break bread together, and remember again the night of the Last Supper, and how Jesus told us he is present always, holding us up, healing us, and walking with us into our darkest night.

During our time of Communion, we will offer healing prayers in the Chapel, following a very ancient practice of the early church.

Those who ask for such prayers will be blessed on their forehead with Holy Oil – oil that was blessed by our bishop earlier this year during Holy Week.

And then our worship here today will end, and as Jesus beckons us, we will go back into the world, to live out our promises and prayers for peace and healing everywhere we go – and as God gives us the strength – treat each other and everyone we meet with respect, dignity and generosity, especially when it is hardest.

“I say to you that listen,” Jesus says, “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. . . Do to others as you would have them do to you."

Yes, that is a high standard, the standard of grace, the standard of our faith, and the standard of the saints. And yes, you and I can be one too, one day at a time. AMEN.

La Ofrenda: Remembering those we love who are parted from us

This Sunday, November 7, we are observing a major feast on the Christian calendar: All Saints Day.

All Saints Sunday has its origins in the ancient church when it was celebrated on the Saturday before Easter -- the day now called Holy Saturday when Jesus descends to hell to free everyone from the grip of death.

All Saints and All Souls days merged to become special masses for martyrs and those who had died anonymously. In later centuries, the day shifted into the weeks before Advent, and the day we now call "Halloween" is actually All Hallows Eve, or the even of All Souls Day.

This year we are continuing with a tradition we began two years ago at St. Paul's from the part of the world where I come: La Ofrenda, a special table in the church where we display items representing people we love who have died. La Ofrenda is a major element of El Dia de los Muertos, Mexico's "Day of the Dead," and is popular in churches throughout California and the Southwest. I've seen many over the years and all of them are powerful remembrances.

This Sunday, please bring something for our Ofrenda that represents someone you love who has died; a photograph or a poem, or a candle or a paper flower. We will display our ofrendas until the first Sunday of Advent on November 28.

Last year our first Ofrenda was so popular we set up two more. I am told that we were the only Episcopal Church in Virginia with a Ofrendas, an honor I hope other churches might share with us this year.

This Sunday we will also bless our offerings for those beyond our walls who need our assistance. Please bring socks and underwear for the homeless. We will also bless "Duduza" dolls knitted for the children of Haiti. And we will bless the financial pledges for the coming year at St. Paul's. If you haven't pledged, please do so. No pledge is too small, and your pledge is a vote of confidence for the ministries of St. Paul's and the people who work very hard in our parish.

La Ofrenda: All Saints Sunday and remembering those we love who are just beyond our horizon

This Sunday, November 1, is a major feast day on the Christian calendar -- All Saints Day.

All Saints Sunday has its origins in the ancient church when it was celebrated on the Saturday before Easter -- the day now called Holy Saturday when Jesus descends to hell to free everyone from the grip of death.

All Saints and All Souls days merged to become special masses for martyrs and those who had died anonymously. In later centuries, the day shifted into the weeks before Advent, and the day we now call "Halloween" is actually All Hallows Eve, or the even of All Souls Day.

This year we are continuing with a tradition we began last year from the part of the world where I come: La Ofrenda, a special table in the church where we display items representing people we love who have died. La Ofrenda is a major element of El Dia de los Muertos, Mexico's "Day of the Dead," and is popular in churches throughout California and the Southwest. I've seen many over the years and all of them are powerful.

This Sunday, please bring something that represents someone you love who has died; a photograph or a poem, or a candle or a paper flower. We will leave up our ofrendas until the first Sunday of Advent on November 29.

Last year our first Ofrenda was so popular we set up two more. Here are some photographs of Las Ofrendas at St. Paul's last year. I am told that we were the only Episcopal Church in Virginia with a Ofrendas, an honor I hope other churches might share with us this year.