All Saints' Sunday

Jefferson Prairie Lutheran Church, Poplar Grove, Illinois. Note the semi-circular altar railing.

I only truly appreciated my father's habits of study after he was no longer there for me to crawl into his lap and look sleepily at the pictures of whatever big non-fiction book he was reading. My mother's warm and wise words to me, helping me negotiate the difficulties of life, are all the more powerful and poignant now that she is not here to see me use those same words with my own daughter.

I think that’s true for everyone--we only really understand our inheritance after a death. How our parents and grandparents shape us often isn’t clear until long after they are gone. The objects they leave us are infused with our memories of them, perhaps more powerful as we grow older, contemplating our own legacy to our children.

Three times in the second lesson, St. Paul uses the word “inheritance” to describe something given to us by God, something that is to be treasured, something that is “glorious”.

But what is it? Is it money? A lake house? Antiques? No, nothing so material. Is it a life filled with happiness and prosperity? Not according to the Gospel lesson today, which describes a lot of suffering. Is it more spiritual, then? Is our inheritance from God strong and perfect faith-- never tested or lost, with no doubt? Nope.  

It is simply this:  real, eternal life. For this life. And for the life to come.

The thing about this inheritance, like every other inheritance, is there has to be a death. And this time, it's not  mom or grandpa—but Jesus. Jesus died to give you life. It’s the most important inheritance or gift you’ll ever get.

Now, these are not just nice-sounding pastor words: this is real. It’s the heart of our faith. If there is no resurrection of the dead, why are we here? If there is no deliverance from sin, death and the power of the devil; if this Holy Communion is not the foretaste of the feast in heaven--then why bother with all of this?  

If Jesus isn’t who he says he is, if he isn’t the Son of God, raised from the dead and seated on high, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named.... if he isn’t that—then we and the rest of the Christian church have been lied to and tricked.  

But if Christ’s death is saving, for us and for all people, then we inherit his kingdom, having been made children of the same heavenly Father by our brother Jesus.

And this changes everything, especially our attitude about death. We grieve, of course. But we do not grieve as those who have no hope. Death is a strong enemy, a destroyer and a thief. But Jesus died to defeat the power of death, to defeat that enemy. To bring life from the tomb. To unite us with those who have gone before us.

See, the faithful dead are with us, still. They are here now, just on the other side of this altar, where the human eye can’t see. Like in the old churches where the altar railing was a half circle--you've seen that in places like Rock Dell church, right? I've told you about this before: the purpose of that half-circle altar rail was to show that the circle continues, unseen, around the other side of the altar. That's where our beloved dead also kneel before God.

We can't see them, but we know they’re there, because Jesus said so. Even our hymns say so, "Will the circle be unbroken, by and by, Lord, by and by" And then, from the great All Saints hymn that we'll sing later--“We feebly struggle, they in glory shine, yet all are one within God’s great design, Alleluia! Alleluia!”

In the inheritance of eternal life, the seats of the dead have just been transferred from inside the church, to outside in the cemetery. We are not separated from them in God’s eyes, but are joined together in one church, the communion of saints, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

And how can this be? It’s because of Jesus, who has marked us with the sign of his cross, and made us his saints, a word that means “holy ones.” Who makes you holy except Jesus? Who loves you like Jesus? Who calls you to follow like Jesus? Who gives you everything he has—the whole entirety of heaven? Only Jesus.

You have been marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit, the pledge of your inheritance and redemption as God’s own people. At your baptism, the pastor said those very words, “You have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.”

You are the holy ones of the Most High, the ones who will receive and possess the kingdom forever. Forever and ever. In the face of terrifying visions, troubling dreams as Daniel reports in the first lesson;  in our own world gone mad with violence and hatred and perversion.  Even in the face of death. Forever and ever you are God’s.

Today, we remember all the saints: those famous ones who have gone on before us with names that everyone knows: St. Paul, St. John, St. Ann, St. Michael. St. Patrick. The famous heroes aren’t the only ones we remember today, though. There are also saints who have lived and died in the Lord, whose names only you know, here in our little part of God’s vineyard. The ones whose pictures are around us here,  with their more famous brethren.

They have all given us a legacy, and testified to the inheritance we have through Christ: the inheritance of salvation. We’ll light candles for these people today, and toll the bell as a solemn way of thanking God for their witness, and proclaiming our certain knowledge that death is not the end.

We’ll also add the names of our newest saints: those people baptized in the last year. That might seem odd to you, to remember the newest saints and the ones who have died in the same way. But in this ritual, we are proclaiming exactly what Paul writes about in the second lesson: that those who are baptized, are baptized into the death of Jesus Christ, and have been washed clean by his blood.

That’s why the table of remembrance is right next to the font. Those who are baptized receive their light from Christ, and his resurrection: that’s why we light the small candles from the big Easter candle there. As the new saints are born, the old ones die: but all are held within Christ’s Body, that unbroken circle. Whether we live or whether we die: we are the Lord’s.

Our lives as saints of God won’t be perfect, or even necessarily happy, but they will be blessed. That's our inheritance for now. We who are called by Christ’s name will share in the rejection and suffering of Christ. Together, we will know poverty, hunger, weeping, hatred, exclusion as Jesus did. We will bear the burdens of our neighbors who deal also with these things. We will struggle to love our enemies and those who hate us and the ones who take and take and take from us until it seems like we have nothing left to give. We likely will not have a prosperous and fulfilling life by the world’s standards. But Christ’s blessedness is our blessedness. His life is our life. He himself is our inheritance: life for now and for ever. Everything he is, he is for us.

And when we die, we die knowing that the pledge we have been given will be redeemed. God will keep his promise. The mark on our foreheads will ensure us safe passage. Death is not the end. What little candles and a bell proclaim today will be magnified brighter than the sun, accompanied by the singing of an army of angels and all the host dressed in white: our inheritance is certain! Amen.