Matthew 5:1-12
When Jesus saw the crowds, he went
up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he
began to speak, and taught them, saying:
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for
theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
for they will be filled.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called
children of God.
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’
sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are you when people revile
you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my
account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the
same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.
Revelation
7:9-17 Again I looked and saw a huge crowd, impossible to count.
Everyone was there—all nations and tribes, races, languages. They were wearing
white robes, waving palm branches, standing before the Throne and singing “Salvation to God on the Throne!
Salvation to the Lamb!”
All who
were there - Angels, the elders and the animals bowed and worshiped, singing “Blessing,
honour, glory, power, wisdom and thanks to God always and forever!”
Just
then one of the Elders asked me: “Who are these dressed in white robes, and
where did they come from?” I said “You must know.” He told me, “These are those
who come from great tribulation, they have washed their robes, scrubbed them
clean in the blood of the Lamb. That’s why they’re standing at the throne in
the Temple, serving God day and night. The One on the Throne will shelter them:
no more hunger, thirst, no despair or unbearable heat, or weariness. They will
be led to springs of the water of Life, and God will wipe every tear from their
eyes.”
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This past Wednesday was All Saints Day,
also called All Souls Day – which follows All Hallows Eve – what we now call
Hallowe’en. In some countries, particularly Latin American, there is a third
day called Day of the Dead”. Contrary to what some would have us believe, these
are all Christian religious holidays which are marked as feast days.
November 1, All Saints or All Souls, was
the day my mother was born. Now, my mother and I had an often thorny and
sometimes volatile relationship. But as
she got older she mellowed, and so did I, and when she died at 87 most of that
was put aside. And as I remembered again on Wednesday, I realised I miss her
more each year that I get older.
Mom was born in 1913. She came from a
wealthy family who were part of Toronto’s musical and literary ‘high life’. My great grandparents lost everything in the
depression, and from a large home in Rosedale, had to move into an apartment
with all generations together. My grandfather stopped working and never started
again. All the four children went out to work.
She was a talented musician studying at
the Royal Conservatory when the depression hit – and never got her ARCT because
of a lack of money for the final exam. She
worked as a waitress. She attended Toronto Bible College, married my father,
went to live in Stouffville where he became minister in the United Church. They
moved to a town called Kelvington, and then on to Saskatchewan – Assiniboia and
Canora. Along the way there were three children, three miscarriages, and one
stillbirth – something for which she felt guilty till she died. She learned to
garden and grow vegetables, and preserve food for the incredible Saskatchewan
winters; she learned how to cut and split wood, manage a horse and sleigh, and
still kept music going, and taught students who could not find a teacher. In Prince
Albert she was first violinist in the symphony – and there were plenty of good musicians
on the prairies. In Winnipeg she played with many musical groups, and tried
hard to be the model minister’s wife.
I realise my mother was a woman born out
of her time. The traditional roles of society didn’t fit her – she wanted to do
and be more. Eventually it led to my parents’ separation and divorce – the best
thing that ever happened to both of them. She started again at 50 – found work
and an apartment, sang with choirs, worked hard at music; learned how to open a
bank account and manage money, do her taxes, and satisfy her need to learn more
and be more. She moved west to Edmonton, became a Buddhist, learned Tai Chi,
grew orchids – and at the age of 87 just before she died was still teaching Tai
Chi to the ‘old folks’ at the seniors’ home.
Often on All Saints we tend towards the
religious figures – those who have been sainted by the Catholic Church. St. Francis of Assisi, St. Patrick, St.
Christopher the Patron Saint of Travel; St. Jude, the Patron Saint of Lost
Causes; St. Cecilia Matron saint of music. St. Hildegard of Bingen, St. Teresa
of Avila. St. Kateri Tekakwitha – Matron saint of Environment and Ecology – a Canadian
Algonquin-Mohawk. And that’s why I’d rather call it All Souls.
What about other people? What about our
former Moderator, Wilbur Howard – the only black Moderator. Or Sang-Chul Lee, the only Asian Moderator; or
Stan McKay, the only First Nations Moderator?
Or all our multi-ethnic leaders? Eleanor Scarlett, Susan Beaver, Laverne Jacobs,
Tad Mitsui, George Takashima?
Even more important – what about all the
people around all these others? What about the many who died for teachings we
now consider quite normal ? What about the First Nations around Sister Kateri,
who lost their identities and even their lives? What about the multitudes who
were put to death for following what the church designated ‘heresies’ through
the centuries? What about all those people who are erased, just because?
It’s the main reason All Saints is also
called All Souls – because the ‘saints’ in the world are far more than some individuals
designated by a church. This is a day to remember all the souls who have gone
ahead. Paul’s letter to the Hebrews says “Since we are surrounded by such a
great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything which holds us back and
run with perseverance the race laid before us….” “Surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses…….” There's an image!
And that’s where I went thinking about
my mother on her birthday. My mother was not only a pioneer – but a
saint too. Because saints are more than religious figures. Saints are all those
people in the world who just keep on going doing the right thing – usually
quietly, no fanfare, not drawing attention to themselves, just doing what they
do.
Think of our scriptures today – those often
considered last and least, are the
saints. Those who are deprived, oppressed, starved, shut out. Those are the
saints. Those who struggle with
starvation and death in Yemen; those who
are walking more than two thousand miles to find something better than what
they left. Children who collapse too tired to go any more.
Ordinary people who step up on a train or
a bus, and intervene in overt racism, sometimes risking their own lives. Ordinary people who go out to stand around
synagogues and mosques and temples – just regular people doing what is right.
And in John’s vision in Revelation, the
saints who surround God in the new realm are the regular people who have
struggled with life – struggled with themselves, struggled in living, and who
even when they were hurting or poor had compassion and generosity to others - ordinary people who were doing nothing more
than living and trying to do what was right. Blessed are those who have
compassion, blessed are those who work for peace. Blessed are the ordinary
everyday people who work for what is good……
The ‘formal’ saints, let’s call them - were
pretty much just ordinary people who worked in the world around them. The
church elevated them to sainthood after their deaths, but in my mind they were
already saints anyway.
And right down to our churches, our pews
here – the history of our churches and those who brought us to this place.
Those who brought synagogues, mosques, temples.
Saints are not perfect people. Not one of
those people was a perfect person. Our
great grandparents, grandparent, parents - each person adding a picture of all the
saints. All the saints, all the souls. For all those saints who now rest from
their labours, for those saints still among us. For all ordinary people, with
all their imperfections – who are saints in their own right. God recognises and
holds them, and wipes the tears from their eyes. Through all the saints who
have laboured and who continue to labour.
As I look back, my mother was a saint.
Amen.
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