Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 24
Revelation 21:1-6a
John 11:32-44
“Life and Death”
We cancelled the church choir practice this week because it fell on Halloween night, and a number of singers wanted to be home to hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters. Once again this year, there weren’t a lot of kids out on my block, but I did hand out some candy and see some interesting costumes, and now I’ve got leftovers that you can share if you come down to the gym for lunch and the mission exercise we are going to do today.
It’s interesting to think about our society’s general celebration of Halloween in our time, and the ways that it has changed and been adapted over the centuries. There’s still a connection with ghosts and ghouls and scary things, but it’s mostly about kids (and sometimes adults too) dressing up as something else. You don’t have to put a sheet over your head and become a ghost, but you can dress up as Elsa from “Frozen”, as Ironman or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle, as a cute little black cat, or a big orange pumpkin.
It’s difficult to sort out the long history of Halloween customs in various countries, understanding its original connection to Christianity, combined with influences from Celtic harvest festivals and later secular developments. But I just want to note this morning that Halloween is “All Hallows’ Eve,” the evening before All Saints Day on November 1st. (Think of the word “hallowed” from the Lord’s Prayer. The hallows are the saints, the ones who are honoured as holy people.)
It’s emphasized more in some Christian denominations than in others, but our calendar includes All Saints Day on November 1st, and since we rarely have a special service in the middle of the week for it, we tend to move it to the next Sunday. I noticed a Lutheran colleague mentioning that their congregation’s tradition on All Saints Sunday included lighting candles to remember and honour loved ones who have died. And Anglican and Catholic Churches often have a Book of Remembrance out through the month of November in which people can write the names of their loved ones who have died.
I think of All Saints Day as a time to ponder the harsh reality of death, to give thanks for the lives of people we have known and loved, and to place our trust in the promise of God for their salvation and everlasting life with God. It’s not just a day to remember the famous or canonized saints like St. Andrew or St. Patrick, but it’s a day to celebrate the whole Communion of Saints, all the beloved children of God, who by God’s grace, are safe in the arms of Jesus.
In a commentary for this Sunday, Michael Ruffin says that “All Saints Sunday is a day to remember those who have died.” And “It is difficult to do so without remembering that we are going to die too.” Regardless of our faith or our beliefs about the afterlife, death is an inevitable part of the human experience and we’re all going to go through it one day.
I’m reminded of a person I met in Saskatoon who had put together a binder full of forms, planning sheets, and resources for people to help them plan for the end of life. People (mostly seniors) would buy the binders and start working through the forms, making plans for their funerals and burials, adding details about their insurance policies, investments, where to find their wills, and other things their survivors would need to know after their deaths. And the binder was titled “Just in case…” as if there was just a small chance that death would come and the information in the binder would be needed!
The Scripture texts for today arise from communities of faith that were dealing with the harsh realities of human life and the threat of death. Isaiah was talking about the situation of the Israelites in exile in Babylon, or perhaps a little later on when some of them were trying to get re-established in Judah with the difficulty and danger involved in re-building. The Book of Revelation comes out of the experience of early Christians dealing with persecution and threats all around. And in the Gospel text, we enter the story of a family experiencing the sudden and tragic death of their brother.
Each text points to the pain, anguish, and suffering of people in the world. The Israelites feel abandoned by God in Babylon and later overwhelmed by the struggle of trying to rebuild their lives in Judah. The early Christians are afraid, devastated by the deaths of their friends, and perhaps despondent about the future. Martha and Mary are trying to hold on to the promise of life after death for their brother. But like any one of us when our loved ones have died, they are devastated, broken, and grieving.
The prophet Isaiah and the Apostle John (in the Book of Revelation) seem to paint pictures of hope for the future and good things to come. They acknowledge that things are bad now, but promise that they’ll get better.
Isaiah describes a great feast for all people with really good food, excellent wine, and all the good things that the Exiles can hardly imagine enjoying again. But even more than an abundant meal, the prophet says that death itself will be swallowed up, and God will wipe away the tears from all faces.
Similarly, the Revelation of John includes a vision of restoration and joy beyond imagining for the persecuted Christians. God will wipe away their tears also. Death will be no more. Mourning and crying and pain will be no more. Christ is making all things new!
Both of these texts have been read at many funerals – reminding us of the promise of God that there is life after death and that heaven is going to be glorious!
But one commentator I was reading on Revelation, Katherine Shaner, points out that John’s Revelation isn’t about a far-off future in a land far-away called heaven. She notices that the vision is of a holy city coming down to earth. The apostle writes: “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them…” And then Christ, who is sitting on the throne says, “See, I am making all things new…. It is done!”
Shaner puts it this way: “Revelation gives us an image of God’s homecoming into our world — a homecoming that not only destroys death but also renews the world within the creation… God comes into mortality, into our frailty, to dwell with us. God wipes tears, soothes grief, and heals pain.”
I think that’s what we see Jesus doing in the Gospel story today. While Martha is trying to find consolation in the promise of an afterlife to come, Jesus is showing her that there is life and hope now. In the person of Jesus, God is with Martha and Mary in the midst of their sorrow. God feels with them, cries with them, and shares their grief.
And then Jesus raises their brother. That’s the part that gets everybody’s attention and gets Jesus in trouble with the religious authorities of his time.
It’s not that Jesus is going to start resuscitating every person who dies in the world, and the planet is going to quickly fill up with humans living on and on with no more bodily death. But the raising of Lazarus is a sign that Jesus has the power of God, that God has power over death, and that life and hope and joy are going to win out over death and destruction.
The story raises the possibility that we don’t have to wait until we die to experience the abundant feast where all are welcome, where God dwells with us and wipes away our tears. Because God sent Jesus into the world to dwell with us, and walk with us, and share all the struggles of our mortal lives. And Jesus went through death to show us that it will not be our end, but only the beginning of new and everlasting life with God. And then God sent the Holy Spirit to help us, comfort us, and encourage us along the way – reminding us of Jesus’ love and his wise teaching, and guiding us in his way.
Though we will still struggle with loss, grief, sorrow, and worry about the future of our world, we are reminded today that we are not alone. God has come to dwell with us, and we will see and experience Christ’s very real presence when we care for each other through the ups and downs of human life.
And Christ will be present with us in a very powerful way when we gather around the Table of Holy Communion as well. When we share bread and wine in remembrance of Jesus, Christ promises to be with us – welcoming us to the Table, pouring out his love for us, and empowering us with the gift of the Holy Spirit to embody his loving presence for others.
On this All Saints Sunday, let us celebrate the amazing love of God for all God’s beloved children throughout time and space. And let’s remember God’s assurance, made to us in our Baptism, that in life and in death, we belong to our faithful Saviour Jesus Christ.