A Youth Sermon for All Saints

When I got to Faith Lutheran Church yesterday, I had one idea for the youth sermon.  I had a braided bread, and I was going to talk about how we're braided together with the people who came before us and the people will come after us.  And that was part of the youth sermon.

But when I got to the sacristy, I saw a basket of autumnal gourds, and I decided to enlarge the sermon.  I moved the basket to the piano that's in front of the pew where the youth come sit for the sermon:

We talked about saints and how we only hear about their good aspects.  But saints come in all varieties, like the gourds. I talked about Saint Paul, how if there had been no Paul, we probably wouldn't be here as Christians, that's how important he was to spreading the faith.  And yet, what did he do before God knocked him off his horse?

I was a little surprised that the kids didn't know.  But that's fine, I'm happy to be the one to break the news:  Paul was killing Christians.  I could see the surprise in their faces.

I talked a bit about the variety in gourds and how it's like the variety in humans--how glorious!  And then the braided bread, and then we were done.  I think it went well.

In fact, as with many days, I thought the youth sermon was better than the adult sermon.  Some weeks, that depresses me.  But most weeks, I'm grateful to have ideas for both, and I'm hopeful that one or the other speaks to the congregation.

Sermon for All Saints Sunday

Here is my sermon for All Saints--when I deliver it, I anticipate that the ending may be slightly different.  In other words, I'm still not happy with it, but I'm leaving room for the Holy Spirit.

 November 3, 2024, All Saints Sunday

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott

John 11:32-44

In today’s readings, we get a beautiful vision of a world being prepared for the saints, a life of the world that hasn’t yet been born.  Notice how much of the imagery is similar in both the book of Isaiah and the book of Revelation:  tears being wiped from every eye, death being banished, God coming to dwell with God’s people.

And then we get to the Gospel, which gives us a different view of being a saint.  It’s a curious story, both in light of our festival Sunday and in the book of John.  In the beginning of the 11th chapter, Lazarus is sick and the sisters have sent for Jesus.

What does Jesus do?  Does he rush right to the bedside of the one he loves?  No, he lingers where he is for a few days—and thus sparks centuries of debate about why he does this.  The easiest explanation is one that paints Jesus in a strange light:  he lets Lazarus die so that he can show how powerful he is.  But why would he need to prove his power this way?  He’s healed many people, he’s taught in multiple places,  he’s done miracles like multiplying food, and he’s answered question after question.  By now, people are going to believe or they won’t.  By now, he’s attracted the attention of the people in charge, and they are already plotting against him.

Unlike other stories where we see Mary and Martha, in this story they behave similarly—there’s a measure of reproach when they interact with him.  And who can blame them?  They must have questions about what has kept Jesus away.  Once Lazarus dies, they must know that the miracle they hoped for won’t be theirs.

I’ve come to think of these sisters as some of the pillars of the faith—our Christian foremothers, every bit as praiseworthy as the disciples, and frankly perhaps more deserving of praise.  And yet, they show themselves to be very human here in this story.  Mary says that if Jesus had gotten himself to them in time, her brother wouldn’t have died.  Martha is her typical Martha self, trying to micromanage Jesus, worrying about the social niceties like the neighbors smelling her dead brother.  

In a way, though, who can blame them? They’re not expecting Jesus to raise the dead—that seems outside of the realm of possibility.   Throughout the ages, people experience healing and other types of miracles, but it’s the rare person who believes that a person has been dead for 4 days can be brought back to life.  Mary and Martha must have wondered what on earth Jesus is thinking by rolling back the stone from the tomb. 

The Gospel today is a condensation of each of the Gospels, in microcosm, like seeing the story of an entire forest in a single pinecone, like a sonnet that sings a love song in just 14 lines of iambic pentameter.  In today’s Gospel, we see Jesus who is in relationship with humans, who walks beside them, who experiences their sorrows and  weeps with them.  In today’s Gospel reading, we see Jesus delivering the Good News that death will not have the final answer.

Today’s Gospel story is also a microcosm of the larger story of Creation, the story that is heading towards the vision depicted in Isaiah and Revelation:  tears wiped from every eye, and death has lost its sting.  But we’re certainly not there yet.

Like Mary and Martha, we don’t not fully understand why the world is set up the way it is.  We might see miracle after miracle, teaching after teaching, healing after healing and wonder why, if Jesus can do all of these great things, why let death have any power at all?  We might wish that the redemption that Jesus offers us would look different than it does.

Like Mary and Martha, we, too, might want to micromanage the miracles:  heal Lazarus while he’s sick and don’t expose us all to the smell of miracles at work.  But just imagine if Jesus had allowed himself to be controlled this way.  Mary and Martha have a vision, but it’s puny compared to the vision that our Triune God has for creation, a vision where death no longer has the ultimate say.  Why does God’s vision and hope for creation need to unfold in this way, a way that includes both miracles and sorrow?  I don’t know, but I’m sure that God does know.

Jesus promises us that death is not the final answer. We do not fully understand how Jesus will fulfill that promise. Some will argue that we go directly to Heaven, and some will tell us that we'll wait in a safe place until the final coming of Christ. And in the meantime, Jesus invites us to participate in the creation of the Kingdom, right here, right now. We don't have to wait until we're dead.

On this Sunday where we celebrate the saints, where we remember all who have come before us, let us also remember the ways that they showed us how the Kingdom of God isn’t here yet, but the Kingdom of God is breaking into our lives in new ways.  Let us remember the ways that they showed us how we can unbind ourselves from all the forces of death that have wrapped their clothes around us.  Let us remember all the ways that the community of God shows us a new way, a way out of all that holds us in a tomb.  

Along with all the saints, Jesus stands at the door of our tombs and calls to us.   I know that some days it may seem like too much—we might want to stay in the comfort of the graves that we know and understand.  But today and every day, I hope that we hear the call to a new life, one that can start right now.  Today and every day, I hope that we arise from whatever death holds us in its grips, that we leave the grave cloths behind, that we emerge from our gloomy places ready to experience new life.

The End of Our Autumn Triduum

Today is the last day of our autumn triduum. "Triduum" is a Latin word for 3 days, and it's most commonly used for the time between Good Friday and Easter. But the days of Halloween, All Saints, and All Souls are deeply linked, and in similar ways.

Halloween is the shortening of an earlier name for the holiday: All Hallows Eve. In some cultures, it would simply be the night before the Feast of All Saints, a rather benign feast. Other cultures see this time as one of the thinnest spaces, when it's easiest for souls to slip between worlds--and thus, we see the variety of holidays designed to ward off evil spirits, appease the ancestors, and protect the living--in various combinations.

Most of us understand at least some of the symbolism that comes with Halloween. Those of us who are church going folks have probably celebrated our dearly departed in early November. But what about the overlooked Feast of All Souls?

The Feast of All Saints was originally designed to honor the saints, those who had been beatified--official saints, canonized by the Pope. Some scholars point out that in many countries it was a feast day that honored those who had been martyred for the faith, and that some of those worship services might have been somewhat jarring, with disturbing stories and perhaps an artifact or relic on display.

All Souls Day, celebrated the day after All Saints, was designed to honor everyone else who had died. I've also heard it described as the day that honors those who had died in the past year. In the medieval Catholic theology, those souls would still be in Purgatory, and special prayers would be offered for them on the Feast of All Souls.

Those of you with excellent memories of your English major days may remember that Sir Gawain left for his adventure with the Green Knight on All Souls Day. Medieval audiences would have read a lot into that date of departure. They would be expecting that next year, Gawain would be one of the souls prayed for on this feast day.

In most of the U.S. and Europe, we live in a culture that tries every way possible to deny death and the fact that we are all here for a very short time. But this triduum reminds us not only to honor our dead loved ones and spiritual heroes, but also to take advantage of every minute that we have because we don't have very many of them.

Many of us won't have a chance to worship today, but we can take some time to think about the mystery enfolded in this triduum. We could remember our loved ones and the stories they would have told us. We can think of what we'd like to accomplish in our remaining years.

We are already skating down the corridor which takes us to Thanksgiving and Christmas. It's a time of breathless pace for many of us. Let us take another day to remember the souls of those gone before us. Let us think of our own mortal souls which will not be on this earth for a very long time. Let us resolve to strengthen our spiritual lives, so that we serve as saints for those coming after us.


Here's a prayer I wrote for today:


Comforter God, you know that we miss our recently dead. We do take comfort from your promise that death will not have the final word, but there are stages of our grief where it is difficult to believe. Please forgive us our unbelief and doubt. Please keep reminding us of your love and care. Please strengthen us to be able to provide the same quality of love and care to those around us who are grieving loss. Please keep our creative imaginations focused on the redemption of Creation, where you have promised we will not have any reason to cry anymore.

The Feast Day of All Saints

For many of us, it's been a difficult autumn. We've had two severe storms, Hurricane Helene and Hurricane Milton, and other lesser storms, and for some of us, those storms have reminded us that everything we build is more precarious than we thought. We've had continuing violence of all sorts: gun violence and political violence chief among them, with not one but two assassination attempts on a political candidate. Antisemitism is on the rise.  Hatred in general is on the rise.  The drumbeats of war pound ever more loudly.  And then there are all of our individual losses.

Even in years when we aren’t surrounded by constant examples of how short our time here can be, All Saints Day comes around to remind us. We don’t have long on this side of the grave. It’s a good festival to take some time to think about what we’d like to get done while we’re still here.

It’s a good time to think about those who have gone before us. You might spend some time on this feast day thinking about the great saints who have helped to form Christianity through the centuries. How can we be more like them? For what would we like to be remembered in future centuries?

If you have relatives and friends who have served as models of a life well lived, this would be a good time to write a note. We won’t be here forever. Write to them now, while they’re still here and you still remember. On a future All Saints Sunday, you might light a candle in their memory. But in the meantime, you can tell them how much they have meant to you.

In many cultures, this feast day becomes a family time. Think of the Mexican tradition of taking picnics to the graveyard. Now would be a good time to record your family memories. Write them down while you still remember. Make a video. Assemble those records.

But we should also use this All Saints Day to look forward. For many people, this day is bittersweet. We’re reminded of our losses. It’s hard to think of transformation.

But dream a little on this Feast of All Saints. If you could create a new life out of the threads that you have, what would you weave? Or would you start again, with different yarns and textures? What is your dream of a renewed life?

Jesus invites us to be part of a Resurrection Culture. We may not always understand how that will work. Some years the taste of ash and salt water seem so pervasive that we may despair of ever tending fruitful gardens of our lives again. But Jesus promises that death will not have the final word.