"All Saints"
A Sermon of The Rev. Dr. David A. Killian, Rector
All Saints Parish
Brookline, Massachusetts
All Saints Sunday
November 4, 2007
Text: Matthew 5:1-12.
I
As most of you know, our parish offers a Celtic Holy Eucharist each Saturday evening at 5:00. Our parish website provides articles on Celtic Spirituality, including one on Celtic feast of Samhain, from which is derived our Feast of All Saints. This week I received this email from David O'Connell in Cork, Ireland, which read: "Hi, Please pass on my gratitude to the person who published the "Chant for Samhain" on your parish's website. My kids recited it last night as they trick-or-treated their way around our park in Cork, Ireland. They were greeted with delight from householders who were genuinely pleased to hear the chant. Hope you enjoyed Halloween!" -- David O'Connell, Cork, Ireland.
Here is the Samhain Chant that those children in Cork recited:
A year of beauty.
A year of plenty.
A year of planting.
A year of harvest.
A year of forests.
A year of healing.
A year of vision.
A year of passion.
A year of rebirth.
A year of rebirth.
This year may we renew the earth.
Let it begin with each step we take.
Let it begin with each change we make.
Let it begin with each chain we break.
And let it begin every time we awake.
Mr. O'Connell's email resonates with the Collect for today's feast: "Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical Body of your Son Christ our Lord." Here is Mr. O'Connell and his children going door-to-door trick-or-treating in Cork, Ireland, using a chant that he found on the All Saints Parish website. Though separated by a great ocean, we are indeed "one communion and fellowship in the mystical Body of Christ."
Today we will baptize Nathan, Desmond, Ann, Samson, and Grace into the one communion and fellowship in the mystical Body of Christ. We will pass on our Christian heritage and the great tradition of those who have walked faithfully with our God.
II
The first reading from Ecclesiasticus says, "Let us now sing the praises of famous men, our ancestors in their generations." I think we would want to sing the praises of famous men and women and the praises of those who were not famous - the praises of "godly people, whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten."
The reading from Revelation presents a glorious vision of heaven - of "a great multitude that no one can count, from every tribe and nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands." It is a wonderful vision of the joy that awaits us.
In today's Gospel passage from Matthew called the "Beatitudes," Jesus teaches that happiness and blessedness will be given to those who did not experience glory and ease in this life: the poor in spirit, those who mourn, the meek, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, the merciful, the pure in heart, the peacemakers, and those who are persecuted for righteousness sake. When I think of peacemakers, I think of President Jimmy Carter who has devoted his life to bringing peace and reconciliation to people all over the world. I think of Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who was such a giant in ending apartheid in South Africa and who chaired the Truth and Reconciliation Commission to bring healing to his country.
III
Last summer on my sabbatical I was on a retreat with John O'Donohue in the west of Ireland in the area called the Burren. One evening at sunset, John took us to the ocean and asked us to reflect that the edge between land and ocean was an image of the threshold between this world and the next. As the sun was setting a brilliant orange, he asked us to think of someone who had died, who was dear to us, who could offer us strength for our own lives. I thought of my father and I remembered his last days.
My father lived to be 94 years and was still getting around fairly well before his death five years ago on November 20th. But, like many elderly people, he had a fall; it happened when he was looking for the phone number of someone in his Parish Directory that he wanted to call to tell about a mutual friend who had died. Dad pulled on the drawer of a bureau looking for the Directory, lost his balance, and fell. He didn't break anything, but it seemed to upset his system and he was taken to the hospital.
I phoned him to say that I had gotten a plane ticket and would be coming to see him in a couple of days. He told me that people were making too big of a fuss about him and that I didn't need to make the trip. I said that we were making a fuss because he was in the hospital. He said, "All right, come on out, and when you do we'll have a nice long visit." My brother called the next morning to say that Dad had died that evening.
I flew out immediately to Milwaukee and met with my brother and sister to make plans for the funeral. Later that day, I went to the hospital where Dad had died and talked to the nurses who had cared for him. I went to his room in the hospital which was now empty. I stayed in the room for a while and prayed and could feel his presence. Then I went to talk with the man who had shared the room with him to ask what Dad's last day was like. This man, Sergio, a stone mason, said that he and Dad had talked most of the night sharing stories about their families. Dad was curious, asking Sergio about his life and his family. This was so like Dad, who always was genuinely interested in people. Then, while they were talking, Dad had a heart attack and he died within minutes. It was a great shock to us, of course, because he died so quickly. His last hours were like so much of his life - filled with curiosity and taking an interest in others.
I would like you now to imagine that you are at the ocean and there is a beautiful orange sunset. Think of someone you greatly admire who has died. Ask that person to be a strength for you on your spiritual journey. Take a couple of minutes now and ask that person to be a part of your life.
Amen.