Homily given at Wartburg Seminary Chapel November 3, 2014
Today is All Saints Day, a day in which we remember and honor the saints of our lives. Saints are far and near, and both living and dead. As part of preparing for today’s message, I reflected upon experiences of this day since coming to Wartburg.
My first All Saints day here at the castle was the type of day that I had grown accustomed to. We celebrated those who had gone before us with familiar hymns, the reading of the names of the recently deceased, and the lighting of candles. It was a celebration of all those who had touched us throughout the years.
The following year was quite the opposite. As some of you know, my second year here on campus was marked by the death of our son Josiah. Shannon and I found out 2 weeks prior to school starting that his heart had stopped beating. Josiah was stillborn at 37 weeks.
All Saints took on a much different meaning for me. I remember yearning to hear his name read with the other saints.
This wasn’t the planned path; baby’s names are to be read at baptisms and other celebrations, but this was it for me.
Death gave us this one the last milestone.
This past All Saints service was also marked with a death in my life. Last summer my grandfather died at 80 years of age. He lived a long, fruitful life and was very special to me.
All Saints Day was a day of fond memories as I remembered my special relationship with him.
This is how I imagined All Saints Day to go, a sad, yet joyous commemoration.
Today’s gospel lesson comes from Jesus’ familiar teaching from the Sermon on the Mount, the Beatitudes. I don’t know about you, but there’s something about these blessings that doesn’t settle with me.
Blessed are the poor in spirit, the mourning, the meek, the hungry, and so on. How are the people who experience these blessed?
There’s no way Jesus is telling us that some of the most challenging and miserable situations in life are blessings. It has to be a problem in translation.
So let’s try out some alternative meanings for this Greek word:
How about, favored are the poor in spirit… no that’s not it.
Oh, fortunate are those who mourn… that’s not any better, fortunate is the last word that comes to mind when I think about the death of a loved one.
Ok, how about this one: privileged are the meek, or happy are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness… no, those don’t work either
So, if blessed is the right word here, what is Jesus trying to tell his disciples?
The next question that begs to be asked from the text, is about the “wills” in the second half of the statement. They will be comforted; they will inherit the earth; they will be filled; and so on. So, when will this take place? When will those who mourn be comforted?
Death is an unavoidable reality of our world. Death sneaks in and takes away a loved one out of nowhere; death also comes for those for whom we expect it to come.
Nevertheless, death separates us from those we love. It stings. It hurts. It’s unfair. You know this. I know this.
When Josiah died and every hope and dream was dashed away in an instant, I was beyond crushed. I had nothing.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Sisters and brothers, I am here today to tell you that Jesus’ words are true. No, it’s not because Shannon and I were the “lucky” recipients of “a new angel baby watching over us in heaven.” Moreover, it’s definitely not because we were young enough to try to have more children. I love Noah beyond measure, but he is not God’s comforting answer.
God’s comfort came to us by other means.
God’s comfort came to us through two friends that showed up at a moment’s notice when we found out this dreadful news.
God’s comfort came to us through a supportive community that was present in our time of need.
God’s comfort came through the ones who finally treated us as a human beings rather than as a pity case.
God’s comfort continues to come through supportive friends who continues to be there.
In our time of desperation, we were blessed by the loving presence of those that God sent to comfort us. In our deep grief, in our most vulnerable state, we were blessed because all we had was God, and God was there.
The hurt and pain did not go away, and its memory still resides. Nevertheless, it is not to be borne alone.
We bear it in one another and we bear it in the one who experienced great agony on the cross.
This is the promise of our text today. No matter how crappy life feels, and no matter how far life beats you down.
God promises stand the test of time.
Christ is there when you are stripped of everything else.
The Spirit surrounds you with a witness of saints.
God is with you. Amen