Sermon – All Saints’ Day 2016

This week, we celebrated All Saints’ Day at St. Peter Lutheran. This week’s sermon texts are Ephesians 1:11-23 and Luke 6:20-31.

I need to say up front that I am not much of a baseball fan. If I’m flipping through TV channels and there’s a game on, I might watch a couple of minutes, but I barely know the rules, and as far as following any particular team, all I can say is “Go Packers!”

But I did watch the last few innings of game 7 of the World Series this week, because if there’s one truth about baseball that I know, it’s that the Chicago Cubs never win the World Series. Or if they do, it’s supposed to signal the end of the world as we know it.

As I’m sure you know, the Cubs did in fact win the game in the 10th inning, and I discovered I know a lot more Cubs fans than I was aware of. The fascinating thing to watch as I’ve seen people celebrating has been how many fans mention their parents, or even grandparents, and how much they would have liked to see the Cubs finally win.

This is a picture of a wall at Wrigley field where people wrote the names of family or friends who died before the Cubs won.

In the 108 years between their championships, many Cubs fans were born, lived their entire lives, and died without having ever seen the long awaited win. But they had this hope, that someday, it would come to pass. They lived in hope, hope that maybe next year would be the year.

As Christians, we live in a similar hope, and as much as people care about the Cubs, our hope is more important. We live in this in-between time. We know the story of God coming to us. We know the promise that because Christ Jesus was raised from the dead, we too shall be raised, we too shall have resurrection.
Every week, we say in the creed that we believe in the resurrection.
We know the end of the story, that Christ will come again in glory and rule, that he will have all authority and power and dominion.

And yet, even though we know the end of the story, we’re still living in the in-between. That’s perhaps never more clear than on All Saints Day, as we remember those who have died waiting in hope.

In this service, we name aloud those members of this community, this church, who have died in the last year. Today is a time to remember all those who have come before us, family members, members of this congregation, all who have passed on faith to us.

In this space, we’re surrounded by their legacy. The baptismal doves in the sanctuary are one memorial, as is this entire building. One example just this week is the new windows with the doves in the fellowship hall in memory of Thelma Riggins.

The key when we talk about the saints is to remember who we’re talking about. On All Saints’ Day, we’re talking about and remembering people like Mother Teresa, St. Peter, St. Augustine, St. Benedict, all these examples of faith. Sometimes we think of saints as sort of faith superheroes.
But that’s not the way Paul in his writing talks about saints.

When Paul says saints, he’s talking about everyone in the church. He’s writing in today’s lesson to the church in Ephesus, to the Ephesians, but he’s talking about all of us, about you and me, not just the super-hero Christians.

This week has been a great reminder to me of all the saints, with the church directory photos. There’s been a steady stream of saints in this congregation coming in every day! Maybe we should title our new directory, “The St. Peter Lutheran Church Book of Saints.”

The saints we remember today were not always perfect in life. They were human! Just like we do, they messed up, they fell short. I’m sure you could give me stories about these people we name today, about others who are on your mind. And yet, they are still saints, not because of what they did, but because God has claimed them.

You are saints, because God has claimed you.

We’re not lighting candles to remember them, but in the bulletin, there’s also a list of everyone who’s been baptized this year in this congregation. They are all saints too.

Last week, we remembered Martin Luther and the beginning of the Reformation. Luther himself was far from a perfect saint—and he’d have been the first to say so—but one of the gifts he gave us is the understanding that all of us in this life are both saints and sinners. We’re sinners, because, well, look at us. All of us mess up. But at the same time, we’re simultaneously saints, baptized into membership in Christ’s body.

There’s an illustration in a book I saw that asks you to spot the difference between the saint and the sinner. It has two pictures, and you’re supposed to find the difference to identify which one is a saint and which one is a sinner.
But when you look closely, you realize that it’s the exact same picture twice.
The person in the picture is both a saint and a sinner.

We’re saints because God has redeemed us, forgiven us, and claimed us, even though we’re sinners. We are all simultaneously sinner and saint.

The reason we remember and celebrate the saints who have come before us is not because they were perfect, but because we have the same hope they did.

As Paul puts it, I pray that God may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe.

As we remember the saints who have died, we do so as Christians, trusting in God’s promise of eternal life for them and for us. We remember them in hope, we celebrate what they have done, because we know how the story ends. We know that Christ has been raised from the dead and is seated at the right hand of God, and will come again.
Amen.