All Saints' Sunday Nov 2 2014 And they wipe every tear from our eyes

Death is difficult. Having just gone through the sudden loss of one of our dogs I can honestly say that death—even of a pet-- is really difficult.
The slightest, seemingly inconsequential thing suddenly takes on new meaning and the grief and sadness that overcomes us can be very painful.
Sudden deaths are shocking and terribly sad.
And as we weep, God is there to wipe away every tear.
My dad was ravaged by cancer. He was a mere shadow of his former self, the primary lung cancer had metastasized to his brain and his bones. He was wracked with pain and was hallucinating. His death was a relief from all that horror. Yet still, as he took his final breath it was shocking and terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
When my young friend Ian fell into a deep darkness that I can’t even comprehend and decided to take his own life, so many of us were shocked and terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.

When we were in the middle of diocesan convention last week and word came down about the school shooting outside of Seattle, most of us flashed back to all the mass shootings before, none as horrific as Sandy Hook. Our bodies absorbed the shock and we were, once again, terribly sad.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
On September 11, 2001 we were collectively kicked in the gut, terrified and shocked as the twin towers fell.
And as we wept, God wiped away every tear.
When each of the 40+ people we will remember during the Eucharist died, those who loved them were shocked and terribly sad.
And each and every time:
God wiped away every tear
This is what makes today so wonderful in my eyes---it’s a day when the veil that separates the here and now with those who were and will be forever, lifts just a bit and we find ourselves in that Thin Place where the wonders of life eternal visit us here in our life temporal, reminding us that we are never ever alone, no matter how deep the grief, no matter how painful the loss, no matter how persistent the sadness we are surrounded by Love.
But All Saints’ Day isn’t just about the death of our loved ones. It’s about comfort in the midst of all loss. Take a good look at our reading from Revelation today and be encouraged by the words:
"These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; …
 They will hunger no more, and thirst no more;
the sun will not strike them,
nor any scorching heat;
for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
All of us here today have lost things---jobs, relationships, health, hope, faith…and we grieve these losses and it is while in the midst of that grief when we can feel the most alone. Today is the day that we remember we’re never alone .
I’m lucky because I get to come into this sacred space late at night and early in the morning, when the world out there is quiet. As I walk around the nave---this area---I can feel them…all those people who loved this place. All those people who sat in these same pews, people who experienced losses unimaginable---those who lived through the Great Depression; those who lived through the loss of young men listed on our wall of war dead; those who lost their health; their livelihood; their relationships. Those who lost their hope and at times even their faith. Their presence lingers and on this great feast day may we all find comfort and strength in all that they did, all they accomplished, all they endured.
Comfort and strength.
I won’t lie to you. We need all the comfort and strength we can get.
Why?
Because the fact of the matter is this---the message we have for the world, the message so beautifully put in our reading from Matthew this morning is a message that was counter-cultural then and is, sadly, countercultural now.
The different and the outcast, the disabled and the ill, the young and the old, the immigrant and refugee are still reviled.
And our job is to push this world into more inclusion, more tolerance and more love.
That has always been our job and I fear it will continue to be our job for generations to come.
But, and this is where we really need courage and creativity, the way we do this job, the way we spread this message, needs updating. I’m not sure how that will look, but I know it won’t look like this---we owe it to our forebears, we owe it to our children, we owe it to our God to figure out how to be who we are in this 21st century world with limited resources, an aging building and a world that doesn’t want to hear us.
Sounds like a tall order, doesn’t it?
It is.
But, with this immense cloud of witnesses surrounding us we can do this—it will require breaking out of our comfort zone, it will require doing some things---perhaps many things---differently, it will take courage. It will take hope. It will take flexibility. It will take love. It will take All the Saints, wiping our tears and guiding us to wherever it is God calls us to go.
Amen