Death is difficult. No doubt most of us here have had more than our share of death—- death of family, of friends, of beloved pets, death is 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 especially 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.
Last week as word of the truck mowing down people on a bike path in lower Manhattan, our hearts sank and the memories of the now ubiquitous occasion of terror attacks came rushing back to the surface.
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 people we will remember during this 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, even the church we remember…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 .
Consider this sacred space—- can you feel them…all those people who loved this place. All those people who sat in these same pews— those who built this parish, those who held the hope for what this parish could mean to the surrounding community—-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 congregation and a world that doesn’t want to hear our message of love for everyone, always.
Sounds like a tall order, doesn’t it?
It is.
You, Trinity Hamburg and St Paul’s Springville are on the cusp of the new. Next week Fr. Doc Whitaker will join you as an interim. He will challenge you, he will irritate you, he will inspire you, he will love you. At times it may feel like too big of a task, to tough of a challenge….
but, with this immense cloud of witnesses surrounding you, you can do this—it will require breaking out of your 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 your tears and guiding you to wherever it is God calls you to go. (For Springville: I for one will be cheering you on, every step of the way.) (For Trinity Hamburg: it has been an honor to walk with you these past 15 months. I won't be with you on a regular basis anymore, but know you will remain in my heart and in my prayers as you move into your next phase.)
Amen
