A Sermon for the Feast of All Saints (Year B)
November 3, 2024
Text: John 11:32-44
Now, O Lord, take my lips, and speak through them. Take our minds, and think through them. Take our hearts, and set them on fire. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
There are several hymns in our hymnal that are especially appropriate for us to sing on All Saints’ Day—beautiful hymns such as the one that we sang at the beginning of our service this morning, “For all the saints, who from their labors rest.”
But, there’s one hymn that, for me, really gets to the heart of what this feast day is all about.
We sang it just a few minutes ago, and it begins like this:
I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true, who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew. And one was a doctor, and one was a queen, and one was a shepherdess on the green: they were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God helping, to be one too.
In the parish where I served in northwest Texas right out of seminary, we sang this hymn every time there was a baptism.
During the service, we would process to the baptismal font, which was close to the entrance of the church—similar to the way we do it here at St. Mary’s.
We would do the baptism, and when it was over, we would return to the front of the Nave.
And, as we did this, the congregation would sing, “I sing a song of the saints of God.”
It was such a beautiful tradition, and there’s a good reason why we did this.
The words of this particular hymn convey the simple truth that each one of us, by virtue of our baptism in Christ, is called to be a saint, to live a life worthy of the Gospel.
St. Paul wrote about this frequently in his letters to the earliest Christian communities.
In his letter to the Ephesians, for example, Paul writes, “I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”
In the New Testament, the Greek word for “saint” is hagios, which literally means “holy” or “set apart.”
All of us, whether we realize or not, are counted among the saints and set apart to live our lives as Christ has taught us to live.
All Saints’ Day is a time for us celebrate and give thanks for all those who’ve come before us in the faith, guiding us with their wisdom and providing us with examples of holy living.
This is why it’s customary in many parishes on this day—including ours—to include in our prayers a list of the dearly departed, those who’ve come before us and who now rest in the eternal peace of God.
Some people refer to All Saints’ Day as the Church’s “memorial day,” but it’s actually a lot more than just a day of remembrance.
It’s also a time for us to consider how we might pattern our own lives on Jesus and live more fully into our sainthood.
To do this, I’d like for us to reflect for a moment on today’s Gospel reading from John.
This is a familiar story for many of us.
Most of the time, the part we remember the most—the part we tend to focus on—is the miracle Jesus performs at the end of the story when he goes to the tomb of his friend, Lazarus, calls for the people to roll away the stone at the entrance of the cave, and cries out with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”
And, we all know how the story ends.
The dead man comes out of the cave, still wrapped up in bands of cloth, and Jesus tells the people who are standing near, “Unbind him, and let him go.”
The raising of Lazarus is Jesus’ way of demonstrating to the people that, for those who truly believe and put their faith in God, death will have no hold over us.
Our Christian faith teaches us that death isn’t the end, only the beginning of new life with God.
We belong to God.
Like the saints who’ve come before us, we are the Lord’s possession, and nothing—not even death—can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.
We’re reminded of this every time there’s a baptism in church when the priest anoints the newly baptized with the oil of chrism while saying the words, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.”
This is important for people of faith to remember—especially in times of adversity.
Because of our Lord’s sacrifice on the cross and his victory over the powers of sin and death, we have no reason to ever live in fear.
The victory is already won.
But, that doesn’t mean we can just sit on the sidelines and do whatever we want.
Because there’s still a lot of work left to do in the building up of God’s Kingdom, and as Christians, we’ve been called to do this work—to help restore God’s vision of a world redeemed in love where justice and peace exist for all people.
Which leads me to the part of today’s Gospel lesson that I really want us to focus on this morning.
I want us to back up a bit to the beginning of the passage and reflect for a moment about how Jesus responds to Mary and Martha, the sisters of Lazarus, who are grieving the loss of their brother.
We learn that, soon after Jesus arrives, Mary comes to him, kneels down at his feet, and says, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
Her words must’ve felt like daggers to Jesus’ heart.
She’s heartbroken, and I think, at least to some degree, she’s angry and frustrated with Jesus and blames him for not coming sooner and preventing this terrible tragedy.
And, there are others who are standing around as well and watching all of this unfold between Mary and Jesus, and they also begin to weep.
I imagine it looks a lot like going to the funeral of a close friend or family member and seeing all of their loved ones standing close by and supporting each other in their grief.
Seeing how Mary and the others are overwhelmed with emotion, Jesus also begins to weep—not because he believes that Lazarus is gone for good but because he loves him, and he sees how much his family and friends loved him.
For me, the most inspiring part of the story is not so much the resurrection of Lazarus from the grave.
That part’s important, too.
But, the part of the story that really moves me and inspires me is the compassion Jesus demonstrates when he weeps right alongside those who are mourning.
It’s such a beautifully human moment for Jesus and the others.
And, it’s a wonderful reminder for all of us that, in the midst of the pain and agony of this human life, we have the ability to sit with each other when times are tough and help bear each other’s burdens and bring a little bit of comfort and peace to those who mourn.
We have the ability to share God’s love with those who are suffering by simply acknowledging their pain and letting them know they’re not alone.
This brings me back to what today is all about as we celebrate the lives of all the saints who’ve come before us and as we consider the kind of legacy we want to leave behind for future generations.
Personally speaking, I want to be the kind of saint—the kind of Christian—that models the love and compassion of Jesus by responding to God’s call and doing the work that needs to be done.
I want to be the kind of Christian that’s unafraid about what others might think when I sit with someone who’s grieving or someone who just needs a little extra love in their lives.
I want to be the kind of Christian that puts aside my own needs and concerns long enough to let others know that there’s at least one other person in this world who cares about them.
I want to be the kind of Christian that future generations in the church will sing about when they celebrate All Saints’ Day—not for my glory but for the glory of God.
And, truth be told, that’s what I hope for all of us gathered here today, that future generations will one day sing about us—
I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true, who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew. And one was a doctor, and one was a queen, and one was a shepherdess on the green: they were all of them saints of God, and I mean, God helping, to be one too.
Amen.
The Rev. Eric Mancil 