Ecclesiasticus 44:1-10
Psalm 149
Revelation 7:2-4, 9-17
Matthew
5:1-12
There is a danger to All Saints Day. The danger is we look
too often and too longingly to the past. “One was a soldier, one was a priest,
one was slain by a fierce wild beast,” a pre-Raphaelite past of a romantic,
medieval England, or the distant past of late Antiquity, of Christian martyrs
slain by lions in the Roman coliseum. Michael Ramsey, Archbishop of Canterbury
through the 1960s and early 1970s put it this way:
One consequence of the mystery of Christ is that Christian
people don’t stand, so to say, on the ground of the present moment and view
past generations, or their comrades in paradise, as people some distance away
from them. No, we see the present moment more clearly and bravely because our
stance is within the Communion of Saints. How closely, how lovingly, they are
praying with us today.
If the lives of the saints have any meaning for us – indeed,
if we believe they are praying for us – then All Saints Day cannot be a
celebration of the past. This day is about who we are in the present, and what
legacy we are leaving for the future – for those saints who, inevitably, will
come after us.
As might be appropriate in this election season – and this
day of incessant polling – I remember a book George Gallup published in 1992: The
Saints Among Us: How the Spiritually Committed Are Changing Our World. Gallup
and his pollsters wanted to find “Americans for whom ‘God is a vibrant
reality,’ and for whom ‘Christian commitment makes a difference in how they
actually live.’” The pollsters asked probing question over long interviews – I
don’t think just those quickie things we get on the phone at this time of year
– and they came up with results that will help us, in the words of Michael
Ramsey, “to see the present moment more clearly and bravely.” This little book
– very American and very modern – tells us something about what for two
thousand years we have called “The Communion of Saints.” It is just a glimpse,
of course, but there is something to it.
These “saints” Gallup found – and he called them “saints
among us” expressed a faith that came from their insides, “a direct experience
of God that continued to be a vital part of their daily life.” For these
saints, prayer is not a laundry list of concerns, nor is God a being found only
in church, or in a crisis, or in relation to their own needs. What these saints
can show us is that God is always accessible to us, always close at hand, in
the ground beneath their feet and in the air they breathe. These saints pay
attention to the reality of the divine in the world around them.
These saints – and Gallup estimated they are about 13
percent of the population – live out a deeper level of commitment to God than
do their neighbors, and they do it by how they respond to the needs of the
people around them. No surprise there, of course, for have not the saints over
the centuries been the ones who have built hospitals and rescued the dying?
Have they not been the ones who stood with their communities to make them
better places, brought hope and opened the doors for justice and peace?
Gallup found that these saints threw themselves into this
work – into God’s work in the world – without prejudice – or rather through the
work they did for God, they learned to serve without prejudice. The saints
Gallup found are not perfect; he noted that only 84 percent of the saints
“would not object to a person of another race moving in next door. … not a
‘perfect score’ [Gallup noted] but [one that] surpasses that of the spiritually
uncommitted by 20 points.” I think that reflects that when we actually do
something with people in need – when we stand in solidarity with people like
those we have never met before, that it changes us, and with the help of God
that simple service and solidarity moves us further along toward the lives of
the saints.
Surprisingly, part of the benefits of these saintly lives is
happiness, abiding joy, joy tested through
difficulty. I think part of that
happiness comes from a simplicity of life, a shedding of things that just don’t
matter because you have experienced so much more deeply the things that do.
These saints that George Gallup encountered were generally not wealthy or
powerful, not necessarily highly educated nor accustomed to walking the
corridors of power. “They stand close enough to daily needs – at home, at work,
in their neighborhoods – to be in touch with the pain that is in their midst.”
It is a fact that charitable giving in poor neighborhoods – even giving by
those who may not always be so saintly – is much higher, proportionately, than
it is in neighborhoods like ours. Saints stand in solidarity with those in
need, moving further and further from their own comfort zone as they do so.
All Saints Day, then, is to stand, as Michael Ramsey, says,
within the Communion of Saints. They beckon us to come deeper into the reality
they live, deeper into their prayers, deeper into their challenges, deeper into
their joys.
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