All Saints Sunday, November 2, 2003.

Isaiah 25:6-9

Psalm 24

Revelation 21:1-6a

John 11:32-44

Once again, the festival of All Saints rather than historical context provides the interpretive filter through which we hear these readings. A first reading suggests that these are funeral texts. This is very appropriate, inasmuch as All Saints is the day on which the church remembers its beloved dead. In a death-denying culture that races through the grieving process as fast as it can, All Saints is a profound day for many who will gather in church. In a very real sense the sanctuary is filled with the communion of saints as the assembly is mindful of those who once occupied the pews and are now at rest in God.

On this day the spoken Word can be powerfully complemented by an enacted Word: names read as candles are lighted, the placing of banners, baptismal remembrance, the Eucharist. In one congregation I know, as the names of those who died are prayed aloud, a loved one comes forward and lights a votive candle placed on the altar. By the time the names are finished, the altar is symbolically ablaze with the light of those saints who, although they have parted from us, continue to share Christ's table with us and whose lives brighten our path as we walk through this world by faith. The light of those candles reminds the assembly that Christ's table has one end here on earth and one end in heaven and, even though people move from one end to the other, they remain at table with us.

Perhaps the best preparation for preaching on this day is to allow the scriptural images and the enacted words of the occasion to dance in the preacher's imagination. Certainly the preacher will spend time prayerfully remembering the departed saints of the congregation, particularly those who died in the last year, and the saints that shaped the preacher's own faith and life. While the purpose is not to eulogize, such remembering will bring focus, richness, and depth to the proclamation of the gospel on this day.

All three of the readings speak of conquering death. Isaiah envisions the mountain of the Lord where the Lord makes a feast for all people, where death is swallowed up, tears are wiped away, and disgrace is removed forever. The mountain of the Lord is wherever the cross is planted. The feast of rich food and well-aged wine is the body and blood of Jesus. In Christ God brings Isaiah's promised future to us where we are. In Word and Sacrament Jesus brings the awaited day to us now. On this day we declare, "This is the Lord for whom we have waited; let us be glad and rejoice in the salvation of the Lord." And we rejoice that new life is not only for us; the feast is extended to all people.

Revelation makes this clear. The images have nothing whatsoever to do with individuals. The vision is of a new heaven, a new earth, and a new holy city, adorned as a bride for her husband. God is at home among mortals, the very God is with us. And again we hear the promise: "Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more." God's feast on the mountain of the Lord extends to all people, to all creation.

But for me, the most compelling image of a saint comes from John's account of the raising of Lazarus. A saint is someone unbound from death and let go to live a new life. To be unbound from death and let go to live new life means continuously struggling with the question of how to use life to bear witness to Christ and to proclaim Christ's reign. That's what Jesus is asking Mary and Martha to do. Jesus is standing with the grieving sisters at Lazarus' tomb and asking them to be unbound from death and open to new life. Jesus says, "Take away the stone." And Martha shows just how bound up in death they are. She warns of the stench. But Jesus calls the sisters to breathe in the stink of flesh that's been rotting for four days. Jesus challenges the sisters to stare death square in the face and to trust that they will see the glory of God revealed in new life.

Kicking away the stone, breathing in the stench of death, and trusting in new life are the struggles of saints. Mary and Martha did it. They took away the stone and breathed in their brother's death. Saints trust what Mary and Martha saw. "Lazarus, come out! ... Unbind him, and let him go." Mary and Martha saw Jesus stand outside their brother's tomb and shout. But for all the saints, Jesus does one better. For all the saints, Jesus climbs into a tomb himself so that God can blow the stone away and defeat the power of death--from the inside. Jesus unbinds us from death and lets us go to live new life. As we wait for that day when the two ends of Christ's table are not separated by time and space, saints proclaim that the day is coming and bear witness to the One in whom that day comes. Unbound from death, saints are let go to live new life now, here, today.

On this All Saints' Sunday, being unbound and let go means continuing to commend both departed loved ones and ourselves to God's unfailing care. It means struggling seriously with the question of how to use our new life to bear witness to Christ and proclaim Christ's reign.