All Saints Day Homily

There are days when the sun shines, the flowers bloom, our hearts swell with joy and we are glad simply to be. But then there are the other days. The gray days. The days when we feel down and discouraged and sometimes defeated. St. John knew something about those gray days. He knew something about being down and discouraged and defeated.

After all, he was sitting alone on an island called Patmos, banished from the company of his beloved churches. He’d seen all of his fellow apostles fall to the sword or flame or cross one by one until he alone was left. He’d seen the bright beginnings of the Church, the excitement of new converts, wither and fade. He’d seen heresies creep into the church right under his nose and he’d fought them every inch of the way, but they kept on coming in. One perversion after another arose to corrupt the simple and glorious Gospel that he had been given to preach. And then there was the persecution - the Roman state didn’t take too kindly to the announcement that there was another King of the world besides Caesar. With an exercise of brute force Rome brought its iron fist crashing down on these little communities of the rival King with the intention of wiping them out once and for all. Hard not to be a little down with all that going on, eh? Especially when it looked very much as though what you’d given your whole life to might not last as long as you lasted.

To such a discouraged disciple, sitting lost and lonely on Patmos, the Lord Jesus sent a series of visions. We call them the Book of Revelation. The visions were meant to put new courage and hope into John, and John by writing them down was to pass that new courage and hope on to others who were struggling like he was, just to hang on, just to make it through another day.

In all of those visions that John was given, none can compare to those moments when the veil of time is drawn back and we are given a glimpse of heaven and of the joys of those who have died trusting in Jesus Christ. The faithful departed loom large in the visions of Revelation. The whole book could be understood as an expansion and elaboration on the famous words of St. Paul: “For I consider the sufferings of the present to be not worth comparing to the surpassing weight of glory that shall be revealed in us.”

In our first reading you saw them before the eyes of your mind. There they were, standing before the throne of the Father and of the Lamb of God who has taken away the sin of the world. They stand before him clad in white, the palm of victory in their hands, and they sing a song that ascribes their salvation solely to their God and to the Lamb. They know they have nothing to boast of on their own. They have only been given to. They know that their robes are white only because they have been washed in the blood of the Lamb - because He bled and died to redeem them and set them free they stand before God holy and pure. They are there always, day and night, never departing from God’s presence, delighting to give him endless liturgy, praise and doxology. God covers them with his tent - that is, they live in His house - and He protects them from all harm and in that act of awesome gentleness, he reaches out his nail-scared hand to wipe away every tear from their eyes. Their sorrows are gone. They have eternal joy.

“Who are they?” asked the Elder. John said in effect, “You tell me.”

The answer was: “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation, the great sorrow.” These are people like you and me. People who have had their share of heart-ache and pain. People who sometimes had to struggle day by day just to hang on and keep going. People for whom faith didn’t come easy. People who struggled to trust in God and to believe that in the midst of their troubles God was still there and still in control and most importantly still loving them, forgiving them, holding them. Yet they hung on, they clung to God’s promises, and found that he was truthful and didn’t let them down. Who are they? Well, among them are those that you have known and loved; fellow sinners who put their hope in Jesus’ words and died. That’s who they are. They’re the Church that Christ has already gathered home. We’re the Church that struggles still. But we’re not two churches: we’re one Church, one communion. As the words of that great hymn we just sang have it: “O blest communion, fellowship divine! We feebly struggle, they in glory shine, yet all are one in Thee for all are Thine. Alleluia. Alleluia.”

That can be a big comfort and encouragement for us. When we gather for worship on Sunday, it’s not just the hundred or so folk in the room that are gathered together. Oh, no! If we only had the eyes to see it, we’d discover that we never gather with less than a few million at a time. Listen to what Hebrews says of it: “But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are registered in heaven, to God the Judge of all, to the spirits of the righteous made perfect, to Jesus the Mediator of the new covenant, and to the blood of sprinkling that speaks a better word than that of Abel. (Heb 12:22-24).” You have come to all this, the sacred writer reminds the people. So when we gather for worship, it’s never just us in this room. It’s also the angels in heaven, the spirits of the righteous made perfect, that is, the saints in heaven with their blood-washed white robes, and most of all Jesus with His blood, that established the new covenant of forgiveness. We’re always a mega-church when we’re at worship. And the song of those the triumph, the voice of them that feast, gives us the courage and strength to go on, and muddle through, and know that in the end, our God will take us out of the great sorrow and bring us into eternal sunshine, when we will see with our eyes those who have gone before us and we will lift our voices in song with theirs forever.

So today we’re not just remembering those who died in faith. That would be rather sad, don't you think? Today, we’re worshipping with them. At the same throne. Before the same Lord. Surrounded by the same angels. They are indeed the blessed ones to whom all the promises of the beatitudes have been fulfilled. We can’t see them with the eyes of the body yet, but that’s only because our vision is so poor. It’s a reality none the less. Together with them we cry out: "Salvation to our God who sits upon the throne and to the Lamb! Amen."