o blest communion, fellowship divine

we feebly struggle, they in glory shine

A Sermon for All the Saints

The Gospel for today’s Festival of All the Saints is  when Jesus raises Lazarus. It’s a relatively familiar story. The Gospel reading is only part of this story, though. The conclusion. In fact, the ending is probably the most familiar part of the story; so let me tell the whole story…

In John 11 it’s noted that a certain man was ill, the brother of Mary and Martha. Now at this point the two sisters are well acquainted with Jesus, so they send for him; “Lord, the one who you love is ill,” they report.

When Jesus gets the message, though; he just says the illness does not lead to death, but rather to God’s glory. So, although Jesus loved Martha, and her sister and Lazarus; after getting the news, Jesus stayed where he was for two more days…

After those couple days, Jesus tells the disciples they need to return Judea. To which the disciples protest, of course. “Lord, they just tried to stone you there; and you’re going to return?!” Well, all Jesus replies is, those who walk during the day will not stumble, because they can see the light. It’s only those who walk at night, who stumble…

Then Jesus explains exactly why he plans to return, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him,” Jesus says. The disciples reply, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be alright. 

Jesus, however, had been speaking about Lazarus’ death; and the disciples thought he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” 

Thomas, who was called the Twin, said, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

When Jesus arrives, he finds Lazarus has already been in the tomb four days…

Now when Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him, while Mary stayed at home. Running to Jesus, Martha says, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Mary said, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” 

She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

After this Martha went and told her sister, Mary, privately, that the Teacher had arrived and he was calling for her. At hearing this, Mary rushed off to meet Jesus. The mourners who were present, saw Mary get up and followed her, because they thought she was going to Lazarus’ tomb to weep. 

• This is where our Gospel reading picks up

When Mary came to where Jesus was, she fell at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” 

When Jesus saw her weeping and the mourners who had come with her weeping, he shook in grief. “Where have you laid him,” Jesus asked…

Well, I would say more, but you all know the rest. 

You all know what comes next. You know how the story ends.

You have the benefit of hindsight…

‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.’
But he wasn’t, and now, it’s too late.

As they put their brother to rest, Mary and Martha can’t help but think that if Jesus had just been there, their brother would be alive today. But Jesus wasn’t, and now, it’s too late… 

You know better, though. You know better because, you have what neither Mary or Martha had. You have the benefit of hindsight. You know, in hindsight, that for the alpha and the omega, it was not too late. You know, in hindsight, that Mary and Martha didn’t need to swallow their tears, because, in Jesus, God has swallowed up Death forever. 

We know, in hindsight, about the odd ways God gets to work…

• But that’s the thing about hindsight, isn’t it? It always comes too late.

They say hindsight is 20/20; and that’s probably true. The trouble with that, though, is that you never have that clear-eyed, 20/20 vision when you need it; it always comes too late — it’s only afterward, in hindsight… 

After all, the best you can do with hindsight, is try and learn from it; to use it later. In the moment, though, we don’t have the hindsight we need…

• ‘Lord, if you had been here.’ But he wasn’t, and now, it’s too late…

That’s what is so odd about funerals, isn’t it?

That at the funeral, we finally see everything in hindsight. At the funeral, in hindsight, we are finally able to see that the ‘ol so and so, was a saint all along. At the funeral, in hindsight, we finally see something the old crank never saw themselves, that the whole time, they too were counted among the saints. We see that because God counted them as a saint, they actually became a saint…

Not that it’s much comfort, though. 

Because if we’re being honest, the thing about funerals, the thing about hindsight; is that they come too late.

The best we can do at a funeral is, get back in our car, head to the fellowship hall for the reception, and scratch our head, muttering, “I guess that old cuss was a saint all along…”

It’s only in hindsight that we can finally see the saint’s life clearly; but now, at the funeral, it’s too late. Now the saint is laid to rest, and we have to carry on. 

That’s how Mary and Martha felt, too…

• ‘Lord, if you had been here.’ But you weren’t, and now it’s too late…

And that, that finally, is the great shock. 

It’s the shock of the Gospel. 

It’s the shock of Jesus raising Lazarus from among the dead. It’s the shock for Mary and Martha felt when their brother stepped out of the tomb. 

It’s the shock every time the church lays one of its own to rest.
It’s the shock of all our lives, too.
It’s the shock of this day, All Saints. 

It’s the shock that God takes ordinary moments and circumstances, and transforms them into the site of everyday miracles. 

It’s the shock that God takes us, not ordinary people, but sinners at best, and makes saints out of us. It’s the shock that God has determined to make us into saints, even in spite of ourselves.

That’s the shock; the shock that we can only see the miracle of what God has done, in hindsight. Or to put it in the language of the church, the miracle of what God has done can only be seen in faith.

And that, fellow saints of God, is the real, the great shock; that in those times and places where the best we can do is swallow our tears, God comes along and swallows Death itself. That’s the great shock, that when it is too late for us, the alpha and omega gets to work and does, a new thing… 

I remember a cold day in February, when a man walked into the church. He took off his boots because he wanted to respect the sanctuary. It was cloudy, and our dimmed, soft lights, warmed the sanctuary only a little. Sitting in the pew, wearing cheap, white socks, he said he had been wrong and needed to confess his sins. 

There, in the middle of Iowa, in the middle of the day, in the middle winter, God made, even a lutheran, into a saint.

I remember, one day, as summer was fading into the fall, visiting a woman who lived in an assisted living facility. She told me about missing her home. It was one of those lazy afternoons, and a staff members was out in the hallway, vacuuming. Then the woman asked if we could say a prayer, that it always brought her peace.

There, in the middle of Iowa, in the middle of the afternoon on a day in the middle of summer, God made a saint out of woman the world didn’t have much use for.

I remember one day, as winter was only beginning to break, as folks were running around Trinity Hall for the SHARE program, someone asked why Mary wasn’t there. After calling her to check in, everyone knew she needed to call the ambulance; and on the way to the hospital, she died…
When you all found out she was going to be directly cremated, you intervened; and gave her a funeral befitting a saint.

There, in the middle of Iowa, before Spring had even bloomed, we laid to rest a saint of God, the world counted of little worth.

I remember one morning in the summer, trying to preach, as the children made the sounds God has given them to make. When one of the children grew especially restless, crying out. Rather than glaring at the tired parents, another member leaned over, and took that child into her arms and cradled him - comforting the child and mother.

There, in the middle of Iowa, in the middle of a dry summer, one saint, held another one in her arms.

Well, I could say more, but you get the idea. For now, let us just say that, in the moment; those instants look like any other. Only hindsight, only in faith, do we see those moments for what they really were; the people, and the places where God got to work doing something odd, something shocking, something new.

That God has determined to make us into saints, and that God often does this in spite of ourselves; means we will be forever doomed to see the miracle of what God has done, only in hindsight — in faith. 

That the Alpha and Omega, does a new thing; means we won’t be able to see the miracle of what God has done, until we look back — in faith.
That in those moments when all we can do is swallow our tears and join the hymn, God swallows Death itself; means we will not see the miracle of God’s work, until we look back over the saint’s life in hindsight — in faith.

One day, though, we will look back on this all, and in hindsight, in faith, we will see for ourselves, that God has been relentlessly at work, right here, with us. 

In hindsight, in faith, we will look back on our time together, and finally know for ourselves that God has been making saints out of us, out of one another, all along. In hindsight, in faith, we see that right here, in our own little sanctuary, the Kingdom of God has come…

Well, I could say more, but you all know the rest. 

You all know what comes next, don’t you? You know how the story ends.

You have the benefit of hindsight.