All Saints Day, 2003
The Rev. Dr. Harold Weicker
Interim Rector, St. Paul's Church

The Reading:

Let us now sing the praises of famous men,
       our ancestors in their generations.
The Lord apportioned to them great glory,
       his majesty from the beginning.
There were those who ruled in their kingdoms,
       and made a name for themselves by their valor;
those who gave counsel because they were intelligent;
       those who spoke in prophetic oracles;
those who led the people by their counsels
       and by their knowledge of the people's lore;
       they were wise in their words of instruction;
those who composed musical tunes,
       or put verses in writing;
rich men endowed with resources,
       living peacefully in their homes--
all these were honored in their generations,
       and were the pride of their times.
Some of them have left behind a name,
       so that others declare their praise.
But of others there is no memory;
       they have perished as though they had never existed;
they have become as though they had never been born,
       they and their children after them.
But these also were godly men,
       whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten;
Their offspring will continue forever,
       and their glory will never be blotted out.
Their bodies are buried in peace,
       but their name lives on generation after generation.

               -- Ecclesiasticus 44:1-10,13-14

Although All Saints Day was yesterday, it is such an important occasion, we are remembering the saints this Sunday morning. And who are the "saints?" Well, of course there are those people who have the word "Saint" placed before their name by the church. Then there are the myriads of souls referred to as "saints" in the New Testament, especially in St. Paul's writings. Paul loved to address the "saints" or "those called to be saints" when he wrote to specific Christian congregations. I have always loved his line "to those called to be saints." I think of us. "To those who are called to be saints in St. Paul's Church, San Rafael! Greetings and peace in our Lord, Jesus Christ!" What a grand salutation!

This coming week, we kick off our certain-to-be-successful every member stewardship campaign. (I didn't know if I would have enough breath to say that! Praise God!) And I was thinking, "Wouldn't the apostle Paul's greeting be a super way to begin the letter we all will receive from Maggie, Mike Green (our Stewardship Chair) and me!" But then I thought, "Well, maybe the apostolic salutation should be left for the new, saintly, permanent Rector. Interims shouldn't presume, you know!

Anyway, I digress. Along with the individual, named saints of the church, there is scriptural warrant for recognizing congregations as saints.

But then, the writer of Ecclesiasticus, in our first reading this morning, brings an even greater dimension to the whole concept of sainthood when he honors those for whom "there is no memory; (those who) have perished as though they had never existed; [those who] have become as though they never have been born, they and their children after them. " [T]hese (the writer of Ecclesiasticus writes). . . "were Godly men and women, whose righteous deeds have not been forgotten. Their offspring will continue forever, and their glory will never be blotted out. Their bodies are buried in peace, but their name lives on generation after generation!" Now there is a grand thought and a great epitaph for us all.

Listening to these beautiful and powerful words roll through the millennia to us today, our mind's ear hears Aaron Copland's sacred "Fanfare for the Common Man" (and, we would add, "Woman."). This music presents the dignity and grandeur of the every-day, God-given human soul that is worth far more than the world's accolades!

Ecclesiasticus reminds us that everyone is born in glory for glory. What a different world we would have if everyone accepted this truth, lived it, and honored others as fellow pilgrims bound for glory. Everyone who lives to fulfill their glory can be a saint!

I am talking about you and me. Chances are the church will not place the word "Saint" before our name when we are gone. And chances are, as years go by, St. Paul's Church (as long as it is standing) will not remember that we were here. How many of us remember those who were "called to be saints" when they birthed this congregation in San Rafael- or even worked to keep these doors open as recently as one generation ago?

No, we will be remembered as saints in the Book of Life. We will be honored with all the nameless, long forgotten, souls who dedicated themselves to "righteous deeds" (as Ecclesiasticus says), people of The Good who wanted to make life better for their being here. I hope being this type of saint is good enough to keep you going on the right track in this world; it is for me.

Years ago, a friend told me a wonderful story. There was an old Church of England priest who just wouldn't call it quits. (Those were the days before mandatory retirement.) So as he got older and more infirm, he was shuffled off to increasingly smaller congregations, in order that he would have but a handful of people to care for. Finally relegated to the farthest backwater of Anglicanism on the British Isles, this ancient priest and his equally ancient wife were written off to a little stone chapel few people ever even visited, never mind attended.

The first Sunday there, his wife - who could no longer physically even get to the church - bundled him up and sent him off to celebrate Mass. When he finally returned, she asked him, "How did it go?" "Oh," said the old Padre, "The church was packed!"

"Amazing," said the wife. "I was so worried. I didn't see any cars or people coming out!" "Oh," said the Father, "There weren't any people there, but the whole church was jammed with angels, archangels and all the company of heaven!"

This not just a charming story. There is a powerful reality here that you can put your arms around and hold fast to. You and I have sat in churches when no one was around, but we knew the church was not empty. I do this from time to time in this sanctuary, and I feel all the souls who loved this place and prayed here. I feel my loved ones and the angels, archangels and the whole company of heaven. . . and you do, too.

We can be in our homes, or in our cars, we can be outside or inside, busy or alone, happy or sad, and, as St. Paul said, we feel "the kingdom of heaven pressing in on us." We know that loved ones, who have entered into larger life, are close to us.

It is a shame that it takes the death of a loved one, or an anniversary or birthday of someone close to us who has passed on- or even All Saints Day- to jolt us into thinking in greater dimensions than we normally do. "Out of sight, out of mind," we have been told. But we know that is not true. In the case of those we love, especially, it is quite the reverse. Usually those who are no longer physically with us are closer to us now than they were in this realm of life.

We say that "they are no longer here," but, in our hearts, we know that is not true either. Their presence, their spirit never leaves us, both in joy or sorrow.

One is reminded of the closing lines of Chief Seattle's famous speech to the governor of the Washington Territory in 1854:

And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead of my tribe, and when your children's children think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land. The White Man will never be alone.

Let him be just and deal kindly with my people, for the dead are not powerless.

Dead, did I say? - There is no death, only a change of worlds.

Jesus preached Kingdom Consciousness- or "Queendom" as the classical Hebrew and Aramaic word is properly translated; the noun for the realm of God was always feminine. Jesus tells us, "The kingdom/queendom of heaven is within you" and "around you," as the Gospel of Thomas says. "Thy kingdom/queendom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven." It has been the Church that has pushed the realm of God to "out there." Jesus says the realm of God is here, but the Church has said, No it's there.

Our experiences of the closeness of all those we love - including God - clearly witness to the truth that heaven and all therein, is linked with us. There is no separation. We know that the love of God and the precious love of all we hold dear "presses in on us!"

Last summer, when Carol and I were with my aunt for a few days in Long Island, we all went to a grand dinner party. I was seated next to a lovely woman who - when she found out I was a priest - did not consider her dinner companion to be a total loss. She became quite animated with a question she had wanted to ask a clergy person, but had been afraid to ask. She told me that her husband had been the Director of the twin Trade Towers in the city and had been killed along with the two thousand, and more, others. Her husband had not wanted this difficult job, but the governor of New York had beseeched him to take it until the next state election.

Her husband's favorite toy had been an immaculate, small, red, Chevy truck. For some time before he was killed, he had not let her drive his pride and joy, because she would haul plants from a local nursery with it and leave it dirty.

A few days after the funeral, she sat in the forbidden truck to feel close to him, and the truck, which always had run perfectly for her husband, would not start for her. And what she wanted to know was: "Was she out of line for thinking that her husband was with her in the truck, reminding her that he was close and loved her, but the truck was still his?"

It was not hard for me at all, in my faith in God and my trust in Jesus' teaching, to assure her that she was right in believing her loved one was with her, and that he was by no means "gone." (As to the matter of the truck's ignition system not working, heavenly reprimands were possible, but not necessarily scriptural!)

The fellow who was sitting on this woman's other side was listening to all this. And from having been very quiet before, he then spoke up and told us that he was dying from the late stages of a cancer. And his question was, "Why did I believe that there even was life after death? To paraphrase Ecclesiasticus, he really wanted to know that his life here would not be counted as a loss. He needed assurance that he would not perish as though he had never existed. . . as one of those who have become as though they never have been born. He needed the promise of honored remembrance, closeness and glory.

So, how about us? Trust scripture; trust your own experiences of connectedness. Love has no separation. As Duke Ellington told me at a time of what I perceived as great personal loss, "You can never lose someone who loves you!"

What is of God will not pass away. "Heaven and earth will pass away," says the Psalmist, "but your word shall endure forever!" We and all that God creates are a vital part of that "word of God" that shall endure forever. Therefore, let us live like the word of God that we are, to each other and this world. The Kingdom, the Queendom, of Heaven is within you and around you, and the whole company of heaven surrounds you. Remember the word of God in Chief Seattle, "You are never alone!" All we are talking about is "a change of worlds."

Therefore, God, we praise you for all your saints, joining our voices with Angels, and Archangels and with all the company of Heaven, and we thank you that all those whom we love continue to people our hearts and lives every day and forever!

Amen.

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