All Saints Day 2008

I gave this sermon on All Saint's Day 2008 at St. John's Episcopal Church in Hagerstown where I was invited to preach and preside at the renewal of my parent's wedding vows on the occasion of their 50th wedding anniversary. I sang the stanzas of the hymn I Sing a Song of the Saints of God as a part of the sermon. You'll have to imagine the singing bit, but I do have a pretty decent singing voice.


I sing a song of the saints of God,
patient and brave and true,
who toiled and fought and lived and died
for the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor, and one was a queen,
and one was a shepherdess on the green:
they were all of them saints of God and I mean,
God helping, to be one too.

I love this hymn! It’s not just because it is so quintessentially British and not because it is a flashback from my teen years (I first learned it when we joined the Episcopal Church in 1975). The reason I love it is because it captures what the Communion of Saints is all about.

I’ve just spent my first month as the quarter-time interim rector at St. Luke’s Carey Street in southwest Baltimore. As I worked with our organist and senior warden to plan out the music and worship for All Saints Sunday, we chose this hymn and had quite a discussion about how it typifies the Anglican view of the saints. Our Senior Warden, Andre, shared the story about how St. Luke’s and the local Roman Catholic Church once did a “Stations of the Saints” for All Saints Day. He went on to say that the Roman Catholics were ok with him including Martin Luther King, Jr., but … well … they drew the line at John Coltrane! I said, “Geez … what do they have against Coltrane?”

But Andre’s experience was running into the Roman Catholic tradition regarding how one officially becomes a “saint.” It’s an arduous process. Once a person professing the Roman Catholic faith and who lived a saintly life has died, the cause of making this person a saint is taken up and their life is examined for evidence of general holiness by no less than three different groups of Roman Catholic theologians. If there is agreement at that point, they are deemed “venerable” by the pope. The second stage of becoming a saint differs based on whether or not the person was a martyr. If they were not martyred, then two miracles must be directly attributed to this saint’s intercessions on behalf of the living (if you are a martyr, you get to “pass go” on this step). After this stage, the person is considered “beatified.” Finally, a third miracle (or first if you’re a martyr) must be documented and then the person is canonized as a saint by the pope. Saying the process is involved is an understatement.

The tradition of the saints in Catholicism had some unintended consequences. The emphasis on only recognizing dead people disconnected the saints in heaven from the saints here on earth who continue to do God’s work. The idea that saints are dead people is a persistent notion. I recall a seminary intern we had at St. Michael and All Angels church running into this issue as he tutored my younger sister to prepare her for confirmation. He gave her an essay question on this subject: “Could you be a saint? Why or why not?” I’m sure he thought it an age appropriate and yet profound question; however, seminary profundity is often dashed on the rocks of 13 year old coolness. My sister’s responded in one sentence: “No, because you have to be dead to be a saint and I am not ready to die yet.” … full stop.

The other major unintended consequence to this process was the practice of saintly adoration which reached its peak in the medieval Church. The medieval Church downright deified the saints. Relics of saints (usually bones or petrified body parts) were enshrined in churches all over Europe and the Near East and collected by royalty. Local legends grew up around the saints’ abilities to affect miraculous healings, raise people from the dead, apparitions, and other supernatural events. Pilgrimages to saints’ shrines were enormously important to the local economy. Adoration of the saints was elevated to the point of being as important as worshiping God and this was the practice against which the leaders of the Reformation rebelled.

Martin Luther wrote stinging condemnations of the “cult of saints” in his collected works. Luther felt the “cult of saints” had taken the focus off of the saving work of Christ on the cross and therefore it had no place in the church. Having attended a Lutheran seminary, I witnessed the effects of Luther’s desire to purge the church of the cult of saints. It’s best enshrined in the continental protestant tradition of celebrating Reformation Day … which is the day before All Saints Day (Coincidence? I think not!). Our Lutheran brothers and sisters have conflicting feelings about the whole issue of All Saints Day. If we say we believe in the “communion of saints” in the Nicene Creed, then shouldn’t we celebrate All Saints Day? How do we define saints? Are they only the living saints, or can we include the dead ones? If we recognize the dead ones, are we betraying the premises of Luther’s Reformation?

They loved their Lord so dear, so dear,
and his love made them strong;
and they followed the right, for Jesus’ sake,
the whole of their good lives long.
And one was a soldier, and one was a priest,
and one was slain by a fierce wild beast;
and there’s not any reason no, not the least,
why I shouldn’t be one too.

The Anglican tradition steps into the divide between the rigid rules regarding sainthood in the Roman tradition and the desire to scrap the whole thing from Protestantism. We believe the Church does have a vested interest in recognizing and raising up those people who have embodied the Gospel in their life and work. We do have a process. Every three years, our General Convention adds new names to the Lesser Feasts and Fasts of those saints who have gone before us (and we don’t require supernatural phenomenon or miracles).

In addition to the official recognition of our saints who have gone before us, we also believe in the saints on earth. The essence of being a saint is living a life of devotion to God. In that broad definition, we are all saints. Being a saint does not mean you are perfect, even the saints in heaven were not perfect. Do any of you know why Saint Augustine, the patron of the Anglican Church, ended up in Canterbury? It’s because he was such a cantankerous pill that they threw him out of London and told him to go away and not come back! He wasn’t perfect, but he lived a life devoted to God.

Today we come together as the saints on earth to remember the saints in heaven who have preceded us. We come together each week to hear the Word and receive the Sacrament to be strengthened to live our lives for God … so we might be the saints on earth and continue the reconciling work of Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.

In a few moments, we saints on earth will renew our baptismal vows and recommit our lives to God. We will also witness another renewal of vows, that of my parents, Bob and Earlene Ayrer, who celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary just a few weeks ago. Without them I wouldn’t be here today … and I don’t mean just as your guest preacher. It is fitting to do this on All Saints Sunday surrounded by all of you here at St. John’s. Mom and Dad are saints in our family … remember, that doesn’t mean perfect … but it does mean they live lives dedicated to God and, for 50 years, each other. My sister and I have witnessed them integrate their faith and life seamlessly. Their devotion to Christ is just who they are and it permeates their daily life and work. This is the essence of what it means to be a saint.

They lived not only in ages past,
there are hundreds of thousands still,
the world is bright with the joyous saints
who love to do Jesus’ will.
You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,
in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea,
for the saints of God are just folk like me,
and I mean to be one too.

Amen.