“Keep death daily before your eyes.” So declared Saint Benedict centuries ago. “Keep death daily before your eyes.” In Saint Benedicts’ day, the rather closed, often cloistered world of the sixth century, perhaps one needed a daily reminder of one’s mortality; or, perhaps Saint Benedict intended those words to confront the ever-present reality of human life that no one escapes.
But no more! No reminders are needed these days! I have never thought of CNN or the New York Times, or the instant news pop-ups on my phone as particularly Benedictine institutions, but it seems they have heard very clearly Saint Benedict’s plea: to “keep death daily before our eyes.” Check out any media outlet – print, broadcast, or digital – and a story about death is all but certain – impending death, violent death, unimaginable death; death so relentlessly before our eyes that we become numb; no longer able to feel its impact, no longer able even to grieve.
We often hear of death in faraway places: death in Ukraine, Gaza, Sudan, Nepal; the geographical distance often dulls the sharp pain of it all. But collapse the distance, and death comes home to us: death on the streets of our cities, death in our schools, in our places of worship, in those “safe places” where violence and death are not supposed to happen.
On this All Saints Sunday, let us not forget that death often comes still closer to home: the death of a loved one – spouse or parent, a child or a sibling; the death of a friend or fellow believer; the death of a neighbor or coworker; the death of one we do not know, but we cherish the ones who survive, the ones who are hurting, the ones whose lives have been ripped apart by the heartbreak of death.
In the church we spend a great deal of time dealing with death: it’s one of the things we are good at; it’s one of life’s realities to which the gospel speaks clearly and distinctly: like a trumpet in the darkness! Funerals and grief support are so common – so everyday -- that we lull ourselves into believing that we are strong and untouched by it all. Then a death occurs that shakes us to the core – the death of our beloved, the death of a child, the death of one we greatly admired, even if from a distance.
Several months ago when we heard the news of the death of Dolly Parton, it was clear that even folks who would not consider themselves her fans were moved by the story of her life and felt a sense of loss at her death. A friend said to me, I am not a country music fan, nor have I ever been to Dollywood, but for the first time in my life I have to face the day without Dolly! I knew exactly what she meant.
The apostle, writing to the Ephesians, calls upon the church to prepare itself “for the riches of the glorious inheritance among the saints.” It is God, teaches the apostle, whose power was at work when Christ was raised from the dead. We can ache and grieve over those we love who have died, but what extraordinary joy comes when we are able to claim the promise of Christ: the promise of resurrection. When we are deeply grieving, claiming the promise is hard work; it often takes time; but the day will come when the promise settles into our souls and a fresh outpouring of comfort and joy will spring forth within us like the rush of a mighty river. The transforming power that turns our sadness into joy, our grief into hope, our poverty of spirit into fresh resilience, is the promise of resurrection. When grief gives way to confidence, when sadness gives way to joy, when pain recedes and healing emerges it is a sure sign that great reversals – changes – transformations, by God’s mercy, are taking place.
Today’s gospel, the opening lines of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount provides shift in perspective, a reversal, so to speak, a new way of seeing things about to unfold. “Blessed are the poor in spirit; blessed are those who mourn; blessed are the weak; blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness.” These “beatitudes” (as we often call them) are Jesus’ way of working the crowd, almost teasing those who are listening to his preaching. How odd these words must have sounded to the ears of those who first heard them? “Blessed are the poor in spirit;” then, as now, few consider poverty of any sort a blessing; few discover deep satisfaction in an empty soul. “Blessed are those who mourn.” Well that must have sounded odd. Are we to find peace or delight in the death of a loved one, or the tragic loss of a friend? Are we to deny the painful realities of the lives we live? Are we to sugar-coat the emptiness that gnaws at our insides and pretend that it really doesn’t hurt? “Blessed are the meek.” Impossible! God doesn’t bless the timid, the weak, the hesitant or the fearful. God blesses those who are self-sufficient, the strong, the untamed! Oh really? We puzzle over what Jesus meant by these rather odd sayings just as those who first heard them.
In the sermon that follows, Jesus teaches in clear and certain terms, about the kingdom of heaven. We hear Jesus’ call to become the salt of the earth and light of the world. There is a new way to think about the law of God, and Jesus offers practical wisdom on what it means to live in response to God’s desires.
These rather odd sayings bear a strange, almost disorienting message, but they bid us to listen closely and hear the promise attached to each one! Being poor in spirit is no blessing but when attached to the promise, it possesses life-changing power: “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven!” Mourning is no fun and hardly a blessing in and of itself, but attach it to a promise and a whole new meaning unfolds: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” “Blessed are the meek” does not mean we sit idly by and wallow in some sort of shallow passivity.” Hear the promise: “Blessed are the meek for they will inherit the earth!” It is a promise that locates our strength not in self-assertion or human violence, but in the power of God unleashed. The blessings of this present time – that deep fulfillment and satisfying inner joy that may be experienced now in the living of our lives – is possible because of the promise to which every blessing is attached.
These are the reversals – those things about the coming kingdom and are just the opposite from what you might think. This is a new world being born, a new idea being hatched, a new age come to a climax in the resurrection of Jesus from the dead! These great reversals – are possible because God has provided the last word on reversals: Jesus, who was crucified, dead, and buried, is risen and lives forever. In the world we inhabit, dead people stay dead; that is the world of our human experience; but glory be to him who is resurrection and life; he was dead, but behold, he lives forever! That reversal is the change at the heart of all things that makes possible all of the other reversals in our lives possible. Catch a glimpse of the reversal of resurrection, and loving one’s enemies, doing good to those who hate you, blessing those who curse you, praying for those who hurt you, those things are no longer a stretch, but begins to make sense as deep and profound ways to live in fellowship with Jesus.
Friends, we come to this All Saints Sunday, with its unmistakable echoes of death and resurrection, roughly midway between Easter-past and Easter-to-come. A little Easter-of-sorts before the onset of winter so that we can pause again to remember and celebrate those who now dwell in the more immediate presence of God and who have entered into the joy of the Lord.
Today, we are reminded that life in Christ is a precious gift, a radical move on God’s part, that we are always trying to come to terms with. As people of faith we live our lives navigating the reversals of resurrection. All Saints reminds us that life in Christ is not something we do but an invitation we receive; it means welcoming change into your life, risking transformation; it means being on the lookout for resurrection reversals: you know — enemies becoming friends, hate becoming love, curses becoming blessings, and death giving way to life.
That, friends, is why we keep All Saints. That is why we pause to remember those who have died, those who walked this way before us, those who have left us with memories, and stories, those who introduced us to the realities of life’s deep pain while showing us how to dance a holy jig and celebrate life’s ecstasies. We remember today those who taught us how to be us by letting us see them being them. We remember and rejoice because we dare to believe that resurrection makes everything different; that the way things always have been need not be the way they always will be, and it is to that end, that Christ has died, that Christ is risen, and that Christ will come again.