It’s not November 1, All Saints’ Day, that gets me, but November 2, All Souls’ Day. Anglicanism is supposed to be both Catholic and Reformed, but sometimes leans too far toward the Catholic side for this Lutheran soul. Paul uses the term “saints” to mean all Christian believers. It is accretions of tradition that have led to “saint” being restricted to those who led an exemplary life, often by martyrdom, whose worthiness has to pass muster (or pass mustard, as we say at home). That restriction necessitated All Souls’ Day in order to remember all the faithful departed, whom Paul had already included with the saints. I’d rather return to the Scriptural usage of the word, and just have one day for everyone. The rest of the year we can commemorate exceptional individuals on particular days. (There are too many of them, in my opinion, but that’s a rant for another day.)
If “saints” includes all believers, then I can ask the question, who are the saints in your life? Who led you to the Christian faith, brought you to church as a child, or witnessed the faith to you as an adult? Who are your ancestors in the Christian faith?
Mine were my parents, and their parents before them, and so on back to the apostles – a kind of apostolic succession that does not necessarily involve the laying on of hands. My father was pastor of the church we attended, but it was my mother who saw to it that we actually got there. Considering how I acted many Sundays, she truly was a saint!
We were always made mindful of the communion of saints, of that apostolic succession of faith. The icon of that faith was my dad’s maternal grandfather, Grampa Jacobs, also a Lutheran pastor, about whom we heard many stories. To solidify his faith, Grampa Jacobs translated from German to English The Book of Concord, the tome that contains the essential writings of Lutheranism. Some years ago R found a copy of it at a used book sale and bought it for me. It stands on a shelf in my office, not only a reminder of faith passed on, but an indicator that pastors had more time before blogs, emails, and Facebook! And I have photos of both my dad and Grampa Jacobs in my office to give me courage when I need it.
So let us celebrate all the faithful departed on All Saints’ Day, those whose lives have been remembered over the centuries, those who have preceded us in the faith, and those who “have no memorial, who have perished as though they had not lived,” but were faithful Christians (cf. Ecclesiasticus 44:9). The communion of saints extends from you and me to the likes of St. Paul and yes, to Mary Theotokos herself. We may not feel worthy to be in that company, but that is what being redeemed and justified by Christ is all about. “For the saints of God are just folk like me, and I mean to be one too.”
(H293 has one of our favorite lines to rearrange: “And one was a soldier, and one was a beast, and one was slain by a fierce wild priest…”)
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
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2 comments:
Amen. And please pass the mustard, you fierce wild priest.
One of the saints in my life was my paternal grandmother, whose many sufferings could not overpower the joy at her center. As I became an adult, I realized that her joy came from her spiritual beliefs. She was a different sort of Roman Catholic than my maternal grandparents, who were quietly, seriously, and more stiffly devout. I knew my Grandma believed in reincarnation. She told me to begin with John in the New Testament, "because John is all about love." And I was stunned but not shaken to learn, after her death, that she had been a member of an evangelical church for a time in her later years. My Grandma saw the loving humor of God in unwieldy bumblebees and over-seeded pomegranates and cloud pictures. She taught me that religion without love, kindness, and laughter was no religion at all.
Thanks for the blog, Fr. Horn.
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