In the name of One God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.
In the Church, whether you talk about All Souls or All Saints Day, you are talking about the same thing – The Commemoration of the Faithful Departed. Celebrations of All Souls have traditionally and historically been about remembering the departed – particularly family members. That is why, in just a little while, we are going to read a list of those who have died, compiled from names submitted to us by members of the congregation.
It is a good thing to remember those who have gone on before. And at this time of the year, we often get a little misty-eyed when we think back to other times and places when our loved ones were here with us. But today we do not just think about missing the loved ones who have passed on. We also pray for these folks because (as our Book of Common Prayer puts it), “(W)e still hold them in our love, and because we trust that in God’s presence those who have chosen to serve him will grow in his love, until they see him as he is.”
There is something very comforting in that statement. For one thing, it assumes that our loved ones have gone to be with God. And although there is a huge exegetical and theological discussion we could have about this, in this sermon I will refer to that as heaven. Now I know that for most of our relatives, their being in heaven is a given. But face it: you have one or two whose arrival at the pearly gates is not a done deal (at least not in your mind). But that brings me to a serious question. Who is going to be in heaven when you get there?
There is an old joke that goes:
A man arrived at the gates of heaven. St. Peter asked, “What is your denomination?” The man said, “Methodist.” St. Peter looked down his list, and said, “Go to mansion number 24, but be very quiet as you pass mansion 8.”
Another man arrives at the gates of heaven. “Denomination?”
“Lutheran.”
“Go to mansion 18, but be very quiet as you pass mansion 8.”
A third man arrived at the gates. “Denomination?”
Episcopalian
“Go to mansion 11, but be very quiet as you pass number 8.”
The man, being an Episcopalian, couldn’t help but ask a question. He said, “I can understand there being different places for different denominations, but why do I have to be quiet when I pass mansion number 8?”
St. Peter said, “Well the Baptists are in mansion number 8, and they think they're the only ones here.”
Obviously, that joke will work for every denomination – just some more accurately than others. And that is because we do not really know much of anything about heaven, not in a scientific proof sort of knowledge anyway. Unless you are someone who has had a near-death experience and have come back to write a book you almost certainly have no firsthand experience about what heaven is like, or who its inhabitants are. But fortunately for us, we have St. John and his famous Revelation to fill in some blanks.
The Revelation of John is apocalyptic literature, meaning that it was written to a group of people who were suffering from extreme oppression. And it was intended to give them hope for the future, even in the midst of their suffering. The Revelation of John was never intended to be read literally. So do not ever let anyone tell you that they “know” something about the end of time or Jesus’ Second Coming because they have “studied the Bible.”
While we’re on that somewhat tangential topic, recently Donna showed me a Facebook post that she had read in which the writer was trying to convince people that the writer had, indeed “studied” the Bible (the reality of which is, this person has likely read Revelation). And as a result of this study of Scripture, the writer had a formula for everyone to follow, to ensure that they are not “left behind,” when “the rapture” occurs. A thorough discussion of the theology behind the rapture is too long for this sermon, but suffice to say that this person knows nothing about the end of time from “studying” St. John’s Apocalypse. Again, it is apocalyptic literature and therefore none of the images is meant to be literal. And while there may well be a formula for getting into heaven, it probably will not be what this writer thinks.
The Apocalypse of John uses vivid images to convey to his readers some sense of what the end of time and heaven would be like. In what we just heard, he says that he, “[L]ooked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands.” That does not mean that there will literally be multitudes of people, dressed in white with branches in their hands, standing before a literal throne, on which sits a baby sheep. The thing that this portion of John’s revelation told him, and something he is trying to tell us, is that we cannot begin to imagine how many people will be dwelling in the nearer presence of God when this world ceases to exist. And perhaps more importantly, we cannot say who those people will be.
Think for just a minute about who you believe might not be in heaven. Maybe it is old uncle Merle, who is the textbook definition of “crotchety old man” – the one no one wants to sit next to at Thanksgiving. Perhaps you were taught that the majority of people whose skin color differs from your own will never be in heaven. Or is it those “other people” across the world who do not subscribe to our beliefs? Maybe it is the people whose sexuality, or political or social doctrines, are opposite from your “correct” views? No. Wait. I know. It’s those lazy, shiftless, poor people who have such a sense of entitlement. Those people cannot possibly have earned their way into the same heaven as us, right? The answer to all of those questions is an emphatic “No!” at least if we believe what the Apostle John tells us. We are not the judges of anyone else’s fitness for eternal life.
Jesus died and rose again – one time for all. Jesus’ sacrifice was wholly sufficient to wipe away the sins of the entire world (past, present, and future), thereby making eternal life a real hope for us all. When John said all nations, tribes, people, and languages, that was a completely and totally inclusive statement, meant to exclude absolutely no one.
There is a poem that made its way around the internet world a while back. It is called Heaven’s Surprise, and I believe it was written by a man named Rod Hemphill. It goes like this.
I was shocked, confused, bewildered as I entered Heaven's door,
Not by the beauty of it all, nor the lights or its decor.
But it was the folks in Heaven who made me sputter and gasp--
The thieves, the liars, the sinners, the alcoholics and the trash.
There stood the kid from seventh grade who swiped my lunch money twice.
Next to him was my old neighbor who never said anything nice.
Herb, who I always thought was rotting away in hell,
Was sitting pretty on cloud nine, looking incredibly well.
I nudged Jesus, 'What's the deal? I would love to hear your take.
How'd all these sinners get up here? God must've made a mistake.
'And why's everyone so quiet, so somber - give me a clue.'
'Hush, child,' He said, 'they're all in shock. No one thought they'd be seeing you.'
As we pray for all our beloved relatives who have gone on to the nearer presence of God, let us take some time to pray for all those whom we have never thought would get to heaven. And then let us pray that those people in heaven are praying for us.
Amen.
[All Saints A Sermon 103121, Revelation 7:9-17; Psalm 34:1-10, 22,1 John 3:1-3; Matthew 5:1-12]
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