All Saints Year B
November 4, 2018
I have had some interesting meditations these last 2 weeks, as I thought about this feast of All Saints. I am always grateful that this is one of those feast days that we can move to the following Sunday, so that we can all celebrate this feast together as a community and family. It’s important for us to gather and to remember those people in our lives who have gone on before us, who we one day hope to see again when the kingdom of God is fully realized…
So, the first meditation of mine, and let me just say that none of these were planned…. But the first happened on Friday of last week, October 26. I had been hearing the news that Matt Shephard’s ashes were to be interred at the Episcopal Cathedral in Washington DC, also known as the national cathedral. As you may remember, Matt was killed 20 years ago, beaten by 2 young men, and lashed to a wooden fence on a cold night in Laramie Wyoming. He was found the next day by a passing bicyclist who from a distance, thought he was a scarecrow. Matt died of his injuries a few days later in a Colorado hospital. You might also remember, that Matt was gay, and his murder was viewed as a hate crime that shook the whole nation. Matt grew up as an Episcopalian, and was active in the church. His parents had not interred his ashes up to this point because they feared that his grave would be desecrated by anti gay groups. Can you imagine being afraid of burying your loved one because of hate? What really brought me to tears about this story, was seeing a photograph of Bishop Gene Robinson carrying Matt’s ashes down the long cathedral aisle during the processional. Bishop Robinson is a friend of Matt’s family, and when he was elected Bishop of New Hampshire, he was the first openly gay person to be elected bishop. The hate speech and mail about his consecration as bishop was so severe, and taken so seriously by the FBI, that both Bishop Robinson and Presiding Bishop Griswold wore bullet proof vests under their vestments… as he addressed the congregation that day, Bishop Robinson said, “Gently rest in this place. You are safe now. And Matt, welcome home”. Words of comfort for a grieving family and community; words that speak of hope that extends from this earthly place to a heavenly peace.
My next meditation about today, was thinking about my dear friend and mentor, Bill Mahedy, who died in 2011. By his own admission, Bill had reached curmudgeon status before he died. I miss being able to call him and talk to him about stuff… and I could talk to him about anything. One of the things that I miss most about him, is being supported by his absolute loyalty. When I met Bill, he was the college and young adult chaplain for San Diego… he was also involved for many years as a VA chaplain, working with Vietnam Veterans. If Bill loved you, or even mostly liked you, there was very little that you could do to change his mind about you; that man was loyal to a fault… and let me tell you, we young adults were not always the most well behaved bunch; but no matter what, we could count on Padre to have our backs, and help us get out of whatever nonsense we found ourselves in...That is the kind of friendship you don’t get to have with just anyone. I was fortunate enough to be able to visit Bill a couple of weeks before he died; we blessed each other, and I said, “Well Bill, save me a seat at the banquet”. “Trace, just say YO! when you get there so I’ll know.” Two friends, saying goodbye for the last time, hoping and knowing that one day they would say hello again. Or Yo. Same thing.
The third thought or meditation about today, concerns the reading from Isaiah that we heard earlier. As I was driving up to the city on Thursday, I was listening to the reading and meditation for the day from the app, “Pray as you Go.” The reading that was chosen for that days meditation was this reading from Isaiah. Listen to the reading again:
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines,
of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.
And he will destroy on this mountain
the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
the sheet that is spread over all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken.
It will be said on that day,
Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.
After the passage was read, there were some questions asked of the listeners. One question was, what was the image that spoke most to us? And as I thought about it, I thought about the great feast as God’s table where there is no more death, and in fact, that death is ended, swallowed up forever, and I imagined Jesus wiping the tears from all those who had been grieving… the next question was, what did the image invoke in us? As I sat there praying, I thought, Oh, how I want this image to be true; how I want it to be true for Matt, for Bill, for me, for all of us, and for all of those whom we love and see no more… and as I visualized it some more, I could see myself there, with people I loved and missed, and what struck me the most was the laughter… It was a place of joy, a place of great love, where Jesus was so close to us we could touch him… and I also knew, that the reading was telling me something that was true; It was telling me about hope; it was telling me that the things I hoped for for myself and for everyone were true; that the kingdom of God was indeed a reality that we would all one day experience in full; that today, we might not see those we love, that today, we might share stories and memories, but that one day, we, like Jesus whom we worship, will be raised from the dead, and our tears and our brokenness will be no more; that is the promise… and as I prayed and meditated on the reading from Isaiah I knew it was true… and today, we live in that place of longing for that time; but this is no idle time for us because the kingdom of God has begun here in this time and place; it’s not just a distant promise that doesn’t demand something from us now. The reason we consider these people saints, or any person a saint, isn’t because they are perfect or pious; my friend Bill could curse up a storm, just in case you were wondering where I get it from; and it might be that his undying loyalty was a bit misguided sometimes; but these people are saints to us because they give us hope; they show us that God can use any of us to further the work of the kingdom; that perhaps dropping an f bomb when talking to a Vietnam Vet makes sense; our saints show us what love looks like; they give us a glimpse of what God’s love looks like… a love that we will one day know in full; and they show us what it looks like to live in the fullness of God’s kingdom at least for a few minutes; and that perhaps is what sainthood is really about; real people choosing to live close to Jesus when they can… choosing to love us as imperfect as we are....choosing to be a glimmer of hope even when things seem hopeless. It was so for them… which is why we love them, and I pray it is so for us both here and at the great feast at God’s table, where we may hear words such as Bishop Robinson’s, you are safe… welcome home...
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