November 1, 2020
All Saints Day
Pr. Craig Mueller
Who’s counting?
Who’s counting? We all are.
We’re on the way to 230,000 coronavirus deaths in this country, and soon nine million cases.
We’re counting the days until the election. We’re worried about how the ballots will be counted, when we will know the results, how the president will react, how the country will react, whether our democracy is stable.
There is a “say their names” list of Black lives taken unjustly. I count over thirty in 2020.
Each of us and our own circle of loved ones are doing their own counting. My parents named the convergence of the virus, the social and political unrest, and the Colorado wildfires. One of those would be enough to deal with it.
My brother is counting the days and months since his wife’s death in March. One month and six-month markers. The thirtieth anniversary of their wedding several weeks ago. Counting ahead to the holidays—both dreading them but also glad to put all the terrible and painful stuff in 2020.
In Revelation we hear a vision of a multitude that no one could count. People from every tribe, from every nation, from every language standing before the throne and the Lamb. Robed in white. Palm branches in their hands.
It’s been said that we have become more tribal than ever. Isolated in our ethnic, political, religious and cultural bubbles. Divisions ripe with hatred and sometimes violence. But this vision is an awesome multicultural vision reflecting the diversity of the human race. The author, John of Patmos, was a Jew writing to Greek-speaking people. One Cuban scholar compares the multicultural experience of Revelation to mestizo literature, addressed to people of “mixed” cultural heritage. We can revel as our country become more multi-ethnic, a sign of the reign of God.
And while we’re counting, what is your favorite song in the liturgy. For many, it is “This is the feast.” The song the multitude sings. The song of Revelation. The song of the saints. Sing with all the people of God, and in join the hymn of all creation. Blessing, honor, glory and might be to God and the Lamb forever.
Counting our blessings is a spiritual practice. Yet the blessings in our gospel—the Beatitudes—are not the ones most of us would list. Blessed are the meek, those who mourn, the pure in heart, those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. What if we counted our blessings this way? Though Western societies value individual freedom and economic security above all else, what if when we voted, we first considered the common good, rather than simply our own?
On this All Saints Day we remember the multitude of saints, yet we also count in our hearts those most dear to us—those we miss, that we mourn, those for whom we offer thanks. At Holy Trinity we remember Norm Kaiser, his greetings at the door, his care for every nook and cranny in the building.
Who can count the tears shed this year? Alas, we will sing through the tears. We will sing when our hearts are breaking, when the future is uncertain. Even when we can’t sing together, we will sing at home.
For in Christ all things will be made new. With this promise we mark ourselves with a water cross this day. With this promise we share bread and wine as a foretaste of a feast still to come. With this promise we sing, we sing: All of us go down to the grave, but even at the grave we make our song: alleluia.
O saints of God, living and dead, on God’s faithfulness you can count. Amen.