November 4 NOTES FOR REFLECTION Texts: Isaiah 25:6-9; Revelation 21:1-6a; John 11:32-44
Theme: We're spoilt for choice this week: perhaps "The End's in Sight" might best cover the essence of all three readings. Or for those of us who like to boast of our humility, what about "Saints? Who Us?" I'm going for "A Great Cloud of Witnesses" (but that's because I shall be preaching more on readings that aren't set for today, than on those that are).
Introduction. Following on from the subtle hint in the previous paragraph, I'm not very impressed with the choice of the readings for All Saints' Sunday. Personally I would prefer something from Genesis 15, for instance, with the promise of descendants as numerous as the stars in the heavens. Then something from chapters 11 and 12 of the Letter to the Hebrews. The gospels are more difficult, I must confess, so I'll duck it and get back to today's readings. They are all looking forward to the age to come – the finishing line of this earthly existence. Isaiah (who seems to have been something of a gourmet, gourmand or glutton in his time) looks forward to a magnificent feast on the Holy Mountain with God as the host. St John the Divine shows his green credentials, seeing the whole of creation cleaned up and made new; while the Fourth Evangelist gives us a reminder that the way forward for us all is through death and being raised again.
Background. November is a great month in the Church; four successive Sundays with the emphasis on remembering, praising and celebrating. We start today with the great champions of the faith. Next week is Remembrance Sunday when we remember and give thanks for those whose personal sacrifices made possible the freedoms of today. Then follow two great triumphant feasts as we worship Christ in All Creation and Christ the King.
As I started to reflect on this feast of All the Saints all sorts of (possibly unrelated) bits and pieces came into my mind. I remembered the All Saints Sunday in my first parish when I asked the congregation, right at the start of the service, "Are there any saints present?" As I had rather expected and hoped, only one person put up her hand, so I was able to look terribly clever and biblical by reminding them that according to the Scriptures all believers are saints – that's what the word meant in biblical times. I was deservedly shot down when a voice from the back called out, "You're new here – believe me, we're no saints!"
Then that great line from one of John Betjeman's poems (about the only line I can remember from my fourth form years) when he describes the oak rafters in an ancient English village church as "beams burnished by the prayers of a thousand years."
On a similar theme, hearing a speaker in the meeting house on Raukawa Marae in Otaki talking of their belief that the words spoken in that building in the past are still present in the air, to warn and to guide those who come after them to speak only words of importance in that building, lest we fill the atmosphere with verbal rubbish.
Some words of science followed. Before the earth could support life it had to develop an atmosphere to act as a shield to reduce the amount of radiation that would otherwise make life on earth impossible. And vague memories about ozone layers, and holes in it, and fluorocarbons – half buried in the storage recesses of the brain, but showing up in the catalogue when I "googled" "All Saints".
All this followed by a snatch of liturgy and another of Scripture. Therefore, with all your witnesses who surround us on every side, countless as heaven's stars, we praise you for our creation and our calling, with loving and with joyful hearts. [Second Liturgy, page 486] And so to Hebrews 12:1: Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.
And then, for the first time ever, it struck me that our liturgy misses out a strange word that the writer to the Hebrews uses. A "crowd of witnesses" makes sense; but what are we to make of "a cloud of witnesses"? And off I went again, this time "googling" "cloud". Clouds have been in our faith history almost from the beginning. A cloud led the Israelites by day in the wilderness; clouds hid God on Mount Sinai; clouds came over the Tent of Meeting, the Tabernacle, the Judgment Seat, and so on. Clouds were often where God was. St Paul had an interesting take on all that in 1 Corinthians 10:1-2 (no, look it up for yourself); and clouds are associated with our Lord's Transfiguration, Ascension and "Second Coming." The writer to the Hebrews chose his loaded word well.
After all these flights of fancy, here's a serious piece of research from "For All the Saints": it quotes Jeremy Taylor, a 17th Century preacher and teacher, thus: The memories of the saints are precious to God, and therefore they ought also to be for us: and such persons, who serve God by holy living, industrious preaching, and religious dying, ought to have their names preserved in honour, and God be glorified in them, and their holy doctrines and lives published and imitated.
All very right and proper, of course, but I found it somehow unsatisfying. Pondering why, I found another item in my mental storage. It concerned a conversation I had some years ago with an abbot from England called Fr Gregory. We were talking about St Paul, and in an unguarded moment I said, "Poor old St Paul – he gets a rather bad press these days." Fr Gregory responded with some considerable energy, "I know, and it's so unfair! St Paul is such a lovely fellow!"
And there's the real truth at the heart of our doctrine of the Communion of Saints. They're not museum pieces from a long lost culture, worthy examples from a distant past. They are alive and well, and surrounding us on every side, cheering us on as we "run with perseverance the race marked out for us", and forming a cloud, an atmosphere of prayer, protecting us from the spiritual radiation that might otherwise make our life here impossible. Why do they bother? The astonishing answer to that question is to be found in Hebrews 11:39-40. (No, look it up for yourself..)
Isaiah. This is "set" in the "day of the Lord", the Day of Judgment and vindication to which the writers of the Old testament make frequent reference, and which in Christian terms means the day of the Return of the Lord at the end of the age. So this is a vision of final peace and reconciliation between God and humanity. The central image is a great feast hosted by God, to be held "on this mountain", probably a reference to Mount Zion, or possibly a throw-back to Sinai or Horeb. Notice that the guests are to include "all peoples" (it was during the time of Isaiah that the God of Israel was recognised as being the God of all nations). The food and wine will be of the very finest, perfect spiritual nourishment. Here, surely, is the material from which the idea of the "Wedding Feast of the Lamb" is drawn; and Jesus' parable about the Wedding Banquet. The shroud or burial veil that enfolds all people (that is, death) will be removed for ever. Mourning will be no more, and all past shame (sins and failings) will be absolved. The only possible response to that will be praise and thanksgiving.
Taking It Personally.
· Before coming to Isaiah, reflect on the material in the "Background" section, above. Ponder the phrase "The Communion of Saints". What image comes to mind as you do that? Are the saints just "role models" for us today, or do you agree there is more to it than that?
· Turning to Isaiah, remember this vision of things to come is described to people who are in crisis. Is it real hope for the future, or pie-in-the-sky stuff? Do you feel included?
· Then "rejoice and be glad in his salvation". Spend time in praise and thanksgiving.
Revelation. A wonderful passage, and what a relief after some of the earlier chapters! As with the passage from Isaiah, this is a view of the end of time. It is also a great refutation of all the Hal Lindsay nonsense in the USA around the idea of the saints (meaning Hal Lindsay and those who have bought all his books) being snatched from earth and taken up to heaven while everyone else is doomed to extinction (or worse) back on earth. The bible says God is coming to join us, not the other way around! (As some wit has said, "I hope I don't get snatched up with Hal Lindsay – I don't want to miss God going in the opposite direction.") St John seems to be familiar with Paul's writing in Romans 8: the whole of creation will be made new (except perhaps the sea, the Jewish hatred of the sea being reflected in verse 1.) The passage ends with the simple declaration, "It is done", echoing the words from the Cross, "It is finished."
· This passage could be summed up, "from Eden to the new Eden". Everything, the spiritual and the material realms, things seen and unseen, are to be renewed and restored to the original state of complete harmony between God and creation. Spend time with that thought. If necessary, ask God for the grace to believe it.
· Try not to get hung up on the details! This is an image addressed to our hearts, not our minds. Approach it as you might a Rembrandt masterpiece, and give thanks.
· Visualise a curtain (a veil or even a shroud) between the material and the spiritual realms. Then see light beginning to shine through it from the other side. Make out shadowy shapes – tell yourself that they are the saints waiting to welcome us.
· Now remove the curtain. How do you feel? Bring this image to mind next time you pray the words, "Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as in heaven".
John. Today we have a short extract from the climax to the rather strange but gripping story of the Raising of Lazarus. John may rank behind Luke in the art of story-telling, but he does a wonderful job with this bit of this story. We are spared no detail. We feel the tears of Mary and the others, and hear her slightly accusatory tone as she speaks to Jesus. Jesus offered some explanation of what was happening to Martha, but he doesn't try that with Mary. He weeps with her. Now we hear the commentary from the "chorus", some of whom recognise Jesus' own sense of loss, while others take the critical line – "if he can heal the blind, why couldn't he have hurried here and saved his mate?" Thence to the tomb, the description of which "reminds" us of the one in which Jesus will be laid fairly soon. And as we hear the admonition of the ever-practical Martha warning that the body is likely to stink by now, we can almost see people drawing back, while still keeping their eyes on the tomb entrance. Jesus calls him by name (ring any bells?), and out he comes, still draped in the burial cloths, which the Risen Christ will leave behind in his tomb. Lazarus requires help before he can walk free.
Taking It Personally.
· Definitely a passage to be prayed with the imagination. Try to enter into the experience of the crowd. (We surely cannot imagine what was going through Lazarus' mind!)
· Compare this "raising story" with the others in the gospels. Why is it that this one always seems to have far more impact than those others?
· Now turn your attention to the sisters. Can you understand their grievance about Jesus' late arrival? Can you recall an occasion when you felt Jesus (God) delayed too long in responding to your need? With the benefit of hindsight, do you have a different view of the matter now than you did at the time?
· Pray for those who are mourning the loss of loved ones at this time.
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