All Saints Eucharist: Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18, Ephesians 1:11-23 and Luke 6:20-31
Pilgrim’s progress is not a byeline you expect to see in a weekend paper; but yesterday’s Guardian did just that devoting pages to ancient footpaths and pilgrimage sites.
St Finbarr’s Way; the Welsh Camino of St Cadfan; the ways of St Hilda, St Augustine and St Duthac. The ways the saints trod across Cornwall and Northumbria as well as the way to Walsingham, home to England’s Nazareth.
No wonder Dixe Wills opens her article with the words of Blake’s famous hymn, Jerusalem: And did those feet…
And the feet of God’s saints have walked upon this land; and the body of Christ still moves step by step through streets and woodlands.
To walk is to live at a pace where we notice what is around us; where we risk being drawn into conversation with others on the way.
Today we give thank for the saints; for the great cloud of witnesses who have gone before us in our earthly walk of faith.
Across the generations, these men and women have sought to reflect the love of God by their teaching and their actions; by the way they’ve built others up; and by the way they’ve sought to make known the justice and compassion of God’s Kingdom.
They’ve kindled a flame of faith in us and in this land. They are our family. Some of them will be people who encourage or provoke; for some we will have great personal affection or devotion; others will be unknown, but for a name.
We are to follow them - to follow their example with boldness and with joy - as pilgrims here on earth. Their lives witnessed to the life and hope of the Gospel, often in very practical ways.
Some were called to administration and others offered hospitality; some sought justice for the poor and oppressed others were renowned for their wisdom and teaching. Some exercised power and influence in high office; others sought to be a blessing in homes and communities.
They are our inspiration as we work out that reality in ourselves and within the networks or relationships we inhabit.
Today’s readings set out the patterns and habits which shape this life together. There is challenge and creativity in the words we hear.
The words of scripture remind us that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Godself; in the power of the Spirit, the lives of the saints echoed that hope, shining as lights in the world.
In our own generation, we are called to be lights in our own generation. And that can sometimes feel like a burden or pressure; that we are not good enough to fulfil that calling.
Perhaps then we can take encouragement from the words of Rassie Erasmus - the head coach of the Springboks. He describes the pressures of life in South Africa - the problems of employment or crime.
Then he talks about ruby as a privilege rather than a burden he says: Rugby shouldn’t be something that creates pressure on you, it should be something that creates hope.
What if we were to substitute the word faith or church or discipleship for rugby: being a Christian shouldn’t be something that creates pressure on your, it should be something that creates hope.
To continue the rugby analogy, that doesn’t mean talking about it: it means living it, playing well and working together for a common aim.
Our Gospel reading leaves us in doubt about the challenge of living in such a community. Jesus' teaching about blessing and woes are memorable. They are challenging and edgy. Jesus is laying the foundations of a renewed community - reaching out to the curious and already committed.
This is a community that exists among and for the most disadvantaged. Jesus is addressing himself to those who find themselves up against it; and those who’re passionate for change. He addresses himself to those who are looking for hope; and those who are under pressure.
This is a manifesto for all the saints: to hunger and thirst for righteousness; to be with poor, the hungry and the grief stricken.
When we gather together around the altar, we are united with them in praise and pray; members of one body; transcending time and place.
But this gathering is but an interval in the scattered life of the church. For we will be sent out to love and serve; send out to walk in the world. Walking through Brent Street and The Boroughs into offices and schools, shops and concert halls, hymns and parks.
As we walk, what do we notice and with whom do we meet?
Blessed are the motherless; the alone; those who haven’t got over it yet. Blessed are the street cleaners and health care assistants; blessed are underrepresented, the unemployed; the teenager who are anxious.
Blessed are those seeking refuge and dreaming of a better life; blessed are those who campaign and keep others safe. Blessed are those who challenge the bullies; and those who show mercy and comfort. Blessed are those who weep and laugh; blessed are those who embrace and nurse.
The challenge to us resounds in our community of faith. Woe to us when we lack generosity or gratitude; woe to us when we court popularity. And just when we get to the bit where we think we can relax and be comfortable, Jesus says, even in the face of insult, excessive demands and all that makes us defensive, we are to love.
Our identity in Christ flows from our baptism and is deepened in prayer and praise. Our identity is nourished in sharing this sacred feast of bread and wine - the bond of our communion with Christ. Here the Spirit is poured out on us afresh. Here we are caught up in a process of transformation. Here we are renewed and inspired. From here we are sent out to live in faith and hope and love, as lights in the world.
Wouldn't it be amazing if it could be said so us: we've heard of your faith and your love of others. For Paul reminds the Ephesians that the Spirit in them is a little bit of heaven now. He tells them to live lives as God's people in a world which is imperfect and in need of transformation.
If Luke reminds us that the gospel is about social, religious, economic and political justice; Paul reminds us that a church called to risk is called to pray. For a spirit of wisdom and enlightenment. Such wisdom is an awareness of a God and his will for our lives. The love of God is the beginning of wisdom.
This wisdom enables us to see the world differently: to be attentive and response to the cries we hear and the needs we see. The words of Daniel speak of a time of great upheaval and tensions between the nations; he speaks of terror and uncertainty, and yet he also reaches out the hope and promise of God in the midst of disruption.
The hope we share is not wishful thinking but an awareness that creation is being drawn together in Christ; we walk this land, we walk ancient paths and create new pilgrim ways.
Those paths are marked by the same love, justice and compassion those who walked before us. Our walking in this land is rooted in the love of our gracious God who in Christ is revealed as redeemer and through Spirit opens our eyes to grace.
We, as saints among saints, are called to mirror the eternal dance of mutual love of the Trinity. Delighting in God and his creation, no one should feel worthless.
In the smallest of fragments of bread we taste and see the fullness of God. Through the relative smallness of our lives and gestures, we share that fullness.
We are drawn into the company of God's faithful and flawed people. We rely on the Spirit to strengthen us. At the point at which we face death, when dreams and fears are laid bare, new life breaks through. Perhaps all the saints remind us of that too.
As we struggle with systems that oppress and show compassion for the marginalised and face mistrust with love, we won't be defeated. All things under Christ's feet; he is the head over all things for the church; which is his body - the fullness of him who fills all in all.
He is the fullness of God. We are in Christ. Empowered by the Spirit let us with all the saints in light shine as lights in the world. To the glory of God.
© Julie Gittoes 2019
