St. Luke's Episcopal Church
Cleveland, Tennessee

All Saints’ Sunday
November 2, 2008
Matthew 5:1-12
The Rev. Dr. Joel Huffstetler

We are observing All Saints’ Day today. I want you to think with me for a moment as we begin. What does that mean to you? What does All Saints’ Day mean to you? Is today special? Perhaps it’s not for you. I grew up in a tradition where we didn’t talk about All Saints’ Day. I never heard of All Saints Day until I was in my 20’s. It was never mentioned in the tradition in which I was raised. That may be the case for some of you.

Every Sunday is meant to be special after all, because every Sunday we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. So every Sunday is meant to be special whether we consciously think about it or not, but what about All Saints’ Day? Is there something special today as we remember those faithful Christians who have gone before us; those whom history remembers, and those whom history has no record of? There is this strikingly poignant phrase from today’s first lesson. Every year on All Saints’ Day, every year, I am struck by this phrase about those for whom it is as though they never existed. Most of us will be like that. From an historical point of view, history won’t take much notice of most of us. There is a reality to that, yet each one of us is unique, and special, and cherished in the eyes of God. On All Saints’ Day we remember all the faithful departed, those whom we know historically and those whom we do not know historically. Particularly I think for most of us we remember those who have been dear to us, who have now departed this life for life with God. It is a very poignant time for those of us who do consider the meaning of All Saints’ Day.

As I was thinking of what I would share with you today, I was reminded of people in my own life. You have people in your life, so each of us has a unique story. I couldn’t help but be reminded this week of my maternal grandmother who was crippled all the time I knew her with rheumatoid arthritis. I never saw her walk without a walker or a cane. I never knew either of my grandfathers. I never had a relationship with either one. One died just before I was born, and the other grandfather died when I was just a baby. There is a picture of him holding me that I have seen, but I never knew him. I knew both grandmothers, and I was thinking about that this week. My grandmother on my mother’s side kept us a lot when we were young, my sister and me. I can remember being a little boy, and we would play checkers. There were no cards in my grandmother’s house! We played checkers. And I can remember when I was a little boy, I would make a wrong move and she would very unobtrusively put the checker back where it came from, and she would say very sweetly, “You didn’t want to do that.” She was teaching me how to play checkers, and how to think through the implications of something. I remember to this day, she didn’t do it often, this didn’t come up often, but ever so often when I was a little boy, a young boy, and my only desire in life was to grow up and be the first baseman for the New York Yankees. That is all I wanted to do. I remember distinctly my grandmother saying, “Joey is going to be my preacher.” She knew. Somehow, when I was a little boy, my grandmother knew that God had a different plan for my life than I had.

You have those people in your life. I can remember my other grandmother. When I was about 12, I was the featured vocalist at the Christmas pageant in my Baptist Church, and there is somewhere a cassette tape of me singing Sweet Little Jesus Boy. That tape should never come to light, but it was recorded. I remember the emotion of my grandmother as I sang a song in church, because she loved me, and cared very deeply for me. She was a saint to me.

In the New Testament the Greek word for saint, hagios, doesn’t mean morally perfect. A saint is not morally perfect, because none of us are. None of us would qualify for that definition. A saint in the New Testament means one who is set apart for God’s service. Here is the point. All of us are set apart. When Paul addresses his letters to the saints of God, in a certain congregation, he is addressing the whole church; because every member of that congregation is set apart to do God’s work. We are all saints. That is nothing to boast about. It is a gift. Sainthood is a gift from God. It is grace that sets us apart for God’s service. These people whom I remember as saints in my life weren’t perfect people. They are not to be put on a pedestal as different from us. But the saints in my life, and the saints in your life, are those people who have shown us the way to Jesus.

I can remember in my first Parish the wife of a man who had been the Rector of that church years before. He had died, I am sure, twenty or twenty-five years before his wife died. I never knew Mr. Sherman, but I knew his wife, Lillian, very well. Lillian lived about fifty yards from me in a little apartment. I lived in the church rectory, and she lived in a little apartment up the hill. We would check on each other to make sure we were each OK. When Lillian was dying, a nurse called me to the ICU in a hospital in Asheville. We both knew what was happening. I think I must have been twenty-eight when this woman died. I was a very young priest in my first church. I will never forget this woman, who was as godly as any person I have ever known, taking me by the hand on that Saturday night in the ICU, saying, “Dear Joel, please continue to pray for me when I die.” I remember distinctly saying, “I will Lillian. I will pray for you after you die.” And then she said something I absolutely never expected. She said, “And, dear Joel, I will pray for you.” I don’t think I have ever been so humbled in my life. I mean the thought of this woman in heaven, whatever that state is, praying for me. I still remember how humbled I was. That was the first time that the communion of saints began to mean something to me, when I thought about this Godly woman praying for me in the presence of God. That is what we are here to celebrate today. Those who have gone before us are at peace in a way that we can’t possibly comprehend this side of the grave. But they are at peace. And we give thanks for them today.

You have your saints in your life. I didn’t tell this at the 8 o’clock, but there was a professor at my college who took me under his wing, and to this day I refer to him as my mentor. I mean he was an incredible inspiration to me as far as what a person’s life could be like, and what the life of the mind could be, and how we should use what God has given us to his glory. I can remember this man talking to me about my vocation. I was thinking in terms, at that point, of graduate school and teaching history. I was just beginning to be a religion major at this point. I was the work-study student for this person. We were talking one day about my vocation, and who I was. He looked at me, and said, “You will be an Episcopal priest someday.” I laughed, and said something I thought was funny, “It would help if I were an Episcopalian.” Because I wasn’t. At that point, I had never stepped foot in an Episcopal church, and had no intention of doing so. But that man looked at me, and said, “You will be an Episcopal priest some day.” And after I said what I just told you - - I thought I was being funny and cute, he looked at me, and said, “You were born for the ministry. You will be an Episcopal priest some day.” He knew before I knew. He was a saint to me. History will not remember him particularly, but, in part I can assure you, I am standing right here today because of him. Because he began to help me see what my life could be, a life I would never have dared to imagine. He was a saint to me.