CIRCLES OF SAINTS

Matthew 5:1-12

St. Andrew's-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

November 1, 2009

 

Andrew and Agnes, Bernadette and Benedict; Christopher, Dominic and Edith; Francis and George; Hildegaard, Ignatius, Joan, John and Joseph; Killian and Katherine; Luke, Mary, Nicholas, Olive and Odo; Patrick, Peter and Paul; Quentin, Rose and Stephen; Thomas and Theresa; Ursula, Valentine and Wencelas; Xystus, Yves and Zoe. Who are these people? Do you know who I’m talking about? Well, on this All Saints Sunday, November 1st, we offer up this “alphabet of saints,” these circles of grace. Such naming draws upon centuries of the community of faith recognizing and celebrating women and men in whom, and through whom, the Holy has been experienced; people who have been touched by God, filled with the Spirit. To borrow language from another mythology, the Force is strong with them.

The Catholic Church has created an elaborate and sometimes complicated process to determine sainthood, to make it official; there are now something like ten thousand saints, and the list continue to grow. But before the Church had developed this system of canonization, way back in the 12th century, it was the folk of the local community who pronounced the holy deceased within their own village or city to be saints, by common acclamation. They knew first hand those in their midst who had glowed more brightly with the light of Christ; the women and men who had been channels of Spirit – they had experienced Holy Presence within a vivid incarnation.

We know the truth of this, for even today we do much the same thing. We are deeply moved by the witness of a Mother Theresa, a Nelson Mandela; Jean Vanier, Dorothy Day, Desmond Tutu. We become more daring at times, despite the hesitations of the Church, and have included folk like Harvey Milk (remember last year’s Oscar winner?) or Annie Sullivan and Helen Keller (have any of you seen the Playhouse’s production of “The Miracle Worker”?). We’ve even gone interfaith, and have included people like Mahatma Gandhi and, more recently, the Dalia Lama. These people speak to us in a special way; they are revelations.

As we name these men and women as participants of the circles of saints, it’s like we are looking through pictures in the Family Photo Album, page after page of those who have gone before us and whose witness still influences and inspires us. These are our people, across history and geography. They are bright lights within the community of faith, and they help us find our way, perhaps especially in dark times. And on the last few pages of the Photo Album, we add our own more local folk, closer to the bone, the men and women who have touched us – perhaps not influential on a large scale, but known to us as channels of grace, ordinary people who have helped us catch a glimpse of what it might be like to be more deeply connected with God. Maybe a parent; a grandparent; perhaps a teacher; a steadfast friend; a member of the church. Perhaps not complete saints, not at all the time, but people who have known moments of illumination, and who have shared that light. Like the strobes of a lighthouse… when walking along the beach at night, and suddenly there is the flicker from Point Atkinson over on the north shore, the light sweeps over the water, along the sand… a bright few seconds… and then darkness again. Maybe that’s what it’s like… momentary sainthood, short connections when you can almost palpably feel the holiness of the person facing you, and then it passes; but you trust that it will come again; flashes of illumination. And it has done it’s work. A short, sharp flash of love.

Now, don’t get caught up with outdated definitions of sainthood, as if a saint were some how a “goody-two-shoes”, all smiles, halo polished and in place, butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths. Not true. Indeed, it is said that if anyone thinks he or she is a saint, then that’s usually an excellent sign that they aren’t. No, saints can often be eccentric, off-putting, difficult to get along with, filled with awkward but determined conviction. Perhaps that’s why the world prefers to praise dead saints even while it’s busily persecuting living ones … no? And sometimes it appears that saints aren’t always perfectly virtuous – Mother Theresa with her diaries of doubt and despair; St. Augustine, who in his early years would pray, “O God, give me the gift of chastity and continence… but not yet.”

No, what truly defines a saint is her or his passion for God. The poet Francis Thompson has said, “For most people, even for very good people, God is a belief; for the saint, God is an embrace.” Saints are a little bit crazy for God. Perhaps one way of describing what makes a saint is to understand them as being transparent to a spiritual reality, that flows into them, ignites their being, and shines through them, out into the world. Saints are like stain glass windows say some – the almost invisible light of God strikes them, and is transformed into colours of love, zest, compassion, determination, joy, prayer… here in this sanctuary we know what a gift that is, to be bathed in the colours of the Spirit. I think that’s why the tradition has used the symbol of the halo to signify the presence of saintliness. A luminous human being, so filled with God that holy light simply spills out and over.

Now, let me shift the focus slightly, and take us into the world of the New Testament, where strangely enough, it is suggested that everyone carries the potential of becoming a saint. No, no… don’t laugh. The word saint is used sixty-two times in the New Testament, and it’s always in the plural. Indeed, St. Paul, who was not known for handing out compliments, used the word prolifically, forty-four times in fact, when writing to the members of those early churches that he had established and supported. To the saints of Corinth; to the saints of Philippi, and Ephesus; even to the saints of the power-hungry, imperial city of Rome. Which is to say, that anyone who begins to participate in the Christian community, who begins the journey of following Jesus Christ… that person has the potential of becoming, slowly, bit by bit, day by day… a saint.

There’s a little poem by Jandra that sticks with me:

Maybe

when we have

passed

our souls will

fly

as tongues of fire

into [God’s] fire

This is beyond

my imagining

Somehow

to have burned

here

is enough for me.

To have burned here; to shine brightly; to take all of the pieces of our lives, and let them be set on fire, transformed by the Spirit –maybe that’s what our lives are all about. Maybe we are called to stack of the logs of our being and create an inner campfire, open to the winds of God that will fan our flame. Or maybe, to switch images, we are invited to use the events of our lives as a means of rubbing thin the defenses and barricades that hold us tight and secure, the walls that block the interplay of light. Maybe we simply need to turn towards the light, and draw open our curtains and blinds… an openness to the holiness that is all around us, that seeks to illuminate every corner of our being, that when focussed bright, will set on fire what lies within… Christ as a magnifying glass that focuses God’s holy light so intensely that the ordinary stuff or our daily life begins to heat up, to smolder and smoke, then eventually bursts into a small tongue of fire.

To the saints of St. Andrew’s-Wesley… can you hear the invitation? Can you claim it? The next time you are at some party and you are asked, “What do you do?” maybe you could try ansering, “Well, I teach, cook, sell houses, parent, clean… whatever, but my real work is to become a Saint.” Now that’s a conversation stopper… or an opener. Don’t worry about being perceived as arrogant, or holier-than-thou; really, sainthood is your high calling. And if it doesn’t feel like you’ve gotten very far with the task, well that’s okay; it’s a life-time’s work, and you have the rest of today and tomorrow and the next day, to get on with the work of becoming a saint.

I have been playing the CD, “A Time to Heal” a lot – just ask Tim. Indeed, I suspect he’d say I’ve been playing it endlessly, over and over, till he’s ready to hide the darned thing. You know the one I mean…. we launched it here a couple of weeks ago, in partnership with First United, to raise awareness and money for the work of ending homelessness. Well, there’s a song on that CD that I can’t stop humming; sung by Steve Maddock, local jazz artist; great voice. “At the Arlington” it’s called; it begins,

It’s one a.m. at the Arlington,

another night lost in the smoky haze;

the old man sitting here,

he’s a friend, fast asleep,

with a hand on his beer;

“Listen my girl,” he would say,

Back in the days when his memory was clear,

“Don’t let it all slip away,

there’s something that you gotta hear,”

“If I had danced instead of dragging feet of clay,

if I had said all the love there is to say,

if I’d followed where my dreams had led the way,

I’d be a different man today.”

Sure, it’s sentimental; but I’m a sucker for sentimental – it pulls at my heart strings because it’s true. I don’t want to get to the end of my life and realize that I’ve wasted the gift of my days, that I have missed becoming my best and truest self; that I have been too … what…lazy or frightened or beaten down?... to take my place in the circle of saints. Maybe this song sticks with me because out of the sadness and witness of the old man comes hope, as the song ends with a transformed refrain, when Steve Maddock sings, hopefully for all of us,

I will dance instead of dragging feet of clay,

I will speak the love there is to say,

I will follow where my dreams have shown the way,

It’ll be different from today.

Maybe the biggest question is how this is all going to happen. Easy to make resolutions… “Today I will be a saint!”, only to fall flat on your face. And maybe that’s why we need to celebrate the communion of saints with which we are surrounded, the dead and the living, all those men and women who have shown us what it looks like. They are an inspiration – it is possible; it can be done. Yes, it takes some courage and faith, but ordinary people can be transformed, can burn bright. Ordinary people, like those from this community who have died this year… saints, yes saints, despite all the rough edges, shortcomings, unfinished business, moments of irritability… we name them: Marnie Tunbridge, Rick Harron, Gordon Turner, Reta Chase, Max Warne, Hugh Stansfield; and Audrey, who is hovering at the edge, soon to go. We give thanks for their lives, for their witness, for their inspiration. Perhaps we can feel the stirring of the fire within ourselves, the desire to shine brightly, and the hope that it can happen for us, too.

Maybe it’s even more than just seeing good examples. Maybe we are being invited to actually step into the circle, to join hands with those saints, and feel the energy flow, as if we are connected to the power grid, and our dead batteries are jolted into new life. Maybe.

How? Well, perhaps it’s as simple as engaging in the traditional means of grace. A lot of prayer, which might crack open the windows of our soul and let the light come in. Probably a dash of study, times when we “Come, taste and see.” Worship… like today’s celebration of communion. When you come forward today, to receive the bread and the wine, think of it as receiving energy, as a way of connecting to the Body of Christ. You stand, you come forward, you receive bread for the journey; you return to your place, where you began; a small circle where you have been blessed with soul food.

And then there’s action; living it all out in the world. Dag Hammarskjöld, a former Secretary General for the United Nations, he said, “In our time, in our world, the path to holiness necessarily passes through the world of action.” Action … in the world, with the people you encounter -- family, friends, strangers; community, church, city … As the sometimes saint, activist Jesuit priest Dan Berrigan says, “About practically everything in the world there’s nothing you can do. However, about a few things you can do something – do it, and with a good heart.”

I wonder if Jesus was trying to give us clues about holiness with the Beatitudes, which has become one of great traditional readings on All Saints Day. Blessed are the poor in spirit, the meek, the merciful, those who hunger after justice and righteousness, the peacemakers. A little bit like marching-orders; or maybe instructions on how to build a good fire. Sometimes I hear them as a burden… get out there Gary, and be and do all those amazing things. Makes me want to give up before I start. But I had a thought this week… every single one of those beatitudes begins with the words “Blessed are those who….” If you are merciful, then you are blessed. Maybe you don’t have to immediately be or do all those other things. Maybe it’s enough to try and live out one Beatitude per week. This week I will do my best to be a peace-maker, and I can put the others on the back-burner. That sounds more doable…. no?

A final word… maybe more serious. Because I don’t want you to leave here, feeling like you’ve been given one more onerous task, saying to yourself, “Not only do I have to get through the day, holding it together as best I can, now I also have to become a saint.” So I need to remind myself and all of us that this becoming a saint business – well, it’s God’s work actually. It’s the Spirit working with us, in us, through us – that’s how the transformation is going to happen. Our task is actually very simple… be open; let God in; let the Spirit into your heart .. and the rest will follow. So a final word from St. Augustine, he of the “chastity-later-prayer”… you can hear how over the years he was transformed as he prays to God:

Breath in me, Spirit of God,

that I may think what is holy;

Drive me Spirit of God,

that I may do what is holy;

Draw me, Spirit of God,

that I may love what is holy;

Strengthen me, Spirit of God,

that I may preserve what is holy;

Guard me Spirit of God,

that I may never lose what is holy.

May it be so. Amen.