The Day of the Dead Can be a Day of Joy (Reflections on All Saints 2022)

 

“Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven….” (Luke 6:23) 

All Saints is always a somber festival, coming as it does in autumn as leaves are changing color, days are getting shorter, and the world is growing colder. The natural world is staggeringly beautiful at this time of year. If things are dying, they are doing so spectacularly. Still, it’s only natural that our thoughts should become a little melancholy as we watch the leaves wither and fall. 

Our ancient ancestors thought about the dead a lot at this time of year—which makes perfect sense when you consider the approaching winter could mean a lot of them might not make it to springtime. They had all kinds of rituals around death, too. There’s that great northern European tradition of going to the burial grounds at night with a homemade lantern made from a hollowed-out gourd to welcome the ghosts of our departed loved ones. That’s where our Halloween Jack O’ Lantern tradition came from.

 I’ve noticed this year there’s a trend (you’ll see it in the stores) to embrace the Mexican tradition of Dia de Los Muertos, a two or three day celebration coinciding with Halloween, All Saints, and All Souls Day.[i] I think that’s a great idea. Dia de los Muertos is a really fun festival. It’s more about celebrating the dead than mourning them. The festival involves feasting and making candies called calaveras that look like human skulls. As far as I’m concerned, any holiday which involves candy is one I’m willing to observe.

 The really wonderful thing about Dia de los Muertos is how this festival makes light of death. Kids play with little skeletons, people wear colorful costumes and put on creepy skull-like make-up, and skulls (fake ones, not actual human skulls!) are decorated with feathers and flowers and brilliant colors as a joyful tribute to the ones who have gone before us. 

Far be it for one like me ever to criticize the Bard, but I think Shakespeare got it wrong when his Marc Antony said, “The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.”[ii] In my experience we humans are really much more forgiving, much more willing to let the nasty past lie in the dirt. We’d rather party and celebrate the virtues of our lost friends. I’m always sorry to say “good-bye” to folks who’ve walked with me on part of my journey on this rock, but I really appreciate this autumnal opportunity to say “thank you” for all they gave and stood for and taught. 

In the Gospel appointed for All Saints, Year C (Luke 6:20-31), Jesus tells all the poor, the sad, the rejected, and the hungry to rejoice and leap for joy. He reminds us that we are blessed and favored of God, and he gives us some vital instructions on how to live as saints—as people made holy by faith in God’s grace. I’m not expecting any leaping during mass, but I really want to celebrate the saints we’ve lost and say “thanks” for the way they modeled the discipleship Jesus taught. 

Jimmy Leddy was a good Catholic boy who married a good Lutheran girl. Jimmy and Maggie broke up every Sunday morning and reunited every Sunday afternoon. He never made fun of her faith tradition, and he was always willing to celebrate our similarities other than argue about our differences. He was pretty wounded (and what good Catholic boy wouldn’t be?) by the disclosures about the Catholic Church back in the ‘90’s, but if he was ever disappointed in the institution, he was forever faithful to Jesus. A good, kind, affable, loving husband and father who suffered loss but never lost his compassion.

 There aren’t many left at Faith Lutheran who will remember Helen Hoppe (she’d been shut-in for many years) as she was very shy and quiet. She was born in one of the Baltic states (I think Estonia) and she had a very “Old World” type of piety. She and her late husband Al raised two boys—one a firefighter, the other a police officer. She was a fabulous hostess and always put out a large spread whenever anyone came to visit. She was also immensely generous, mild tempered, and patient. 

Much the same could be said of Helen Andersen, another of our shut-ins we lost this year. What always struck me about Helen was how cheerful she was, always giggling slightly and beaming her beatific smile. She loved her family more than life, but she also loved Faith. She taught Sunday School back in the early days, and she was our Girl Scout leader for years. I’m sure many young women learned a lot from her.

 Judy Schmid was the widow of the late and legendary Ralph Steinke. But she was a merry widow who took a chance on something not many of us would do—she answered a personal ad. She took the chance, and fell in love a second time with Bill, a man who really needed the sort of nurturing, good-natured, personality Judy had. She loved him, protected him, and cared for him when he was ill at the end of his life. She never complained. She was always bright, loquacious, and friendly to everyone. She was classy and elegant and faithful to our congregation. 

People of Welsh heritage love to sing, so I guess that’s why Jean Griffiths MacLeod donated so many years to Faith’s choir. She had an excellent soprano voice, and I’m sure she kept her fellow sopranos on key—even if she couldn’t keep them from teasing the Music Director. Jean had no ego, and constantly refused to call attention to herself by singing a solo. After retiring from choir she continued to worship every week as long as she could, occupying the same pew with the other retired choir ladies. Like Maggie Leddy, she married a good Catholic boy, split up every Sunday morning, and reunited every Sunday afternoon after church. 

Nobody at Faith was sweeter or kinder than Linda Bell. A faithful member of the Thursday Bible Group, a member of Council, played in the Handbell Choir at Christmas, was a “Godmother” to a Confirmation student, and taught us all about being cheerful in the face of grave illness. I will always admire Linda’s sense of humor, and how bravely she faced her transplant and her subsequent battles. She was a person of faith and an example to the rest of us. 

I’d like to mention two other names on our All Saints list. They were both first cousins to my wife, Marilyn. 

Jack Cannon was a police lieutenant. The word is he was an old-fashioned type of cop—the type who couldn’t get away with some of the things he did if he did them today. I knew him off the job as a friendly, quiet, man who taught me how to play bocce ball. He was deeply pious in his Catholic faith and once had the honor of escorting Cardinal Jozef Mindszenty through his town so the exiled Hungarian cleric could dedicate a church for fellow Hungarian refugees. Jack was deeply hurt by the disclosures of the ‘90’s, but never lost his faith. He celebrated his baptism every year by sending a bouquet of flowers to his godmother (His aunt and Marilyn’s mother) on her birthday.

Marilyn’s cousin Barbara Schneider was a mentor to her in many different ways. She was loving and funny and loyal and classy and elegant. She was also extremely compassionate and giving. Barbara and her husband George adopted two babies from Columbia, each born from different parents. They raised them along with a son of their own, proving that there are a lot of different ways to be a family. 

Finally, Pat Martinez was one of the lions of Faith Lutheran. He was always there, always ready to lend a hand, and never one to shy away from expressing his opinion. He was conscientiously honest and straightforward (some might say blunt), but I never knew him to be rude or out of line. He was ready to volunteer for anything—taking gifts to the kids at Silver Springs, using his skill at woodworking to make items for the Fall Festival, or running the pancake breakfast on Easter morning. We will admire and miss his strong sense of dedication.

 We give thanks to God for these and all the other saints we remember on All Saints Day. An oft-repeated (perhaps too oft-repeated) sermon illustration is the story of the little boy in Sunday School who was seen gazing at the pictures of the saints in the stained-glass windows of his church. The pastor asked him, “So, Johnny, do you know what a saint is?” The lad replied, “They’re the people the light shines through.” 

Rejoice, O Saints of God!

 

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[i] All Souls, a Roman Catholic festival on November 2^nd honoring all the departed (as opposed to saints canonized by the Church), is combined with All Saints in the Lutheran tradition. Our understanding has always been that a saint is nothing more than a sinner saved by grace—so we’re ALL saints.

[ii] Julius Caesar, Act 3 sc. 2. But you knew that, didn’t you?