“Of the Worship of Saints they teach that the memory
of saints may be set before us, that we may follow their faith and good works,
according to our calling…” (Augsburg
Confession, Article XXI)
It’s
autumn once again. Before our thoughts turn to turkeys or gift-buying sprees,
or the fact that we don’t have any money to afford turkeys or
gift-buying sprees because our gasoline and utility bills are too high, we are
reminded to pause and give thanks for the people who enriched our lives but
will no longer be watching the leaves fall or sharing a pumpkin pie with us.
We
Christians have been observing this time of year for this purpose for a very
long time. The nascent Christian communities remembered those who had been
martyred for the faith on the anniversaries of their deaths. I suspect the end
of the harvest season and the coming of winter must’ve turned our ancestors’
thoughts to the impermanence of life. In 735 CE Pope Gregory III instituted
November 1 as the day to remember all the departed heroes of the faith. In
later medieval times, some monasteries began to offer prayers and psalms for all
the departed—even the average Joes—on November 2. As Lutherans, we combine
these two ancient festivals into one celebration. After all, what is a saint
but an average sinner redeemed by God’s grace?
Sometime
in the Middle Ages the Church began using the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:1-12) as
the gospel text for remembering the departed. O. Wesley Allen, a professor of
homiletics at the Perkins School of Theology in Dallas, Texas[i], points out that these
blessings Jesus announces aren’t suggestions. They’re guarantees. Jesus doesn’t
tell his listeners, “Look: If you’re pure in heart you may see God.” No.
He tells us, “Because you are pure in heart, you will see God.”
Jesus reminds us God’s love is for the poor, the mourning, the meek, those who
try to do what’s right and encourage others to do the same, those who show
mercy and kindness, those who strive for peace, and those who are persecuted.
You don’t need to perform miracles, convert the pagan masses, or have the
Vatican declare you a saint. God sees you striving and sees you failing and
loves you abundantly regardless. On All Saints we remember those adorable if
unremarkable sinners and saints God put in our lives. We celebrate and admire
all they shared with us during their journey on earth, and we rejoice they are
now enjoying that which Jesus promised us all.
Blessed
are the meek. I don’t know if I’d call Jean Markelwith meek exactly, but she
was certainly demure and ladylike, and less flamboyant than here gregarious
husband, Bud. For years the Markelwiths occupied the aisle seats in the last
pew on the pulpit side during the 8:15 AM mass. They were here every Sunday. If
you met them as a couple, you’d probably get to know Bud a little better. He
was an usher and a greeter and member of the men’s group. But Jean had a quiet
sweetness which seemed to compliment her more outgoing partner. They were a
devoted couple. They had no children of their own but adopted the family which
shared the stoop of their Northeast Philly row home. The young couple next door
had a son named Michael, and Michael became their unofficial grandson. Jean
would follow Michael’s exploits and tell everyone about him just as if he were
her own flesh and blood. She’d go to his games and remember him at holiday
times. She proved there are a lot of different ways to be a family.
We
didn’t see Jean after Bud passed. I called often, but I couldn’t get her back
to church. Possibly, she was afraid to drive Bud’s huge Cadillac, but I think
her reluctance to return to us was because church just wasn’t church without Bud.
Church is, after all, the place where all of life’s major transitions are
celebrated. Babies are baptized, adolescents are confirmed, couples are married,
and the dead are memorialized. We come here on holidays and, sometimes, in
times of national catastrophe. It’s easy to feel the ghosts of our memories all
around us. I would wish, however, that we wouldn’t fear those ghosts but rather
feel that here the mourning are loved and understood, welcomed, and blessed.
To
say Harvey Slegel “hungered and thirsted for righteousness” sounds a bit
hyperbolic if you knew Harvey. Harvey was a pretty laid-back guy. Nevertheless,
old CPA that he was, he had very definite ideas about what was right and what
wasn’t. He didn’t feel it necessary to express every opinion he had. That’s
probably why he avoided a seat on the church council even though his knowledge
and expertise would’ve been an asset. He didn’t like unnecessary conflict. To
the end, however, he stuck to his principle that a church should be 100%
self-supporting by member contributions alone. Any additional revenue should be
directed to the poor and the needy. Unfortunately, in these modern,
post-religious times, such an ideal may not always be practical, but Harvey
never let this principle get in the way of his personal generosity.
Harvey
loved his fellow Vietnam vets, doo-wop music, classic cars, and re-runs of Perry
Mason. Mostly, Harvey loved his family and his church. Harvey’s wife, Kate is
Roman Catholic, so she and Harvey split up every Sunday morning and reunited
every Sunday afternoon. They made this arrangement work for over half a century,
each respecting the religious practice of the other. When Harvey passed, each
of his grandchildren took part in his memorial. Each shared a memory of this
dedicated, devout man. There is no greater testament to the righteousness of a
man than the love, dignity, and decency displayed by his family.
Thank
you, Lord, for Harvey and Jean and all the saints we remember today. You have surrounded
us with so great a cloud of witnesses. Grant that we, encouraged by the example
of your servants, may persevere in the course that is set before us, to be
living signs of the gospel[ii].
Let
the Church say, “Amen!”
[i]
See Dr. Allen’s article in the Working Preacher website at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/all-saints-sunday/commentary-on-matthew-51-12-12.
[ii]
This prayer is taken from the Prayer of the Day for saints’ days in Lutheran
Book of Worship (Minneapolis: Augsburg Publishing, 1978) Pg. 36.
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