Artwork by John August Swanson, used with permission
This morning’s Scripture feels tailor-made for All Saints’ Sunday.
In just a bit, during communion, we will observe All Saints’ Sunday with our tradition of reading the names of the saints we have known – the saints in this community who have died this year. Now, when folks hear the word “saint,” we may think first of people who have lived extra-ordinarily courageous and moral lives – Saint Francis, Saint Teresa of Calcutta. But, we know that in our tradition we have an even broader understanding of “saints.” When Scripture speaks of “saints,” it’s referring to all those who have called on God – all those who are beloved of God – all of us – including us. We believe that God is at work in the body of Christ – in the communion of the saints – in the lives of the saints – in the lives of us. We glimpse God at work in the lives of the saints – in the lives of us.
And so in this community, on All Saints’ Sunday, we remember the saints we have known. We remember and give thanks for the lives they lived, for the life we have lived together. We name the names.
That’s what this morning’s Scripture does: It names the names.[1] This morning’s Scripture has been called “the roll call of the faithful” or the “hall of fame of faith.” The writer begins with a statement about faith – a brief explanation – “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for the confidence of things not seen.” When we say faith – the Greek word for faith, pisteos – we are talking about trust – we are talking about living lives that trust in the goodness of God.[2] And so the writer of Hebrews begins:
· By faith, trusting in God, Abraham and Sarah, left the home they knew and set off for a land they knew not – they set out as refugees, trusting that God would find them shelter and a home.
· By faith, trusting in God, Isaac and Jacob, blessed their descendants, trusting that God would accompany them too.
· By faith, trusting God, Moses rejected his title “son of Pharaoh” – giving up privilege and wealth to lead God’s people out of slavery and into freedom.
· By faith, trusting God, the people followed Moses, through the waters, and across a wilderness.
· By faith, trusting God, Rahab – and here in the list there is a woman – and a foreigner – Rahab sheltered Hebrew spies – and all their lives were saved.
One after another, the writer names the faithful – the saints. Remember, and give thanks. This is how we have seen God at work – in the lives of these faithful saints. Name by name.
But then – did you notice? – when the second part of the Scripture picks up – there’s a shift. The writer is going along at a good clip, naming specific names, and then they say – expansively – “And what more can I say? Time would fail to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel – the prophets and the kings.” And the names give way, and open up room for this vast array of unnamed saints who have lived the life of faith:
They conquered kingdoms and administered justice.
They shut the mouths of lions and quenched the flames.
Women received back their dead, raised to life again.
Others were tortured, and faced jeers and flogging.
Some were chained and imprisoned. Some were sawed in two.
They went about in goatskins and sheepskins – destitute, persecuted mistreated. Wandering deserts and mountains, hiding in caves.
Now it’s not particularly easy to figure out who all these folks are[3] – maybe it’s Daniel who shut the mouths of lions – but who got sawed in two? They’re described not by names, but by the lives they lived. And recounting their lives, the writer says: The world was not worthy of them! The writer of Hebrews celebrates the lives of the faithful – named and unnamed. What more can I say? We can name the saints we’ve seen and heard – and... there are so many more.
And then the writer of Hebrews adds this lovely and wistful note: But all these... All these lived the life – but they didn’t receive the promise during their life... because God had something better planned for us all, so that only together with us would they be made complete. Someone in worship team asked me what that means. I think it means this: In the epic sweep of life, all of us saints – we will all get there together.
On All Saints’ Sunday, we remember – we remember how we have seen God at work in the world in the lives of the saints. This Scripture reminds us that what God is doing in the world is so much bigger even than what eye can see and ear can hear.
Barbara Brown Taylor puts it like this: “If Halloween is masks-on day, then All Saints Day is masks-off day, when we stop to remember just how many people are beloved of God: those we suspected and those we did not; those we can name and those we cannot; those who left their marks on this world and those [whose trace may be faint.]’[4]
So, as we’ve been preparing this week to name the names of the saints we have known. That’s got me wondering:
Year in and year out, Who do we not name? Who do we not see?
When I first came to seminary, back in 2005 – when we first met – the Presbyterian Church (USA) did not allow the ordination of LGBTQIA+ people as ministers, elders, or deacons. It was official policy. Now, of course, we know that there were many queer folks serving in all kinds of ways – but you couldn’t do it too openly, you couldn’t be too out. We used to say that folks were “under the radar.”
What you may not know is that in the heat of the controversies over ordination, there was an organization called Presbyterian Welcome – the New York affiliate of Janie Spahr’s “That All May Freely Serve,” that every summer hosted a retreat for LGBTQIA+ folks who were trying to pursue a call at any stage of the ordination process. Back in 2005, 2006, 2007, I’d say there were as many as 20 or 30 of us – even though there was a denominational rule that it wasn’t possible – for queer folk to be called.
Pres Welcome hosted this retreat confidentially – they created a safe space, every year, where we could support each other. Folks gathered for this retreat from different parts of the country – blue states, red states. We were in different stages of being “out” in the ordination process – so we had an agreement that no photos would be taken during the retreat – because for some folks, if their presbytery had known they were queer, their ordination journey would have ended. Immediately.
What developed along with that, though – so that we could mark and remember our presence together – was a tradition that we’d take a photo of our feet. No faces – just feet. We’d get in a circle – and each put a foot in – kind of like the hokey-pokey – and we’d take that photo so that we would not be entirely invisible. We were not seen, but we were no less a part of the church.
Out my experience in the church, when I come to the Scriptures, one of the first questions I ask is, “Who is not being seen here? Whose voice is not being heard?” So when the writer of Hebrews asks rhetorically, “What more could I say?” I answer out loud. Well, we could say some more about Sarah – and how she was so much more than just a way for Abraham to have a son. We could say more about Hagar, and Rebecca, and Leah and Rachel. We could say more about Shiphrah and Puah, the midwives who saved Moses and a generation of Hebrew babies. We could say more about the folks who were servants and slaves – or about the “poor of the land” – the folks who were left behind when the elites were carried off into exile. If time would allow, we could say so much more.
The systems and structures of the world – systems of power-over – can keep people hidden, or silenced – unnamed. We know that. One of the confessions of the church – the Brief Statement of the Faith – affirms that “the Spirit gives us courage... to hear the voices of people long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace.”
What more can I say? Time would fail me to tell you about Janie and Erin and Chris, about Lisa, about Katie and Virginia and Anne, about Ashley and Alex and Mieke? We celebrate saints seen and unseen.
Hmmm. Who else’s names aren’t being named?
Earlier this year, I was reading a book in one of my favorite mystery series. The books feature Ruth Galloway, a British archeologist who gets called in to help in murder cases. So, with each book, you get a mystery, and a bit of British history and archeology. This particular book in the series was called The Outcast Dead [5]– and it remembers a litany called Prayers for the Outcast Dead that dates back to the times of the Plague. The litany dates back to days when ordinary folks were buried without headstones – not just plague victims, but the poor and strangers without family. The Prayers for the Outcast Dead remember those lives – the lives of ordinary folk. The leader says: “Lord, you have told us that not a sparrow falls without your knowing. We know that these people were known to you and loved by you.” And the people respond: “We remember them.” [6]
Saints named and unnamed, seen and unseen.
When I was working at the seminary, I had the privilege of meeting Rev. Glenda Hope – maybe you know her. She’s this dynamo Presbyterian minister who served the marginalized in San Francisco for decades. The Chronicle once called her “the saint of the Tenderloin.”[7]Glenda Hope and her husband founded a non-profit that worked with the unhoused, with woman forced into prostitution – helping connect them with housing and other important services. One of the things that Glenda Hope did was to make sure that those who were poor and unhoused – when they died – had a memorial service. That they were not forgotten. Over the course of her ministry, she did more than 1,000 memorial services. She explained, "What these memorials show is that someone cares. It says you matter."[8]
The Marin Street Chaplaincy does something like this – maybe you’ve been to one of the annual observances of National Homeless Persons Memorial Day, on the longest night of the year – where they name the names, remembering those known and not known.
What more could I say? Time would fail to tell you of Jose, and Jimmy, and Susan, and Jesse, and Dennis, and so many more.[9] We celebrate saints named and unnamed, seen and unseen.
Let’s look at one more: Whose names do we not name?
Well, when we think of our All Saints tradition – we may naturally think first of the saints who have graced this world in the past. We may then think some of the saints sitting on the pews with us – or whom we may meet on the street today. The saints past and present. But what about the saints yet to come? The saints unseen because they have not yet arrived. We can see the saints who are youngest among us – Paula, Siha, Shihoo, Sira – Anders and Ev. What about their children and their grandchildren. What more can I say? Well, time would fail me to tell the height and length and breadth and the depth of the communion of the saints – stretching out so much farther than eye can see or ear can hear.
On this All Saints Sunday – we give thanks for the saints we have known, for the saints living life with us right here right now – and for the saints yet to come. We give thanks for the glimpse of God that we have seen, that we do see, that we will see – in the lives they – that we live.
So, in just a bit,
when we name the name of the saints we have known and loved,
may we give thanks even more expansively for saints seen and unseen;
listening for the voices we have heard, and for voices long silenced;
celebrating the saints whose names we know
and those whose names are known to God –
all of the saints, together the Body of Christ.
I have just three quick things to say before I wrap up.
First, in the coming weeks, we are going to be talking about abundance, as we enter into stewardship season – God’s abundance. We live in a world where so much of life is based on a perception and worldview of scarcity. We will be opening our eyes and ears and hearts to look for God’s abundance – more expansive than we ever imagined. Grace abounds.
This morning, we see that abundance in the communion of the saints. We give thanks for the saints we have seen and can name – how God has blessed us in them. And, as we glimpse the expanse of the communion of the saints, we sense that what God is doing in the world is so much bigger than what eye can see and ear can hear – so much more abundance.
Second, we have an election coming up this week. I am just as nervous, and anxious, and scared as you might be. Even as we are doing what we can... vote – we don’t know how things will turn out or what will happen. Our “something to do” for this week is to remember – to remember in the tumult of this week – that what God is doing in the world is so much bigger than what eye can see and ear can hear. Hold on to that.
And third: There’s one more bit of this Scripture. As you turn the page from Chapter 11 to Chapter 12, the writer of Hebrews brings it all home, with this word of encouragement:
Therefore... therefore – they’ve listed the saints named and unnamed – and now here’s the point: Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay down everything that holds us back and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith – Jesus – who entered into all the struggle of this life, knowing the joy that we will all experience together – so that we will not grow weary and we will not lose heart.
As we are gathered here together on this All Saints Sunday – all together in the Body of Christ – surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses – let us run this race together, live this life together – and may we not grow weary, and may we not lose heart.
© 2024 Scott Clark
[1] For general background on the book of Hebrews and this text, see Fred B. Craddock, “The Letter to the Hebrews,” New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. xii (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1998), pp.129-47; Christopher T. Holmes, Commentary on Working Preacher, at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-20-3/commentary-on-hebrews-1129-122-5 ; Mary Foskett, Commentary on Working Preacher, at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-20-3/commentary-on-hebrews-1129-122-4
[2] See Craddock, p.131.
[3] See Foskett, supra.
[4] Brown Taylor, Barbara, Always A Guest: Speaking of Faith Far From Home (Louisville, KY: Presbyterian Publishing Corporation, 2020 (Kindle Edition)), p.198.
[5] Elly Griffiths, The Outcast Dead (New York, NY: Houghton Mifflin, 2014).
[6] See id. pp. 1-2.
[7] See https://www.sfgate.com/bayarea/article/rev-glenda-hope-known-as-saint-of-tenderloin-4781776.php
[8] See id.
[9][9] I’m grateful to Nick Morris for sharing these names of saints who died in the past few years, while living unhoused in Marin County.
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