Sermon for the Feast of All Saints, Year C (Transferred, 11-2-25)

For all the Saint's who from their labors rest. I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true, who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.

Even in some of our dearest hymns sainthood seems like a lot of work. I mean, being a saint is more or less just being a better Christian than everyone else, right? It's an unattainable status for most of us even if we'd like to be able to admit that we're inching our way there. Who doesn't want to make God proud, after all?

It's a term we throw around pretty often. Some saints are the official Capital S Saints - vetted and named and accepted world-wide as exemplars of faith and integrity. And seemingly often using that chumminess with the Almighty to carry out great feats, inspire the masses toward faith in Jesus, and even be known to be responsible for a miracle or two.

But are we sure that's the full picture of sainthood?

Lauren Winner is a professor of Christian spirituality at Duke Divinity school. During a visit to one of my seminary classes we were talking with her about what makes a saint, well, a saint. Was it someone who was extra good? Someone who made it look easy to follow Jesus? Someone who just seemed to be way better at saying no to extra dessert, or always had a dollar to give someone on the street? Or maybe even most importantly, someone who never had a doubt about God? A doubt about God's goodness? A doubt about God's existence, even?

Dr. Winner then went on to share stories with us about women she met while serving as a chaplain in the women's prison near her home in North Carolina. And there, she said, she also met a saint or two. And it was through this particular work that she developed one working definition of a saint:

A saint is someone who is called into a particular and peculiar intimacy with God that is fruitful for other people.

Notice here that there isn't much to do with a rap sheet, or a plaque listing a bunch of incredible deeds accomplished all while holding an impeccable reputation intact. Instead, it centers around a life lived with God in a way that others notice. It's as much about responding to God authentically as it necessarily is about good deeds. (Although God's spirit does generally prompt us to carry those out from time to time.) And I guess when you think about it, it wouldn't be the first a saint or two landed themselves in jail.

I'd wager to guess that of the photos we have up here, at least a good handful of them depict someone known for their great faith. Someone who lived out that faith in such a unique and notable way that it couldn't help but rub off on others who had the privilege of living alongside them. I'd also would wager that most of the saints known to us in this room were just as complicated, and contradictory, and compromised as the rest of us. They likely were dealt disappointments that shook the very foundations of their faith. And they likely fumbled and tripped down their path following Jesus - just like the rest of us.

And yet. Something was different about them. Wasn't it?

It's no great surprise to me that we meditate on the Beatitudes this saintly day. The risk here, though, is in thinking that the saints of God are those who naturally take on the blessings rather than the curses. That real saints don't grumble when they've lost or are hungry.

But in another translation of our Gospel reading today I hear another kind of sainthood calling out from it. This is from The Message:

You’re blessed when you’ve lost it all. God’s kingdom is there for the finding.

You’re blessed when you’re ravenously hungry. Then you’re ready for the Messianic meal.

You’re blessed when the tears flow freely. Joy comes with the morning.

Count yourself blessed every time someone cuts you down or throws you out, every time someone smears or blackens your name to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and that that person is uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—skip like a lamb, if you like!—for even though they don’t like it, I do . . . and all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company; my preachers and witnesses have always been treated like this.

To you who are ready for the truth, I say this: Love your enemies. Let them bring out the best in you, not the worst. When someone gives you a hard time, respond with the supple moves of prayer for that person. If someone slaps you in the face, stand there and take it. If someone grabs your shirt, giftwrap your best coat and make a present of it. If someone takes unfair advantage of you, use the occasion to practice the servant life. No more payback. Live generously. Here is a simple rule of thumb for behavior:

Ask yourself what you want people to do for you; then grab the initiative and do it for them!"

What we do and don't do in this life matters. It matters very much. But what makes a saint is in the sharing in the vision of life as God intends it more so than being better at it than everyone else. Or maybe said another way: I think what makes a saint a saint, is that they get it. They get the reality that Jesus is talking about here. And they live in a way that welcomes that reality in. Imperfectly - maybe even impatiently - but in a way that others can't help but notice. And by that definition, I'd go as far as to say that we're lucky to have a few saints with us in this very room.

Amen.