5 Nov 2023
Text: 1 John
3:1-2 (Matt 5:1-12, Rev 7:2-17)
In the name of +
Jesus. Amen.
When we honor the saints, we are really honoring
Jesus. For He is the one who turns us
poor, miserable sinners into saints. And
this is the entire point of the Christian faith. And here we are nearly two thousand years
after our Lord’s death on the cross to save us, after His resurrection that
points us to our own resurrections and to those of our loved ones who have died
in the faith. And still, most people
miss the entire point.
It’s one thing when we think of great saints whom
we remember by name, like St. Augustine the great theologian and doctor of the
church, or St. Teresa, the nun who served the poor in India, or St. Paul, the
apostle who spread Christianity all over the known world and wrote half of the
New Testament. But how quickly we forget
that Augustine had been a member of a cult who had a son out of wedlock, that
Teresa’s diary reveals a woman plagued by doubts, or that Paul was once Saul,
the inquisitor of Christians who took part in the lynching of St. Stephen, the
first martyr.
What makes a saint a saint (a word that means holy)
is that every one of them had a saving encounter with Jesus – whether in Holy Baptism
as an infant, or in a conversion later on, maybe even on one’s deathbed.
But today, on this great feast, we don’t call to
mind the great saints whose names we know for the great deeds that they did,
inspiring us to imitate their great works.
Rather, we remember all saints, those whose names we know, and those
unknown to history. We remember the
saints whom Christian churches have declared to be saints, and we remember our
loved ones for whom Christ died, for whom Christ’s blood atones, those who will
never have a marble statue or a church named after them.
Their saintly works may have been those of godly
parents: fathers working multiple jobs, mothers nursing us as babies and taking
care of us when we were sick. They
taught us to pray and took us to church.
They had us baptized. Our saints
may also have suffered for their faith, maybe not by being fed to lions, but
maybe by being passed over for a new job, or denying themselves worldly
pleasure for the sake of doing what is right.
The Book of Revelation gives us a glimpse into
eternity, as St. John was permitted to see beyond the veil, describing the
saints as “servants of God” who have been “sealed” on their foreheads. It is the ancient custom among Christians to
trace the sign of the cross in oil on the forehead of the newly baptized, and for
the pastor to bless the baptized by tracing the cross over them as a reminder,
by reminding us of the cross when they visit us when we are sick and dying, and
even crossing our foreheads when our bodies lie in the casket awaiting the
resurrection.
The sign of the cross is the sign of the saint. For it is at the cross, by the Lamb’s blood,
that we sinner-saints are “sealed.” And
in heaven, those who have been sealed sing the great heavenly liturgy of praise
to Jesus, the Lamb. And for our sake,
one of the elders in heaven asks John, “Who are these, clothed in white robes,
and from where have they come?” And the
elder answers his own question: “These are the ones coming out of the great
tribulation. They have washed their
robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” These saints, dear friends, have not heroically
earned a spot in heaven by being a doctor of the church, a nun serving the
poor, or an apostle, missionary, and church planter. The saints are saints because their sins have
been washed away by the blood of the Lamb.
We are saints because of the cross.
We are saints because of Jesus.
And this is our hope and our joy, dear friends,
knowing that we will see them again, in glory, with no more suffering, no more
death, no more great tribulation of this fallen world. “They shall hunger no more, neither thirst
anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat.” Their lives of sacrifice and labor and
suffering are over. And now, the saints
surround the throne of the Lamb, singing the liturgy of praise: “Blessing and
glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God
forever.” And so we join them in this
same liturgy. We surround this same
throne of the same Lamb, the same King, the same crucified God whose blood
cleanses and saves us. The same body and
blood in which we partake.
How sad when we forget this reality, as we forget
that our loved ones are here with Jesus, even as we are here with Jesus, in the
liturgy that brings us into contact with the body of our Savior, the blood of
the Lamb, given and shed for you. Every Divine
Service is a great feast of All Saints as we commune with Jesus, and with them,
separated by a thin veil. Why would
anyone want to be anywhere else, dear friends?
Our departed saints, whether we know their names or
not, whether churches are named after them or not, lived lives of love, because
the love of God was first given to them.
As the same St. John who was given the revelation of those sealed in
heaven wrote, “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should
be called children of God; and so we are.” Think, dear friends, what a great privilege it
is to pray to God as our Father, to “ask Him as dear children ask their dear
father.” It is easy to take this
privilege for granted, just as it is easy to get so wrapped up in our lives
that we forget about the saints in heaven, and the fact that we, and they, are
waiting for the resurrection and our reunion with them in the flesh!
So why do the saints suffer tribulation? Why doesn’t the world join us in honoring the
saints, and in honoring the Lamb whose blood turns lynch mobs into
churches? “The reason why the world does
not know us,” says St. John, “is that it did not know Him.” The world and its prince, the devil, do not
know Him as their God, as the one who came out of love. We see a Savior, but they see a threat to
their sinful way of life, to being able to lord over and abuse others, to bending
others to their will. The world does not
know Jesus, because it doesn’t want to know Him, and so they don’t know us
either.
But we know the saints, dear friends. Because we know Jesus. We know the Lamb. We know the Good News. We know our Good Shepherd. We know His voice when He calls us. We know His Word. We know the truth, the same truth that sets
us free, seals us, and makes us saints.
We are a holy people in spite of ourselves. And “we know that when He appears we shall be
like Him” and “everyone who thus hopes in Him purifies himself as He is pure.”
Indeed, to be a saint is to be baptized, wearing
the robe made white by the blood of the Lamb.
It is to be sealed by the sign of the cross. It is to confess the name of Jesus, to praise
Him in the liturgy, to receive the body and blood of Jesus, and to come right
up to the thin veil at this altar that separates us from our loved ones “who
from their labors rest.” To be a saint
is to be a sinner who has been redeemed, whose life is offered to the God who
has saved us by His blood.
Indeed, to be a saint is not to be perfect. To be a saint almost never involves being remembered
in history, not even the history of the church.
To be a saint is to be loved by God and washed in the blood. To be a saint is to be blessed by God in our
incompleteness, but to hear and believe the promises that we “shall be” brought
to completion in eternity, owning the kingdom of heaven, comforted, inheriting
the earth, satisfied, receiving mercy, seeing God, being called sons of God,
owning heaven itself, being rewarded greatly in heaven.
Saints are not necessarily those who do great
things, but rather those who receive great gifts from the great Giver of the
greatest of gifts. “For the Lamb in the
midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and He will guide them to springs
of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”
And so on this great feast, let us honor the
saints. For when we honor the saints, we
are really honoring Jesus.
Amen.
In
the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.