Sunday in the Octave of the Feast of All Saints’, November 5, 2017; The Rev. Pamela L Werntz

O God of All Saints, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

From time to time I feel the need to confess things to you, that you probably already know, but I still want to say them. Today I have two such confessions. First, I am a Church geek. I love the Bible, warts and all. I especially love Jesus, although I don’t always understand him, and he often takes me where I do not wish to go. I love the feasts and fasts of our liturgical calendar, especially All Saints’ Day. I love singing hymns and sharing bread and wine when we gather for worship. I also love vestry meetings and annual parish meetings, and overly full Diocesan Conventions like the one we had yesterday at our Cathedral on Tremont Street. In spite of the energy it exacts from this introvert, I love the wide and wild assortment of folks that come together to lead the church in the most crazy, messy, democratic way. I love budget deliberations. I love raising money for and spending money on things that matter, things that promote the well-being of our common life. I love resolution debates about our affirmations of and aspirations for the common good. I love people who express their incredulity, saying to me, “budget and resolution debates? Really, Pam?” Really.

My second confession is that I lament the loss of boredom in our culture, and especially in our Church. I regret my part in not making worship more boring. It’s not that there aren’t times, I imagine, when some of you get distracted enough to check your mobile devices in church, but when is the last time you were so bored that you paged through the Book of Common Prayer in the pew in front of you? It’s a treasure trove! When is the last time you browsed our Catechism (which starts on page 845)? Actually, the introduction begins on page 844 with a disclaimer that the Catechism is intended as an outline only, not as the destination or end point, but as a point of departure for explorers. I love the Catechism in the Episcopal Church because it offers miles of theological and spiritual elbow room; it’s generous and expansive. Listen to the questions and answers of the last page of our Catechism that speak to our All Saints’ Day observance.

1. Why do we pray for the dead?
2. We pray for them, because we still hold them in our love, and because we trust that in God’s presence those who have chosen to serve [God] will grow in [God’s] love, until they see [God] as [God] is.
3. What is the communion of saints?
4. The communion of saints is the whole family of God, the living and the dead, those whom we love and those whom we hurt, bound together in Christ by sacrament, prayer, and praise.
5. What do we mean by everlasting life?
6. By everlasting life, we mean a new existence, in which we are united with all the people of God, in the joy of fully knowing and loving God and each other.
7. What, then, is our assurance as Christians?
8. Our assurance as Christians is that nothing, not even death, shall separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Amen.

That last word catches me by surprise. It says to me that our Catechism, written in the form of questions and answers, is not a dogmatic collection of principles laid down by an authority as incontrovertibly true. Our catechism is a prayer. Our teaching tool is a prayer!

Between last week’s celebration of Reformation Sunday and All Saints’ Day, I’ve been thinking a lot about catechisms and saints, alongside of stewardship and budgets, and our assorted collaborations to do what we can to repair our broken world. A week ago, Friday, Central Reform Temple’s Shabbat theme was Tikkun Olam, the Hebrew words that mean healing the world. At the reception time following the service, (called the oneg, which means delight, by the way) a member of the congregation was still talking about the Emmanuel Center program featuring the Museum of Fine Arts’ Lindsey Instrument Collection in Lindsey Chapel a few days prior to commemorate the 100^th anniversary of the establishment of that collection in Leslie Lindsey’s memory. In addition to the musical performance, the altar screen of 36 female saints stunned the woman. She’d never seen it lit up. She asked me, “how often does it get lit up like that?” Her question revealed that she assumed that it was a rare occurrence. I laughed and said, “every time I’m in that space!” There’s never a time that I don’t want to shine a light on those brave women who lived and loved creatively, courageously, inspirationally, with ferocious integrity in the face of disintegration and dishonor. “It’s a miracle,” she said.

And that thought leads me to our Gospel of Matthew this morning. Although our regular schedule of readings has us nearing the end of Jesus’ ministry in Matthew, All Saints’ Day brings us back to the first thing that Jesus taught in his public ministry. According to Matthew, these verses were the point of departure for Jesus’ catechism. The Greek word makarioi is typically translated “Blessed” or “Happy,” leading us to imagine that people described this way are to be envied. This has always troubled me, though. What strange and unwelcome blessings.

Theologian, K.C. Hanson has a completely different understanding of the “makarisms,” [1] (as they are called in English). He asserts that these words of Jesus are not meant to describe circumstantial advantage or emotional happiness of people whose spirits are utterly spent or exhausted, or who are mourning, or who are gentle and humble, or who are starving for right-relationship, or who are merciful, or who are unsullied, or who are making peace, or who are persecuted and slandered for goodness’ sake (which is another way to say “for righteousness’ sake”). Hanson points out what you may recall, that the Gospel of Luke’s version of this teaching has blessings and woes. When choosing readings for weddings, ordinations, funerals, most people prefer Matthew’s version without the curses – curses are such a buzz-kill! But the curses are there in Matthew; they’re just at the end of Gospel in Chapter 23:13-29, bookending Jesus’ teachings.

Hanson suggests that instead of understanding these teachings as blessings and curses or as promises of union with God (aka heaven) and threats of separation from God (aka hell), they are primarily descriptions of honor and shame, with an expected response. This perspective is easier to see if we look at non-Biblical Jewish and Christian religious writings of the time, to get a clearer sense of their cultural context. Makarisms show up in a wide variety of diverse communities over the span of a couple hundred years at the time of the dawn of the Common Era. For example, a first century Jewish writing from north Africa called 2 Enoch, has a list of makarisms and accusations that address ethical issues having to do with honor and shame.

Hanson suggests “How honorable!” for the positive statements and, “How shameful!” for the negative. Listen to this some of the pairs from the list in 2 Enoch: “How honorable [are] the ones who open [their] lips for praise of the God of Hosts, and praise the LORD with [their] whole heart. How shameful is everyone who opens [their] heart for insulting, and insults the poor and slanders [their] neighbor; because that one slanders God. … How honorable—whoever blesses all the works of the LORD. How shameful—whoever despises any of the LORD’s creatures. … How honorable—whoever cultivates the love of peace. How shameful-whoever disturbs those who are peaceful by means of love. How honorable—whoever, even though [they] do not speak peace with [their] tongue, nevertheless in [their] heart there is peace toward all. How shameful—whoever with [their] tongue speaks peace, but in [their] heart there is no peace, but a sword.” [2]=

The “how shameful” declaration is not a scolding, but rather, a challenge to the presumed honor of people who had status, respect and power in the community – an unmasking behavior that doesn’t match appearance. The “how honorable” declaration is a pronouncement of esteem and respect upon those who are least and last, who struggle to live lives of integrity in the community without status or material resources. These are not about psychological values but social values, and they call for an ethical response.

The expected response is to lift up and support those who are struggling – to encourage them to pick up their heads and for others to treat them with reverence and respect. The expected response to the unmasking of those in positions of authority who do things that make Jesus mad, is repentance. And what makes Jesus mad? According to Matthew, it’s people who try to lock other people out of the Realm of God. Jesus says, they don’t want to go into the Realm of God themselves, and yet they block others’ paths. They swear by sacred things and sacred space rather than by what makes them sacred (which is Love, or who is God). They follow small rules and make token offerings but neglect justice, mercy and fidelity. They strain out gnats and swallow camels, is how Jesus puts it. They posture in ways that mask their greed and self-indulgence and other kinds of pollutions of the soul. Jesus exposes such hypocrisy and lawlessness and calls for repentance, return to the Holy One. What is the way home for those called to return? The Gospel of Matthew is clear – it is for the peoples (the nations) to care for those who are most vulnerable: refugees and prisoners, people who are impoverished, those lacking adequate shelter, food, drink, health. Honor them. Offer them respect. Treat them well.

We are all in different places on our spiritual journey. On this All Saints’ Sunday, I want to encourage you to do three things, from wherever you are on your spiritual journey: take whatever the next step is for you in acknowledging yourself as a full member of the communion of saints, the whole family of God. Take the next step in honoring, in loving, whatever is least and last in yourself and in others. And take the next step in coming clean in whatever part of your life that is not what it appears to be in the community, so when the light shines on you, the astonished response is, “It’s a miracle!”

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