It’s All Saints Day. The sun splits the sky open this morning in a brilliant pink. The crisp leaves crackle against my feet. The wind blows cool. He smiled as he handed me my tea and she spoke of her sadness over her friend and I could see the loss in her eyes and I wondered do I try to tell her how I see this as sacrament...that the laundry, the endless lists, the liturgy, the cooking, the crying, the hoping, the praying, the cleaning, the working, the loving, the losing, the beholding...all is holy?
Today, I want to take you by the hand. I want to guide you through the the old carved, heavy oak doors and down the cool, grey slate floors. When we reach the oak railing and look through the colored glass showing the brilliance of autumn and see the whisper of cold rain shower stains, I will show where hands aged with prayer and work have carefully woven threads to tell a story older than time and how the first light pierced the darkness, where the table that is never quite empty sits. I will push the door open and let you go first. I will make the sign of the cross between us and whisper simply trust. It is the only way. Maybe you won't see me or hear me, maybe you will just "know." You will hear the creaking of the floor and see the flicker of the flame and you will inhale the silence. I will whisper again...it speaks a language we don't know, but I have learned if you listen to it long enough, you will understand something of the meaning.
Perhaps you’ll look up so long you won’t look down again and maybe you can't even look around the room or even look up from your chest where your heart is wildly beating and you have forgotten to breathe. Then you will see the table at the front and it will be lit by candles and the wax isn't melting and the linens are crisp white. And then you will notice them. All the people whom you have met in this life and those you have remembered and those you have forgotten. You will see the ones you have been angered with, the ones you have loved well and not so well and even the ones you have hated. Perhaps the only one you lock eyes with is the one who hurt you the most and you have never quite opened your heart again. They will be your people. And there will be people that you and I hold in common. And there will people that all people hold in common. The table is full because it is always full. You will take a seat in the middle amongst all the guests and given a full plate. Someone will pour you a glass of water, maybe some wine or maybe iced tea. Next to you will be the person that has loved you more than you could have ever imagined, more than you will ever understand. And the person across the table will be the one you often hated and now you can't remember why. The person on your left will be the person you have loved more than they ever could have imagined and probably never knew. You will see the person who you most often disagreed with and you can't even feel the anger.
You will see an older woman with deep eyes quoting John's gospel. You will see a young man clinging to the Book of Common Prayer. You will see a man and a woman dressed in brocade and silk and raising their hands towards heaven and chanting a language you don't quite understand. An aged man standing between them speaks quietly and hands them a pipe and a olive branch and they smile. A child jumps up on a mother's lap and asks for more. You will hear words spoken that King David spoke. You will hear the same song Peter and Paul sang. You will hear the same prayer Jesus prayed and taught us how to pray. You will hear the same words that men and women said some two millenia ago. This we believe. Some of the words spoken disagree but everyone holds hands and sings thanks to God who created it all. Soft words begin to be spoken and there is some disagreement but never about how the words began and soon it is all forgotten. You'll get your turn too. To speak of your hurts, your deeply held beliefs, your opinions on the matter. You’ll have your chance, too, to sort out your grievances. A very astute child brings all the printed books and sings the songs and shows the pictures you need to prove your argument. You pause and speak to the one who loves you so much beside you and then someone who has not been given a seat shows up and somone pulls up a chair and passes him a loaf of bread. The argument continues softly and you say the thing that needs saying and when you are done and you realize how that some things always remain true and they are the old things. They never change. The old and true things. And when you have hugged the last one, shared the last laugh, touched the hand of the one you were so angry with, passed bread to the one you hated. When you have all but forgotten the pain, the hurt, the loss and when a deep river of peace washes over you, it is time to leave. But we can't leave before we see it...if only for a moment. You and I may see different things.
Do you see wine or grape juice or water? Is it in a heavy chalice, a piece of old pottery or a tiny plasitc cup? Is the bread broken on a napkin or held high in a silver dish? Do you see a thin wafer stamped with the cross or a cracker? Is it a man or a woman passing all of this to you? Or do you see Christ himself ? Did you eat supper, a memorial meal, or the Eucharist? Were you in a cathedral surrounded by colored glass, a plain white walled meeting house or in a small church with beaded board walls or a home dusty with the lives of children? And for a moment you realize that all of that does not matter because the whole of it is the Body of Christ, even the disagreement, the anger and the hate. And for a moment you look around and you know deep in the marrow of your bones that we share the same food, depend on the same source for our daily bread.
You are in the place where all that needs to be said can be and will be said. You are in the place where the broken is made whole, the hungry are fed, the poor are made rich, the mourners have their tears wiped away and the blind see and lame walk. You are in the place where the peace of Christ dwells. You are in the only place that we really dwell in safety. You are in the place where the darkness is overcome. Everyone you have ever loved, will ever loved and those you have not are here too.
You will be told that you are always welcome back.
You will be told that the table is always a place to be fed.
You will be told that this table was made, in part, for you.
Today.
Today, I want to take you by the hand.
Today I want to take you to door behind which all the saints live.
Today I want to remember with you all the saints...the ones living, the ones no longer with us here in body and the ones not yet born. The ones remembered, the ones forgotten. The saints we have loved. The saints we have hated.
Because here-the most dangerous place on earth- here is where it all begins and ends. Here love dwells and love is the ultimate trump card.
Because the old oak door behind which it all began—never quite shuts.
And may mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance,
Kathleen
You will see an older woman with deep eyes quoting John's gospel. You will see a young man clinging to the Book of Common Prayer. You will see a man and a woman dressed in brocade and silk and raising their hands towards heaven and chanting a language you don't quite understand. An aged man standing between them speaks quietly and hands them a pipe and a olive branch and they smile. A child jumps up on a mother's lap and asks for more. You will hear words spoken that King David spoke. You will hear the same song Peter and Paul sang. You will hear the same prayer Jesus prayed and taught us how to pray. You will hear the same words that men and women said some two millenia ago. This we believe. Some of the words spoken disagree but everyone holds hands and sings thanks to God who created it all. Soft words begin to be spoken and there is some disagreement but never about how the words began and soon it is all forgotten. You'll get your turn too. To speak of your hurts, your deeply held beliefs, your opinions on the matter. You’ll have your chance, too, to sort out your grievances. A very astute child brings all the printed books and sings the songs and shows the pictures you need to prove your argument. You pause and speak to the one who loves you so much beside you and then someone who has not been given a seat shows up and somone pulls up a chair and passes him a loaf of bread. The argument continues softly and you say the thing that needs saying and when you are done and you realize how that some things always remain true and they are the old things. They never change. The old and true things. And when you have hugged the last one, shared the last laugh, touched the hand of the one you were so angry with, passed bread to the one you hated. When you have all but forgotten the pain, the hurt, the loss and when a deep river of peace washes over you, it is time to leave. But we can't leave before we see it...if only for a moment. You and I may see different things.
Do you see wine or grape juice or water? Is it in a heavy chalice, a piece of old pottery or a tiny plasitc cup? Is the bread broken on a napkin or held high in a silver dish? Do you see a thin wafer stamped with the cross or a cracker? Is it a man or a woman passing all of this to you? Or do you see Christ himself ? Did you eat supper, a memorial meal, or the Eucharist? Were you in a cathedral surrounded by colored glass, a plain white walled meeting house or in a small church with beaded board walls or a home dusty with the lives of children? And for a moment you realize that all of that does not matter because the whole of it is the Body of Christ, even the disagreement, the anger and the hate. And for a moment you look around and you know deep in the marrow of your bones that we share the same food, depend on the same source for our daily bread.
You are in the place where all that needs to be said can be and will be said. You are in the place where the broken is made whole, the hungry are fed, the poor are made rich, the mourners have their tears wiped away and the blind see and lame walk. You are in the place where the peace of Christ dwells. You are in the only place that we really dwell in safety. You are in the place where the darkness is overcome. Everyone you have ever loved, will ever loved and those you have not are here too.
You will be told that you are always welcome back.
You will be told that the table is always a place to be fed.
You will be told that this table was made, in part, for you.
Today.
Today, I want to take you by the hand.
Today I want to take you to door behind which all the saints live.
Today I want to remember with you all the saints...the ones living, the ones no longer with us here in body and the ones not yet born. The ones remembered, the ones forgotten. The saints we have loved. The saints we have hated.
Because here-the most dangerous place on earth- here is where it all begins and ends. Here love dwells and love is the ultimate trump card.
Because the old oak door behind which it all began—never quite shuts.
And may mercy, peace and love be yours in abundance,
Kathleen
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