Close your eyes for a moment and picture yourself standing in a chorus of an endless 144,000 people, a singing a song of faith, singing aloud, if you will, the Gloria. And I ask you to be aware of two things that will be operating as each of us belts out our song, and you must listen to this seriously and carefully to catch its meaning.
The first is no one believes it all. Each of us in the chorus is gifted with only a partial understanding of the mystery of God among us; and so, in our large chorus, one sings with great intensity and assurance, another’s is with little attention and conviction, or perhaps today we’re caught by the words and melody because we happen to be emotionally ion a good place. But, at another time, in another mental or emotional place, we feel doubtful and alienated and we can hardly get the words out of our mouth. That OK. No one believes it all, but together we sing more than we can sing alone. Together we can sing more than we can sing alone.
The second thing that operates in this: if no one believes it all, so also no one believes all the time. Our journey of faith is seldom smooth and uninterrupted. At times it fluctuates between belief and unbelief. The list of names that you emailed contained people who have walked with you on this earth. Perhaps called them home when we were not ready to let them go home to heaven. We might say that we can no longer believe in God, in a God who would let take away our best friend or even a child. How could God do this to us? I like to share this healing thought.
Our response would be best to honor your losses, the loss of your spouse or family member, the loss, or at least, the shock to your faith. The fact of the matter is that tragedy has indeed broken your trust in a loving, compassionate God.
Now consider that your faith community believes for you. The saintly chorus picks up your faltering verses. The collective faith of the saints sustains us through periods of unbelief as we come in contact with saints of yesterday and we begin to see theirs scars and sense their resilience and they help us believe once more, in the face of tragic absurdity, in a new and different way. They help us sing with a different modulation. They sing the louder the phases that we can sing only softly through our tears.
So you see, no one here, you or I believe it all. And no one here believes all the time. No one accepts every verse and no one can sing every note all the time. But the chorus does. The chorus, or the community of saints, sings when you and I are unwilling or unable to do so.
We are a chorus of saints.
That’s what we celebrate on all Saints Day. We support each other and we become more than the sum total of our individual selves as the Communion of saints. You exhibit the gifts I don’t have and I exhibit the gifts you don’t have. You cry the tears I cannot cry and I laugh the laughter you cannot laugh. You believe when I struggle with doubt, I believe when you struggle with doubt. You smile when I am in tragedy; I grieve when you are in joy. Our faith hope and love are incomplete. But this feast of all saints tells us something. This feast gives us support. It reminds us that we belong to a vast community of time and space. It becomes a revelation and comfort. It tells us a mighty truth. Together we sing more than we sing alone.
Immanuel watches over us as we reflect: “Let the trees of the forest sing, let them sing for joy before the lord.” (Chronicles 16: 32-33).
Lord, I pray for all my Sonshine Friends who remember all their loved ones on this Feast of all Saints. May we always remember their goodness to us and sing their praises.
