ALL SAINTS DAY Sermon Presented by Thack Dyson
The day after All Saints’ Day is All Souls’ Day where we remember the less known saints like Cousin Joe and Grandma Jane—those obscure saints known only to us who have passed into the next life. On the Sunday after All Saints’ Day we usually conflate the two days together and remember both the popular and obscure saints at the same time. And why do we remember them? First, because they are a part of us by virtue of our baptisms. Also we are inextricably connected with anyone who was a part of our life. And finally, we remember them because they are still with us. In fact, I communicate fairly regularly with some of these saints. Recently I communicated with Gaynor Turner. A little over a week ago I conducted a graveside service at Pine Crest Cemetery in Mobile for Sally Mullinix, a former member of St. Paul’s. While there remembered Gaynor is buried there and memories of her flooded over me. I could almost hear raspy voice calling me by name, laughing about a joke she just heard or said, or castigating me for picking on her.
I spoke to another saint last weekend. It was St. Michael, the Archangel. He came to mind just before I entered Fountain Prison for the Kairos retreat. I asked St. Michael for protection during the weekend. While in the Army, I got into the habit of saying a prayer for protection to St. Michael just before each parachute jump. When I learned from the Roman Catholic soldiers that St. Michael was the patron saint of paratroopers, I quickly included a prayer to him, along with rubbing my lucky buckeye I carried in my pocket, just before leaving the aircraft. While the combination of a talisman and a prayer to a saint may seem incongruous, it wasn’t to me at the time. I was only hedging my bets to make sure I walked off the drop zone after the jump.
Another saint that came to mind this week was someone who just passed away. Sgt. Maj. Curtis E. Duco, United States Army, Retired, died almost two weeks ago in Tuscaloosa. Most of you probably never heard of him but he served in three wars: World War II, Korean War and two tours in Vietnam. He was one of a few soldiers who won the Combat Infantryman's Badge in three wars. He also jumped into Normandy with the 101st Airborne Division the night before D Day. I knew him when he was the Senior Military Instructor for the ROTC Corps of Cadets at the University of Alabama when I was a student there. All of us cadets were in awe of him. Despite his distinguished military record, he was very humble, and consistent with his generation, rarely talked about his combat experiences. What I liked most about him was his ability to put you at ease. He was always encouraging and had an “open door policy” so the cadets could seek his counsel and advice about everything from making the military a career, to problems with your girlfriend or boyfriend. He was a good person, devout Catholic and an inspiration to me.
I have conversations with other “saints” as well. I do this whenever I visit a cemetery. I’ll stop and look at headstones and monuments and try to imagine who the people were that are buried there. Then I’ll look at that dash between their dates of birth and death and wonder about their lives. Were they good people? Did they have a loving family? Did they have fulfilling and productive lives? If I happened to know someone buried in the cemetery, I might even say “Hello” to them. Now some of you may be thinking that I must be weird talking to dead people in cemeteries. If you think I’m weird, years ago I once saw a lady seated in a folding lawn chair at the grave of someone at Pine Rest Cemetery in Foley. It appeared to me she was carrying on a conversation with the resident beneath the headstone she was sitting next to. If you do think this is peculiar behavior, then I have a surprise for you. We all do it! You see, we all communicate with the dead—the saints who have gone before us. We do this whenever we look at a family photograph album, read old love letters written between our grandparents, or open a history book. In fact, we have been doing that here since the processional hymn this morning.
It’s like a story retired Methodist Bishop Will Willimon once wrote about a predecessor of his in a small Church he pastored. Willimon’s predecessor said, “One of the strangest requests I ever received was from a woman who wanted me to accompany her to the cemetery. There, I was to say a prayer or something, and I was to be with her as she attempted to contact her recently deceased father. She had hired a professional ‘medium,’ someone who offers to help people contact the dead. The medium was to offer some sort of incantation, or close her eyes in a particular way, or move her hands or something that would enable us to hear the dead person speak. I never got to see the medium work. I told the parishioner that I was a Christian minister and we don’t do this sort of thing. So, she went on out to the cemetery without me. She later told me she was very disappointed she didn’t hear the voice of her dead father.” The minister went on to observe, “Now, I don’t care much for charlatans or hocus pocus. Yet I did at least come to understand some of her desire. This dear woman had been totally dependent upon the love, guidance, and care of her father. When he died, she was terribly alone. She had all sorts of decisions to make, problems to solve, and she longed for his parental advice. She wanted, more than anything, to hear his reassuring voice again—she longed to be the recipient of his wisdom again. After thinking it through, I came to realize that communicating with those who have left us is really not hocus pocus, because that’s sort of what we do on All Saints’ Day.
We reach out to the witness of the saints. We once again try to hear them speak to us. I came to realize that as a Christian minister, we really do this sort of thing.” That Methodist minister had it only partially correct. We in the Church not only remember the saints on All Saints’ Day, we remember them each time we gather for worship. What did we do before I got up to give this sermon? We read several passages from the Bible. We turned to the Scriptures to hear the testimony of those who have been physically dead for many centuries. When we do, we are behaving as if the prophet Daniel and Apostle Paul, authors of our first two lessons, knew God more than we do and have something to teach us this morning that we could not learn any other way. And, of course, there is our reading from the Gospel. No believing Christian can deny that Jesus speaks to us daily through his word and the sacraments.
Yes, we talk to the saints, both known and unknown, practically every day. We do this because we are connected to them by time and by virtue of our baptisms. At our baptisms we became a part of a larger community of saints. The feasts of All Saints’ and All Souls’ are therefore reminders of the gift of the saints. They are reminders that we as the Church move forward by looking back to those who have gone before us. They are trustworthy guides who have walked before us—people like Jesus, Paul and Daniel—Cousin Joe, Grandma Jane, Gaynor Turner, St. Michael, and Curtis Duco---and the others who are a part of the communion of saints.
Let’s remember that as baptized Christians we are connected to that great cloud of witnesses who comprise the communion of saints. As such, they are always speaking to us, sometimes through a slight nudge, a warm feeling, or a transforming memory. Today, think of the saints that have touched your life. Listen to their voices from the past and receive what they have to teach you. Let those who have gone before us continue to graciously show us the way. AMEN.
