Sermon - The Rev. Dr. Elise Feyerherm - October 30th, 2022

Around the feast of All Saints, it is my father who most often comes to my mind. My dad is one of my surest lifelines to the communion of saints, my link to that great cloud of witnesses, the saints, who from their labors rest. Although he died more than twenty years ago, I miss him more now than when he first died. He was older than most of my friends’ fathers, and I often felt more distant from him because of that. But now I wish I could sit down with him and talk; about the world, about the Church, about anything, really.

I would tell him that I got my love of theology and the Church from him, that his thirst for understanding God and his commitment to the community which is the Body of Christ were quietly and persistently infectious. I would tell him that he has taught me some of the most important things a person could learn about faith, about living into your baptism. 

My dad was baptized as a young baby, over a hundred years ago in a Lutheran church in a small town in Nebraska. I don’t know the date and I don’t have a picture, but I do have a picture of him on his confirmation day – April 13, 1930. I’ve given that picture a place in our altar of remembrance. It’s significant to me because it is a picture of the day he claimed his baptismal faith as his own; he was able to say the creed and the Lord’s Prayer and put his trust in God before a cloud of living witnesses. It’s not the day he joined the communion of saints, but it’s the day he claimed it for his own.

He wasn’t a perfect man, but he was a “saint” in the sense that the letter to the Ephesians means it – one consecrated to God, made holy in baptism, and living out that primary identity. He is, to this day, one of my touchstones for what stewardship means. He wasn’t a pastor or a theologian; he worked his entire career for RCA testing weather satellites. And yet it was clear that his deepest love, his deepest commitment, was the Body of Christ.

Today, as we observe the feast of All Saints, celebrate the sacrament of Holy Baptism, and formally begin to consider what each of us will pledge to contribute to the life and mission of the parish of St. Paul’s, I wish I could hear what my dad would have to say about all of this. Because I think for him it was – it is – all connected. My dad didn’t set the world on fire, but he knew that his life and his work and his possessions belonged to God and were his only to put to God’s service. His financial pledge was not just a moral duty; it was an expression of his baptismal identity. 

The confluence of these three celebrations – All Saints, Holy Baptism, and the beginning of our annual stewardship and pledge campaign – gives us an opportunity to consider in a particularly powerful way what it is that we are saying “yes” to in our baptism and in receiving the Body of Christ in the Eucharist. It opens a special window into what it means to participate in the communion of saints, to be the Body of Christ.

This time around it is Jesus’ sermon on the plain in Luke 6 that is the window for me, the key to what it might all mean to be baptized, to be part of the communion of saints, to be good stewards of the blessings God has given us. 

Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.

Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.

Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.

Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, 

revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man.

Luke’s version differs from Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount in that he doesn’t spiritualize poverty or hunger. It’s those who are really poor, whose stomachs are really empty, whom Jesus says are blessed. 

What is Jesus saying here? I am fairly certain that he is not saying that poverty itself is a blessing, or that physical hunger, or grief, or being hated and excluded are blessings. They are, in fact, signs of the brokenness and pain of human community. I cannot see Jesus blessing such experiences and then walking away.

What I hear Jesus saying is this: you who are poor, you belong here, with me, in my Body. You who are hungry, you are not an object of charity; you belong to me, and I will multiply loaves and fishes for you. You who weep because the world has abandoned you, I will weep with you as I wept with Mary and Martha over the death of their brother; you are mine, and I will not turn you away. You who are hated and pushed to the outer limits, I claim you as my own.You are blessed, because I see you, and I will not turn you away.

Take this a step further, to the ultimate meaning of Jesus’ words: because in baptism we are Christ’s Body in the world, Jesus means for these to be our words, and our actions. These are a manifesto for the Church. You who are poor – you belong here, with us. We inherit the kingdom of God together. 

What is ours is yours, and together, we have more than enough. We are more than enough. You who are hungry, you belong here, not just at this Eucharistic table, but at every table. You who grieve and are cast out, there is a place for you here.

This is one of the best descriptions I know of the communion of saints. It is the purpose for which we are baptized, and it is the essential mission of the Church. It is why we give of ourselves, our bodies, our time, and yes, our financial resources to this church community. We give, yes, because we need this community – we know that now more than ever, in this time of change and reimagining. But we give primarily because the world needs this community. The world needs the Church, the Body of Christ. People out there need to know they are loved, that they belong.

This is why we are here, and this is why we give. We want to share with the world the good news that together, in Christ, we really are more than enough. 

Today we baptize Lucy, and Harlow. Today Christ claims them as his own, unites them with him in his death and resurrection. As we baptize them, we also renew and recommit ourselves to the covenant God made with us in our baptism. As my dad did at his confirmation, and as many of us have done numerous times, we claim our baptism once again. 

We say “Yes. This is what I desire. I say “yes” to God’s claim on my life.” We say “yes” to what we already are – the Body of Christ. We say “yes” with our hearts. We say “yes” with our bodies. We say “yes” with our goods, and our money. We say “yes” so that the love we know here in this place may gather in and bless those who have been abandoned.

How will we at St. Paul’s truly live into Jesus’ blessing, a blessing that is now ours as Christ’s Body to speak and act? That is for us to figure out. But we begin by offering all that we have and all that we are to God. We look to those who have gone before us – the teachers, the construction workers, the store clerks, the engineers at RCA – to show us how to consecrate everything we have to the God who created us and who loves us.

When we do that, as we offer bread and wine at this table, we ask God to show us the abundance that has always been ours, and we ask for the grace and the courage to put that abundance to work in the service of the world.

With the apostle Paul, we pray: 

God of our Lord Jesus Christ, give us a spirit of wisdom and revelation, 

that with the eyes of our hearts enlightened, 

we may know what is the hope to which you have called us, 

what are the riches of your glorious inheritance among the saints, 

and what is the immeasurable greatness of your power 

for us who believe. Amen.