Hi everyone,
Welcome to worship on this All Saints Day, November 3, 2024!
The bulletin for this service can be found here. In it, you’ll find the order and words of worship and the full sermon. You can use it to follow along with the service, or just with the words on your screen. The sermon is also included on this page below the video.
If you’d like a fuller online worship experience, you can have a candle in your space, lit at the beginning of the service and extinguished near the end when the altar candles are extinguished after the sending hymn. You are also welcome to participate in communion if you are comfortable, by having something small to eat and drink ready for the appropriate time. Further instruction will be given then.
May God’s unending grace fill you with hope and peace, now and always!
Almighty God, your Word opens our eyes and brings us life and love. May your Word be written upon our hearts this day, that we might always be your new creation, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
“I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”
I know we didn’t get this quote from Jesus in today’s gospel reading, but it is from this same chapter out of John, and Jesus says it like right before today’s selection starts. Either case, this quote probably sounds familiar to most of us because we actually do get it when this same exact story shows up on the 5th Sunday in Lent in Lectionary Year A, and also it gets used a lot at funerals.
And I guess it’s supposed to be comforting in that it reminds us of how we’re promised that death will be no more. It’s supposed to console us as we mourn at funerals and I guess on the 5th Sunday in Lent, Year A, teaching us that the sting of death has been taken away. It’s supposed to give us hope, showing us how Jesus has ultimate power over death.
Well, except that I wonder if he actually does.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not denying who Jesus is or his place in the Trinity. I’m not saying that he’s lying here and that he actually isn’t the resurrection and the life. I’m not even saying that Jesus is powerless when it comes to death. But what I’m saying is that I wonder if Jesus can actually stop death from happening. I mean maybe delay it a bit, but it doesn’t stop altogether.
That’s obvious, I guess, as we’re pretty much surrounded by death. We’ve all lost someone at some point in our lives. And one day, each one of us here will end up dead. The whole point of today is literally to honour those among us whom we have loved and lost, those whose presence among us is missed, those who have died.
So it is quite clear that Jesus doesn’t stop death. We can see without a doubt that no one lives forever. It is irrefutable that everyone, professing faith or not, will die.
Still, we ask for life to be prolonged. We hope that death won’t come for us or our loved ones for as long as possible. We wish people to live long and prosper. Even both Martha and Mary say that if Jesus didn’t delay his arrival for as long as he did, then Lazarus wouldn’t have died.
Again, I’m bringing in a bit of the story that is outside of today’s selection, but it’s interesting how different Jesus’ reaction is to each sister. To Martha, Jesus says the quote I gave at the beginning of this sermon, of him being the resurrection and the life. She comments out of her faith that Jesus has the power to stop death, and Jesus hits her with more theology. More truth. More words that I guess are supposed to comfort, as they sort of explain why he didn’t drop everything to cater to her and her family.
And honestly, don’t we do that too? Don’t we wonder where God is when bad things happen to us? Don’t we think that if we pray and pray and pray then God really should give us what we’re praying for? Don’t we sometimes ask why these bad things happen to good people?
And then Martha’s sister Mary catches wind that Jesus finally made it and she goes to greet him and says the same exact thing, that if only Jesus showed up in a timely fashion, then this tragedy wouldn’t have happened. But this time, Jesus’ reaction is different.
Jesus weeps.
He sees the hurt and pain around him, and he weeps. He finds himself in the middle of the sadness and sorrow, and he weeps. He sees the raw emotion, the disappointment, the grief, the sheer unadulterated brokenness of the world… and he weeps.
This doesn’t go unnoticed. Some of the bystanders see the raw emotion and comment on how much Jesus loved Lazarus. Which kind of makes it all the more confusing, really. I mean if Jesus loves Lazarus so much, why didn’t he come earlier? Why didn’t he have more urgency in him to help? Why didn’t he prevent this senselessness from even happening to begin with?
It seems like some of the other, more cynical folk who were there had these same thoughts. They ask, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Right? Exactly our thoughts, not just around this situation with Lazarus, but in our own lives.
Could not the One who promises us everything get me that promotion? Could not the Saviour who is supposed to save us take away our problems and stop what hurts us? Could not God who claims to be good actually give us good things or at very least stop the bad things from happening?
Because it isn’t fair that we have to go through all the hardship that we go through, is it? It isn’t right that we, considered to be righteous by the grace of God, would have to face the difficulties and inconveniences that we face, is it? It isn’t exactly loving toward us to allow us to experience this sorrow, this heartache, this brokenness, is it?
…is it?
See, I wonder if those more cynical folk wondering out loud if Jesus could even stop people from dying were onto something. I wonder if their line of questioning actually sheds a bit of light on something much deeper than they probably initially intended. I wonder, basically, if John included this for a reason.
See the thing is, bad things happen. They just do. And when they do, it isn’t indicative of who you are, how “good” you have been, or how much God loves you. They just happen.
So then we might think, what’s the point of having faith then, if it doesn’t save us from the bad stuff in life? What’s the point of prayer if we don’t get what we want from praying? What’s the point of even believing in a God who doesn’t even care enough to be there with us in our time of need?
That’s the big question. That’s what we sometimes wonder when things aren’t going our way. That’s what I think John is getting at when he includes the borderline mockery and grumbling of the people present at the tomb of Lazarus.
You see Jesus, the one who opened the eyes of the blind, isn’t there to stop death. He isn’t there to cater to the whims of a grieving family. He isn’t even there to prove who he is. Rather, Jesus, the one who heals those in need, comes to bring exactly that, healing. He brings comfort to the sisters of Lazarus with truth and hope. He opens the eyes of all who were there, revealing to them all that even in death, there can be life.
I know this might not mean much to us since our dead always stay dead. But maybe this healing comes to us in the form of a theological truth that gives us hope. Maybe this comfort comes from knowing that we aren’t alone in our grief but are surrounded by a community and a Saviour that grieves with us. Maybe our eyes too, can be opened to the life that can be found in all that happens, all that we do, and all that we are.
And as our eyes are opened, perhaps we, like Lazarus, can be unbound and freed from all that holds us back from seeing God with us. With us in the world, with us in our lives, with us even in our sorrows and pain. See it’s in those low points where we could most apparently feel God sitting with us, weeping with us, and lifting us up into life.
I don’t presume to fully understand how life, death, and the afterlife work or don’t work, but I do know that we are here now. We see, we feel, we live, now. And in this life we have ups and downs, we have joys and sorrows, we experience gain and loss. But through it all, I know that we all share a connection to each other, not just because of our faith, but because we are born human, born in the image of God, born to be saints. And because of this, I know that as we continue through this life, as we mourn our losses, as we feel our pain and shed tears over it, we are given life, we are strengthened to rejoice in our blessings, and we can be confident in sure and certain hope of the resurrection, knowing that we are never alone but held dearly by the hands that created the universe.
On this All Saints Day, may we, in our remembrance of those that we’ve loved and lost, be lifted up in our faith, knowing that our eyes are opened and our bounds loosened to live, to love, and to be God’s people in the world. Thanks be to God. Amen.
Almighty God, your Word opens our
eyes and brings us life and love. May
your Word be written upon our hearts this day, that we might always be your new
creation, through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen. “I am the
resurrection and the life. Those who
believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and
believes in me will never die.” I know we didn’t
get this quote from Jesus in today’s gospel reading, but it is from this same chapter
out of John, and Jesus says it like right before today’s selection starts. Either case, this quote probably sounds
familiar to most of us because we actually do get it when this same exact story
shows up on the 5th Sunday in Lent in Lectionary Year A, and also it
gets used a lot at funerals. And I guess it’s
supposed to be comforting in that it reminds us of how we’re promised that
death will be no more. It’s supposed to
console us as we mourn at funerals and I guess on the 5th Sunday in
Lent, Year A, teaching us that the sting of death has been taken away. It’s supposed to give us hope, showing us how
Jesus has ultimate power over death. Well, except that I
wonder if he actually does. Now, don’t get me
wrong, I’m not denying who Jesus is or his place in the Trinity. I’m not saying that he’s lying here and that
he actually isn’t the resurrection and the life. I’m not even saying that Jesus is powerless
when it comes to death. But what I’m
saying is that I wonder if Jesus can actually stop death from happening. I mean maybe delay it a bit, but it doesn’t
stop altogether. That’s obvious, I
guess, as we’re pretty much surrounded by death. We’ve all lost someone at some point in our
lives. And one day, each one of us here
will end up dead. The whole point of
today is literally to honour those among us whom we have loved and lost, those
whose presence among us is missed, those who have died. So it is quite
clear that Jesus doesn’t stop death. We
can see without a doubt that no one lives forever. It is irrefutable that everyone, professing
faith or not, will die. Still, we ask for
life to be prolonged. We hope that death
won’t come for us or our loved ones for as long as possible. We wish people to live long and prosper. Even both Martha and Mary say that if Jesus
didn’t delay his arrival for as long as he did, then Lazarus wouldn’t have
died. Again, I’m bringing
in a bit of the story that is outside of today’s selection, but it’s
interesting how different Jesus’ reaction is to each sister. To Martha, Jesus says the quote I gave at the
beginning of this sermon, of him being the resurrection and the life. She comments out of her faith that Jesus has
the power to stop death, and Jesus hits her with more theology. More truth.
More words that I guess are supposed to comfort, as they sort of explain
why he didn’t drop everything to cater to her and her family. And honestly, don’t
we do that too? Don’t we wonder where
God is when bad things happen to us?
Don’t we think that if we pray and pray and pray then God really should
give us what we’re praying for? Don’t we
sometimes ask why these bad things happen to good people? And then Martha’s
sister Mary catches wind that Jesus finally made it and she goes to greet him
and says the same exact thing, that if only Jesus showed up in a timely fashion,
then this tragedy wouldn’t have happened.
But this time, Jesus’ reaction is different. Jesus weeps. He sees the hurt
and pain around him, and he weeps. He
finds himself in the middle of the sadness and sorrow, and he weeps. He sees the raw emotion, the disappointment,
the grief, the sheer unadulterated brokenness of the world… and he weeps. This doesn’t go
unnoticed. Some of the bystanders see
the raw emotion and comment on how much Jesus loved Lazarus. Which kind of makes it all the more
confusing, really. I mean if Jesus loves
Lazarus so much, why didn’t he come earlier?
Why didn’t he have more urgency in him to help? Why didn’t he prevent this senselessness from
even happening to begin with? It seems like some
of the other, more cynical folk who were there had these same thoughts. They ask, “Could not he who opened the eyes
of the blind man have kept this man from dying?” Right?
Exactly our thoughts, not just around this situation with Lazarus, but
in our own lives. Could not the One
who promises us everything get me that promotion? Could not the Saviour who is supposed to save
us take away our problems and stop what hurts us? Could not God who claims to be good actually
give us good things or at very least stop the bad things from happening? Because it isn’t
fair that we have to go through all the hardship that we go through, is
it? It isn’t right that we, considered
to be righteous by the grace of God, would have to face the difficulties and
inconveniences that we face, is it? It
isn’t exactly loving toward us to allow us to experience this sorrow, this
heartache, this brokenness, is it? …is it? See, I wonder if
those more cynical folk wondering out loud if Jesus could even stop people from
dying were onto something. I wonder if
their line of questioning actually sheds a bit of light on something much
deeper than they probably initially intended.
I wonder, basically, if John included this for a reason. See the thing is,
bad things happen. They just do. And when they do, it isn’t indicative of who
you are, how “good” you have been, or how much God loves you. They just happen. So then we might
think, what’s the point of having faith then, if it doesn’t save us from the
bad stuff in life? What’s the point of
prayer if we don’t get what we want from praying? What’s the point of even believing in a God
who doesn’t even care enough to be there with us in our time of need? That’s the big
question. That’s what we sometimes
wonder when things aren’t going our way.
That’s what I think John is getting at when he includes the borderline
mockery and grumbling of the people present at the tomb of Lazarus. You see Jesus, the
one who opened the eyes of the blind, isn’t there to stop death. He isn’t there to cater to the whims of a
grieving family. He isn’t even there to
prove who he is. Rather, Jesus, the one
who heals those in need, comes to bring exactly that, healing. He brings comfort to the sisters of Lazarus
with truth and hope. He opens the eyes
of all who were there, revealing to them all that even in death, there can be
life. I know this might
not mean much to us since our dead always stay dead. But maybe this healing comes to us in the
form of a theological truth that gives us hope.
Maybe this comfort comes from knowing that we aren’t alone in our grief
but are surrounded by a community and a Saviour that grieves with us. Maybe our eyes too, can be opened to the life
that can be found in all that happens, all that we do, and all that we
are. And as our eyes are
opened, perhaps we, like Lazarus, can be unbound and freed from all that holds
us back from seeing God with us. With us
in the world, with us in our lives, with us even in our sorrows and pain. See it’s in those low points where we could
most apparently feel God sitting with us, weeping with us, and lifting us up
into life. I don’t presume to
fully understand how life, death, and the afterlife work or don’t work, but I
do know that we are here now. We see, we
feel, we live, now. And in this life we
have ups and downs, we have joys and sorrows, we experience gain and loss. But through it all, I know that we all share
a connection to each other, not just because of our faith, but because we are
born human, born in the image of God, born to be saints. And because of this, I know that as we
continue through this life, as we mourn our losses, as we feel our pain and shed
tears over it, we are given life, we are strengthened to rejoice in our
blessings, and we can be confident in sure and certain hope of the
resurrection, knowing that we are never alone but held dearly by the hands that
created the universe. On this All Saints
Day, may we, in our remembrance of those that we’ve loved and lost, be lifted
up in our faith, knowing that our eyes are opened and our bounds loosened to
live, to love, and to be God’s people in the world. Thanks be to God. Amen.