Memories as All Saints Day approaches

In late October, approaching All Saints day, my thoughts and memories always turn to the saints who have passed on.  Both my parents died at this time of the year.

I actually have wonderful memories of the months during which we accompanied my dad as he moved toward his death and passed away just before All Saints day in 1992.  And one of the most memorable worship services I ever attended was in my home church on All Saints Sunday in1976– the week after my mother died. I understood then more clearly than ever what it means to be amongst the saints who have gone ahead and the saints with whom we still abide. As worship services finished that day we all marched out of our rural church into the surrounding cemetery singing When All the Saints go Marchin' in accompanied by a dixieland jazz band. My mother's funeral had been just a few days earlier when she had joined dozens of my ancestors buried in that graveyard - saints who have gone on ahead of those of us still living on this side of death.

It is for this reason that the time around All Saints (called Dia de los Muertos in Latin America), is one of the most meaningful times of the church year for me.  And now, as we proceed on to the last Sundays of the liturgical year the appointed texts are steeped in scripture themes about last times and resurrection.  It is a good time to ponder and reflect on such questions.  The reason I am thinking about this is that I have to prepare two sermons to preach in two different churches in the coming weeks.  This is a challenge for a lay person who is not used to sermon preparation.

My brother-in-law, Bill, a really good Lutheran preacher – died after a long struggle with cancer in 2004.  I remember the phone call from my sister when she told us that Bill had just gone in for another chemo treatment and the doctor told him: “Bill, you should go home and make your final preparations and arrangements’.  And I think Bill did just that though he had been doing his inner work of preparation during all those months leading up to his passing.  

Bill’s funeral in a large Lutheran church in Madison, with a procession of  some 60 robed pastors, led by the Bishop and hundreds of voices raised in songs of praise, then recessing to the sounds of a massive pipe organ playing  Bach’s Toccata and fugue in D minor -  was enough to lift the hairs on the back of my neck and make my spirits soar toward heaven.

A few weeks later – at a calmer moment – my sister asked me: “So, Jerry, where is Bill now?”   I remember her question much better than my answer – a question for which I didn’t have an adequate response.  For even though I have repeated the creed thousands of times in worship services – “I believe in the resurrection of the body and life everlasting” – I still have difficulty in grasping and visualizing, and understanding its meaning. 

The  Gospel text from LUKE 20:27-38 where some Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection, came to Jesus with a question, helps bring some clarity - That is one of the sermons I am working on.

Bill often used stories in his preaching.  So I want to tell a story that I think Bill would have liked to explore this text a bit further.        

    

There is An Italian legend about a master and servant. 

It seems the servant was not very smart and the master used to get very exasperated with him.  Finally, one day, in a fit of temper, the master said: "You really are the stupidest man I know.  Here, I want you to carry this staff wherever you go.

And if you ever meet a person stupider than yourself, give them this staff." 

So time went by, and often in the marketplace the servant would encounter some pretty stupid people, but he never found someone appropriate for the staff.  Years later, he returned to his master's home.  He was shown into his master's bedroom, for the man was quite sick and in bed.  In the course of their conversation the master said: "I'm going on a journey soon." 

     "When will you return?" asked the servant.

          

     "This is a journey from which I will not return." the master

     replied,

     The servant asked: "Have you made all the necessary arrangements?" 

     "No, I guess I have not." 

     "Well, could you have made all the arrangements?" 

    

     "Oh yes, I guess I've had time.  I've had all my life.  But I've

     been busy with many things." 

     The servant said: "Let me be sure about this.  You're going on

     a journey, from which you will never return, and you've had all

     your life to make the arrangements, but you haven't."

             

     The master said: "Yes, I guess that's right." 

     The servant replied: "Master, take this staff.  For at last I

     have truly found a man stupider than myself."

I won't be posting the whole sermon as that is too long for a blog post. But you get some of the point, I hope, and any input on the theme is always welcomed. Peace.

Harvest Time

Growing up on the farm in Minnesota many years ago, Autumn was my favorite season of the year.  It was the time when the heavy work of Summer was done; the hay is in the barn, the silage in the silo and grain in the bins.  The harvest was done and we felt contentment in knowing that we were prepared for the coming of winter - which in those days in Minnesota meant deep snow and cold weather, a time for hunkering down.  My family felt safe and secure in knowing that the cows would soon be having calves and we had sufficient food set aside for all the animals and for ourselves, as well.

Some of the vegetables and apples we harvested

At our community garden here in Sheridan we feel a sense of satisfaction as we complete a good growing season and have harvested all our crops.  Besides all the wonderful flowers and edible produce we have a bumper crop of apples this year in Sheridan.  Yesterday and today we held an enjoyable cider pressing community event - producing over a hundred gallons of cider for ourselves and many families in the community.

Cider Pressing party for the community at Jackson's Garden

Judy picking perfect apples

Over 30 local children rush into the patch to choose their prize pumpkin

Yet, it is not easy to let go of summer and we comment to each other that we hate to see it go.  A song I like to sing is called "Turning Toward the Morning"

When the deer is bedded down, and the bear is underground,

and the garden goose has wandered off to warmer bay and sound.

It's so easy in the cold to feel the darkness of the year, 

and the heart is growing lonely for the morning.

Indeed, the deer are plentiful in our valley and a number of bears have been roving around our community this fall.  In fact, one visited our garden to feast on apples several times in the last weeks.

After hundreds of hours of volunteer work to bring about a beautiful display of flowers all through the garden, in one night of frost they all turn dark..  Another verse of the song goes....

It's a pity we don't know what the little flowers know,
They can't face the cold November, they can't take the cold and snow.
They put their glories all behind them, bow their heads and let it go..
But we know they'll be there shining in the morning.

Just a few days ago this was a glorious display of colorful Cosmos flowers

BUT, We will see them again in the "morning" - next Spring