Readings for November 24, 2013
Reign of Christ | Christ the King
Last Sunday after Pentecost (C)

• Jeremiah 23:1-6 and Psalm 46 
• Colossians 1:11-20 
• Luke 23:33-43

Martyrs Vs. the Empire sermon by Rev Fred Kinsey
The martyrs know it’s all about ‘death and resurrection.’  That is, about a life worth living, and the promise of something better, life with God, now and forever. 

For the first three centuries in the life of the church, many a martyr was created.  After Christianity was legalized, and everything changed, in the 4th C., the stories of martyrs were told, and retold, and often, truth be told, embellished a bit. 

Saint Perpetua, one of the more famous, was martyred in the early 3rd C.  She was a most eager martyr, practically begging her Roman captors to take her life, proud of her faith.  Only in her 20’s, and with child, the authorities waited until she gave birth, and then somewhat reluctantly and clumsily, fed her to the lions.  Hollywood would make us think every Christian was being rounded up for slaughter in these days, but, not true.  There were a relative few.  But their stories were told boldly, and retold and enhanced to make the point, and especially to uplift those who were going through persecution and wrestling with their faith.  So, as the story is told, Perpetua was being attacked by lions, when a soldier interrupted the melee, intending to ‘do her in’ more quickly and spare her, but he couldn’t find it in himself to take her life.  So Perpetua took and guided his sword herself, so that her life might be taken, and she gladly go, just as her Lord had, a witness to the faith, unbending and fearless of the same Roman overlords. 

If you’re like me, this feels, uh, somewhat distasteful, extremist even, unnecessary.  Parts of her story sound more like a suicide bomber, than the friends and family we know, who are believers.  Yet, there is something helpful, even for us, about her faith:  It knows who her God is.  And she stands up to the empire, and its hierarchical controlling gods, because she sees the fulfillment of a more true humanity in the justice and way of Jesus.  She believes in the Paradise that Jesus promises to the repentant criminal, who was crucified with Jesus.  She finds purpose and meaning to her life, and is willing to sell the pearl of great price, to find great treasure. 

There were two criminals hanged with Jesus.  And both of them readily identify with him, for all three are convicted insurrectionists together.  Crucifixion is the punishment reserved for making an example of a criminal who has acted against the State.  The ones who most vocally oppose Roman rule, or perhaps in the case of these two criminals crucified with Jesus, one on his right and one on his left, who may have carried out armed opposition, perhaps murdered Roman soldiers, for them is reserved this unique punishment: to be nailed to a cross, and be hung the better part of a day or more, in a painful, public death.  The message was made clear for all to see. 

But, the gospel writers tell the story the other way around, from the perspective of the anti-hero, not the conquering Romans.  By the time we have walked with Jesus through Galilee, all the way to Jerusalem, in the story of the Gospels, and now to the place that is called the Skull, that is, Golgotha, we see the crucifixion through his eyes.  Jesus, as he is first hung on the cross, forgives, even his enemies.  And Jesus has followers who are there, keeping watch, witnessing.  From this perspective, we see the injustice and feel deeply for the followers, and Jesus, as the leaders and soldiers laugh, and taunt, and mock him.  

And we get the criminals’ conversation.  The first one seeing Jesus thinks it’s his lucky day.  Here’s the Messiah, how great is that!  The very day I’m getting crucified, they bring Jesus to hang next to me.  And if he’s the Messiah, as many are saying he is, he can save us, if he wants.  Wohoo! 

We all have moments like this, looking for the easy way out, dreaming of winning the Lottery’s Jackpot.  But the temptation and distraction of this way of thinking and acting, is a denial of the unique gift of ‘death and resurrection,’ Jesus brings.  Rather than living in the present moment, knowing that the end of life, is our story from the beginning, we “eat, drink and are merry,” to forget.  And perhaps the worst form of this sin of escapism today, is the denial of our responsibility to God’s creation, as if this is not the beautiful garden God has gifted us to be care-takers of, for us, and for our children’s children.    

But the second criminal takes a different, a repentant stance –as much as anyone can take a stance on the cross– repenting and rebuking this very way of life the two of them have lived, seeing in Jesus a new kind of insurrectionist, that follows a new, non-violent path to becoming Messiah, a power that comes from trusting in God, and leading the way for us, that our humanity might be fulfilled in each of us, living life eyes-wide-open to death,  the enemy death no longer our accuser, but death as a part of living and our humanity, with the possibility of Life, with God.   

Jesus, being crucified unjustly, which the second criminal points out, is not shamed, as crucifixion was meant to do, but he is fulfilling his mission of living for the realm and kingdom of God, which never dies.  Jesus understands death and resurrection, and will accomplish it for us, in his innocent death, the martyr who brings salvation, which witnesses to the world.  The Greek word martyr, by the way, means “witness.” 

How are we witnesses today? 

We know the story of Jesus, the anti-hero, the martyr and witness to the kingdom of God, which though it isn’t a visible realm, is more real than the haughty and crumbling kingdoms of this world. 

Rome, as the powerful portrayed it, was marketed as heaven on earth, just like Jerusalem and the Temple had, under King Solomon.  But, full of corruption, built on lies and unjust systems of enslavement, they were overtaken, or imploded from within.  We too live in a worldly empire today, that when viewed through the eyes of the powerful, the winners, the hero’s eyes, is a story we are all familiar with – “we are the most powerful nation on earth,” “a policeman to the world,” and “Wall Street is looking out for our financial well-being.”  And at times, when asked to, or even not asked, it is tempting for the church to bless this.  But if we do, are we still the church?  Are we able to distinguish between the kingdoms of this world and the realm of God?

When we view the empire we live in, through the eyes of Jesus, the anti-hero, what do we see? 

Which brings us back to Perpetua!  Why did Perpetua stand up to Rome?  Why did she trust so completely in the story of Jesus?  What did she want more than her own life?  I wonder if Perpetua, having been let down by the kingdom of her world, didn’t find a kindred spirit in the gospel story of the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet with her tears.  That woman was scorned by all the powerful leaders in the room, but lifted up by Jesus as an example of the faithful.  She broke open a whole alabaster flask of ointment, a most extravagant gift, to anoint him.  And Jesus made a witness out her, proclaiming, “truly I say to you, wherever the gospel is preached in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

Perpetua clearly wanted to be a leader in the bourgeoning Christian movement.  She threw herself into it headlong, being transformed by the saving power of the gospel story.  Did she know her story, what she had done, would be told in remembrance of her?  Perhaps, though we are never in control of our own stories after we’re gone. 

We, are not likely to face persecution and death for our faith.  But it is not too hard a thing for any of us to want a more authentic, better life, based on justice and love, lived in a community that watches out for one another.  When need be, we may even die for it, though even in Perpetua’s time, that was rare.  What is common to all people of faith, is transformation, being changed, from death to life, and, becoming a witness.  What is common is the promise of the resurrection that Jesus offers to all.  And today, Jesus -this one whom we adore- seated at the right hand of God, is our sovereign, all living one.  So, let us sing joyfully with thanks and praise – to this crucified, reigning-from-the-right-hand-of-God, king.  

Malachi 4:1-2a
Psalm 98
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Luke 21:5-19

Reality and Christian Life

Fifty years ago this week.  November 22, 1963.  I was a 14 year old boy. 
I was home from school that day; I can’t remember why. 
But I remember that I was vacuuming the dining room floor when a news announcement bust onto the television. 
President John F. Kennedy had been shot in a motorcade in Dallas.
My mother joined me in the living room as we watched for what seemed like hours when, thirty minutes later,
we saw Walter Cronkite struggled to announce that our young president was dead. 
No one in the nation had ever experienced what we all experienced the next several days. 
There was, of course, no internet.  There wasn’t even 24 hour cable news. 
Yet the whole nation followed each numbing moment as we watched Mrs. Kennedy, still in her blood-stained pink suit,
ride with the coffin of the President back to Air Force One. 
We saw the pictures of her as she stood next to now-President Lyndon Johnson take the oath of office in Air Force One
before it departed to Washington D.C. 
We were stunned again to watch Lee Harvey Oswald shot to death in the Dallas jail hallway. 
We hung on every bit of ceremony as we watched the procession from the White House to the Capitol;
the hundreds of thousands who lined up to view the body of the President lying in state;
the procession to St. Matthew’s Cathedral and then to Arlington Cemetery. 
The nation held its breath and shed a tear watching little John Kennedy Jr. give his father a salute. 
And it seemed to me, a 14 year old boy, that the whole world fell silent for those few days. 
To me, there was no traffic driving by; there were no airplanes in the sky;
there were no children playing on the sidewalks; there were no sirens or noises of any kind. There was only silence. 
CBS correspondent Bob Shieffer says that the day the President was shot was the day the United States lost its innocence.

I remember that that eerie silence never happened again until it came again so vividly on September 11, 2001. 
In between, there were two more assassinations – Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy;
there were violent protests of wars; there were riots in my hometown and many other major American cities;
there was a president who had to resign office; and of course, the tragedy that was Vietnam.  
And since 9/11, there has been all of the tragedy of Iraq and Afganistan.  

One might believe that all of these tragic elements of life are nothing more than the reality of life. 
But I can remember the difference there was in my life between life before the Kennedy assassination and life after it.  
 
Does reality really mean that tragedy and sadness are the norm? 
When human beings recall their own lives, must we always focus on those times that hurt? 
And, if we choose to focus on the good, the positive, the sweet and tender times of life, are we being unrealistic?

We are at the end of the Church’s year. 
Next Sunday will be the last Sunday of the year and the Festival of Christ the King. 
And then, Advent begins and we move into a new Christian year. 
And so, the readings for today make us take a look at endings.  
Malachipreaches words of judgment – burning evildoers till they have no root nor branch;
healing wings of righteousness for those who revere the name of God.

Paul tells the Thessalonians not to be lazy busybodies. 
And even Jesus seems to be warning us all that there are going to be tragic days of struggle and conflict – even wars,
earthquakes, famines and plagues. 
And if we are faithful, there will be times when even those who are closest to us will ridicule us;
betray us; hate us; maybe even make sure we are put to death.
One can explain away the events Jesus talks about in today’s
Gospel with the reality that the Temple was indeed destroyed about 40 years after Jesus’ death. 
The people of Jerusalem did indeed run out to the Judean hills. 
And we certainly know that the Apostles were persecuted and arrested; brought to synagogues and prisons; brought to
judgment before kings and governors.  
 
Some Christians emphasize that, while those tragic lives which the Apostles experienced are in the past,
the real struggle for Christians will only come at the last day or, at least, at our own last day when we will have to
give an account of our lives before God.

Some Christians would just rather not talk at all about tragedy or hardship or struggle or betrayal or hatred. 
They would rather that our reality be focused on praising the goodness of God and the good things we can do for others.  
It is said that the TV evangelist Robert Schuller, when he was building his great Crystal Cathedral in Orange County, CA
didn’t want to have a cross as the focus of the church. 
The Cross, Schuller said, was a negative symbol and Schuller’s message was always about the Power of Positive Thinking.

But our reality begins when God takes on human flesh. 
Jesus, who is the Light of the world, comes among us in our darkness; yet, the darkness did not overcome Jesus. 
AND THE DARKNESS DOES NOT OVERCOME US!

This is our reality!  
 
Our God is so great, so powerful, so merciful and full of grace that, while we are still sinners, God calls us to life everlasting. 
The Cross is so powerful, not because of the ridicule and hatred of those who lifted Jesus onto it
but because God makes all things good through God’s own death for our sakes. 
(Robert Schuller did change his mind, by the way about having a cross.)  
 
Our reality is that God walks with us in quiet days of reflection as well as days of struggle and sorrow. 
Our reality is that God gives us hope when it seems that there is no hope anywhere else. 
Our reality is that the people of God will struggle with us and for us for the sake of the justice and righteousness of God.

There were plenty of people, even close friends and family, who wondered why,
when the church turned its back on my vocation as a pastor, I didn’t leave the church – at least the Lutheran church. 
It’s because of this central message of today’s Gospel. 
God does not promise to keep us from struggle or sorrow. 
God promises to be with us as we walk through struggle and sorrow; through torturous decisions; through friends who
laugh at us and call us naïve; even through the fear of death. 
Jesus is Immanuel – God with us. 
Jesus is Word made flesh; the example that God loves us so much that God became one of us. 
Jesus is Savior – the one whose death frees us from sin, death, and all evil. 
And it is this Jesus who today promises that, even though we walk through that valley of death, “not a hair
on our head will perish.”

That’s why I didn’t leave the church when the church took my vocation from me. 
And, even though it took longer than I wanted, staying with the church brought me eventually to you.

We will face personal trials as we go forward in life. But we will face them better and stronger when we face them together. 
And we will face challenges as a congregation. 
But we will face them better and stronger when all of us do our part to move forward into our future as Unity Lutheran Church. 
And we will even make a difference in our neighborhood, in our community, in our world when we approach our future
confident that it is God who leads us and guides us.  
 
In the words of the Hymn of the Day:

        One the strain that lips of thousands life as from the heart of One.
                One the conflict; one the peril; one the march in God begun.
                        One the gladness of rejoicing on the far eternal shore,
                                Where the one almighty Father reigns in love forevermore.

Onward, then, sisters and brothers through the night of doubt and sorrow…..singing songs of expectation…….through the darkness…..grasping pilgrim hand to pilgrim hand…..into our reality, our light, our
life.


Amen.


 
 

Readings for November 10, 2013
Pentecost 25 | Proper 27(C) | Revised Common Lectionary

• Job 19:23-27a and Psalm 17:1-9  
• 2 Thessalonians 2:1-5, 13-17  
• Luke 20:27-38

No Death in God, by Pastor Fred Kinsey
“Till death do us part!”  “Pastor, can we just leave that last line out?!  I don’t really want to think about death on my wedding day.”

I have been encouraging of couples for a long time to be creative in their marriage vows: to go ahead and re-write the seven choices of vows we offer them, make them their own, or even to take a stab at writing something new!  Not many couples have wanted to do that.  And the one time I can think of that they did, it turned into a disaster, and we had to ask the couple to start over!  What they had managed to come up with, and this was a second marriage for both, was a kind of a laundry list of what they expected from each other – you will this, and you will that, for me, instead of, I promise, this and that, to you.  “It’s supposed to be the life-long promises you make to your spouse, we counseled them, as gently, but firmly, as possible. 

Most vows end in either, this poetic Elizabethan, “Till death do us part,” or the more modern, “As long as we both shall live.”  Either way, they remind us that marriage is for life, for this life.  We don’t usually consider the repercussions of what this means, that these vows won’t be needed in the resurrection life, where all things are made new.  Where, as Jesus said, “those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage.  Indeed they cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection,” he answered the Sadducees.   

Resurrection from the dead had become a common belief of the Jews in inter-testamental times, the 2 centuries, in between the writing of the book of Daniel and Jesus’ ministry.  The only hold outs were the Sadducees.  The Sadducees were the elites of Judaism, Temple priests who had mostly made friends with Israel’s overlords, the Romans, and who were into protecting ‘tradition’ and ‘keeping things the way they always were.’  There was another difference too.  Everyone else, the Pharisees and the Scribes, had accepted all the other books of the bible: all the prophets, and the wisdom literature, like King David’s Psalms, for example.  But the Sadducees only accepted the Torah, the first five books of the bible, Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. 

Perhaps they meant no disrespect, but to our ears, the example of marriage they used sounds crass, to say the least.  In trying to trick Jesus, they use a law from the Torah that was meant to protect widows: if a woman’s husband dies and they have no children, the next oldest son is required by law to marry her, and give her children.  Becoming a widow, and having no legal source of income, without son or husband, most always meant destitution.  So the law itself, was a life-giving thing, in that it guarded against poverty.  Except that, women were always property of one man or another. 

Well it just so happened that there was a famous case in those days about the Jewish populist freedom fighters, the seven Maccabee brothers.  They rescued Israel for a time, from the Syrians, who had desecrated and demolished the Temple, but then they were executed for their beliefs, which they refused to renounce.  The reason it was such a well-known story, was the fame of the Maccabees.  Their liberation of Israel is what the Jews still commemorate in the yearly festival of Hanukkah!

It was the martyrdom of the Maccabees then that fully brought the belief in resurrection, first formulated in the prophets, and especially Daniel, to widespread acceptance.  Their inspiration brought to awareness, the belief, that God never lets the people of faith perish.  Death is not final, as long as God, the God of the living, has the final word.  And so the seven brothers were considered immortal.

So when the Sadducees come to Jesus with no other purpose than to trick him with this well developed biblical trap, they are pretty sure they have him cold.  They use the Maccabee story, conscious that this was an example taken directly from the resurrection camp that Jesus was part of, and they would use it against him, and it would make catching him in the trap, all the more delicious.  If after seven brothers die, and the woman still dies childless, whose wife will she be in the afterlife, they ask Jesus, laughing into their sleeves? 

But Jesus gives that brilliant, though not altogether clear, answer.  BTW, Jesus says, there won’t be any marriage in the resurrection!  “Indeed they cannot die anymore.”  “There will neither be marrying nor giving in marriage.”  “They are like angles,” says Jesus. 

That part isn’t so hard to understand.  But then, Jesus, to answer the Sadducees from the Torah, their own scriptures, about how the resurrection from the dead, was real, cites Moses, the traditional author of the Torah, who at the burning bush called “the Lord… the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.  Now,” says Jesus, “[the Lord God] is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to [God] all of them” – the three Patriarchs – “are alive.” 

It’s not all that clear at first what Jesus is saying.  Not only has he reframed the Sadducees question in his own terms, but he is talking about things we always have a hard time processing: resurrection from the dead; angels; and the age to come.  But they are of first importance for understanding our faith, here and now.  Jesus came to announce and enact, that the realm of God and resurrection life, was now being revealed and initiated, in him.  As the anointed one of God, “Jesus was able to imagine God in such a way that his whole vision was colored by God as radically alive… as in no way shaded by death.”  Jesus gave us “an indication of the sort of power which characterizes God… This ‘power,’ this quality which God always is, is that of being completely and entirely alive, living without any reference to death.  There is no death in God,” as theologian James Alison has said (Raising Abel, James Alison, chapter 2).

Like the Sadducees, we are often slow to understand the realm of God that has dawned in the resurrection life of Jesus.  We tend to fall back on the rules and the scriptures of old, because we lose our edge, lose touch with the living power of the Spirit that is calling us from the burning bush.  We not only are bound by this world of death, we think we can escape it, simply by ignoring it’s unpleasant reminders, as if we can just leave out the word ‘death’ from our promises and vows, and thereby, have life. 

These are not easy times for people of faith in this rapidly changing world.  Who are we in this post-modern world, this relativistic time?  So much has been revealed, and yet, the wool is pulled over our eyes in ever new ways.  What is faith when it is not handed to us by our parents at birth?  What is church and membership in this age of decline?  How is integration of cultures and races in the church the same or different than in the world?  Is this space sacred when Mozart and Merlot is served up, or when the Chicago Chamber Choir or the Unity Players perform here?  What does sacred place mean?

So, we definitely have our own issues!  One thing we can learn today, from Luke’s gospel, is that trying to trick one another, trying to prove one another wrong to win and puff ourselves up, is not very Jesus-like. 

And so, that’s why I’m excited to work with Partners for Sacred Places, who is putting on our workshop, New Dollars, New Partners, next Saturday.  They do not have all the answers to these questions.  But they understand the practical and theological arguments, and are finding creative and spirit filled ways to address them.  And so, more than most, I think they are able to help us continue the conversation and planning we have been having, here in this place, about our Vision for Unity. 

God is the God of the living, calling us closer, calling us home, calling us forward into an always unknown future.  That’s no trick.  And we know, as a people of faith, that we often have to pass through death, on our way to resurrection and new life.  But there, God has already been waiting for us, just as we are confident, God is here now, walking by our side, “until death do us part.”  

Readings for All Saints Day
November 3, 2013

• Daniel 7:1-3, 15-18 and Psalm 149 
• Ephesians 1:11-23   
• Luke 6:20-31

Through the Fog, sermon by Pastor Fred Kinsey
The misty fog of November can be mysterious, beautiful or dangerous.  A thick fog can cover the ups and downs of any terrain, whether it’s the sidewalk or road, hills or valleys.  Fog can obscure car headlights and stop and go lights.  It can come on fast, and dissipate just as quickly.  Tree tops and tall buildings, jut eerily out of ground fog, and can be... well... mysterious, beautiful, dangerous, or, all of the above. 

At the lakefront, fog can cover the threshold between land and water.  Once I was fishing on a Michigan river early in the morning.  A patchy fog obscured the banks of the river, and the fields of lily-pads we suddenly came upon.  It was disorienting and hard to get our bearings!  There was no wind, and it was so calm that the surface of the water was like glass.  Barren birch trees, and oaks still hanging on to their leaves, would look familiar one moment, and then let us down, as we attempted to find our way, paddling through the fog.  It felt as if time was frozen.  No, as if there were no time, only place, the present.  Only now, amidst a deafening silence, and whispered promises we couldn’t quite understand.  It was mysterious, beautiful and even a bit dangerous. 

Foggy morning commutes are notorious for accidents, of course.  In the fall of 2002, an infamous pile-up occurred in Wisconsin, just north of Milwaukee on I-43, which is near Lake Michigan, involving 50 vehicles.  Dense fog conditions were reported, and it was considered the worst multiple-vehicle collision in Wisconsin history.  Tragically, 36 people were injured, and 10 people killed. 

All Saints Day was placed at this time of the year, some say, to coincide with the foggy days of early November, at least from a northern hemisphere perspective.  It was believed that, just like the fog, the veil between heaven and earth was very thin, and the saints of this world and the next, were closest to one another, even transitioning from one realm to the other. 

The Day of the Dead traditions, that come primarily from Christian cultures of Latin America, dramatize this thin veil, in elaborate celebrations, on the eve of All Saints, parading with candle lights, and dressing as the dead come back to life, not unlike the costumes of Halloween.  And most interesting, I think, is the tradition of going to the cemetery and preparing lavish party tables of food and drink.  The parade in costume makes its way there, and families leave real food and wine on the tables, to celebrate and dine with their loved ones.  Not only does this proclaim and celebrate the resurrection, but it demonstrates the belief in a thin veil between heaven and earth, between the living and the dead.  It’s beautiful, mysterious and, more playful than dangerous, I’d say, a fun tradition that overcomes the dangers and fearfulness of death. 

The theologian Jaroslav Pelikan said, "Tradition is the living faith of the dead, traditionalism is the dead faith of the living."  How do our beloved dead pass on a living faith tradition, to us, and the present-day church?

We see in the gospel that the fog can also be a wonderful leveler.  In Luke’s version of the Beatitudes in our gospel reading this morning, we miss the verses before, which set the scene: “Jesus came down [from the mountain] with the disciples,” Luke says, “and stood on a level place…”  So instead of the Sermon on the Mount, which comes from Matthew’s gospel, Luke pointedly, has Jesus delivering The Sermon on the Plain, or level place! 

In Israel, it’s actually pretty hard to find a level place!  Jerusalem and the Temple are on a conspicuous mount.  The region of Galilee is full of rolling green hills.  Perhaps only the Jordan Valley, and the coastal plains around Tel Aviv and Joppa on the Mediterranean Sea, can be considered level places.  But following John the Baptist’s proclamation, from Isaiah, Luke shows from the very beginning that it was important to make way for Jesus, the Messiah, by, “making his paths straight.  Every valley shall be filled, and every mountain and hill shall be made low, ” as John declared, “and the rough ways made smooth.” 

Why?  Because that’s also the message of Jesus that he will go out to deliver: the poor and hungry, those who weep, and are reviled and excluded, will be lifted up.  While the rich, the fully satisfied now, those on top, who are having fun at the expense of those on the bottom, will all be brought low.  But it’s different than just a mere reversal of fortunes.  For example, it’s clearly not about revenge, for Jesus hastens to add, “Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you…”  And so, even as Jesus stands on the level plain to deliver his message, he paints a picture of a valley where all stand together with him, on equal footing. 

Normally, the take-away message we are taught, is about revenge and climbing our way to the top; unseating the oppressor in order to take their seat, and continue the oppression on those who did it to you.  The realm of God that Jesus comes to inaugurate, is a great leveler, inviting all to live on the plain.  In George Orwell’s “1984,” the secret book of how to overthrow Big Brother, states, that there always has been a rich ruling class, and always will be.  It just goes through a series of coups.  The middle classes overthrow the upper ruling class, the lower class always stay where they are, and, then it starts all over again.  And so, God in Jesus, brings a new, a third, way, for us. 

This is not a message likely to be well received, Jesus knows.  Prophets – a class whom Jesus includes himself in on – were usually hated, excluded and reviled.  Sometimes killed, as well!  It might be risky, dangerous even, but Jesus comes to lift the veil between heaven and earth, lift the mysterious beautiful fog, and open up a new way, level Jacob’s ladder to heaven, or, at least make it handicap accessible!  Jesus, the first fruits of the resurrection, dressed in heavenly attire, climbs out of the grave to greet us at the great banqueting feast, not just in the cemetery of our Day of the Dead liturgy’s, but every day, wherever we are, to give us hope, to lift the fog of our grief.  “Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh.” 

"Tradition is the living faith of the dead, traditionalism is the dead faith of the living."  So, how do our beloved dead pass on a living faith tradition to the present-day church?  Today, on this All Saints’ Sunday, we commemorate our loved ones who have gone before us in the faith.  And they challenge us to carry on with a living faith.  Not always because what they said, or did, was Jesus like!  For we are all a mix of human and divine, saints and sinners, simultaneously.  But – because we are still on this side of the fog – they challenge us to a living faith by the core of their love that we remember and refine in our hearts, refined by Christ’s promise and blessing, that we might be filled and know the kingdom of God.  

Jesus comes to lift the fog in our lives.  And, now we see our tears, and our joys, more clearly for what they are, in all their beauty, and mystery, and danger.  The fog, is the culture of oppression of this world, the tempting glow, but ultimately dangerous mountaintop of the vengeful 1%, the excesses of those who are always full, and laughing, and entitled, and those whom society asks us to revere, to look up to, and “speak well of.” 

Jesus, teaching down on the plain – from the leveled mountain-top, the straightened road once crooked – stands with the poor, of all kinds, and unveils the foggy paths we walk – or paddle! – in our lives.  Not to bring about a violent revenge, that continues to repeat itself, but to offer a grace-filled truth, and reveal a third way, more beautiful, and mysterious, and yes, dangerous to get to – the way of radical forgiveness and universal respect, which challenges the structures of this world. 

Jesus, on the plain, looking at us, his disciples, gathered around the banqueting table, lifts the fog, and reveals the feast of victory for our God, and it is a mysterious and beautiful sight!