All Saints Sunday - Part 1

This week, Christians all over the world are celebrating All Saints Sunday -
a day that used to be so important to the Church
and to Christians everywhere that it became the basis for Halloween. 

Almost from the beginning, the church has celebrated an All Saints’ Day.  
Sometime in the 9th century, the Western Church settled on the present date to celebrate All Saints Day. 
At one time in the Roman world, November 1st, was the first day of the new year – a natural time to look back on the year past and remember those who are no longer in our ranks.

It is appropriate for us to take some time to think
about what it is we celebrate at this particular holiday. 
It seems to me that Halloween in our country has taken a peculiar turn and has earned a bad rap. 
Many of our Christian friends seem to have given up this holiday to the pagan culture of witches, warlords, demons, and devils, and want to ignore what the holiday has come to be over centuries of Christian celebration: 
A curious mixture of ancient Druid practice, classical mythology and Christian belief.

All the more reason for us to think again about why we celebrate the holidays we do.

In Great Britain, young girls go "souling"  –
singing for cakes in remembrance of the dead. 

In Belgium, its called "Aller Heiligen," and it's a day to say prayers in memory of all the saints who don't have their special day already set aside. 

In Poland, it is called "Zaduskski".  On this day the
church bells toll and it said that God comes on this night to count the souls that belong to the community of the faithful.

In our country, the Cochiti Pueblo Indians celebrate a feast on November 2, which they call "Their Grandfathers Arrive From the West." 

Zuni Indians in New Mexico call it "Grandmother's Day", and young men go from house to house singing songs in honor of grandmothers. 

Not a bad idea, huh?

    We have many ways to celebrate and mark the occasion, but what seems clear is that we all need time and ritual for remembering those who have gone before us. 
There seems to be a common universal urge to remember. 

    Frederick Buechner wrote, "When you remember me, it means that you have carried something of who I am with you, that I have left some mark of who I am on who you are.  It means that you can
summon me back to your mind even though countless years and miles may stand between us.  It means that if we meet again, you will know me. 
It means that even after I die, you can still see my
face and hear my voice and speak to me in your heart. " 

I think everyone here has some experience with the truth of these words, wouldn’t you say.
Of the many inspirational stories I have heard from many of you over the past few years is one, I am sure, I can tell without undue embarrassment. 

Many in this room remember, Leota Waugh – Edith’s mother.  I think Leota was in her 100th year when she came in one day in all aglow. 
"You'll never guess who I talked with this week," she challenged.
  Well, I couldn't guess in a million years. 
She said, "My college roommate." 
It turns out that after school, her college roommate moved to the mid-west and they haven't seen each or taked to one another in over seventy years! 
But throughout the years, each of them carried something of the other with them.
Each of them left a mark of themselves on the person of the other. 
And though the years and the miles have kept a distance between them, a telephone call came, and they knew each other. 
They knew each other's faces and spoke to each other in their hearts.

    We need to remember. 
For centuries, the church has known this –  and on All Saints Sunday we remember those persons who
have influenced our faith development,
whose presence is still felt in our lives even thought they now rest from their labors.

This is part of a sermon the Saints of Christ Presbyterian Church in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, heard in October 2006.