Fr John Reed, inaugural sermon, Sunday,
5th November, 2017
Those who worship in churches spend their lives being looked
down upon by saints,;they look from stained glass windows,
some with serious faces, others with benign smiles, others
with looks of surprise and some with a look of serendipity.
Many have what one of my former colleagues called “pan lids”
on their heads, a sign of holiness that their lives are
different from ours. A badge of having made it into Gods
presence.
A child was once asked the question what is a saint? Without
hesitating she replied ‘See through people’
Our church calendar has many saints - women poorly
represented in comparison to men - people from both sides of
the Reformation who would have burnt each other at the
stake, and even George Fox the founder of the Quakers whom
the established church regularly sent to prison. Characters
both ancient and more modern who in some special way have
been recognised by others as having shown others something
of God, of having been see through people.
Some years ago we visited Krakow, and like many we did the
tour of Auschwitz. It is a terrible place where many
terrible things happened in what was a former bog standard
army camp. And that was the terrible paradox. We
were shown a simple brick hut, in which the Germans had
built a brick box about the size of a coal bunker and
periodically they used to incarcerate people in there and
starve them to death. Many people had suffered in this
place, but yet it was embellished with a large wooden cross.
On one occasion as the guards were rounding up prisoners to
go into the cell, a man was chosen who pleaded that he be
reprieved because he had a family. A Polish priest, Fr.
Maximillian Kolbe, stepped forward, he was old, had no
family and asked the guards to let him go in the man’s
place. Then as he starved with his fellow prisoners he
sang hymns. The hymns were an inspiration to the many
prisoners, and days after his fellow prisoners had died he
lived on, singing. For day after day his singing
provided hope to many who had no hope. Eventually he was
beaten to death. In the mundanity of a brick death
chamber, hope flourished.
Saints are countercultural through their words and actions,
taking the mundane and transforming it to the glory of God.
The beatitudes literally proclaim Gods blessedness in
situations where we don’t expect it. The poor in spirit will
receive the kingdom of heaven.
Those who mourn will be comforted? The meek will inherit the
earth? Those hungering and thirsting for righteousness will
be filled? The merciful receive mercy? The pure in heart see
God, the peacemakers will be known as God’s children. The
persecuted get the Kingdom of heaven.
Given the scandals with politicians and other great people
we regularly listen to on the news, we have a long way to go
as a society and as a planet. Yet very ordinary people
are inspired to be different, to go against the flow, to
know God’s blessedness in the mundane places we least expect
blessings in.
Rowan Williams suggested in one of his books that we should
have local saints in our calendars, maybe a special day for
Beryl, another for Carol, for Ettie , Reg, Eva and many
other wonderful people who in their own way have blessed our
lives by their presence in them. All Saints day was
made for people like these who are not remembered in
calendars. But people whose mundane lives we give thanks to
God for. And maybe we too have a place with
them?
St. John reminds us we are all God’s children, through our
baptism we have a new dignity. The saints remind us as
God’s children that we are called to be a blessing to
others.
St. Francis was once asked by a young monk what it was to be
truly blessed; Francis taught him by saying ‘write this
down’. And every time the young monk thought he had an
answer he asked ‘is this blessedness?’ And several
times Francis said no.
So blessedness wasn’t in having the biggest order of monks
in the world, or having lots of Kings and Emperors following
his way, or even building lots of churches all over the
world.
It comes down to a rainy night when it was dark and the
Watchman of a walled city refused to let people in till
daylight, so they had to sleep on the ground in the
rain. True blessedness was that Francis and his helper
could still truly love that watchman when he opened the gate
in the morning.
So as we give thanks for saints known and unknown, and think
about our place alongside them, remember that lovely picture
of that greater cloud of witnesses, in the grandstand of
eternity, praying for you, that you as a child of God will
enable others to know true blessedness.