Christ the King Epiphany Church, Wilbraham

The Rev. Martha S. Sipe

November 2, 2025 / All Saints Sunday

Ephesians 1:11-23

We got off on a tangent this week at Brown Bag & Bible.  (I know – shocking, isn’t it?  That we should get off topic?  Wink wink.)  But yes, somehow while discussing the role of Jesus’ mother in the Gospel of John, we got into a discussion about All Souls Day and how it is different than All Saints Day.  I was asked if recognizing All Souls Day was a part of our tradition – and I answered that, to my knowledge, it was not.  But after I did a little research, I found that the answer is a little more nuanced than that.  What is true is that I have never heard of All Souls Day being celebrated in Lutheran circles.  One of Luther’s strong theological emphases was that we are all simultaneously saint and sinner.  If you think back to last week’s epistle lesson, you will remember that striking phrase from Romans – that all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God, and therefore all are sinners.  But also, all are made right with God as a gift, and therefore all are saints.  So a Lutheran church would probably not be inclined to differentiate between All Souls and All Saints.  The practice, however, is a little murkier in the Anglican tradition.  According to the Episcopal Dictionary of the Church, All Souls Day is an optional observance and seen as an extension of All Saints Day.  Quoting from the dictionary, “While All Saints’ is to remember all the saints, popular piety felt the need to distinguish between outstanding saints and those who are unknown in the wider fellowship of the church, especially family members and friends.”[1]  All Souls wasn’t a part of the American prayer book until 1979, and many Episcopal churches today remember all the faithful departed in their celebration of All Saints.

So that was our tangent at Bible Study this week.  But in case you think that I was able to crack the whip and got everyone quickly back on topic, you should know that the conversation broadened and continued with questions about the Day of the Dead.  And you could tell that none of us were of Lantinx heritage because we weren’t even sure when it is celebrated.  So again, I did some research and learned that Día de Muertos, or Day of the Dead, derived from the feast of the ancient Aztec goddess of death.  Originally the festival took place at the end of July and early August.  However, “when the Spanish arrived, they tried to convert the natives to Catholicism but failed to eradicate these traditions.  So the festivities were moved to All Saints Day and All Souls Day.”[2]  So now, in the beginning of November, many of our Latinx siblings remember their loved ones who have died by visiting the cemetery, or creating an altar in their homes, or hosting a dinner – or all of the above.  

What I notice in both Latin American and European culture is that there is a strong desire – a need, even – to remember those who were closest to us who have died.  Not just the famous capital-S saints “who from their labors rest, who thee by faith before the world confessed.”  In other words, not just the heroic saints that get their own festivals and commemorations.  But also the ones that maybe no one else remembers, but who are dear to us.  Dave Silva, Ralph Johansson, and Art Semle may have been larger-than-life for us, but the reality is – and I mean no offense by this – the reality is that they will not be written about in history books.  They will probably not be remembered beyond their families and the communities of which they were a part.  But we remember them today.  And you will come and light other candles today to remember other people from your own lives, perhaps people that the rest of us have never met or even heard of.  And even though that may mean that it seems like we should be drowning in an ocean of grief today, we don’t swim alone.  We are buoyed up by one another, and by the knowledge that God’s love transcends even death.  We are kept afloat by the promise of the eternal life we know awaits us all when we pass from life through death and into life with Christ. 

When we remember those who have died, we literally re-member the body of Christ – we put back together again those members of the body who are gone from sight with those of us who remain.  We see that the communion of saints stretches through time and space.  The best image I’ve ever heard about the communion of saints is one that takes a little bit of creative imagination for us.  Our communion rail is straight.  But in many churches it is rounded, like a half circle or a half of an oval.  When communion is received at a rounded rail it is intriguing to think of the other half of the circle being closed in heaven, where Jesus is also present with our loved ones.  In the moment when we receive the bread and the wine, it is like Jesus is standing in the center, “bridging time and space with his own body, holding the living and dead together in one embrace.”[3]  Now as I’ve already pointed out, of course, our communion rail is not rounded.  But to help you to imagine our communion table including those who have gone before us, before we celebrate the eucharist, I will move the boxes of candles to the ends of the communion rail so that, when you come to the banquet, you will, in fact, be in the midst of those we remember being at the table in heaven.  Thus, those whom we remember will be re-membered – put back together with us.

As you honor your loved ones who have died by lighting candles, and as you come to the table of grace, I offer you this blessing, based on the words of St. Paul:  May the eyes of your hearts be enlightened so that you may know the hope to which Jesus has called you – the hope of eternal life – and so that you may glimpse the future Christ has promised for us and for all the saints. 

[1] https://www.episcopalchurch.org/glossary/

[2] https://magazine.columbia.edu/article/mexico-day-dead-luisa-navarro

[3] Image by Tim Wengert, described at https://happylutheran.blog/2022/11/06/remembering-the-saints/