And the conversation goes on

All Saints - November 4, 2007

We're good Lutherans.

We know that the point of worship is that first of all God is speaking to us.

We've learned that.

We are taught to leave other conversations in the narthex, and get quiet when we come into this room, so that both our hearts and our minds are ready to hear what God is saying through his word in hymns and lessons and sermon and the offer of the sacraments.

And we know that there has to be a second partner for it to be a conversation, and so we have opportunity to respond to God in the words and actions of hymn and prayer, the offering, and reception of the sacraments.

We've learned that the conversation that begins and is shaped here on Sunday morning can continue through the week as we engage in individual devotions, mealtime prayers, and other times.

We have learned that there are implications of this conversation in all that we do in this week.

We know the questions that we should be asking:

is this action that I am about to do,

or this thing that I am about to say,

a proper response to the conversation we have been having with God?

Is it a good reflection of his will revealed in word and sacrament?

Is it congruent with what I promised in prayer and resolve?

The echoes of the conversation that God has been having with us should resound throughout the week.

Today we are commissioning five new Stephen Ministers who have been preparing for conversation in this congregation their whole lives, but especially in these past four months.

They have been working on listening skills thinking skills, and talking skills and more,

so that they can engage care receivers, the Lord Jesus, and each other in meaningful conversation.

For their work now beginning,

and for the conversations across the years with our group of twelve other Stephen Ministers, thanks be to God.

On this All Saints Sunday we are recognizing that there are yet more partners in the conversation than we have yet named.

All our ancestors in the faith have lots to say. Are we listening?

A sign at the entrance of Winchester Cathedral in England says, “You are entering here a conversation that began long before you were born and will continue long after you are dead.”

That gives a different perspective to our daily decision-making, doesn't it?

The English Christian writer of two generations ago, Gilbert Chesterton, said that one of the difficulties of our times is that we keep talking about how free we are.

We've freed ourselves from the past.

All that does, said Chesterton, is that we then become slaves to that arrogant bunch of people who just happen to be walking around right now.

We shouldn't automatically dismiss the thoughts of some simply because they happen to be our dearly departed grandparents!

(or add as many great, great, greats as you wish to “grandparents”.)

Of late I have been purchasing a set of books called the Ancient Christian Commentary on the Scriptures, in which the editors have gone over all of the writings that exist from the Christians of the first 600 years of the church and have gathered all that the various writers have had to say about each passage in the Bible,

Sometimes they have had very profound things to say that help me 1,500 or more years later to understand the passage much better.

I'm allowing them a voice in the conversation that God has with me as I prepare to preach or teach.

And it can be fruitful.

Usually we allow very few figures from the past to influence what we say and do.

Since Reformation Sunday was just last week, we'll grudgingly allow that perhaps Martin Luther's emphasis on justification by faith has been a good thing.

But who else should be talking to us?

There is a Methodist church down in North Carolina which has three particular statues right outside its front door.

One is Luther, and hurray for that!

The second one is Wm Tyndale, one of those who worked hard and was martyred for his work in translating the Bible into English.

His work continues to speak to us through the King James and all subsequent English versions of the Bible.

The third statue is of a man who lived about the same time as the other two, Savanarola.

He lived in Florence, Italy, and for a time he led a sort of democratic republic in that city.

As a priest, he encouraged people to purify their lives.

In 1497, he and his followers held a Bonfire of the Vanities, onto which everyone was invited to throw those things which were leading them away from God: mirrors, fancy clothes, artworks, or whatever it was.

It was finally too much for the people to take, and a year later they literally threw him onto the bonfire.

Does this man have something to say to us in the church still today, or do we want to block out his voice as did the citizens of Florence?

That church builder in North Carolina thought that his message of the pure and considered life still needs to be heard.

Back on one Sunday in August we heard the writer of Hebrews remind us of the witness of Gideon and Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David and Samuel, and other prophets.

“We are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses,” Hebrews tells us,

so that we can listen to them, shake off every sin which clings to closely to us, and run unencumbered and with perseverance the race that is set before us.

They have faced every kind of calamity, and still the Lord Jesus has kept them in the faith.

The Lord who has done this, will do it also with us.

This is conversation not only in words but also in actions. It is precious and important.

The hymn that we sing in a moment points to yet another level of conversation, carried on by the whole host of heaven.

They are engaged in the most sublime part of conversation ever uttered.

“Alleluia”, they sing, forever “alleluia.”

Watchers and holy ones,

seraphim and cherubim,

dominions and powers,

archangels and angel choirs...”alleluia.”

patriarchs and prophets,

apostles and martyrs,

led by Mary, magnifying the Lord, “alleluia.”

And all the saints of every age,

and those most dear to us:

Jonnie, Frank, Dorothy, Jane, Betty,

Joanne, Marian, Bill, Bob, Gerry, Louise, Annabel, Jeanette, Harriet, and Kes...

No matter if they couldn't sing very well before, now for sure they can: “Alleluia.”

“Alleluia,” they sing in the presence of God.

“Alleluia,” they remind us, on the days of joy and the days of sorrow.

And the conversation goes on, as in the beginning, is now, and will be forever culminating in “alleluia.” Amen.

Please note: The preceding sermon is provided as a resource for the thought, prayer, and meditation of the members and friends of St. Mark's. It is the residue of a verbal event, and thus it does not have academic footnotes and other details that would be expected in a written document. The writer gladly acknowledges the prior thought and work of many Christians before him.