All Saints

*Preached at Grace North Church November 4, 2001 by Rev. John R. Mabry, PhD.*

I am a very social person, and the cultivation of friendships is a very sacred and important part of my life. For some people, having a social life is a secondary concern; these people are usually introverts. I am an extrovert, and as such, social interaction is as important as bread. A have a terrific network of friends and loved ones, and I enjoy meeting people and getting to know them more, I think, than the average person.

But often I find that the very fact that I am a priest can put people off. It either makes them nervous, and they don't really want to be around me, or it causes a degree of cognitive dissonance as they get to really know me that is hard for them to handle. This is certainly the case with one of my friends, I'll call him "Mike."

Every other week or so, "Mike" and I rent a video, get burritos to go, and see what kind of damage the two of us can do on a six-pack of San Adams. I have enjoyed these evening immensely, but sometimes I think it's been kind of tough on "Mike". You see, he grew up a pretty staunch Catholic, and he has all of these internal ideas of what a priest is supposed to look like and how a priest should behave. None of which, of course, I even remotely resemble.

Thus, whenever I would talk about one of my suspect activities, like singing in three rock bands, writing a rock opera about bringing God to trial for his crimes against humanity, getting divorced-twice! or opening a kava kava bar, "Mike"'s reactions usually follow a similar pattern: outrage, shock, protest, and finally amused resignation.

For instance, I recently began work as the grammatical and liturgical consultant for a comic book company that often lampoons religious themes. "Wait a minute," "Mike" protested, when I handed him a copy of one of the comic books, "You can't do this, you're a PRIEST!" This is the way it usually goes.

It's always tempting to launch into the Shylock speech from Merchant of Venice, but I refrain. Instead, I usually say something like, "Does being a priest mean I don't have creative outlets? Or a sex life? Or wacky entrepreneurial aspirations? Get over it," I tell him. "I'm a human being first. Being a priest is just my job."

This little scenario usually plays out like clockwork, but I must admit I secretly enjoy this impish little role-play we do, and can't wait to find little things that will set him off.

It is important to me that "Mike"'s concept of what a priest is gets shattered. This is a very important kind of iconoclasm that is absolutely necessary, especially at this time in our history, where, if Christianity is to have any credence at all in the eyes of the general public, there are certain things, like institutional injustice that simply has to go. One aspect of this injustice that has for too long been part of the church is that priests and ministers, and even apostles and saints, are somehow not real people, that they have some sort of mojo that sets them apart from the rest of the species. They are then afforded some dignity or reverence that by all rights should be reserved for God alone.

The problem is that when you set up some people as "holy" you automatically think of other people as "not holy." This is a very dangerous thing indeed.

This false dichotomy certainly comes to the fore whenever we celebrate a saints day, and it can't help but color how we see a major feast like "all saints," as well. Most of us, after all, feel like the word "saints" describes a vast number of ascetic people from the church's dusty history; people do not usually assume that the word applies equally to THEM.

Yet, when St. Paul uses the word in his epistles he is not referring to martyrs or apostles necessarily, he is referring to the average churchgoer. Biblically speaking, friends, we are ALL SAINTS, whether you actually feel particularly holy this morning or not.

Of course, this kind of assertion can raise more protests than "Mike" does when I unveil another harebrained money-making scheme. "I'm not a saint," we are quick to point out, "I'm not holy, I've got problems!"

I just gotta say right here that holiness is terribly overrated. Our history has tended to cast holiness in terms of sexual asceticism, but in fact holiness means just what it sounds like, "wholeness," which is much more a goal to be striven for than a possession anyone actually attains.

The truth is, if you actually met any saints, I think you might be surprised.
Many of the saints we revere today got to be saints not because they were so peaceful and reverent, but often because they were frightfully disagreeable people. I mean, they didn't get to be saints because they were NICE, after all. Often, they got to be saints because they were jackasses, and caused enough trouble that their legend simply overtook their humanity in the popular imagination. And then of course, some got to be saints simply because they were loony, like those guys who spent thirty + years sitting on top of poles. Friends, that's not sanctity, that's inanity!

Even commonly revered saints like St. Francis were a little nuts. Harmless, but nuts, nonetheless. And of course, lots of folks who displayed great courage and piety in the church's history were rewarded for their fidelity by being branded heretics or being exiled--sometimes the good guys really do finish last.

So what is it that separates the average person in the pews from the saints of legend? I'll let you be the judge. We'll do a little self-test to see where you stand. Here are some traits common to a lot of saints; let's see how you measure up.

1. Saints are driven by the values of their faith. Our Christian tradition is rich in values that rocked the world when Christianity was young; and we continue to be challenged as values which are to be found in seed form n the Gospel become more evident to us now. It was not self-evident in the first century that slavery was evil, yet the abolitionists drew their convictions from the Gospel. Saints in every age were inspired by the teachings of Jesus to stand up to injustice and despotism. Saints ask themselves the question, "how can I follow Jesus with integrity in my own place and time?" Give yourself a point if that thought has ever crossed YOUR mind.

2. Saints can be a major pain in the butt when they think they are right, even if they aren't. Lots of saints were exquisitely gifted at pissing other people off. I can think of a couple of folks I know in our own community who fall under that description! If you have ever made a nuisance of yourself because dad-nabbit, you are RIGHT about this, give yourself another point.

3. Saints usually doubt themselves. They are always going on in their writings about how unworthy they are, how beset by temptations, so corrupted by their own past and present sins. They often cannot conceive of how God can possibly do anything worthwhile with such an unworthy vessel. Saints are often terrified that they are just fooling themselves, that they are a fake, that someone will at any time, find out the TRUTH about them, and then where would they be? So if you have ever had any doubts about your own worthiness to be a saint, you are in good company indeed, and you can chalk up another point.

4. Because they are keenly aware of their own shortcomings, saints have typically been very humble people. Rarely have they set themselves up as great authorities or as gurus. They have usually been painfully cognizant of their own failures, personality flaws and peccadilloes. St. Francis refused to be called a saint, and referred to himself instead as a "simple monk." Those we think of today as "great saints" never would have thought of themselves as such. So unless any of you are bent on celestial fame and universal recognition, give yourselves another point.

5. And finally, saints feel within them a tug to do the right thing that often overrides their common sense. I don't know if that's ever happened to you, but I think it happens to me on at least a daily basis.

End of test; please put down your pencils. How did you do? How do you stack up against St. Augustine or St. Bernard of Clairvaux? Just between you and me, I'd rather hang out with any of you than with those two guys, or many of the other folks the church has held up as examples of piety.

As far as I am concerned, piety is a sacred cow, and sacred cows exist to be shot, stuffed, and mounted. That is why it is so important for me to pop the little bubble that "Mike" likes to put around me. I'm not any holier than he is, and in fact, I'd wager I'm a far sight less holy than a lot of you. I think it would surprise you to find out that a LOT of the so-called saints were less holy than you might imagine. Many of them were downright disagreeable; but the last time I looked, congeniality is only a cardinal virtue for Episcopalians. For most of us, just being honest about who we are before God, and our honest efforts to follow Jesus in our own place and time is enough.

According to the New Testament, just being a part of this church, just being a willing participant in the community of God makes you a saint, whether you feel like it or not.

Let us pray

Oh God of saints and sinners; you know that most of us are both, and the rest of us are dead or yet to be born. Help us to see that in your community there is no such thing as male or female, slave or free, high or low, holy or profane. We are all the same in your eyes; for we are members of the body of Christ. Our hands are your hands, our minds, your mind, our bodies your temple and dwelling place. Help us to see ourselves as your people, regardless of how we feel about ourselves; for when you look at us you do not see the cowards, sinners, traitors or inept bumblers we imagine ourselves to be, but the family of very human people you called us together to be, and whom you love so much. Help us to follow you to the best of our vision and ability, until we join that great cloud of witnesses to cheer on another generation of insecure, humble, driven, and sincere people who call themselves your friends. Amen.