2013-11-03 Hallowmas Part 2: All Saints and All Souls Together

2013-11-03 Hallowmas Part 2: All Saints and All Souls Together

Psalm 139

John 11:20-22, 25-26, 32-36

Last Sunday's Fall Festival was so much fun.

A big "Amen" to Shari and the 

Church Events committee, 

and the cake-bakers, 

the chili-cookers, 

celebrity-judgers, 

trunk-treaters, 

and musical guests, DJ Biggs featuring Cakewalk Hood.

 

All the kids were adorable.

We had a good time.

 

But now it's over.

Time to take off the masks.

Time to put away the costumes.

Time to get ready for the next big holiday: Christmas.

I know Thanksgiving's in there, but that's getting to be kinda like driving through KFC on the way to Black Friday.

Either way, time to move on.

Halloween's over.

 

Well, maybe not quite.

 

A long time ago, Halloween was All-Hallows' Eve.

It was the start of a three-day holiday (holy days).

Halloween led to All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day.

The three together made up Hallowmas.

Halloween was the eve of something that took longer.

Something that stuck with people after the masks came off.

 

--

 

When does your mask come off? Really?

You know you have one.

Everybody does.

It's that, "I'm fine, how are you?" that you put on when you leave the house so you can make it through the day without divulging what's really going on inside your head.

 

For some, it's the mask of professionalism that hides the fear that you might not really know what you're doing after all.

 

It might be the mask of cool.

The mask of popularity.

The mask of Goth makeup so so-called normal people leave you alone (although there just aren't a lot of Presbyterians who roll like that).

The mask of smart.

The mask of darn-right-

I-get-everything-done-and-

still-weigh-115-pounds.

The mask of I'm-too-nice-to-get-mad-at.

The mask of I-don't-cry, I-don't-get-mad---I-get-even.

Or, I-don't-rock-the-boat-even-

though-I'm-shaking-inside.

 

When does that mask come off? 

God forbid it's when people are looking.

It's scary to think we could go from adorable to horrible.

Not that we are horrible.

But it's easy to convince yourself that's how people will see you if you drop the disguise.

Dropping the mask makes us vulnerable.

Vulnerable scares us to death.

 

--

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!

 You know when I sit down and when I rise up;

you discern my thoughts from afar.

 You search out my path and my lying down

and are acquainted with all my ways.

 Even before a word is on my tongue,

behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.

 You hem me in, behind and before,

and lay your hand upon me.

 

Is that knowledge too wonderful for you? 

Or is it scary?

It's intimate.

The eyesight of God leaves us completely vulnerable.

 

In the Gospel, Mary and Martha were living through the raw grief of the death of their brother, Lazarus.

They both cried out to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!"

 

These women were mad at Jesus for not showing up when they called for him.

 

How do you feel when your calls for Jesus are unanswered?

Jesus, who knew he would raise Lazarus from the dead, when he saw his friend's grave, wept.

 

 

Does the idea that Jesus would weep over death confuse you? 

Does his deep and public emotion for his friend surprise you?

 

The Psalmist who knew that God searched and knew him, also confessed that he hated his enemies with perfect hatred, and wished God would strike them dead.

 

We're afraid of savage honesty.

Even before God.

Maybe especially toward God.

 

The God who searches us and knows us sees through the masks.

God is not deceived.

God is not frightened.

When we set aside the adorable and confess what seems horrible, we touch the cross of Jesus.

We begin to move past Halloween to something better.

 

Pastor and writer, Wayne Muller, says:

"Within the sorrow, there is grace.

When we come close to the things which break us down, we also touch the things which break us open, and in that breaking open we uncover our true nature."

 

Jesus says, "I am the resurrection and the life."

 

But to get to resurrection, you have to take up your cross and do some walking through the valleys of the shadow of death.

Maybe not physical death.

Maybe the fire that burns away the masks.

The cross was the start of three very scary "un-holy days."

 

--

 

After Halloween, the church remembers its saints and its soul.

The Bible says the church is the living Body of Christ.

The saints who gather around us and the saints who have gone before us give life to this body.

 

They remind us that the darkness of All Hallows' Eve is just a beginning.

There is more to come.

Hallowmas doesn't end until the saints and souls see the resurrection and the life that is Jesus the Christ.

 

 

When the tears are wiped away and the mourning turns to dancing all the saints and souls will look back on the Eve of All Hallows' and laugh - at what seemed so terrifying beneath the masks.

 

Those parts of ourselves that scare us so badly, will dissolve away when exposed to the light of Christ.

 

Go forth to live.

Go forth to live as those who are about to live.

So that we and all saints of this moment may look forward to that day when all souls are gathered at Christ's heavenly table.

When that which scares us is no more.

And that which brings life brings life eternal.

 To God be the glory now and forever more.

Amen and amen.