Allhallowtide
03/11/21 02:36
We have been thinking of All Saints this week at church. Although Monday was the official day to recognize “all of the saints of the church, both known and unknown, who have attained heaven,” like many other congregations, we are recognizing All Saints Sunday on the first Sunday of November. So thinking about those who have died has been part of our preparation for Sunday. We have been especially thinking of those who have died during the Covid-19 pandemic when we couldn’t have the kind of in-person funerals and public opportunities for grief that are our tradition.
I learned in my time of serving as a pastor in North Dakota that the public grief extended beyond the benediction at the graveside. The next step for our church in those days was the invitation to “come and have a little lunch.” Funeral lunches, held in the church social hall, were as much a part of the process of grief as were the worship services of the church. I heard one of the grandmothers of the church once say, “We eat when we grieve.”
Funeral meals are part of many different traditions. Though we have different cultures, different religions, and different beliefs about what happens after a person dies, we all eat. We all need nutritious food to survive. We all are drawn closer to others when we share a meal with them. Our Christian tradition includes the sacrament of communion as a reminder of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples.
The interesting thing to me as I prepare to recognize all saints with our new congregation, is that I have been thinking a lot of the saints of our congregation in South Dakota. Although it has been more than a year since we retired and moved to Washington, our relationships with those in South Dakota remain strong and our memories of those who have recently died in that congregation are rich and meaningful to us. Meanwhile, we don’t really know many of the people in our new congregation. Covid-19 protocols, designed to keep people safe from infection, mean that we have only gotten to know a few of the folks in our congregation. We know and support some of the families left behind, but the people who have died in this congregation in the past year are people that we never met face-to-face.
There are various kinds of memorial holidays. Memorial Day in May is usually focused on those who have died in war, or at least those who have served in the military, but the roots of that holiday are much deeper. There is an ancient tradition of a feast of all martyrs being held in May and for hundreds of years the church recognized all saints in the spring. It was during the time of Pope Gregory III (731-741) that the chapel at St. Peter’s in Rome was dedicated on November 1 in honor of all saints. The general observance of the November festival was officially initiated in 837 by Pope Gregory IV.
In some parts of the church, All Saints focuses on those who have been officially venerated by the church. In our Protestant Tradition, All Saints is more personal, focusing on those we have loved who have died. With the advent of video production and projection as part of worship in the late 20th Century, many congregations started a tradition of producing a slide show of church members who had died the previous year as a part of the observance. As we move into the 21st Century, the meaning of church membership has shifted and congregations have difficulty knowing exactly who is and who is not an official member. That shift has often meant that the list of those who have died includes friends of the church as well as those who had participated in a formal reception of members.
The designation of All Saints, however, includes the phrase, “both known and unknown,” acknowledging that our lives are shaped by the faith of those we have not known. That phrase has become important to me as I imagine how worship might unfold in our church this week. Some weeks I have official worship leadership responsibilities. I do not this week. As a member of the church staff, I participate in worship planning sessions and I see the development of the worship bulletin as it goes through several drafts each week. And I am privileged to be present in the sanctuary as the worship leadership team broadcasts the “live” feed of worship. Our congregation will be fully online this week. Hybrid worship with in-person and live stream begins once again the following Sunday, November 14.
My decreased responsibility for leadership has allowed me a bit more time to reflect on the processes of the church and the dynamics of worship. The annual recognition of All Saints gives expression to the simple fact that we do not forget those who have gone before us. We treasure their memories after they have died. And grief is not something you “get over.” It remains and is layered with the grief of other losses. As we age, we collect more and more grief and we lose our expectation that things will go back to normal. Instead we accept grief as a companion and learn to live with it. We get through the immediate rush of emotions knowing that our lives have been permanently changed. An annual occasion to acknowledge that grief, and to publicly remember those who have died becomes a very meaningful event as we treasure our memories and give thanks for having know the remarkable people who have graced our lives.
Once again, there will be no congregational hymns in our worship this week, but in my heart, I will be singing, “For All the Saints,” and “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.” And as I remember the old hymns, I will also remember the elders who have shaped my life and give thanks for the gift of their presence in my life. I have been privileged to have known a great many saints. And there are so many more who are unknown to me.
In some traditions, the recognition of All Saints stretches into a season, called Allhallowtide. This week is an Allhallowtide for me. Thanks be to God.
I learned in my time of serving as a pastor in North Dakota that the public grief extended beyond the benediction at the graveside. The next step for our church in those days was the invitation to “come and have a little lunch.” Funeral lunches, held in the church social hall, were as much a part of the process of grief as were the worship services of the church. I heard one of the grandmothers of the church once say, “We eat when we grieve.”
Funeral meals are part of many different traditions. Though we have different cultures, different religions, and different beliefs about what happens after a person dies, we all eat. We all need nutritious food to survive. We all are drawn closer to others when we share a meal with them. Our Christian tradition includes the sacrament of communion as a reminder of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples.
The interesting thing to me as I prepare to recognize all saints with our new congregation, is that I have been thinking a lot of the saints of our congregation in South Dakota. Although it has been more than a year since we retired and moved to Washington, our relationships with those in South Dakota remain strong and our memories of those who have recently died in that congregation are rich and meaningful to us. Meanwhile, we don’t really know many of the people in our new congregation. Covid-19 protocols, designed to keep people safe from infection, mean that we have only gotten to know a few of the folks in our congregation. We know and support some of the families left behind, but the people who have died in this congregation in the past year are people that we never met face-to-face.
There are various kinds of memorial holidays. Memorial Day in May is usually focused on those who have died in war, or at least those who have served in the military, but the roots of that holiday are much deeper. There is an ancient tradition of a feast of all martyrs being held in May and for hundreds of years the church recognized all saints in the spring. It was during the time of Pope Gregory III (731-741) that the chapel at St. Peter’s in Rome was dedicated on November 1 in honor of all saints. The general observance of the November festival was officially initiated in 837 by Pope Gregory IV.
In some parts of the church, All Saints focuses on those who have been officially venerated by the church. In our Protestant Tradition, All Saints is more personal, focusing on those we have loved who have died. With the advent of video production and projection as part of worship in the late 20th Century, many congregations started a tradition of producing a slide show of church members who had died the previous year as a part of the observance. As we move into the 21st Century, the meaning of church membership has shifted and congregations have difficulty knowing exactly who is and who is not an official member. That shift has often meant that the list of those who have died includes friends of the church as well as those who had participated in a formal reception of members.
The designation of All Saints, however, includes the phrase, “both known and unknown,” acknowledging that our lives are shaped by the faith of those we have not known. That phrase has become important to me as I imagine how worship might unfold in our church this week. Some weeks I have official worship leadership responsibilities. I do not this week. As a member of the church staff, I participate in worship planning sessions and I see the development of the worship bulletin as it goes through several drafts each week. And I am privileged to be present in the sanctuary as the worship leadership team broadcasts the “live” feed of worship. Our congregation will be fully online this week. Hybrid worship with in-person and live stream begins once again the following Sunday, November 14.
My decreased responsibility for leadership has allowed me a bit more time to reflect on the processes of the church and the dynamics of worship. The annual recognition of All Saints gives expression to the simple fact that we do not forget those who have gone before us. We treasure their memories after they have died. And grief is not something you “get over.” It remains and is layered with the grief of other losses. As we age, we collect more and more grief and we lose our expectation that things will go back to normal. Instead we accept grief as a companion and learn to live with it. We get through the immediate rush of emotions knowing that our lives have been permanently changed. An annual occasion to acknowledge that grief, and to publicly remember those who have died becomes a very meaningful event as we treasure our memories and give thanks for having know the remarkable people who have graced our lives.
Once again, there will be no congregational hymns in our worship this week, but in my heart, I will be singing, “For All the Saints,” and “I Sing a Song of the Saints of God.” And as I remember the old hymns, I will also remember the elders who have shaped my life and give thanks for the gift of their presence in my life. I have been privileged to have known a great many saints. And there are so many more who are unknown to me.
In some traditions, the recognition of All Saints stretches into a season, called Allhallowtide. This week is an Allhallowtide for me. Thanks be to God.
