Sanctorum Communionem
Rachel and I both love languages, though neither of us have any real aptitude for learning them. As human beings we swim in a sea of language and we cannot escape that. Knowing lots about your own language and how it works can help you out with any number of issues – legal, professional, communicating clearly with people, appreciating anything you read, and all that. Like I said, I’m not very good at languages, but I’ve thrown my hat into the ring from time to time. I have at different times attempted serious the study of German, Russian, Spanish, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, French, and Czech. If I add languages I’ve studied just long enough to know that I never want to study them (which take me about a ½ hour) you can throw in Hindustani and Arabic. One of the neat things about languages I like is that every language can do some things that other languages cannot; even do them better than other languages can. For instance, there is this one Amazonian tribe that has seven different words for the under side of a leaf, depending on it’s color, textures, and the way it is different from the top side of a leaf. I’m not sure English has even one word for the underside of a leaf. Greek has different words for “love”, depending on whether you love your friend, and object, your spouse or lover, or God. I think that is pretty sensible. It seems kind of cheap that in English we use the same word - “love” - for how I feel about the Almighty God who made all that is, and a really great piece of chocolate cake. I may love both, but really not in the same way. In Hungarian, they do not use the pronoun “he” or “she” for God. God is kind of a he. But God is also kind of a she. And truthfully, God is not too much like either. So, Hungarians invented a whole new pronoun just for God (which is neither he, she, or it). It is just God’s pronoun. That seems pretty sensible to me.
Of all the languages I’ve studied, the only one I can claim to come close to speaking for real is Spanish. In Spanish, they also have one of these things were they do something better than we do. Spanish has one word for here. That word is aquí. However, Spanish has two words for “over there”. Now, that may seem a little nuts at first, but it does make sense. When I say, [Ron Jenkins] is over there. I might mean in the back row where he is. Or, I might mean in Cuba, which – if my longitude is right - is also “over there” somewhere.
So, the Spanish have two words for this – allí and allá. Allí means “over there”. You know, kind of where Ron is. But allá, that means way the heck over there. You know, where Cuba is.
Aquí, allí, and allá. Here, there, and way on yonder over there. Three different words.
See, that one observation of Spanish speaks to me of the whole mystery of the feast of All Saints. In Christian life, we tend to think mostly of the aquí, the here. We think about the church. We think about our finance, about the finance of the church, as Ruth prompted us today. We think about our “to do” list for today, while we zone out during the sermon. We think about the people in the pews next to us, their needs and concerns. We think about our families and their needs. We think about ourselves and what we need. We are present here and now. We live in the here and now, in the aquí.
We are reminded at times, here at church that we are also about the allí, the over there. We are reminded about our Christian brothers and sisters in another town, at other churches, and even those in West Africa, India, China, and so forth. Even though we live most of our lives in the aquí, the here and now, we do take time for the allí, the over there. Our apportionments that we pay, about 12% of our church budget, goes to a lot of these projects. Our United Methodist colleges and hospitals in Africa, Drew University, churches in the slums of Camden and Trenton. For some time now, churches have been helping out quite a bit with the flood damage in Louisiana, which is far from taken care of. So, in our spiritual lives, we also live in the allí, the over there.
But, if we are usually living in the here, and sometimes in the over there, we are almost never in the allá, the way the heck over there. That is the value of Church and the communion of saints. See, the communion of saints reminds us that there is more to the body of Christ than just those who are here with us, and those who are over there (be it the next town over or China). There are also those Christians sisters and brothers who are in the allá, the way off over there. Spanish creates a separate word for the way on over yonder, because it knows that the way on over yonder effects us and we effect it. That deserves a word.
Days in the church calendar like All Saints, or the Day of the Death, or liturgical practices like prayers for the dead are about those who are way on over yonder, but are always with us all the same. They are about those who are way on over yonder, but who are effected by us no less, since they watch over us still.
Every religion in the world takes time to step back and reconnect with the alla, those who are way on over yonder. We Christians are not spiritual adventurers going where no man has gone before on this on. Asians and Africans both make a point out of honoring the ancestors regularly. Here is America, people who spend lots of time delving into history or their personal family genealogies do this as well. They are connecting with the way on over yonder that still connects with us.
I’ve always liked the quote by Joseph Cinque, the black slave who in 1841 successfully sued the US Supreme Court for freedom because he was kidnapped illegally. He had former president John Quincy Adams as his lawyer. When asked by Adams before the trial is he was scared, Joseph Cinque said, “No. I will not be alone out there. My ancestors will be there with me. I will call into the past, far into the beginning of time, and beg them to help me at the judgment. I will reach back and draw them into me. And they must come…for at this moment I am the whole reason they have existed at all.”
That is the communion of saints. We Christians should take a breath to remember the ancestors, to call them into us from the very beginning of time, and from only a short while ago. We call them into ourselves because they have paved a pathway for us and us alone. As every parent lives for their children, they have lived for us. We reach back and draw them into us. And they must come. For at this moment in time, we are the whole reason they have existed at all.
There is a mystical connection tied by a cord that never breaks between the dead and the living. The prayers we say, the hymns we sing, the faith we confess with it’s creeds and confessions are all the hard labor of Christians who have gone before us to the undiscovered country. Many of them we do not even know their names, except we know that someone was there to do many of these great and small jobs.
When I think about the congregation where I worship on Sunday, about the building, about all of it, I cannot help but remember that is has been a work in progress since 1789. It has been deeded over to us by those who have lived and worked hard in the fields of the Lord and are no longer with us. 1789. Think about that! George Washington was only just inaugurated President. They had just elected the first Congress. Our church has moved locations three times and each of those locations saw significant changes in the time we inhabited it. And all those moves and changes were done by people just like us, singing hymns a lot like ours, and reading bibles that sounded very similar to ours. Everything we enjoy as a church is just as much the fruit of their labor as it is ours.
I am sure that every person who counts themselves a Christian, can say that they are probably a Christian because of someone else, someone who might not be here with us anymore, someone who inspired you and had you want to tap into just a little bit of what they had – be it power, or peace, or depth, or whatever.
Almost everything we are is the gift of the saints now in heaven and their continuing watchful eye over our work in life. They have never left us, whether they effects us still in memory alone or by more direct and spiritual ways. They are always with us, for here and now, we are the only reason those who are alla, those who are way on over yonder, have ever lived.
In deed, there is a mystical connection tied by a cord that never breaks between the dead and the living. And it goes both ways. One day, when we have passed, we too will watch upon our children and their children and children not yet dreamed of. And we will watch over them as they lead churches which look unlike any we can imagine. For then, they will be the whole reason that we have ever existed.
We also need to head the responsibilities of the saints, because we will one day be among their number. We need to be about our Father’s business so that, when we ourselves will be way on over yonder, that there be a church at all in 30 years, 100 years, a 1000 years.
In the Christian faith we take very little time for the alla, for the way on over yonder. So, let us take hold of those moments and suck them dry for all they are worth. Let us revel in the saints who have departed from us in body and form, but never in spirit. Let us thank them. Let us conjure them unto ourselves once more and sit at their feet in learning. Let us build ourselves in holiness and faith that we too can be accounted among their number when our time has come. Let us live – not just in the aqui and alli, but in the alla as well.
