For All the Saints

I believe, for many of us, we fear death not because of our inability to know what happens beyond the grave but simply because we fear that we will be forgotten, that our lives will have been of no consequence.  If we as individuals do not feel this way, often our immediate families do.  This anxiety often leads us to establish some kind of memorials in the names of ourselves or those we have loved and lost.  We give something in their memory that will bear their name; we establish a fund for a good cause that will guaruntee that they name will not be lost forever; we try and purchase a beautiful headstone with the name deeply engraved to ensure it will mark the place of our loved one through many years.

But when we are our most honest, we come to a realization that unless we are Julius Caesar or King Tut, very few of us will be remembered beyond a couple of generations after our deaths.  Even if we have memorials established in our name, the stories of our lives, the content of our character, will be lost as those who knew us become the past themselves.

I think about this when I walk through our church sanctuary.  Inside the frame of each window in the sanctuary are small gold plaques, naming those for whom each window was given.  Some were honorariums for the living, others were memorials to the dead.  They mark the place of these saints in our community through the ages.

Yet, for many of the names, I know nothing of their story.  A few I have heard about from our current church members, but none of them did I know personally.  I wonder if, in a couple of generations, anyone will remember these saints memorialized in these small gold carvings.

On All Saints Day, which we will celebrate on Sunday, we remember the saints who have died during the last year.  We speak their names aloud to God and ring a bell of remembrance.  Many of these saints remain fresh in our memories and will be spoken of for years to come.  Over time, however, as we grow old, and after our names have been read between the tolling of the bells, these names too will be forgotten.

There is a comfort, though, to be taken in all of this.  While our efforts to memorialize ourselves may always fall short, and while we will most likely not be remembered one hundred years after our deaths, we can remember that our names are remembered before God.  The psalmist sings to God, "You know my inmost parts... Your eyes beheld my unformed substance.  In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed" (Psalm 139:13-16).  Jesus declares that God knows us so intimately and cares for us so fully that even the hairs of our head are numbered (Matthew 10:31).

We remember the saints annually by name, and those who have died in years past remain in our hearts.  But in God's heart are all the saints, those whose names are foreign to us, those whose headstones have weathered away through baking heat and driving rains.  We cannot possibly memorialize and honor all those who have died, but on All Saints Day we celebrate that we are not called to do that.  We are called to honor the God of our life and our death, before whom our names and our lives remain ever-present.  Let us celebrate this God who knows each of us intimately and remembers our names, long after our earthly journey has concluded.