A Sermon for All Saints’ Sunday

All Saints Sunday

Rev. Amanda Lewis
October 29th, 2023
Deuteronomy 12:1-8

34 Now Moses went up from the plains of Moab to Mount Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, which is opposite Jericho. And the Lord showed him all the land, Gilead as far as Dan, ² and all Naphtali and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah as far as the ^[a]western sea, ³ and the ^[b]Negev and the plain in the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, as far as Zoar. ⁴ Then the Lord said to him, “This is the land which I swore to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, saying, ‘I will give it to your ^[c]descendants’; I have let you see it with your eyes, but you shall not go over there.” ⁵ So Moses the servant of the Lord died there in the land of Moab, according to the ^[d]word of the Lord. ⁶ And He buried him in the valley in the land of Moab, opposite Beth-peor; but no man knows his burial place to this day. ⁷ Although Moses was one hundred and twenty years old when he died, his eye was not dim, nor his vigor abated. ⁸ So the sons of Israel wept for Moses in the plains of Moab thirty days; then the days of weeping and mourning for Moses came to an end.

 

Whew. I recognize that our text from Deuteronomy has the potential to be a very politically charged passage. I’m sure there are many pastors preaching a “Thus says the Lord” sermon”using this passage this morning with a “If A then B” talking about the promised land. Without context. Without acknowledging the thousands of years of history between then and now and Without acknowledging that the land promised already had people living there.

On that note I want to acknowledge that we stand on stolen land. There were people already living here: the Catawba, Sugaree, and Waxhaw peoples.

Now I want to invite us to look at this passage in Deuteronomy in context remembering that narratives that survive are written by folks who are in power, who have their own biases and agendas, and who have conceptualized of God and God’s will in their own ways.

With all of that in mind we can sit with this passage differently, a story of life, death and legacy as we celebrate All Saints Sunday.

As a Hospice Chaplain, I invite you to join me in reading this passage as though Moses was a hospice patient. Moses knows his death is coming, while there’s not a diagnosis on his medical chart app, he can feel it in is body, and his soul. God has made it clear to him his time is coming.

Moses gathers his loved ones for a heart-to-heart. I can picture him in his favorite chair, family gathered around as he tells them: ‘I am a hundred and twenty; and you know I can’t get around like I used to. God told me it’s my time. I know over the years I’ve messed up, and you’ve done a whole lot of messing up, and are going to keep doing so.  But I love you, and the Lord loves you.”

Moses starts taking care of his affairs, he commissions Joshua as the next leader, he passes on some wisdom and breaks out into song to pass on a warning, and he gives words of blessing.

Then like any centenarian would do, he straps on his sandals and climbs a mountain.  The author of the text wants us to be clear that Moses hasn’t lost his vigor, and that his eyesight is not dimmed. Now from my experience being a chaplain to folks in their triple digits, at that point hearing, eyesight, mobility at least one of these things is starting to go.

But Moses pulls on his Northface jacket, climbs this mountain and meets with God. I can picture him pausing to rest on each bench as he hikes up the mountain. Finally the trail turns and after one last steep stretch, he makes it to the top, he doubles over out of breath hands resting on top of his knees.

God is there with arms open wide, waiting to hug him. It’s like one of those airport arrival greetings: big embraces with tears and claps on the back. With a thermos of coffee they take a seat on the edge of a rock, their feet dangling over the edge. As they talk, God reminds him of all they’ve been through together. The highs and the lows. And Moses asks God that question that is oh so often on the minds of those preparing to transition, “will my loved ones be okay?”

God gives Moses gets a glimpse of what is to come for the people.  Maybe Moses sees it on fast forward like film sped up – them powerwalking into the new chapter of their lives.  Or maybe its more like looking at slides on a projector, flipping through slowly cherishing each scene, alternating between laughing and crying.

As the sun sinks into the valley, so the sun sets on Moses’ life. The author of the text tells us that Moses dies there in Moab and his body is laid to rest.

We don’t know much else about his transition, he had time to prepare beforehand: Time to connect, to reflect, to bless others. I hope that his passing was comfortable and peaceful.

While I know the term might seem contradictory to some- it seems that Moses had ‘a good death’.

Though this chapter and Moses’ death is the end of the Pentatuch, Moses’ life is not the beginning of the story and his death is not the end to the story of how God has been at work in the world. He is part of a larger story.

Each and every one of us are part of that story, too. And we stand on the shoulders of so many people who have come before us who have taught us valuable lessons about life, about God, what it means to be a person of integrity and compassion.

For some of the folks who came before us we are their wildest dreams come true!

My maternal grandmother never learned to drive a car, much less had the opportunity to go to college or to travel though I know she had such an adventurous spirit.  She would have loved to have so many of the opportunities I’ve experienced.

And for some of the folks who came before us we embody so many things that they feared, and that’s cool too!!!

I stand here as an ordained minister, a woman who works, who wears pants, who likes to dance.  I am here because of trails that were blazed by so many brave folks who came before me.

As a chaplain I journey with people from all over the world and from so many different walks of life. One of the elements I find that we all share is the need to reflect: to look back on where we’ve come from, and to find comfort and strength in the legacy we leave behind.  There is such power in telling our stories. Even when people aren’t able to verbalize or maybe aren’t able to remember their stories, holding space for their loved ones to share their stories re-claims their identity.

While an individual’s life might have a handful of tremendous mountain top moments- graduations, vacations, welcoming a new baby into the family. The mountain top moments are important milestones in life, and fill most of the pages of photo albums. But the majority of life is made up of the beautiful everyday moments – sitting at the table having Mom’s biscuits in the mornings, family around the grill for a cookout, washing dishes with your sister after dinner.  Those everyday meals and moments together nourish our bodies and nurture our souls.

Sardis we have a beautiful story filled with laughter, and some tears, and lots and lots of meals. And it is made possible by our Sardis saints- Together we are part of their legacy.

As a relatively new member of Sardis, around 6 years, I don’t know all of our Sardis saints. I look forward to hearing more about them later in the service.

What you see on display are William Krueger’s dishes, he and Buddy had them custom made with their Redcliff crest on them.  Danny, Susan, Bennett and I had dinner with William just nights before he went into the hospital the last time.  He had been making preparations for the dinner for a while, even making his own preserved lemons for the Moroccan feast. William loved to cook, to entertain, and this set of dishes is part of his legacy, custom designed at Harrods. I remember as he told me about having the dishes made I was holding a coffee cup and my hand got so shaky I had to set down my cup I was so scared I was going to drop it.

I’m so honored to have William’s dishes in my home, to remember him, and hope that he would approve of our choice in recipes. It helps me to feel connected to him.

I hope that you have ways to feel connected to the saints in your life: Maybe you have mom’s mixing bowl and you remember her each time you make a batch of cookie dough. Maybe you like to put on a record and remember dancing with your best friend.  Maybe out in the garden you feel your grandfather’s presence with you.

Today and every day to come let us remember them.