Remember, Remember

Pastor’s Epistle—November, A.D. 2017 A

A season for joy, a season for sorrow.

Where she’s gone, I will surely, surely follow.
—The Hounds of Winter

The Western Church calendar traditionally dedicates November to holy souls, which is to say, the dead. This is most obvious in the Hallowtide, a celebration usually associated with October, but which actually occurs in early November. Halloween, after all, is the night before our Days of the Dead.

All Saints recalls those great heroes of the faith from ages past, sainted sinners from the Bible and Church history. All Souls the next day focuses more on the local and the personal, especially those loved ones who have passed on through the grave within the last year. Lutherans tend to combine these two—no sense making distinctions, as we are all saved by grace—but we haven’t forgotten their importance. Luther’s 95 Theses, often hailed as the opening shots of the Reformation, were nailed to the door of the All Saints Church in Wittenberg on the night of Halloween precisely because those pews would be chock-full at Hallowmas the next morning.

On All Souls, people would give treats to beggars—fruit, perhaps, or soul cakes—so that the prayers of the poor would ascend for loved ones who had died. It’s okay to pray for the dead, Luther opined, but we ought to be brief. After all, they rest now in the mercies of God. Have faith that Father, Son, and Holy Spirit will treat them with both perfect justice and perfect mercy, born of perfect love.

November also honors our war dead, with Veterans Day. (Americans have a separate Memorial Day for those who died fighting our wars, but in Europe it’s still Remembrance Day.) It’s no accident that this holiday falls on St Martin’s Day, Martin being the patron saint of soldiers-turned-peacemakers. And a fortnight beyond Martinmas comes Thanksgiving, when we remember not only our national ancestors but all those family members who can no longer join us for the holidays.

In truth, Thanksgiving began as a way for New England Puritans to celebrate Christmas while still pretending not to celebrate Christmas, so it’s no surprise that this has become a sort of dry run for our yuletide festivities. Such holidays are always bittersweet: times of joy, yes, of feasting and family reunions, of old bonds renewed; but also times of sorrow, as we look back on days long since past, and remember loved ones who no longer have a place at the table.

If the holidays are difficult for you, please know that you are not alone. As Christians we understand that every celebration contains a tincture of mourning, and we hold to the promise of hope even as we walk through the valley of death. We remember, and we hold to the Resurrection faith.

My sister died quite recently. She leaves behind three children, two grandchildren, and more nieces and nephews than I care to count. We were not close. There were nearly three decades between us, and by the time I came along she had a family of her own and a career in the Navy that took them everywhere from Hawaii to Wales. But she was always kind, welcoming, and loving. She always greeted and introduced me as “brother.” And she held fast to a deep well of Christian faith throughout the various difficulties of her life, a faith that shone brightest at the very end. She died at peace, knowing full well that she was going on to glory.

In this season of joy, let us remember too our sorrows. They are not mutually exclusive. Indeed, they seem inextricably intertwined: the Cross and the Crown, the womb and the tomb. Thanks be to God that as our days grow darkest we celebrate the birth of the Light.

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.