“So what are you going to be?”

Twenty-first Sunday of Pentecost

Sunday November 1, 2009

Ruth 1:1-18

Psalm 146

Hebrews 9:11-14

So what are you going to be?

In the days leading up to Halloween, this seems to be one of the most common questions that we ask of kids.  All of our discussions, with them, about what character they are going to dress up as, what costume they are going to wear, what persona are they going to pretend to be on their annual trick or treat trek – all of these discussions are summed up in this simple question -- what are you going to be?

 

Even though there are those who, for religious reasons, are uncomfortable with the celebration of Halloween, it is interesting for us to remember that it is, in fact, connected with a religious festival.

While there are practices associated with Halloween that harken back to pre-Christian observances such as the Celtic celebration called Samhain, which marked the end of the summer and the approach of the season of the growing darkness, the modern holiday called Halloween – the name of which is based on a shortened form of All Hallow’s Eve – was a time to remember all of the dead before the celebration of all of the saints, on November 1, of All Hallows Day, or All Saints Day. 

And, today, November 1, is All Saints Day.

So what is All Saints Day?

In the liturgical season of the Church, specific days of the year were set aside as to remember and to give thanks for the example of particular saints of previous ages.  Even in our secular culture, we continue to honour these saints’ days, albeit in slightly warped ways.  Valentine’s Day was originally a day for remembering the example of St. Valentine.  Close to Christmas, we still hear references to Saint Nicholas, although his name has been slightly amended to Santa Claus.   Even the word that we use for vacations – holidays – is based on the ancient practice of setting aside certain holy days for our spiritual reflection and enrichment.

Before the secular cynics decide to condescendingly belittle such observances, it is good for us to remember that there is a very significant parallel to this practice in the modern practice of designating certain days of the year for special attention.  Martin Luther King Jr. Day; or Victoria Day; or the more general days of reflection such as Labour Day or Canada Day or Earth Day; in their own way, each of these designated days invites us to call to mind the example of some particular individual or some issue of noteworthy concern.

All Saints’ Day, in the Christian tradition, was a day to call to mind all of the saints, both those known and unknown, whose lives and whose legacies have blessed the church, but who have now passed through death into the presence of God.  All Hallow’s Eve, or Hallowe’en, therefore offered an opportunity to let all the devils out before all the saints came marching in.

Of course, we do not only ask this question -- what are you going to be – in relation to Halloween.  Rather, it is a question that we ask of children at many times during their growth and development.  What do you want to do with your life?  What are you going to study in school?  When you grow up, what are you going to be?

Nor is such a question that we should stop asking ourselves once we have decided upon a vocation or have completed our education.  The question of what we are going to be is a question that is worthy of reflection on an ongoing basis – and perhaps most importantly, on All Saints Day.

The answers to this question that we tend to offer, in our modern age, are usually related to some level of material success, or social status, or physical strength or beauty, or personal happiness.  

But how often, if ever, would we answer that what we want to be – and what we hope that we are going to be -- is a saint?

One of the most famous and beautifully written spiritual autobiographies, from the twentieth century, was a book entitled “The Seven Storey Mountain” by the Trappist monk Thomas Merton.  The story recounts the experience of Merton as he is converted and then realizes that his calling is to enter into a life of silence in the Abbey of Gethsemani, which is a Trappist monastery in Kentucky.  

At one point in the book, and before he has entered the monastery, Merton recounts a conversation that he had with a friend named Lax while walking down Sixth Avenue, in New York City, towards Greenwich Village.  Merton writes, 

“…Lax suddenly turned around and asked me the question:

“What do you want to be, anyway?”

I could not say, “I want to be Thomas Merton the well-known writer of all those book reviews in the back pages of the Times Book Review,” or “Thomas Merton the assistant instructor of Freshman English at the New Life Social Institute for Progress and Culture,” so I put the thing on the spiritual plane, where I knew it belonged and said,

“I don’t know; I guess what I want is to be a good Catholic.”

“What do you mean, you want to be a good Catholic?”

The explanation I gave was lame enough, and expressed my confusion, and betrayed how little I had really thought about it at all.

Lax did not accept it. 

“What you should say” – he told me – “what you should say is that you want to be a saint.”

A saint!  The thought struck me as a little weird.  I said:

“How do you expect me to become a saint?”

“By wanting to,” said Lax, simply.

“I can’t be a saint,” I said, “I can’t be a saint.”  And my mind darkened with a confusion of realities and unrealities: the knowledge of my own sins, and the false humility which makes men say that they cannot do the thing that they must do, cannot reach the level that they must reach: the cowardice that says: “I am satisfied to save my soul, to keep out of mortal sin,” by which means, by those words: “I do not want to give up my sins and my attachments.”

But Lax said, “No.  All that is necessary to be a saint it to want to be one.  Don’t you believe that God will make you what He created you to be, if you will consent to let Him do it?”

It is a fascinating question.  Don’t you believe that God will make you what He created you to be, if you will consent to let Him do it? 

Now, lest anyone think it odd to hear a discussion about sainthood emanating from the pulpit of a Presbyterian Church – and even a church named SAINT Andrew’s -- it is important for us to realize what it means to be a saint – and what Merton was invited to remember, that day. 

The word saint is closely linked with the word ‘sanctification’ which is the transforming process, the spiritual journey, towards holiness.   

Our reticence to discuss sainthood – except in relation to the names that we give to our churches – has led to a great deal of confusion, in this modern world, and within the Church, about what sainthood and holiness are meant to be all about.  To be a saint is not about successfully passing some magisterially formulated standard for goodness after a person has died; nor is the quest for righteousness and holiness synonymous with the common perception of the self-righteous holier-than-thou caricature of religious people. 

To the contrary, to be a saint is to be a person who has been, is being, and will be sanctified, or made holy, by the power of God’s Spirit working within them.  To be a saint is not dependent upon some miracle-working power, nor is it dependent upon some level of status, or position, or acclaim, or power in the church.  It is interesting for us all to ponder the fact that if most of us were asked to name the most saintly people that we have known, we quickly begin to realize that there are more saints in the pews than in the pulpits, and that the true measure of holiness is not dependent upon a level of status in the church.  To the contrary, to be a saint is simply to be a person who has opened their life to God’s sanctifying power at work within them – or, as Merton’s friend put it, a person who is allowing God to make of them what God created them to be. 

And when we allow God to begin that great work in us, the consequences and implications for our lives are remarkable.  Today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark presents us with a wonderful summation of what true sainthood is all about.  That is, this passage reminds us that sainthood is not about moral perfection, nor some adherence to a prescribed set of legal or spiritual conditions.  It is not about getting every doctrine correct or being able to convince everyone about the irrefutability of your claims of faith.  And what Merton’s friend reminded him of is something that applies to us as well – that is, sainthood is not about being a good Catholic, or even a good Presbyterian.

Rather, sainthood is about letting God’s Spirit work in us in such a way that our lives are transformed by the love of God.  Sainthood is about responding, with integrity, to Christ’s call to love God with all our heart, our soul, our strength and our mind; and the call to love our neighbor as we love ourselves.  We might strive towards such love, and ultimately it is the work of God within us; but when our desire to love connects with the One who is love and who wants to re-create us, then our desire for what we want to be and God’s desire for what God wants us to be begin to have transforming effects on our lives.   

As so many of the lives of previous saints remind us, such love is not always easy; after all, it led Jesus himself to the cross.  And it will challenge many part of who we are.  It will challenge our preference to only love those who love us and ask us to love even our enemies; it will challenge us to forgive those who have wronged us as a response to wrong; it will challenge us to return good for evil; it will challenge our tendency to place ourselves and our preferences at the center of our lives, sometimes without regard for others; it will challenge us to rethink, and perhaps even reconsider the priorities of our lives. 

But it will be worth it.  Because when God’s Spirit begins that sanctifying work within us, our very existence becomes the conduit for the gracious, transforming, death-defying, peaceful, glorious love of God to enter into this world.  It is a love that connects us with the source of all that is; and, as the resurrection reminds us, it is a love that shall prevail over every moment of brokenness, weakness, suffering and death.  When we allow the Spirit to work in us, we become holy vessels for the love of God; we become sanctified channels for the grace and peace of God to work in this world; we become saints.

To be a saint, therefore, is to allow God’s Spirit to work in us in such a way that our lives become the response to Christ’s great call to love God and to love our neighbor.   And this is a call to which every one of us can respond. 

So, what are you going to be?