Lord of life and death, heaven and earth, help us to hear Your Word to us, and so - together with all the saints - always to rejoice in the hope You hold out to us, in Jesus' Name. Amen.
How would you define a saint? For example, is a saint an ecclesiastical celebrity or super hero, a distant figure of history set high and holy on a pedestal of prayer and piety? Or is a saint a dear and familiar figure we have known and cherished as an encouragement and an inspiration to us on our journey of faith? Or again, is a saint best seen as an individual? For example - to use a sporting metaphor - perhaps we might view a saint as part of a great team, whether still playing on the pitch, or else cheering on from the stands.
How would you define a saint? There's the story of a little girl who was with her family in a group being shown around one of our great cathedrals. As the guide was explaining an historic tomb nearby, the girl was staring at a large stained glass window through which the sun was streaming. It bathed the cathedral in colour and warmth. As the group was about to move on, she asked the guide, 'Who are those people in the pretty window?' 'Those are the saints' the guide replied. That night, as she was getting ready for bed, the girl told her mother, "I know who the saints are.' 'Do you dear?' replied her mother. 'Who are they?' 'They are the people who let the light shine through.'
They are the people who let the light shine through. That's a pretty good definition of a saint, isn't it? A Christian saint, then, is someone who lets the light of Jesus Christ shine through them. And that is something all baptized Christians are called to be and do. Yesterday here in the Priory, little Luke Jackson was baptized. Towards the end of this special service, a candle was lit from the Easter candle, and these words were then said as the candle was given to remind Luke of his baptismal calling: 'God has delivered us from the dominion of darkness and has given us a place with the saints in light. (Luke) you have received the light of Christ; walk in this light all the days of your life.' And we all then replied: 'Shine as a light in the world to the glory of God the Father.' Letting the light of Jesus Christ shine through is now a lifelong calling for Luke, and for all those who have been baptised, including you and me.
However that's easier said than done, isn't it? Sometimes, if we're honest, you and I allow the windows of our lives to get rather grimy. Life's cares, and the various lures of 'the world, the flesh and the devil', block out the God-given light. Then, instead of being transparent to the light, we become opaque. And when that happens, then life becomes cold and dark within. As cold and dark and hopeless as a closed stone tomb.
Yet that dead end need not be the last word. In today's Gospel, we heard how Jesus called Lazarus to "come out" from the tomb, called His friend back from death to life. A situation which, humanly speaking, seemed utterly hopeless, was transformed by the liberating word of Jesus, the Lord of life and death. And it is the same Jesus Christ who has the God-given power to raise us from the death of sin, to new life in Him.
Like the saints down the ages - including Lazarus in the tomb - you and I need to learn to listen for the Lord's voice, to receive and respond to His Word to us, and to rely on the grace of Jesus Christ. Then we shall become more transparent to "the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ" (2 Corinthians 4: 6). And we in turn shall reflect this light more fully through our own lives.
Like light streaming through stained glass windows, the light of Jesus Christ that shines through His saints has many facets or colours. In today's Gospel, we see at least three aspects of the light Jesus reveals, as He encounters the death of His friend Lazarus: the light of compassion; the light of prayer; and the light of healing.
First, in Jesus we see the light of compassion. When faced with human grief in the face of death, we're told that "when Jesus saw (Mary's) weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, 'Where have you laid him?' They said to him, 'Lord, come and see.' Jesus began to weep" (John 11: 33, 34). In the face of human sorrow and suffering, Jesus was deeply moved, and tears gave outward expression to His compassion. He did not stand aloof from our human plight, but drew near and entered fully into the pain, as well as the joy, of our frail humanity. And those who let Christ's light shine through them, also embody Christ-like compassion. Compassion for a beautiful but broken world. Compassion for God's hurting, lost or wayward children. Compassion which flows from a heart of love.
Second, in Jesus we see the light of prayer. When faced with an awful situation, we're told that Jesus turned to His Heavenly Father in prayer: "Jesus looked upwards and said, 'Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me" (John 11: 41, 42). Prayer was vital for Jesus throughout His life and ministry. It kept Him in touch with His Heavenly Father, and enabled Him to know His Father's will. Such prayer was often hidden from public view. But now, people needed to know that God was present and at work in this dreadful situation, and acting through His Son. And those who let Christ's light shine through them, are also people of prayer. Prayer which is the open channel through which the Holy Spirit is given freedom to act. If - as Archbishop Rowan Williams once pointed out - mission is seeing where God is at work, and joining in, then prayer enables us to see the presence and purpose of God, as well as giving us the impetus to speak and act in the Lord's Name.
Third, in Jesus we see the light of healing. When faced with the grim reality of suffering and death, we're told that Jesus spoke words of hope and healing: "He cried with a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come out!' The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, 'Unbind him, and let him go" (John 11: 43, 44). Jesus called Lazarus back to life, and set him free. He called Lazarus out from his former state of death, and unbound him from its trappings. And those who let Christ's light shine through them, are also those who speak words of hope and healing into situations of death and suffering. Words which are rooted and grounded in the knowledge of the healing will and power of the One who is Lord of life and death, Lord of heaven and earth, Lord of yesterday, today and tomorrow.
The light of compassion. The light of prayer. The light of healing. Three aspects of the light of Jesus Christ we see revealed in today's Gospel. Light that has also shone through the lives of the Lord's people, those saints who have gone before us through the gateway of death, and who now from their labours rest. And light that continues to shine through all those who share in the struggle for God's Kingdom on earth, and seek to let the light of Jesus Christ shine through them.
Today, as we remember All Saints,' may we also remember this. Those who let the light of Jesus Christ shine through them, also help others to glimpse something of what God's future will be like - that time when God's Kingdom has come and will is done, on earth as in heaven. Then, when the new heaven and the new earth is brought to its glorious fulfilment in Jesus Christ, we shall see the healing of God's Kingdom fully revealed, as disclosed to St John in that vision we heard in Revelation: "He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away" (Revelation 21: 3, 4). So may you and I rejoice in that sure faith and certain hope, with all God's people. And may we also let the light of Jesus Christ shine through us, to the glory of God the Father.
John Barr
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