This past week has reminded us that Australia and the United States are different. The conduct of its politics and the election bear little relation to how we do things.
But many aspects of American culture have seeped into Australia and become a way of life. such as the marking of Halloween.
It is a strange word that is a contraction, meaning the Eve of the Feast of All Saints, or All Hallows, as it was once know – which is 1 November. Hence Halloween is the last day in October.
When I was a child, this was something Americans did – like Thanksgiving. But we have absorbed much from the US – the Kardashians, rap music and McDonald’s … so Halloween is to be expected, I suppose. But all of the previous week in the church’s calendar has been about the passing from this world to the next – and next week we have Remembrance Day.
So let me make a few observations of why we remember what we remember, and what we might do with what we remember.
1 November is All Saints’ Day – focusing on the example of the well-known saints of God and the promise of the resurrection to eternal life in the kingdom Jesus preached. This is a collective remembering.
2 November is All Souls’ Day – when we remember those we have commended to God – family and friends – and take solace that they are in the company of God. This is a personal remembering.
5 November has tended to fade from view – but there was a special commemoration of this day in the BCP from 1662 to 1857 – deliverance from the Gunpowder Plot. This is a political remembering.
11 November is when we pause to recall all those who strove to preserve peace and prosperity in the nation’s wars – giving thanks for their selfless service. This is a national remembering.
When taken together, that is a lot of remembering.
It is important to remember for several reasons. To reflect on how we arrived at today – the endless yesterdays that brought us to this place and this moment.
To give thanks for those who conveyed us here through their love and care, their values and encouragement. We reflect those who came before us – even if that reflection is a conscious decision to be different to them.
And we are conscious that we are not the first and we will not be the last to tread this earth. We are propelled by history and we also make history. It gives us perspective.
But in each commemoration, there is the stark and cold reality of human mortality. As the Scriptures remind us, in the midst of life we are in death.
We hide it away or wish it out of existence, we try to soften its intrusion in our lives or call it something other than it is. But it is nonetheless real. And it is not only the elderly who die. Little children can lose the fight to live; some people choose to embrace death in suicide.
We need to deal with it … in our own way, to come to terms with it and to find peace with the prospect. Rather not … and so we often relegate our wrestling with death when we are least well able – at funerals.
The end of St Paul’s first letter to the church at Thessalonica is a favourite at funerals but it was not written with funerals in mind. It was a text for everyday life … for encouragement in living … to help us live expansively … as a means of pointing us to the light of life which is stronger than the shadow of death.
And so, St Paul ends his letter to a small group of Christian friends in a house church in Greece with some practical guidance:
“Now about your love for one another, we do not need to write to you, for you yourselves have been taught by God to love each other. And in fact, you do love all of God’s family throughout Macedonia. Yet we urge you, brothers and sisters, to do so more and more,and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.”
There is much food for thought here … and then his parting advice:
“Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of humankind, who have no hope.”
The non-Christian may not fear death – and may accept it willingly … but they have no hope of more. He explains the basis of his conviction that there is more – and by faith it can be acquired and experienced. And then he ends with: “… encourage one another with these words.”
When we gather here month by month, we are entitled to be encouraged. That is the point of worship, of the readings, of the prayers, of the holy communion. To be en-couraged. Not to be fearful, anxious, troubled or unsettled. To have courage to face all that life throws at us … and to face whatever deaths looks like when it moves towards us.
But there is a further dimension: when we think there is more to this life and this world than the physical here and now, we can live for others, we can make sacrifices – willingly, we can be stewards of the land rather than exploiters … or attitude can be different. Hence, Paul’s ultimate sentence: encourage others with these words.
Words are crucial when it comes to encouraging, and we look for encouragement from what people say.
As we are invited to think about the past and reflect, the intention is that the past and our reflection will reshape the present and recalibrate the future. We cannot live in the past however attractive it might be – we find ourselves firmly located in the present – but in the same way that the past can hold us back, the future can stop us moving forward – if we are worried about what a thousand tomorrows that may never happen might bring.
For today, for now and for this moment, St Paul does not want us to be like those with hope. We have hope – and when we understand the crucial difference between hope and optimism – we will be liberated and positive and energetic because, in an eternal sense, the best is yet to come. We do not know this but we accept it by faith – faith in the God who raised Jesus from the dead – who asks us to trust and believe. If that is true for you, you might join me in saying a loud Amen.