Sermon for All Saints' Day - Luke 6:20-31

Episcopalians had a good showing at the Arkansas State Fair this year. I hear that St. Peter’s in Conway won a blue ribbon for their home-brew. We should add that to our parish goals. Also noteworthy were the photos of food that church goers posted. Some of you tried pickle pizza, turkey legs, and deep fried Oreos. We should not add those to our festive receptions. But what impressed me the most was that some of you actually got on the rides. Let’s just say that in terms of safety, the word “rickety" would be an understatement.

If you enjoy that sort of thing, then I would highly recommend a ride that promises an even closer near-death experience. It’s the Ferris wheel on the roof of the City Museum in St. Louis. It’s several stories off the ground. It’s rusty, held together by nothing more than chewing gum and hope I think. And the guy who runs it looks to be about 12. Once you’re strapped in, the ride up is easy enough. But once you’re at the top, about to begin your descent, the operator likes to start and stop the thing with a jerky motion in order to mess with you, with a sinister grin on his face. It’s easy to imagine the whole wheel coming loose and rolling right off the roof. It doesn’t, of course, but that particular Ferris wheel sure makes you think about your mortality. After riding it a few years ago, I swore off Ferris wheels for good.

But despite my avoidance of them, they are probably the best metaphor for understanding the Beatitudes in the Gospel of Luke. Most of us are more familiar with Matthew’s version, which is very comforting. Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.

Luke’s version is different. It is similar at the beginning, “Blessed are you who are hungry now, for you will be filled.” But then Luke adds a list of woes. Woe to you who are rich, or full, or joyful, or well-liked now. You have already received your consolation, and your good fortune will end. You will be hungry and sorrowful. These Beatitudes feel like some kind of Ferris wheel of divine fate. Our fortunes will be reversed whether we find ourselves on the bottom of the wheel or the top. This is hopeful if you are in real need. But if you are in relative comfort and security, watch out. You’re about to head down on the rickety ride, while the operator flashes a sinister grin.

I have to assume that Jesus is not like that guy. So what should we make of his blessings and woes tonight? I don’t think we are meant to hear them as a prediction of what will happen to us. Rather, in the words of Barbara Brown Taylor, “Jesus is describing different kinds of people, hoping that his listeners will recognize themselves as one kind or another, and then he makes the same promise to all of them: that the way things are is not the way they will always be. The Ferris wheel will go around, so that those who are swaying at the top, with the wind in their hair and all the world’s lights at their feet, will have their turn at the bottom, while those who are down there right now, where all they can see are candy wrappers in the sawdust, will have their chance to touch the stars. It is not advice. It is not even judgment. It is simply the truth about the way things work, pronounced by someone who loves everyone on that wheel.” (Barbara Brown Taylor, Home by Another Way, 55.) If you are suffering now, it will not always be so. Jesus promises relief in time. If you are comfortable now, feeling mostly in control, Jesus cautions that those circumstances will change, too. Perhaps your illusions of self-sufficiency will disappear. No matter who we are, or what circumstances we go through, we will all be reminded and humbled that it is God’s grace which sustains us.

On All Saints’ Day, we honor the communion of saints, past, present, and yet to come. And tonight, we especially hold in our hearts our loved ones who have gone before us. The Beatitudes invite us to remember that in their lives, whenever they struggled, Jesus called them blessed. And when they found themselves in the woe column, forgetting for a moment how much they needed God, Jesus loved them then, too. That prevening grace is given to all the saints.

If Ferris wheels had existed in the first century, I imagine Luke would have employed that metaphor heavily for the Beatitudes. And perhaps for many of the reversals he was keen to tell us about. Think of Mary’s response to the news of her pregnancy. “The Lord has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly.” Think of poor Lazarus and the rich man, the laborers in the vineyard, the prodigal son and his grumpy older brother, Jesus healing folks no one else would go near, and people being scooped up off the street, given a fancy robe and a seat at the wedding banquet. In story after story, Luke uses reversals to help us see a divine, grace-filled reality unfolding, which is the kingdom of God.

There is one more reversal to mention, and this one is the most important of all. From our seats on the proverbial Ferris wheel, death seems like the end. But with Christ, the way things are is not the way they will always be, not in the Kingdom. He overcame death and rose again. Resurrection, the ultimate reversal, assures us that death does not have the final word, not in the communion of saints. On this night, we give thanks for the great reversals of God, and for our place in that communion.

One last word for those who mourn tonight. Take Jesus at his word that it will not always be so. “Blessed are you who weep now, for one day you will laugh.”