Pastors E-Letter 10/30/20
There is an old folklore that says when a red cardinal visits your yard, you have a visitor from heaven. I grew up believing this folklore in my family- pointing out the red birds that would sit on our window sills and in the yard. It is one of the many ways I remember my grandparents, particularly my maternal grandmother. She had passed the folklore onto my aunts and uncles, and then onto me. I still find myself looking for red birds to this day. Just in the last year, when my sister went wedding dress shopping, there was a red cardinal on the tree by the first store. My first Good Friday here, a red cardinal sat on the bush outside of my office. I felt Grandma Jackie’s spirit both times. She has been gone for 13 years, yet I still look for little signs that she is proud of me, or watching over me. I still want to pick up the phone to ask her what she thinks about this election cycle, coronavirus, or my career. I wonder how she’d feel about the world now. Grief has a funny way of asking us those unanswerable questions.
When I see cardinals, though, I think: someone from heaven is cheering me on, visiting. They, my grandparents, mentors, extended family, have stopped by for Good Friday, in a dream, for a wedding celebration. Even in its superstition, I feel the promise of Scripture’s “great cloud of witnesses,” and trust that my relatives who have passed away are still with me. This is a promise that we communicate at every funeral service we do, and one that is a touchpoint for so many who grieve. Whether you’re looking for sunbeams, rainbows, butterflies or birds, we all long to feel the presence and spirit of those who have died before us.
This Sunday is officially All Saints Day around the world and throughout the church. Contrary to the name, All Saints Day isn’t just about the formally sainted. In the Catholic and particularly the Protestant Church, we celebrate ordinary saints and the ways they have changed our lives. It is the church's moment of cardinal watching. We tell stories, light candles, and remember tangibly the saints who have made a way for us. All Saints Day ushers in a season of memory for me: during the holidays, our storytelling and remembering increases a hundred fold as we make the traditional family recipes and use the antique and treasured holiday decorations. Year round, the cardinals are one such sign of the mark “my saints” have made on my life.
This year, All Saints Day feels especially important. 2020 has been a “pandemic of grief,” as Nadia Bolz-Weber said in March. It has felt overwhelming to watch the news and to hear about death, loss of jobs, and illness day after day. In worship, we will lift up the names of those who have died in our congregation and light candles for all of our losses. In addition to that, we will remember the 227,000+ who have lost their lives from COVID in the US, and the 16,600+ here in our home state who have died from COVID as well.
All Saints Day doesn’t imply that every person we remember is perfect. Far from it! The best stories that we tell often involve their mistakes, failures, or quirks in our lives. The saints are ordinary folks, who have lived lives with purpose and meaning. The saints are people who have made our ministries, our vocations, and our personal goals possible. They have lived lives, as our Scripture will tell us, “to become more like him,” in every way. We honor their legacy and are grateful for their gift, even as we grieve. We also trust that God can do miraculous things in resurrection- leaving legacies of Saints behind that we can trust in, rely upon, and follow after. We remember that God has not left us alone, but with a great crowd of witnesses that cheers us on in “becoming more like him [Jesus.]”
I am excited to do that work with you this week.
See you Sunday (and don’t forget your bell!),
Pastor Allee