Say ‘Hello’ to all the Saints

DATE: November 3, 2013
SCRIPTURE:
Romans 16:1-16
© Alison J. Buttrick Patton

Lula Bradley attended the Peoples Church of Chicago for most of her life.  She remembered the church in its heyday, when nearly 1,500 members walked to worship, dressed in their Sunday best.  By the time I walked through the doors of The Peoples Church, Lula was nearing 80 years old and Peoples was a different, smaller congregation: 25 folks who gathered every Sunday. Lula had gentle, honey-colored eyes, a coffee-with-cream, freckled complexion and a wide, soft frame. She wore an ivory-colored knit cap on her head and carried small bits of paper in her pocketbook, prayers she’d clipped out of various magazines. She often rose and read them during worship.

Lula always had a special word for me. She’d take my hands, call me ‘baby,’ and remind me that she was praying for me. And I knew she meant it, that sometime during that past week, she’d been down on her worn-out knees, and my name had escaped her lips, to float up toward God’s ears. Lula’s knees didn’t work so well anymore. She relied on a cane, moved slowly down the aisle. But still she came every week, to bring whatever word God had given her to share with us. She was everyone’s grandmother, had raised us all in one way or another: She was a saint in our midst…

Then there was Billy Hand Robinson. The first service I attended at The Peoples’ Church was his memorial. I never met him in person, but I feel like I know him a little bit because of what he left behind. A poet, activist, sometime-drug addict: he kept it real for us, reminded us that life is messy and still somehow beautiful. Every Sunday, he’d stand up during the prayer time, look around, and say, ‘If no one has told you today that he or she loves you, I want you to know that I do. I love you, I love you, I love you.” Billy understood that some folks never hear those words, ever. He wanted to change that. Even now, at the Peoples Church, those lines are spoken ever week. We might forget the doxology, or the Lord’s Prayer, but someone always stands up and says, “If no one has told you today that he or she loves you, I want you to know that I do…” Billy was one of our saints…

There are more, so many stories. I’m sure you have them, too: mental portraits of the people who have somehow touched your heart and shaped your experience of church, folks whose words or actions you call to mind, again and again. They’re the ones you talk about, when you tell your friends about church. Maybe it’s their steadfastness in prayer – they seem so rooted, so trusting; or generosity that inspired you to increase your own giving; or a certain passion that helped you to see the connection between church and social justice. What a saint, you think. What an amazing, dedicated, faithful saint… We all have stories we could tell, names that we could name.

So I love this section of Paul’s letter to the Romans, with its litany of saints: “Say hello to Prisca and Aquila; say hello to Mary; say hello to Andronicus and Junia, to Narcissus and his whole family”… it is unique, among his letters, this long list of names and households. Usually his greetings are more general. So what’s going on, here? Paul has never been to Rome, though it seems he knows several members of the church there. The names he includes tell us that the church in Rome was made up of a diverse hodge-podge of folks: Jews and Gentiles, locals and immigrants, women and men. Paul knows that that kind of diversity can lead to some friction, as members navigate their cultural differences and learn to worship and serve together. So in his letter, Paul makes every effort to honor all the diverse parts. Like a diplomat, he makes sure not to leave anyone out, to reinforce their sense of unity. “You, and you, and you are all members of this one church. Greet one another with a holy kiss. Show one another a little love.”

Paul called them all saints, and not just because it was the politic thing to do. We may think of saints as superhero Christians like Mother Theresa or Archbishop Desmond Tutu (or Oprah…). But in Paul’s time, the title ‘saint’ was used to describe all early Christians, all the ordinary people who had felt the powerful tug of the Holy Spirit and followed its lead.

Drawn together by God, they gathered in one place – studied, broke bread, shared their resources, honored the poor, and welcomed the lonely. They formed a community. And you know what happens in community. We don’t all get along, all the time. We disagree about what to serve at meals, and whether to sit at rectangular tables or round ones. We debate how to spend the money, what ‘counts’ as membership, which ancient rituals to preserve (the holy potluck or the sacred fall festival) and what those ancient texts really mean. In community, different personalities and perspectives rub up against each other – and sometimes sparks fly.

When that happens, as it invariably does among devoted but diverse followers of Christ, it bears remembering that everyone in the room is a ‘saint’ – not by virtue of having done something super-Christian, but by virtue of being a part of this community. Do you call yourself a Christian? Even a marginal, figuring-it-out-as-you-go, more-questions-than-answers – Christian? Then you are a saint. A ‘holy one.’ That’s what the Greek word for ‘saint’ means. Made holy, not by any of your own actions, but by the One who tugged on our sleeve, gathered us here in the first place and made us Church. You are a saint, and you, and you… We don’t check credentials at the door. Walk in, just as you are, ordinary-extraordinary, utterly human, with all your stuff — Bad knees or bad habits — and you are in: one of the saints.

It may be a little easier to recognize sainthood in those who have passed on, to notice all that we admire and miss, now that they are no longer with us. I have heard so many stories about Ed See, Dorothy Bryce, Cameron Bruce… Each of them left their fingerprints (their heart-prints) on this Saugatuck Church. And I’m so glad and grateful to have known Saugatuck saints who have more recently been welcomed into God’s eternal embrace: Saints like David Kidney and Craig Matheson. (Can you name others?…)

It can be harder, but equally holy work, to recognize each other as saints, while we are living with each other: Not just when we are at our best, but when we are not, especially when we are not: when our personalities or perspectives rub up against each other and sparks fly. To remain engaged with each other; to say ‘hello’; to greet each other with a holy kiss (or a holy hand shake!); to say to ourselves, “This person, too, is holy in God’s sight;” to worship and serve together: That’s what it means to be church.

The Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber is the founding pastor of House for All Saints and Sinners, in Denver, Colorado. She has a powerful insight about what it means to be church. Whenever she welcomes new members, she says something like this: “I’m glad you love it here. But at some point I will disappoint you, or this church will let you down… So please decide on this side of that happening, if after it happens you will still stick around. Because if you leave, you’ll miss the ways that God’s grace comes in and fills in the cracks of our brokenness. And it’s too beautiful to miss.”¹

Believe it or not: Someday, others will tell stories about us; they will invoke our names, they’ll tell their friends about us. May they say that we helped to shape their experience of church, that we taught them something about how to gather, break bread, share resources, honor the poor and welcome the lonely. May they say that we had the courage to do the hard, holy work of living in community — that we did it with honesty and grace; that we were diligent in prayer; that we got down on our knees and prayed for each other and for this whole, hurting world. May they say that we were generous saints, that we inspired their generosity; and that we took our faith out into the world to work for justice. May they say that we hugged an awful lot, and laughed together! May they say that even on our bad days, we managed to keep being Church. May they say that when they hung out with us, they could feel the love. Our love. God’s love. And that it made them want to be a saint, too.

Amen.

Scripture Texts

Scripture Reading: Romans 16 (Common English Bible)

1 I’m introducing our sister Phoebe to you, who is a servant of the church in Cenchreae. 2 Welcome her in the Lord in a way that is worthy of God’s people, and give her whatever she needs from you, because she herself has been a sponsor of many people, myself included.

3 Say hello to Prisca and Aquila, my coworkers in Christ Jesus, 4 who risked their own necks for my life. I’m not the only one who thanks God for them, but all the churches of the Gentiles do the same. 5 Also say hello to the church that meets in their house. Say hello to Epaenetus, my dear friend, who was the first convert in Asia for Christ. 6 Say hello to Mary, who has worked very hard for you. 7 Say hello to Andronicus and Junia, my relatives and my fellow prisoners. They are prominent among the apostles, and they were in Christ before me. 8 Say hello to Ampliatus, my dear friend in the Lord. 9 Say hello to Urbanus, our coworker in Christ, and my dear friend Stachys. 10 Say hello to Apelles, who is tried and true in Christ. Say hello to the members of the household of Aristobulus. 11 Say hello to my relative Herodion. Say hello to the members of the household of Narcissus who are in the Lord. 12 Say hello to Tryphaena and Tryphosa, who are workers for the Lord. Say hello to my dear friend Persis, who has worked hard in the Lord. 13 Say hello to Rufus, who is an outstanding believer, along with his mother and mine. 14 Say hello to Asyncritus, Phlegon, Hermes, Patrobas, Hermas, and the brothers and sisters who are with them. 15 Say hello to Philologus and Julia, Nereus and his sister, and Olympas, and all the saints who are with them. 16 Say hello to each other with a holy kiss. All the churches of Christ say hello to you.