I have great memories of Halloween! My Mother was the Queen of the best candy routes and had a waiting list of people who wanted to accompany us trick-or-treating. She’s very much on my mind as we approach Halloween. All Saints’ Day is a reminder that she is yet alive and that her influence lives on and inspires me. When Mother died in January of 1983 I was in my middle 30’s and since that time one of the most important lines of the Apostles’ Creed has been, “I believe in the Communion of Saints.” Yes, I do!
On some days, my mind goes back to recollections of Mother and it poignantly cheers me, affirms me, and gives me hope. I can see her hoeing the garden, and her love of flowers. I can recall her huge heart that looked out for the unfortunate. I remember her hearty laugh and her travails through the “sloughs of despond,” a la John Bunyan. She embraced life, loved Jesus, and put her faith into action. I miss her, but I know where she is. All Saints’ Day reminds me.
I remember that it was this time of year not long after her death when I went to the hardware store/gift shop, a wonderful place of implements and plants along with china and gift-type items. I saw this pansy-decorated planter and thought it would be a great gift for Cindy. When she got home from work and I presented the gift, I was reminded that we had three teenagers, money was tight, and she didn’t even like pansies, and that I should have known that in no uncertain terms!
Being the good guidance counselor, she helped me process why I got so angry at the rebuffing of my gift. You’ve probably already guessed it. I didn’t buy the pansy-painted planter for her. I bought it for my dead Mother. My anger was grief. She understood, and so did I. I returned the gift and bought 4 flats of pansies and planted them. Every year, right about now, I do the same thing because my Mother loved pansies. Of course, she preferred ones with “faces” and Cindy likes them without. I compromise and get both! This year I’m even trying violas for the first time.
All Saints’ Day reminds us that unresolved grief needs to be admitted, worked through, dealt with, and grace given to oneself, others, and especially the deceased. Just as they cannot see the bad things that we do, or it wouldn’t be heaven, we need to focus on good memories and ponder those. I’m not saying that we need to gloss over childhood abuse or neglect and forget the bad things, but we do need to forgive and believe in redemption.
All Saints’ Day redemption includes all of us, seen and unseen. We’re not perfect and neither were our loved ones, however much we cherish and sometimes overstate our experiences of them. Every Christian, dead or alive, is going on to perfection in Wesleyan terms. John Wesley believed so much in Sanctification/Christian Perfection that he bordered on an endorsement of purgatory; i.e., we continue to be made more and more like Christ even in heaven. So on All Saints’ we do our best to recall our loved ones and fellow church members and let go of that which we need to let go, and hold onto the best. We remember where they sat in the sanctuary, their work with missions through the UMW or UMM, their beloved pound cakes, harvest festival crafts, and so much more.
We remember! Another word for what happens in Holy Communion is “anamnesis,” also known as “to remember,” and the opposite of amnesia’s “forgetfulness.” Anamnesis is inspired by Jesus’ words that are carved on the front of most altar tables: “Do this in remembrance of me.” When we gather at Table this coming Sunday we will be surrounded by Jesus, the heavenly host from every nation, tribe and language, and our deceased believing loved ones will be as close as our breath. Think of it as God’s Trick AND Treat for you and me. He beat death and the treat is eternal life.
One of the best summations of all this comes from the PBS series on the Civil War by Ken Burns. It’s about Major Sullivan Ballou’s last letter to his dear wife Sarah on the eve of his death in battle. Read carefully his words and remember your loved ones as I remember mine:
Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables, that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind, and bears me irresistibly on with all those chains, to the battle field.
The memories of all the blissful moments I have spent with you, come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and you that I have enjoyed them so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our boys grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me — perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears, every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortunes of this world to shield you, and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the Spirit-land and hover near you, while you buffet the storm, with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience, till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sarah! if the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladest days and the darkest nights, advised to your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours, always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, or the cool air cools your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.