Saints and Sinners: A reflection on sanitized church liturgies

Last Sunday was All Saints Day in my Lutheran parish. Growing up in an evangelical church, we did not follow the liturgical calendar, so I was first introduced to All Saints Day as an adult. I’ve always liked this day, not in the “woo-hoo, party on, it’s All Saints Day!!!” sense, but as a significant day to pause and reflect on those who have gone before us - “Saints” in church parlance.

One challenge I have with traditional mainline church prayers is a lean towards flattening or Hallmark-izing the complexity of the human experience. The Saints who have gone before us are often painted as inspiring, courageous heroes, who flawlessly negotiated life. (Think about the angelic paintings on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel). I admire and am inspired by many who have gone before, but this flattening feeds into some of the same twists that inform cancel culture. You are great, until you are not. Then you are completely flawed. It’s an either-or situation – saint OR sinner. Once you’ve sinned, that’s it. No getting up. Or if you’re sainting… watch your back – one mistake and you’re in sinner-camp. This is where the Saint AND sinner paradigm feels so relevant.

In Lutheran theology we are (all of us) BOTH, saint and sinner. Even Mother Theresa, even Desmond Tutu, even theologians like John Calvin. EVEN Martin Luther King Jr…. Jesus, as God incarnate, is an exception, but the rest of us. Saints. AND. Sinners. Simultaneously.

Why is celebrating sainthood a problem? Having recently lost my mother who I loved very much (but no lie, it was a complex relationship), I feel new clarity on the concept of saint and sinner.

I have two concerns with the either-or paradigm.

1. If all of those Saints were perfect, untouchable, out of my league…I have no reason to believe I can live, lead, or go beyond my current perception of myself. The flattening of Saints creates a class of humans who are somehow different than us, NOT us.

2. Relevant to loss and grief, this either/or construct forces us to classify someone in our life as EITHER saint or sinner. It limits the true complexity of a human who was likely dear to you in some ways and exceedingly frustrating in others. Saint or sinner? I choose BOTH.

This past Sunday, my church liturgy included a Responsive Call to Worship for All Saints Day based on Hebrews 12:1. This is a New Testament passage in the Christian bible (the Jesus part of things). The passage celebrates and names a list of people from the Hebrew bible who were leaders in the Christian faith (i.e. the cloud of witnesses who have gone before us). I like this Hebrews passage and the intention of this responsive call. In general, I like the unity brought by congregational prayers, but like rhyming greeting cards, this specific version felt schmaltzy to me and flat - saints only, no sinners. So… I rewrote it. (If you’re still with me), see both versions below:

Original version Used in my ELCA church Nov 6, 2022

My Rewrite Nov 9, 2022

We remember, O God… The countless saints of history who have blazed a trail of courage through time, We remember, O God… The tender touch of loved ones, the example of heroes, the healing words of comforters, the remarkable acts of fearless ones. We remember, O God… The gentle strength of grandmothers, the loyalty of friends, the kindness of strangers, the joy of children, the sacrifice of parents. We remember, O God… The supreme love of Jesus, the blessing of his Spirit, the reminder of his words, the sharing of his suffering, the glory of his resurrection: shown forth in the lives of his disciples, young and old, dead and living, articulate and silent, strange and familiar, brilliant and ordinary. We remember in every time and place the saints of God who have shown us the Lord Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses…let us worship God with joy! Downloaded from: www.desperatepreacher.com

Oh God, we pause today to remember those who have gone before us. Like us, they were simultaneously saints and sinners, yet individuals who profoundly left a mark on our personal and collective worlds. Help us to remember the courage of saints without flattening the depth of their humanity. We remember, O God… The saints throughout history who, despite fear or uncertainly, courageously blazed a trail for us to follow. We remember, O God… Tender touches from those we loved, selfless acts of everyday heroes, words of comfort offered at just the right time, radical acts of courage and generosity. We remember, O God… Grandparents who shared wisdom, strength, and sassiness; loyal friends; strangers who offered kindness; a child’s joy; the sacrifice of caregivers We remember, O God… God’s love to us through Jesus, the presence of the Holy Spirit, the wisdom in Jesus’ parables. his commitment to right living, his courage in challenging flawed systems, his suffering, and the promise of hope we hold through his resurrection. We remember, O God… Jesus’ teachings carried forward in the lives of past and present disciples, young and old, dead and living, articulate and silent, unknown and familiar, brilliant and ordinary. We remember in every time and place the saints who have pointed us to God Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses…let us worship with joy!

Why bother to rewrite this? My intention in rewriting is not to criticize clergy. They have important roles professionally and in communities to help us identify priorities, remind us of our values, and show us where God is at work. If you have spoken with me on these topics, you know I can generate a long list of problems with structured religion and the Christian church specifically. Yet I still participate. I value the framework of the church calendar, the wisdom of the liturgy, and the regular practice of joining with others who seek to live meaningful lives serving beyond ourselves. My wish for the church is for the prayers and readings we speak to honestly align with the lived experiences of the people of God (aka all of us, sinners and saints). I write towards that end. Thanks for reading.

- Janet Tilstra