Now

A sermon for the congregation of St. Saviour Anglican Church, Penticton BC

All Saints’ Day – Principal Feast
Sunday, November 1st, 2026

The Very Rev. Ken Gray

I have decided to tell you the truth — well I guess it is my truth — I don’t really like All Saints Day. I know, I know, it is a principal feast of the Church calendar. It deserves my respect. It rightly celebrates  those who have gone before us in the life of faith, hope, and love. Especially through the Book of Revelation, it breaks us into the realm of eternity and all that lies beyond time, space, physical life, death and resurrection. Time meets no time. It encourages us with an image of perfect community, an experience in sharp contrast with so much that we read and glimpse daily “down here” on planet earth. It places us with the battle-weary winners of the test between good and evil.

While some roll their eyes, hearing that heaven will involve constant and unceasing worship of the Lamb — I can hear the sigh of altar guild members and musicians everywhere; so much to prepare for, constantly — in Revelation, serious attention is  given to particular truths, that hunger will be no more, and there will be no need for tears. The images are literally, fantastic, incredible, victorious.

So what’s my grumble, you ask? My concern is with the ever expanding “season of remembrance.” While in missionary service in the Diocese of Yukon in the early 1980s the new hall at Christ Church Cathedral, Whitehorse was named “Hellaby Hall” for an early Yukon Saint, Hilda Hellaby, one of the first Deaconesses in the Anglican Church of Canada, if not the communion. She was a legend, and rightly so. But my boss, the late Terry Buckle grumbled saying that “the Anglican Church spends more time looking backward instead of ahead.” I think he had a point.

Back now to the “lengthening season” of remembering. Lutherans add Reformation Saints on October 31. Next comes All Saints on November 1, where we remember those Christians who in various ways, often against great odds, showed an extraordinary love for Christ. Next it’s on to All Souls Day on November 2 when we call to mind all the faithful departed who are now with God in Christ Jesus. We especially remember all those who have touched our own lives. In other words, those who did not make it onto the All Saints list, but who are special to us, even if publicly unrecognized.

For the truly energetic we could in our memorializing celebrate on November 4 the “Old Testament saints” to whom we extend our thanksgiving and include them in our  celebration of faith.

Then, of course, comes November 11 with remembrances of the 1918 armistice (the war had not actually ended by that time). The day is emotive as many of the names inscribed on church walls and cenotaphs are still read by present generations of families.

In my Colwood Parish, one with close ties to the Canadian Navy, we often included in our annual cycle Sundays commemorating the Battle of the Atlantic and the Battle of Britain.

You may now begin to appreciate my point. It does seem, to me at least, that Anglicans  are very, very good at remembering. I sometimes wonder if we overdo remembrance at the expense of imagination. A charismatic colleague used to rant that “Anglicans believe in the second coming of Christ; they just don’t expect it.” Again, I think he had a point. Let us not, however, forget Jesus’s admonition: “Do this, in memory of me.” Such Eucharistic remembrance however is no museum-style education. The remembrance we practice at the table is simultaneously transformative in the present moment. The late Bill Crockett (a personal relative), onetime professor at Vancouver School of Theology published only one book during his career: Eucharist: Symbol of Transformation. Such transformation is named both by the author of the First Letter of John and by Matthew. First, from 1 John:

“See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are . . . Beloved, we are God’s children now . . .”(1 JOHN 3:1-3)

Obviously I love the final word of these verses: NOW. In the 1990s I spent a lot of time studying hymns and liturgical music. A “new” hymn in those days was “Now the Silence.” It’s in Common Praise and in Songs for a Gospel People before that. Penned by the Czeck Lutheran pastor and writer Jaroslav Vajda it was conceived “as an entrance hymn surveying the movement of Christian worship, it brings together prayer, proclamation, Holy Communion, Trinitarian presence, and blessing.”

Now the silence,

Now the peace,

Now the empty hands uplifted;

Now the kneeling,

Now the plea,

Now the Father’s arms in welcome;

Now the hearing,

Now the power,

Now the vessel brimmed for pouring;

Now the body,

Now the blood,

Now the joyful celebration;

Now the wedding,

Now the songs,

Now the heart forgiven leaping;

Now the Spirit’s visitation,

Now the Son’s epiphany,

Now the Father’s blessing.

Now.  Now.  Now.

—Jaroslav Vajda

So if John turns us individually to God’s love and presence in our lives, Gospeler, Matthew takes things further, quoting Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount” where Jesus’ love and presence transforms creation and humanity within it. MATTHEW 5:1-12

“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 the meek, for they will inherit the earth.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled . . .

So when does this happen? Not in the past, though the past is both relevant and inspiring. Not in the future, though what is here now is inextricably connected with the future: “What we will be has not yet been made known.” No, God’s transforming presence is now . . . now . . . now.

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