Lighten our darkness: a sermon for All Hallows' Eve

Lighten our darkness: a sermon for All Hallows’ Eve

At the Parish Eucharist on All Saints’ Sunday - 31.10.21

Revelation 21:1-6a & John 11:32-44 (Year B)

Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of our hearts, 

be now and always acceptable in thy sight, 

O Lord, our strength, and our redeemer.

“And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new’.”

Those words from our first reading from the Book of Revelation might seem an odd choice for this morning.

It is, after all, All Hallows’ Eve.  The clocks went back last night.  Sunset this evening will be at ten-to-five. 

Harvest is now long past.  Autumn leaves are falling. We are entering into the dark time of the year.

“And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new’”: such words might sound more suited to Spring, misplaced during these days of late Autumn.

There is, however, a purpose to us hearing these words from Scripture this morning. They are appointed for tomorrow’s celebration of All Saints’ Day.  And there is a deep wisdom to the Church celebrating the witness of all the Saints as we enter into the dark time of the year.

The Saints, across the centuries, are bearers of the light of Christ, touching and transfiguring dark times with the light of God’s presence. They carry the hope of God “making all things new”: of God restoring, renewing, and reconciling.

We might think of those first Apostles and early Martyrs, bearing the light of the Gospel of love amidst the injustices and cruelties of the Roman Empire.

Of Patrick, patron saint of this Island, returning to the land of his captivity to bring the good news of the One who is, in the words of the ancient Irish hymn, “bright heav’n’s Sun”.

Of Benedict and his sister Scholastica, who, in the 6th century AD, even as the Roman Empire collapsed in violence and chaos, established communities to foster the life of prayer, wisdom, and service, communities of light in a dark age.

We might think of the darkness associated with the 16th century, when Christians shamefully persecuted one another.  Thomas More, an advisor to Henry VIII and a supporter of the papacy, and Thomas Cranmer, the first Reformed Archbishop of Canterbury, found themselves on opposite sides of the Reformation debates. They both died as martyrs, witnessing to the love and truth of Christ amidst the darkness of division and sectarianism.

William Wilberforce in the late 18th century saw the vile darkness at the heart of the slave trade, and campaigned for its abolition.

Josephine Butler worked for those women and children at the margins of Victorian cities: women and children abandoned, abused, exploited.  In the darkness, she saw their God-given dignity.  

When deep darkness fell over Europe and the Nazi regime committed acts of unspeakable evil, a Lutheran pastor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and a Roman Catholic priest, Alfred Delp, stood against the darkness, and witnessed to the Light, even unto death.

“And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new’.”

In the darkest of times, in the darkest of places, the Saints bore the light of Christ, bringing hope and renewal, even when hope appeared to be banished, and renewal impossible.

In them and through them we see how the presence of God in Christ touches and transfigures the dark times, the dark places: “And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new’.”

And so rejoicing in communion with the Saints on All Saints’ Day, we are both challenged and comforted.

We are challenged, because we are to follow their example.  The life and light of Christ in which we share through our Baptism, strengthened in our Confirmation, renewed through our partaking of the Eucharist, is to be seen in our lives.  We too are to be bearers of the life and light of Christ to those whose lives are shadowed by darkness. 

We are to be bearers of God’s goodness, mercy, healing, reconciliation, and forgiveness in our lives.  To our neighbours. To strangers. To enemies.  To those who look and sound like us.  To those who do not look and sound like us.  To those whose experiences are similar to our own. To those whose experiences are radically different. To those weighed down by failure, shame, pain, we are to bring not self-righteous condemnation, but the grace and mercy of Christ.

The witness of the Saints is also to comfort us, to comfort us during our own dark times.  What we see in the Saints in every age is the light of Christ, a sign that even in the darkest of times, God in Christ is present, close, never abandoning us in any situation, at any time.  

What we see in the Saints is God’s promise to us when times are dark, and when they are at their darkest: “And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new’”. Grace and mercy, life and hope in Christ touch all our dark times, all our dark experiences.

It is a sign of this that we celebrate All Saints’ Day as we enter into the dark time of the year.  Nor does it stop there.  In the depths of mid-Winter we will celebrate Christmas and hear the Christmas Gospel: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it”. In the cold and dark of January, we celebrate Epiphany, when a star guides the Magi to see the splendour of God in the Christ Child.  As wintry days continue into February, we celebrate Candlemas, when the Christ Child is beheld as the light of the nations.

“And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new’.”

There is a prayer in our Prayer Book which captures this hope and light.  It is said each day at the service of Evensong or Evening Prayer.  It begins, “Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord”.  If you do not know it, it can be found towards the end of the service of Evening Prayer in our Book of Common Prayer.  Or simply Google ‘Lighten our darkness’. 

It is a prayer that our lives might more fully share in the light of Christ: the light seen in the Saints, the light that heals and restores, that forgives and reconciles, that brings hope and life.

It is a prayer for the dark nights that we all know: sickness of body or mind; failure and shame; anxiety and uncertainty; grief and loss; trials and sorrows.  

We pray “Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord”, encouraged by the life, witness, and fellowship, of the Saints, in whom we see the reality of the light of Christ, in dark times and dark places, bringing hope and renewal, for “the one ... seated on the throne [says], ‘See, I am making all things new’”.

And so, Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of thy only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ. Amen.