All Saints' Day SERMON

What do you think heaven would be like? As we celebrate All Saints’ Day, I invite you to use your imagination for a moment. Picture a place where all the holy people of every age are gathered together. Perhaps we imagine angels filling the sky with music, trumpets sounding, and people whose faces shine with light, clothed in white. Perhaps we see God enthroned in glory, with the Son and the Holy Spirit, surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses.

But perhaps heaven may not be quite what we expect. If you ask children what heaven will be like, they often imagine an extended version of everything that brings them comfort and joy: a fountain of milkshakes, trees that grow chocolate and candy, toys and video games everywhere, and maybe cute puppies and kittens waiting to be petted. Some of us never completely outgrow that image. Heaven becomes a place of unlimited pleasure, where every desire is finally satisfied.

For others, especially those who have carried deep pain or struggled through something difficult, heaven becomes the opposite of what they have known. They imagine stillness instead of chaos, peace instead of anxiety, warmth instead of loneliness, clarity instead of confusion, unity instead of division, and friendship instead of isolation. At the end, we hope, we will receive what we have always longed for but rarely had.

Yet no matter what we imagine—whether heaven is the presence of abundance and pleasure, or the absence of pain and struggle—what we project from our own experience will never be enough to describe it.

When I think about what heaven might be like, I am reminded of a story. An old man was sitting outside a café when a stranger approached him. “Are you from around here?” the stranger asked. “Yes,” the old man replied. “Is this a good town to live in? What are the people like?” The old man looked at him and asked, “What were the people like where you used to live?” The stranger sighed. “Oh, they were awful—dishonest, envious, malicious. I couldn’t stand the place. I had to get out.” “Well,” said the old man, “I’m afraid you will find very much the same here.”

The next day, the old man was sitting in the same place when another traveller stopped and said, “I am thinking of moving here. It seems like a lovely town. What are the people like?” Again, the old man asked, “What were the people like where you came from?” “They were wonderful,” the traveller answered. “Kind, helpful—some of the finest people I have ever known.” “Well,” the old man said, “you will find very much the same here.”

This story can be heard in many ways. But for me, it reveals the power we have in creating the world around us. We are not merely recipients of our environment. We interact with it. We engage with it. We make choices. And in doing so, we create the reality we belong to.

In that sense, heaven is not simply a perfect place given to us as a reward. Heaven begins in the heart. It begins in the way we see, the way we respond, and the way we choose to live our life. For someone who is always complaining that nothing is good enough, always noticing what is missing, the world will look lacking wherever they go.

But there are others who bring life to the world. They make the places around them better. They tend to people whose lives are broken and shattered. They help others become more fully themselves. They do not remain trapped by problems, but look for a way through. They extend their tables to strangers and grow community. They do not lose courage or hope in the face of injustice or the abuse of power. They do not only say, “I will pray for you,” but roll up their sleeves and help rebuild what is broken. Instead of judging those who have done wrong, they try to understand where the person is standing, and help them find their way back to a better path. Beyond having opinions about the flaws of a system, they work for a better way, for the common good.

These are the people who carry the seeds of heaven. And those seeds grow in their hearts, bearing fruit through their lives.

When I think of the saints, I imagine them as people who made heaven visible on earth. Throughout history, west and east, there have been holy people who believed that God is good, who followed the way Jesus opened for us, and who brought Good News into the world as Christ did. Their times and challenges were different. But they shared something in common. They allowed the Kingdom of God to unfold in the middle of darkness and despair.

As we listen to today’s Gospel, Jesus teaches us in detail that God’s blessing is not always found in the things we are searching for. When we think of blessings, we want wellness of mind and body, a comfortable life, nurturing people around us, and a safe home for our families. These are good gifts, and they come from God. But until we learn how to let the gifts we have received blossom into blessing for others, they remain incomplete.

Jesus showed us how to turn what we receive from God into a blessing for the world. Blessed are the poor in spirit: those who know that everything belongs to God, and that we possess nothing as our own. Blessed are those who mourn: those who are vulnerable enough to weep with others, who embrace the tears and holes in the fabric of life. Blessed are the meek: those whose hearts remain gentle, patient, and open to others at any cost. Blessed are those who seek right relationships rather than mere security and comfort. Blessed are those who revere God, trust God, and refuse to give up hope when the road becomes difficult.

Then we shall see heaven. Not only will we be in heaven—heaven will be in us. Jesus came among us so that this seed would be sown, and it continued to grow through those who followed his way. And I believe the saints were not the only ones.

Today we celebrate All Saints’ Day, and tomorrow is All Souls’ Day. Many of us carry someone we miss deeply—someone who is no longer with us. They may not have performed extraordinary acts of charity. They may not have devoted themselves visibly to a religious life. But we know they made our lives more whole through their love, care, sacrifice, and example. Sometimes they even shaped us through the difficult times they gave us.

As we remember that the word holy is related to whole, we recognize the sacred weave of our lives: people of the past, people of the present, and people still to come; human beings and all created things, held together in God’s loving embrace. When we live with gratitude for this intertwining life, when we try to live wholeness rather than separation, we are already on the way of holiness.

And when the day comes when we finally see God face to face, may we recognize that the heaven we longed for has already been quietly growing among us.

Blessed are we when we allow God’s love to become visible through us. Blessed are we when heaven begins in us, through us, and begins to transform the world.

Fr. James