THE departed saints whose names are held in honour by the Church are not trophies or talismans. They are examples, the Prayer Book teaches, of “virtuous and godly” living. They are not good people lost in the dust and ashes of the past, with no more life in them than their images in a stained-glass window, but people with whom their successors today are “knit together” in “one communion and fellowship” in Christ; and there can be no life more abundant, in the Christian estimation, than life in Christ, the creative Word of God, who is one in the Trinity with the Father and the life-giving Spirit. And these are people who, whatever their sins, held fast to that faith and were recognised as witnesses to it.
This is the doctrine; but, on All Saints’ Day, it is the saints whose names are forgotten, or are remembered only by a few, who are especially gathered up into the thanksgiving of the Church Militant. It is the day when the holiness that, for one reason or another, failed to catch the eye of the ecclesiastical authorities, or lacked their approval, comes under the spotlight. This is vastly encouraging; for it suggests that sanctity in human life, created and nurtured by the saving work of the incarnate, risen, and ascended Lord, far exceeds our human ability to record it. With this multitude that none can number we are all one family.
Families are not perfect: they have their secrets and shame and fallings-out. So, the day after All Saints’ is All Souls’. Holiness in heaven will be perfect; for heaven could not be heaven otherwise. “I know not, what social joys are there,” indeed; but it seems reasonable to conclude there will be only one echo chamber, unlike social media, and it will not resound with any rejoicing that is mean or at others’ expense. After the festival, therefore, comes a more sombre day when the faithful departed are remembered as sinners in need of mercy, and the living realise how far they themselves need to be purified, in the sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.
With the widespread return of worshipping freedoms, this year’s All Souls’ Day is a special pastoral opportunity. Nevertheless, the typically Anglican emphasis on remembering “our loved ones” by name at memorial services or requiems should not be allowed to narrow the vision so much that it eclipses the Church’s prayer that “we and all thy whole Church” may obtain remission of our sins, and all other benefits of Christ’s Passion. This, like All Saints’ Day, is a day to remember the unremembered, nameless multitude. The loved ones are primarily God’s loved ones, not just our own friends and relations, and it is Christ’s decision, not ours, whom he will knit together into his fellowship and communion in eternity. If we hold firmly to this vision, we will never have reason to be people without hope.
