All Saints’ Day, also known as All Hallows’ Day, is a Christian holiday that is observed on November 1st in Western Christianity. All Saints’ Day is a Christian memorial day celebrating the honor of all church saints, whether known or unknown. It is a day set aside to honor all the saints who have lived righteous and holy lives in accordance with Christian teachings. All Saints’ Day is part of a broader tradition that includes All Hallows’ Eve (Halloween) on October 31st and All Souls’ Day on November 2nd.

Who are the Saints? Sainthood isn’t limited to those recognized by a group of religious leaders. It’s granted by God Himself to any common, salt-of-the-earth person who simply trusts Christ (1 Corinthians 1:2). Words matter. And sowing confusion about good, biblical words like “saint” is not from God.

“To the church of God that is in Corinth, to those sanctified in Christ Jesus, called to be saints together with all those who in every place call upon the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, both their Lord and ours” (1 Cor. 1:2)

The gospel message is that God the Son came to earth, lived a perfectly obedient life, died on the cross to pay for our sins (Romans 5:1), and rose again, proving His atoning work was complete (Romans 4:22-25). Scripture says that the person of faith actually becomes the very righteousness of God (2 Cor. 5:21)

How do we celebrate All Saints Day?  The Bible doesn’t tell us to pray to the saints (Matt. 6:6) or through the saints (1 Tim. 2:5). Instead, we think of our connectedness to past saints and find inspiration in their stories of God’s faithfulness. Hebrews 11 gives many examples of the great cloud of witnesses whose lives tell of God’s unfailing love and grace. These saints speak from the past and are whispering at this moment…

God is faithful.”
“The Lord is good. Trust Him.”
“His grace was sufficient for me in my trials and is sufficient for you today.”

There’s a hymn that’s traditionally sung around this holiday called “For All the Saints.” It encourages believers to look back through the years of Christian history and think of the millions now enjoying rest and salvation in the presence of God. It’s also meant to encourage believers here and now to press on, looking forward to the glorious day…(source: christianity.com) Alex Crain, Pastor

“How did Halloween come about? Hallow, in Old English, means “holy” or “sacred.” Therefore, “Hallows’ Eve,” or “Halloween,” simply means “the evening of holy persons” and refers to the evening before All Saints Day, which is this day, November 1, on both Anglican and Catholic calendars. Halloween is a mixture of Celtic religious ideas and Christian martyrology.  By the ninth century, Christianity had spread into Celtic lands, where it gradually blended with and supplanted older pagan rites. In 1000 A.D. the church designated November 2 as All Souls’ Day, a time for honoring the dead. Celebrations in England resembled Celtic commemorations of Samhain, complete with bonfires and masquerades. 

Poor people would visit the houses of wealthier families and receive pastries called soul cakes in exchange for a promise to pray for the souls of the homeowners’ dead relatives. Known as “souling,” the practice was later taken up by children, who would go from door to door asking for gifts such as food, money and ale.

In Scotland and Ireland, young people took part in a tradition called guising, dressing up in costume and accepting offerings from various households. Rather than pledging to pray for the dead, they would sing a song, recite a poem, tell a joke or perform another sort of “trick” before collecting their treat, which typically consisted of fruit, nuts or coins.

(source: history.com) 

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This week children around the globe will enjoy “Trick or Treating”, an activity that was part of my childhood until the age of 12. My neighborhood had about 60 kids in one city block who filled dark sidewalks illuminated only by streetlights, porch lights, and jack-o-lanterns. There were no yard decorations like we see today. Those of us who carved a jack-o-lantern placed them on our porch and at least one or two houses took time to play spooky music wafting through the open door when handing out candy. Halloween has taken on many looks since my childhood in the 50s and 60s, but more importantly, I wanted to draw attention to a day on the church calendar that may be losing its place of significance. I’m speaking of “All Saints Day” which is observed on November 1. Rather than attempt to write a book report style article on this sacred day, I looked at two sources to describe this tradition and how it relates to October 31 and all its trappings we now simply call “Halloween”. 

The church I grew up in observed All Saints Day without fail. At the close of service, our pastor read each deceased person’s name which was followed by the ringing of one bell in the tower. Depending on how many folks we lost from January to November, the list could be short or lengthy. Listening to each name, hearing each bell, which broke somber silence was special and acknowledged losses for loved ones gathered in the pews. My home church, St. John’s Lutheran, was a congregation established by German speaking immigrants in the mid 1800s. For over 150 years the church thrived in Downtown Saginaw. Several years ago, the church closed its doors for Sunday worship. Membership dwindled to well below 100 people. The building still stands. Other agencies now use parts of the building for community services. Although diminished activity inside her brick walls still takes place on weekdays, the bells have been silent. 

There’s no call for their ringing, no names to prelude their beautiful chime. Hundreds of dearly departed souls over the span of the church’s life have each had designated recognition with each passing year. My mother’s bell rang in 1999 and dad’s came in 2012. When I recall hearing their name and the bell’s chime, I smile. They are now part of the “great cloud of witnesses” as described by the Apostle Paul in Hebrews 12: 1-2.

MY HEART IS WITH ISRAEL

Heaviness. Heartache. Worry. Fear. Questions. Unbelief.

Those–and adjectives I cannot come up with to describe my emotions–are, and have been swirling in my mind since Israel was attacked by an evil group of Hamas terrorists. Innocent men, women, children, babies–gone–by a swipe of a blade or gunshot….it doesn’t matter the method. The outpouring of innocent blood floods homes, streets, businesses, and the very land these people covered with everyday footsteps going about their work and play until the fateful first blows from the terrorists.

When images and news of the brutal attacks began making their appearance on social media and other outlets, my own heart jumped and immediately I knew our world was turning upside down as we all witnessed the evil causing bloodshed, death, and displacement of numerous families. And although being thousands of miles away from the beautiful country of Israel distances me from the chaos, my heart and mind are connected in a supernatural way created by God Himself along with biblical history of the Jewish people…and my own memories of our trip to Israel in 2020.

Though a variety of opinions exist regarding Israeli and Palestinian people, it doesn’t change the depth of anguish I feel for the events unfolding before my eyes every day. Putting politics aside, in simplistic terms the casualties on both sides are people–men, women, children, babies, elderly. For those who met death, their last day began as usual…they were enjoying the Sabbath hours which is highly revered and sacred for faithful Jewish believers.

I cannot imagine. I don’t want to see the carnage. I don’t want to hear screams. I don’t want to hear bombs hitting targets. I don’t want to believe a group overshadowed with evil’s darkest motives exists and carries out horrific acts of violence against another human being.

I want to see Light. I want to witness God’s power sweeping through Israel and wiping the terrorists from the map. I want justice granted for every lost life. I want peace to be ushered in and lay like a blanket over the entire area of carnage, bringing comfort to heartbroken and devastated families.

I want to see Light. The Light of Jesus. I want to see Jesus transform hearts, minds, and souls. I want to see Israel restored and rejuvenated.

What I want may not be fathomable. But God. In the midst of all that breaks my heart, He is weeping with Israel even while He is beside me as I pray for her…and against my own understanding…and being reminded from a good friend’s social media post…I also pray for the enemy.

They need His Light, too.

This weekend—as you’re reading this–marks a special day for me and my family. Sunday, October 15 is my dad’s birthday. Had he not passed away in 2012 at the age of 91, my goodness he’d be 102. While you may think that’s a very large number for a person’s lifespan, consider I have two great aunts who reached 100 and beyond. Great Aunt Esther lived to be 100 and Aunt Vinie was a mature 104!

Many people often describe their father as being “their hero’. That’s a description I’ve never given to my dad; I prefer to honor him by quickly pointing out that he was the BEST” role model” for me in many ways. In the Book of Galatians we are given a list of fruits that are produced by the spirit of God. They are Love *Joy *Peace *Patience *Kindness *Goodness *Faithfulness *Gentleness and *Self-Control. Though it may be hard to comprehend, I saw every one of these beautiful attributes in my dad. I dare say if gentle teasing and a “good shaggy dog story” (as he often described a corny joke) could be part of that fruitful  harvest, those would be hanging on the vine too.

My dad–Jack to his family and friends–never met a stranger. He struck up conversations everywhere we went, whether to the local hardware store in our neighborhood, a grocery store, restaurant, lumber yard…you get the picture. He especially enjoyed striking up conversations with children and encouraging young parents in the midst of a child’s tantrum that better days were ahead.  

Growing up in Saginaw, which had a thriving downtown business district back in the 50s and 60s, I was always amazed that when we walked into the Sears Roebuck store–namely the tool department–he was called by name. I guess when a guy purchases his power tools from one location you become recognizable. Even salesmen at local dealerships knew him well which was odd to me because my parents did not purchase their first “new” car until 1966. Up until then, the family automobile was always a “used” model, mostly a good ole Oldsmobile. 

His job as a building inspector took him to many homes and businesses over his career of 40+ years…there was one time when we were visiting my Grandma Jewell that he told her keeping a very straight face, “Mom, I’ve been in every bar in Saginaw.” Not one who was quick to scold or judge, gramma replied with her renowned gentility,  “Oh, my Jack, have you?” I’m pretty sure the shared twinkle in their eyes  revealed both humor and love behind the irony of his claim.

In my column last week, I briefly touched on our experience with dementia and my dad. We started noticing changes in 2009 which was when we made the difficult decision to move him from the house he and mother had built together in 1953-54. It’s the only home I remember. Dad moved around a lot as a boy, his dad relocating several times in Michigan to earn a living for their growing family that eventually produced 11 children. Dad was no stranger to being poor, knowing what it meant to go hungry…making a meal stretch….being grateful for God’s provision and faithfulness to provide….and above all, by the time World War II dominated news headlines,  with him and his brothers all serving in various branches of the military, dad saw that each one returned home safely.

I think with him being the middle child of those 11, he had ample experiences that included looking up to the older siblings and helping care for the younger ones. He loved his six brothers but his affection for his four sisters was something to behold. As far as he was concerned, there was none better, and as a youngster on into my adulthood, the reciprocation of love from them to him, was noticeable every time we got together for family dinners and parties. 

In those latter years of dementia, when the ability to carry a conversation became difficult for dad, when words faded behind cloudy eyes searching to recognize loved ones and make sense of things, the last phrase he often spoke with clarity was “family is everything”. It was his parting signature goodbye each time we visited the assisted living home. It became his “go-to” words to communicate feeling loved, giving love, and acknowledging as being the most important possession in life.

Sunday, I will spend  time reflecting and reminising having my dad for just a little over 60 years of my life. There will be some tears…some laughter…a lot of smiles…all while I humbly review the fruit of the Spirit list and take personal inventory where I may be falling short harvesting the attributes so well modeled for me by a guy who found it easy to love, laugh, and be grateful for all good things from above. 

MORE OCTOBER IS…..

As someone who has always been curious and enjoys a slight adventure, I took a second glance at my online search for days in October designed as “National _____” (fill in the blank). I found four more that I could make a connection with.

*National German-American Day–this was a ‘no-brainer’ for me. On my dad’s side his great grandmother came to America in the mid 1850’s in search of a better life. She was 18 and unmarried. In letters written in German between her and her mother back in Germany, they exchanged the everyday kind of conversation most common to all of us. There were questions about how the planting was coming along….how was your harvest…do they plant potatoes in America? While those back and forths don’t bring a lot of excitement when reading, the one paragraph that will bring me to tears every time I read it is…”I know that I will never see you again in this lifetime dear daughter, but I know we will see each other in eternity”. 

*World Mental Health Day–September is designated as National Recovery Month. Mental health and its complexities used to be a ‘hush hush’ topic in our society. But, as more and more people open up about their struggles, and our healthcare professionals give proper recognition to the increase in mental health struggles, hope is on the horizon. I know that in my family I can now recognize that my mother struggled with depression and so did my oldest brother. Unfortunately, neither one sought proper help for their symptoms. I often tell people I could tell by the tone of my brother’s voice if he was feeling “up” or was “down in the dumps”. My mother’s depression took on bad headaches and a lot of resting on the couch. Also as an unfortunate circumstance, while they were struggling I was at a loss as to what to do…what to say … .and most often I fell into the trap of being resentful. That’s a habit I want to overcome as I meet and minister to individuals who struggle with challenges to good mental health.

National Stop Bullying Day–Looking back on my childhood, I honestly don’t believe I was ever bullied. If teasing counts, well, I was the target of unkind remarks in my elementary years and junior high. I needed glasses by the time I was in 5th grade so I was called “Four Eyes”. Late to develop, sometimes I was pointed out as being “Flat Chested”. I had my fair share of snowballs thrown at me on my walks to junior high.

When I was in the first grade the neighbor boy David said something to me that I didn’t like so I beat him up in front of the other kids. To this day, if we see one another he reminds me of the incident. (He never bugged me again)

National Dessert Day–who in their right mind couldn’t get behind this one!? Goodness, it was sheer joy when we came home from school to find oatmeal cookies … .an apple pie or two…or a lemon pie…on the kitchen counter! How wonderful to know that while we were away at school our mom was cooking up something tremendous! Going to our grandmother’s home meant several pies lined up on the washer & dryer….cookies in the jar….a banana cake if we hit pay dirt (and to this day no one can duplicate her recipe)

I don’t know who thinks up these ‘national days’ but I give them credit for creativity, clever minds, concerned hearts, along with bringing awareness to each.

So, while I still have on my reading glasses (I’m still “Four Eyes”) I think I’ll go look for a yummy treat to enjoy later in the afternoon.