There was an All Saints’ Day at the beginning of my ministry when I called it one of the happiest days in the church year. All Saints is a day set aside to recall with thanksgiving the faithful past—that is to say, those who have died faithful. All Saints is also a day set aside to be thankful for those faithful who are still here. Today is a day to be thankful for the faithful, and in case I’m not perfectly clear: it’s a day to be thankful for the gift of faith—thank God for pillars of the faith to look up to as examples of Christ’s work on and in them, be they dead to earth yet alive in Christ or alive on earth and alive in Christ. It’s not about worshiping or elevating saints to some undeserved (and, dare I say, unwanted) status in the Church, but about worshiping and thanking God for His work in, on, and for the Church for Christ’s sake. Today is All Saints’ Day, a day to gaze upon the effects of Christ work, as He died and rose again, establishing the Church, His Bride, and granting entrance into her for many millions upon millions of saints—is there anything greater to be happy and overjoyed about?

St. John recorded in his last tome a look at the multitude of saints as the angel shows him the bride of the Lamb. He described the greatest of cities, the Holy City, Jerusalem, wherein all the saints dwell, descending upon the Mountain of God. He related the millions of voices singing all the great songs that are still sung to this day in the liturgy. He described the saints and martyrs praying under the altar: “How long, O Lord?” He showed that in the end, all of the blessed, all who have lived and died in Christ, will forever be in the Light of His face and sing praise and worship Him.

The prophet Isaiah also had and saw the great city, with salvation its walls. All who would enter are those who enter by faith in God and His Christ. By faith, you see and know that all who have died in Christ are indeed alive and well in the eternal life they have gained through the righteousness that He has won and given.

Then, you can look around and remember blessed dead from this place. Even though you might still be in the throes of grief, you can recall with great joy the life in Christ that they had and still have. Rejoice that their robes have been washed clean, made white in the blood of the Lamb.

“And from the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent take it by force.”

The kingdom of heaven suffers violence as the violent take it by force. However, as you read the Gospel accounts, there appears to be little in the way of violence with regard to what the kingdom of heaven suffers or how it is taken. Jesus walks on earth and is relatively unscathed only until He allows Himself to be captured, beaten, and crucified. Until Jesus’ time had come, there were only those who sought to stone Him and throw Him over the cliff, but failed—no account of a scraped knee, lacerated members, broken bones, bloody nose, or black eye; no account of battles and wars. Jesus walks around and teaches wherever He goes, healing the infirm, raising the dead to life, and forgiving the sins of the people.

Where was the kingdom of heaven suffering violence? How were the violent taking it by force?

Today’s text follows last week’s text, and in truth, found it’s way into last week’s sermon. As a result, what you hear today will, in some parts, be a rehash of what you heard last week. This is not all bad; as I’ve mentioned quite recently, just like children often need to hear the same things over and over again from their parents, so children of the Heavenly Father need to hear the same thing from Him over and over again.

“Good Teacher,” the man asked Jesus, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Essentially, Jesus replied, “If you’re looking for something ‘to do,’ keep the Law...all of it.” “Teacher, all these I have kept from my youth,” the man boldly stated. “One thing you lack,” Jesus replied, “[G]o, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me.” And the man went away sorrowful because he had great possessions. (cf. Mark 10:17-22)

I can’t help but think of a wedding sermon with today’s text. After all, Mark recorded the words of Jesus thus: “’Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.’ So they are no longer two but one flesh.” A man and a woman are being given to each other—they are a gift to each other—and they are being joined together. While there is mutual consent on the part of the man and the woman, it is interesting to note that they are each more recipient than giver. Let me explain: The woman gives herself to the man, but so does her Father, as does God; therefore, a man ought to see his wife as a gift from her, her father, and especially God, and the same is said of a woman with regard to her husband.

Scripture uses this image of husband and wife to describe how things are between Himself and His Church. St. Paul illustrated this beautifully in his letter to the Ephesians:

Jesus said,

How dear to God are these little ones! Jesus says that their angels always see the Face of His Father. There are angels assigned to His little ones, and they are always before the throne of God. These angels, messengers of God, are much more than part of God’s creation that merely gaze upon the Face of the Father. St. John wrote that under the leadership of Michael the archangel, the angels of God cast the dragon and those angels who followed him from the Face of God. The dragon is the devil and Satan, that serpent of old. (cf. Revelation 12:7-9) The prophet Daniel also wrote of Michael, the great prince who watches over the sons of the children of Israel, who on the last day will come at the time of great conflict, but that the people of God would be delivered through it. (cf. Daniel 12:1-2) It is these warrior-messengers of God that keep watch over the little ones, and they are always before the Face of the Father.

It all begs the question; who are “these little ones?” Well, you’d certainly be right in calling them children, but “these little ones” are more than children.