All Saints Day: A Roll Call of the Dearly Departed

One of the things I like about All Saints’ Day is that it is a time to call by name those friends and loved ones who have died over the past year. In the liturgy for the All Saints’ Day, the names of those who have died are added to the prayers of the people. Sometimes I see it as a roll call of “that great cloud of witnesses.”

This past year I have lost family, friends, neighbors, and colleagues whose departure leaves a void, an empty space. I could name them all, but instead, ask you to make your own list of those dear to you who are no longer present in this world.

One of my departed friends was Jerry Moye. I was asked to select a poem to read at his funeral. Fortunately, I had a poem that Jerry had written himself which served and an appropriate remembrance at his funeral. The reading below which I presented at his funeral is taken from his church newsletter. He calls it a poem for Easter, but I can see it just as well as a poem for All Saint's Day.

PASTOR’S POEM — FOR EASTER

By Jerry Moye

In the spring of 2004, I took a sabbatical leave & retreat to Wales. During that time I spent a week at the Llangasty Retreat House in central Wales, a quiet place overlooking a lake.  I had been reading some biographies, people with faith and those without. I was stimulated by one person who felt the Christian faith was illusion. I was pushed into a wonderful time of meditation. What is nonsense to one person is great truth to another. The Christ Reality is more than wishful thinking, nonsense that is holy sense if the Holy Spirit is allowed to work.

HOLY NONSENSE

Some say, “It’s all nonsense—

A man rising from the dead,

Walking with strangers down a country road,

Eating fish at seaside with old friends,

Flying off through clouds which hide his face.

Some say, “It’s dangerous nonsense—

Better to face the harshness of death,

Better to expose fanciful myth.

Some say, “It’s understandable nonsense—

Old men and women long for friends passed on,

Chanting choirs hymn their notes of praise,

Questing souls refuse systems closed.

Some say, “It’s beautiful nonsense—

To think there is a love that cannot die,

To think this love is the eternal engine,

Moving within stardust to make a world,

Love interlocking atoms and thoughts,

Love working from life through death to life.

If this be nonsense,

I choose to be a fool,

I shall dance with my Living Lord

And my nonsense song shall be—Alleluia.

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