What three little brown birds taught me about All Saints Sunday

Lots of churches will recognize All Saints Sunday today.  For me, the day has always been one of those things you did because you always did it: no understanding required.

You have to make sure you know of all the members of your church that have passed away in the past year so that you can recognize them during worship.  There's usually some fact checking involved.  Were they still on the role?  They were a family member, but not actually church members.  Etc.

If you are asked to stand up when the name is read, what constitutes "knowing them"?  I mean, I know the name.  I certainly saw them in church from time to time.  Did I know them that well?

There is All Saints Day and then there is All Saints Sunday.  There is a Catholic tie in with the saints part.  They have Saints.  Do we have saints?  Is it just the official Saints?  Is someone officially a saint when they pass away.  Wouldn't there be some sort of saint background check before you can go throwing around that term, saint?  I mean, heaven forbid: what if they weren't really a Christian?

As sometimes will happen, Creation was able to explain to me better than Wikipedia or the about 7,860,000 results from the Google search could probably explain it.

It seems there were three little brown birds.  I overheard the screeching of one little brown bird in the general direction of another little brown bird.  It was pretty intense.  The screeching promptly drove the screech-ee flying away from the screecher.

Instantaneously, it seemed, another little brown bird appeared on the scene.  It began to sing its song.

The screecher had hardly stopped screeching when it picked right back up again.

The one little brown bird singing into the screeching and the one little brown bird screeching into the singing.

This went on for some time.  It got real intense.  And after what seemed like a really long time,  the one little brown bird stopped screeching and the other one stopped singing and the two of them (probably just my imagination here) flew off.  Together.

Wow, I thought: that's it.  All Saints Sunday is about the people in our lives that sing into the screeching. The ones who patiently sing, sing, sing.  Until we give up our screeching and fly off with them.

But then again, maybe the lesson is that All Saints Sunday is about the singers, the screechers, and the ones that fly off alone and afraid.

I'm sure thankful for the singers: don't get me wrong.  But I also realize that the screechers and the fainthearted flyers are part of the "plan" too.  God created them all.  And going out on a limb here: God needs them all.

So to the singers who have sung into my screeching: God bless you in your rest.

For the screechers and the ones who flew away from my screeching: God bless you in your rest.

Surely this day is for all of you saints.

In honor of the all the saints that have lived their lives before me:  I hope to spend more time today singing into the screeching than I do screeching into the singing.

But you never know, it's still early.