The Risk of Saints - All Saints Sunday 2025

Luke 6:20-31

Then Jesus looked up at his disciples and said:

“Blessed are you who are poor,

    for yours is the kingdom of God.

 “Blessed are you who are hungry now,

    for you will be filled.

“Blessed are you who weep now,

    for you will laugh.

“Blessed are you when people hate you and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice on that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven, for that is how their ancestors treated the prophets.

“But woe to you who are rich,

    for you have received your consolation.

 “Woe to you who are full now,

    for you will be hungry.

“Woe to you who are laughing now,

    for you will mourn and weep.

“Woe to you when all speak well of you, for that is how their ancestors treated the false prophets.

“But I say to you who are listening: Love your enemies; do good to those who hate you; bless those who curse you; pray for those who mistreat you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who asks of you, and if anyone takes away what is yours, do not ask for it back again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

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There is a patron saint for almost anything. If you have a fear of caterpillars, meet St. Magnus - the Patron Saint for Protection against those creepy crawlers. Work at a gas station? St. Eligius is your saint. He was the patron saint of horses and blacksmiths, until cars came along and someone decided he should cover gas stations too. 

If you are a beer lover, Arnold is your saint. The tradition goes, some thirsty people prayed to him to give them what they lacked and a pot of beer appeared. And if the morning after gets rough, there’s even St. Bibiana,  the patron saint of hangovers. I’m not making that up. 

Then, there’s Drogo, patron saint of unattractive people, not that any of you need to pray to him. I think you get the point. There is a saint for nearly every situation. 

One of my favorite saints, and the one I think we need inspiration from today, is Saint Aelred of Rievaulx, the patron saint of friendships. You’ve probably never heard of him, which is part of why I love him. Aelred wasn’t known for miracles or dramatic conversions, but for the way he understood and practiced friendship as a path to God.

He was born in northern England, the son of a married priest before that became outlawed, and he was well-educated and well-liked from an early age.In his twenties, he served in the Scottish court under King David I: respected for his intelligence, diplomacy, and trustworthiness. 

But at age twenty-four, he walked away from what was surely a promising career and entered the monastery at Rievaulx in Yorkshire. I’m sure his parents were thrilled since monking makes such good money. 

He quickly became known for his warmth and wisdom. He eventually rose through the ranks and became the abbot of the whole monastery, overseeing more than 600 monks. But he didn’t lead the way we usually imagine leaders do—commanding, strict, or heavy-handed.Aelred was gentle and empathetic, rarely a harsh disciplinarian, and always attentive to the spiritual and emotional needs of the people entrusted to him.

He’s best known for his writing and preaching on friendship. Aelred had a gift for befriending the people others overlooked, those who were weak, temperamental, or thought to be less than holy. In his most famous work, Spiritual Friendship, he describes a true friend as:

“the guardian of my very soul” the one who  protects all the secrets of my spirit in loyal silence, the one who bears and endures anything wicked they see in my soul. For a friend will rejoice with my soul rejoicing, grieve with its grieving, and feel that everything that belongs to a friend belongs to themself”. 

That kind of definition might make us rethink who we call a friend.  Aelred’s idea of friendship isn’t casual or convenient; it sounds more like the love of a spouse, a parent, a sibling, or that one person who walked with us through the best and the worst. And for many of us, that’s the person we remember today on All Saints Sunday.

Today is unusual in the church year. Instead of primarily giving thanks to the God we know in Jesus Christ, this Sunday is set apart to remember the people we have known and loved in Christ, the ones who have gone before us and now rest in him.

And whether we realize it or not, we’re also honoring the love shared between us: the risk of loving and being loved, or as Aelred might say, the holy work of friendship.

On All Saints Sunday, we remember not just the people we loved, but the risk it took to love them  and the risk they took in loving us. Every real relationship carries the possibility, maybe even the certainty, of hurting and being hurt.

And that’s true of the saints we remember today. Some of them were anything but saintly. Some were difficult. Some were wounded, and some were wounding. Even the best of them didn’t consistently love their enemies, pray for those who hurt them, or give generously all the time.

But in the Lutheran tradition, that’s not what makes a saint. A saint isn’t someone who got it right. A saint is someone who tried, failed, and is forgiven by God. That is what makes a saint: a forgiven sinner.

Which means this loving and being loved is risky business, no matter who it is. C.S. Lewis puts it this way:

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.  If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe and dark, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.

To love is to be vulnerable.”

Is there anyone who knows this risk — this vulnerability — more than the God we know in Jesus Christ? He left heaven, only to be betrayed by his own people, abandoned by his friends, and to have his heart beaten and broken until it stopped on the cross. And he did it so that we might be made into saints — forgiven sinners. Truly, there is no greater love than that.

This morning we don’t just remember the saints in our lives, we remember the love it took to be in relationship with them, and the risk that love always requires. Saint Aelred reminds us that to love is to risk. And to follow Jesus is simply to keep risking love again and again. Which means this life of faith is never without risk.

Today is not only All Saints Sunday; it’s also the launch of our capital campaign. You’ve seen the plans, the pictures, and you’ve given feedback along the way. And today we want to show you where all of that has led us.Because at the heart of this campaign is not just more seats in a sanctuary, or a bigger building. At the heart of it is more relationships. Buildings don’t make a church. Relationships do.

But buildings can give us the space where those vulnerable, holy friendships can take root. That’s what we’re after: a sanctuary that makes room for more people to experience the grace of Jesus Christ, and one that finally allows everyone to enter, serve, and participate fully in worship. And a Community Hub: a space where neighbors can connect, where learning and conversation can happen, where kids can play and grow, where anyone can meet, make, or find a friend.

Does this involve risk? Absolutely. Not just financial risk, though that’s part of it. The deeper risk is opening ourselves to the people around us.

We risk people coming into our space simply to use it — and nothing more. We risk people learning what we believe about God’s grace and deciding they want nothing to do with it.

And we risk forming new friendships that will stretch our hearts and our community to make room for the people God sends our way. We could get really attached to these people. We could give our hearts to them. And that requires vulnerability.

But that’s the life Jesus calls us to — a life of risk, of friendship, of love.

And if that is not at the heart of why we’re doing this — if all we want is a bigger building with more empty chairs and tables — then this campaign can be damned. But if we are willing to take the risk — to open ourselves, to make the kind of friends Aelred made, the ones others overlook and dismissed, and to share the love of Jesus with a community who needs to see it, hear it, and feel it — then we are truly rooted in grace and growing in mission.

Since there’s a saint for nearly every situation, let Aelred be our saint for this moment. 

Not because he built anything, but because he loved people others ignored. Because he believed friendship was holy work. Because he knew the work of grace was making room for the overlooked and the imperfect.

This campaign is not about numbers or square footage. It is about making more room for that kind of love: the kind that turns strangers into friends, and friends into saints.

Because as Aelred wrote, “True friendship draws us right up to the edge of what it means to know God and experience God.”

Amen

What Kind of Relationship

John 15:9-17

[Jesus continued…] “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.

‘This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants* any longer, because the servant* does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.

You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.”

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It was 2012, the evening of Easter. I was a senior in high school. Katelyn had spent the day with me and my family going to church and then for Easter lunch. We had been spending a lot of time together, we both knew there was interest, but we (or perhaps more accurately I) still thought we were in the talking phase, still figuring things out. As we got in the car, I could tell something was wrong, so I asked. And I’m not sure I was ready for the response: so what are we, Cogan? We’ve gone on dates now, I spend all day with your family, what are we? Ah, the moment had come. Time to define the relationship. I was headed to Valpo in the fall while Katelyn would finish her senior year. Would we continue? Or at least try? What kind of relationship was this?

Maybe you’ve been there and had a similar conversation. Defining the relationship happens in the liminal space between acquaintance and closeness. It is a mark of intimacy and trust that was not in the relationship before. This conversation happens because someone in the relationship feels like they aren’t on the same page as the other and there’s a need for clarification.

Or a fast approaching change spurs on the conversation like graduation or moving. And its usually a difficult conversation to have: it risks vulnerability, rejection, but it also could result in deeper companionship and love. We always hear and maybe even say it ourselves that faith, Christianity is about a relationship with Jesus. And that’s true it is, even if you don’t often use or feel the most comfortable with that language. But what kind of relationship is it?

We have all kinds of relationships: think about the varying kinds with your family, or colleagues, or neighbors, or friends. I have a relationship with my neighbor Jo that consists mostly of friendly waves. I have a relationship with Clive, my son, which also has friendly waves. But these relationships are not the same. So what kind of relationship do we share with Jesus? Luckily, he tells us what kind in this passage today.

Toward the end of dinner with his disciples, Jesus thinks it's time to define the relationship. Nothing like a crucifixion to force the conversation. However, Jesus doesn’t really do the DTR the way relationship experts and their articles say. Usually, it’s not a good idea for one person to state what the relationship was and then proclaim it to be something different. It’s something best done or decided on together through Communication, questions, and active listening. Jesus does none of that. Instead, Jesus informs the disciples that their relationship was a master/slave relationship.

In the time of Jesus, master/slave relationships were marked by command, ignorance, and obedience. The master said what to do. The slave, not knowing the details of the task he was doing, simply obeyed out of fear of punishment. This according to Jesus was the one-way relationship between him and his disciples. But something changed. “No longer are you slaves”, Jesus says, “you are my friends.” And ever since these words were written, people have been arguing over what they mean. Some say Jesus didn’t really make them “friends”.

The disciples are still servants, but the good kind, no longer motivated by fear, but motivated out of a desire to make the master happy. But I don’t think that’s the case. Rather, Jesus’ statement is clearly one of manumission, release from slavery, and freedom into a new kind of relationship, namely friendship.

And they are friends because of the knowledge Jesus has shared with them. He’s told them everything he has received from God about his mission and ministry on earth, his death and resurrection, his plan of redemption for the whole world. And the disciples will remain friends if they do what Jesus commands.

Now you might say, “I thought that giving commands was a marker of the old master/slave, one-way relationship. Why can Jesus still give commands to the disciples if they are friends and does it work the other way around? Can the disciples give commands of Jesus?

If we think about our own relationships, we know that servitude is not incompatible with friendship. No, it's quite the opposite, they often go hand in hand. And the more intimate the relationship, the more commands are given. If Katelyn, my wife but also my best friend, says the grass is tall, mow the yard, I better do it for the good of the relationship. Notice it wasn't a suggestion “you should mow the yard”, it wasn’t a question “Can you mow the yard?” It was a command. One that by the intimacy of our relationship she is able to make and I ought to obey.

What does any of this mean for our relationship with Jesus? Jesus has defined the relationship not only for him and his disciples but for us, too. Jesus has made us friends, ones so close that he can give commands and expect us to do them. And the command he gives is this, “love one another I have loved you”. Keep in mind we hear this passage in the season of Easter, meaning we know how Jesus loved. He loved them so much he gave his life for them and us. So when Jesus gives this command to love and sacrifice, he’s not asking us to do something that he hasn’t already done for us.

But what about us commanding Jesus? Yes, I think we have that right. Look at the Psalms or Moses, who give commands and imperatives to God often. Yet, at the same time, Jesus need not obey the same way we do. This friendship between us and Jesus, isn’t quite equal. How could it be? However, we do have something to add to the relationship. When Jesus says you are my friends if you keep my commandments, it’s an invitation to respond to the love, sacrifice, and friendship Jesus so freely gives to us by having friends. It is a part of our Christian calling then to make and be friends, to love one another, and to make sacrifices for their wellbeing. This kind of friendship, John tells us, gives Glory to God and great joy to me and you.

And the reality is, we need friends now more than ever. A report from the surgeon general just last year called loneliness and isolation an epidemic in this country. Americans are spending more time alone than ever before. The Cigna loneliness survey found that nearly 60% of people in the U.S. report feeling lonely on a regular basis.

And while our young people are hyper connected virtually, 16-24 year old’s reported feeling isolated at a staggering 73%, the highest percentage of any group. And the effects of such loneliness are severe.

Dr. Vivek Murthy the surgeon general of the US writes, Loneliness “is far more than just a bad feeling. "It is associated with a greater risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, stroke, depression, anxiety, and premature death.” Being socially disconnected is nearly as bad for your health as smoking a pack a day, believe it or not. Not to mention the stress it puts on the already torn social fabric rippling across our communities right now too.

So take the risk. Make friends and be friends. I’m not saying this is easy, especially the kind of friendship Jesus is calling us to. It’s risky, it may require hard conversation, and if we do it right, it means sacrifice. But we are all better because of it.

After all, we get by with a little help from our friends. Amen