Scripture:  Revelation 7:9-12  

Well, this could be quite a week.  Starting back when I was in high school (I think I got this from a friend at the time) whenever I look at a clock and see that the time is 11:11, I make a wish.  Often a quick wish, a silly wish.  Does anyone here do that?  “11:11… Make a wish!”  

This Friday is November 11, 2011.  11/11/11.  If you’re big into numbers, or your feel that numbers hold particular meaning, this is going to be a pretty big day for you.  If you’re the wishing kind, you might want to spend some time this week thinking about what you’d like to wish for at 11:11 on 11/11/11.  You won’t be the only one, I’m sure.  Apparently this November 11 has been designated as the “World Day of Interconnectedness” by a group called the Interconnectedness Foundation, which is encouraging the world to stop and recognize ways in which we are connected to one another at 11:11 AM this Friday.  This thought of our interconnectedness makes for interesting timing, given the fact that this week the UN announced that our global population has now swelled to 7 billion people.  Perhaps the more crowded our planet gets, the more connected we necessarily become. 

This Friday is also Veterans Day, and so perhaps at 11:11 or maybe 11:12 or at some point in the day, we have cause to stop and remember those men and women in our families and in our lives and nation who are veterans of war, and even better, to simply check in, offer a word of thanks, express care and appreciation for their willingness to serve.  I hope you’ll do that this Friday.

Make a wish, thank a veteran.  You may also be interested to know that I did a Google search and found out that this Friday, 11/11/11 is the Cosmic Portal Transit Date.  So if you believe in cosmic portals, you’ve got five days to pack your bags and get ready.  I’m not really sure what that means, except it seems that a lot of human energy is being poured into making 11/11/11 meaningful.  All over the world, weddings have been scheduled for this Friday, and you can be sure that more than a few very pregnant mothers-to-be are hoping for lucky 11/11/11 birthdays. 

I guess you could say that we members of the human species like to get excited about something, and three elevens in a row is as good of an excuse as any to wake up and expect the day to be new and intriguing.  But the real truth is that life itself is meaningful, more meaningful than we often realize, and consciously or subconsciously we look for ways to acknowledge that fact.  The harvest moon, a shooting star, a rainbow out over the lake, or even three elevens in a row.  Maybe they all help us make room in our minds for mystery and meaning. 

In Scotland there are sites along the coast that the locals refer to as “thin places.”  They’re places of extraordinary beauty, which actually aren’t all that hard to find in Scotland.  But these particular places are “thin places”—places where it is said that the distance between heaven and earth has shrunk, where perhaps the curtain between the two worlds is so thin, that you can catch a glimpse of heaven there.  [1]

I visited Scotland in my twenties, and did some backpacking on the Isle of Skye, and I think I found a thin place there.  This was the trip when a friend and I hiked for two days through some of the worst camping weather I’ve ever experienced—driving wind, rain, and even hail off of the ocean and a trail that we could never seem to keep track of.  And when you’re wet, cold, hungry, and lost, your standards for what might qualify as a “thin place” are unusually low, but there it was—a beautiful little sheltered cove where a small cabin stood.  This cabin was a “bothy,” a shelter for backpackers, and when we first saw it, the sun happened to come out briefly, and it illuminated the white painted brick of the cabin against the vibrant green grass around it and the rolling Black Cuillin Mountains behind.  It was heavenly!

I think that even when we’re unaware, our hearts are on the lookout for thin places in this world.  I think that even when we’re stuck in our overscheduled routines—even when life is moving too fast for us to think—our spirits are programmed to be in tune with thin places and thin moments—chances in life to acknowledge the holy presence of a heavenly kingdom.  Have you experienced a thin place lately?  A moment when you said to yourself, or even aloud, “This is heavenly!” 

Some have said that the author of Revelation, John of Patmos, must have been familiar with thin, heavenly places.  His descriptions of heaven suggest a reality that is too wonderful and mysterious to be contained by words.  He paints a picture of a heavenly choir of beings bearing witness to the presence of God with shouts and songs of praise and adoration. 

The reality in John’s day, of course, was that Christians were being persecuted, and his letter, The Revelation, was meant to be an encouragement to the churches in what is now modern day Turkey.  His gift to them in his letter was a picture of heaven and with it, an invitation to imagine more vividly heaven’s reality, especially in the midst of persecution and trial.  John of Patmos could have written this in his introduction:  “Here you go, churches!  A glimpse of heaven!  Read it and remember that there are thin places everywhere!" 

Today we celebrate All Saints Day, a cause in our tradition to remember the saints who’ve gone before us—heroes in the faith like the apostle John, and also like your grandmother, the one who prayed with you when you were young and who shared the gospel through her character and kindness.  Today we remember the saints, especially the ones we’ve lost most recently.  We remember today those who were connected to this family of faith—saints like Ann Ikner, who shared God’s generous hospitality with a hot cup of coffee and a Danish, served to you on her fancy china plates.  Today we remember saints like John Eifert, who created thin places when he snuggled with his grandkids on the couch and cheered with them for the Packers.  The saints are with us today in memory and spirit, and so we remember Barbara Perkins, her humor and her grace.  We remember Adolph Wagner and his life partnership with Jean. 

This morning we remember parents that we’ve lost… family members… siblings, children… good friends… and we recall the stories that continue to surround them and infuse our lives with meaning and purpose.  They join all who have journeyed on before us—saints who have lived in the faith and whose presence lives on with God as they too join a heavenly chorus, singing, “Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honor and power and might be to our God forever and ever!”

What we treasure most in the lives of those saints, I would guess, are the glimpses of heaven that they revealed to us.  That’s what saints do for us, at least in part.  With kindness and hospitality, with laughter and integrity, with openheartedness and open-mindedness, the saints show us glimpses of heaven.  And it is because of those saints who have blessed our lives so richly that we are in turn able to bless one another, for we, the people of God, live on with saintly purpose and direction.

Let us give thanks for the saints this day.  Please join me as we share in our Liturgy for All Saints Day…

One:    What shall separate us from the love of Christ?  Shall tribulation or distress? Or persecution or famine?  Or nakedness or peril or sword?

All:      No.  For we are sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

One:    Loving God, this day, we remember those saints whose lives have shaped your love in us, those who have given us joy and direction, those whose journeys have come to you.  Hear us, loving God, as we name aloud, and in our hearts, those saints of whom we are mindful this day…

Holy God, we give thanks for the saints who have blessed our lives with your gifts of love and grace.

1.  I got the idea for this sermon's title and this particular note about "thin places" in Scotland from a sermon, "Glimpsing Heaven in Thin Places," delivered by the Rev. Dr. Nora Tubbs Tisdale, professor of homiletics at Yale Divinity School.