Lectionary Commentaries for November 2, 2025
All Saints Sunday (Year C)

While perhaps less familiar than the Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5–7, Luke’s more compact version, set on “a level place” (6:17), like its Matthean cousin, sets forth Jesus’ bold vision of life and community that expresses the values and commitments of God’s reign. After an all-night prayer session, Jesus has just chosen 12 among his disciples to be specially commissioned apostles (verses 12–16). Now a large crowd assembles, seeking both healing of sickness and the opportunity to listen to a master teacher (verses 17–19).

Initially addressing the disciples (verse 20), the discourse also speaks more broadly to “you who are listening” (verse 27 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition), culminating in an appeal to hear what Jesus says and to embody it in practice (verses 46–49). The portion of the discourse that forms the lection for the day concludes with the “golden rule” imperative of acting toward others as we would want to be treated ourselves (verse 31; see also Matthew 7:12). As the rest of the discourse shows, this is not a matter of simple reciprocal exchange but instead a grace that treats even different—and difficult—others with unreciprocated kindness.

Topsy-turvy blessing

The passage begins with a balanced set of four declarations of blessing or good fortune (beatitudes) and woe or misfortune (Luke 6:20–26; the longer version of nine beatitudes in Matthew 5:3–12 lacks Luke’s corresponding woes). 

The four declarations of blessing are performative speech: Jesus’ word creates the reality that he is announcing. This is what Jesus’ mission does! So it is characteristic of Luke’s narrative that salvation or deliverance in its various forms—healing, welcome, forgiveness, release from oppression—is said to happen “today” (4:21; 5:26; 19:5, 9; 23:43; see also 2:11; 11:3; 13:16, 32–33; 17:20–21). The full realization of God’s reign lies in the still-awaited future, yet the community of God’s people is called to live even now by the pattern Jesus presents here.

Unlike Matthew’s third-person beatitudes, the entire set of blessings and woes in Luke is cast in the second-person plural “you.” The disciples—and we who listen with them—are addressed directly and intimately. This is about us! And what we hear is a stunningly countercultural vision of the life of those who follow Jesus, of life and relationship within the realm of God. The reversals are extreme:

• Not those who enjoy abundant resources but “you” who are impoverished command a place—even now—in God’s realm (6:20, 24).
• The circumstance of the well-nourished and “you” who experience hunger will be reversed (verses 21a, 25a).
• Grief-laden tears will yield to joyful laughter, while persons who experience delight now will weep (verses 21b, 25b). 
• The situations of those who are despised and beaten now because of their association with Jesus and those who enjoy public favor will likewise be reversed (verses 22–23, 26). 

Mary’s song (the Magnificat) near the beginning of the Gospel announced the dramatic role reversals that God’s activity effects (1:46–55), and Jesus’ mission from its outset proceeds to enact this topsy-turvy reign of God—in bold declaration (for example, 4:16–27 and 9:46–48), acts of healing (for example, 13:10–17), social exchange (for example, 14:11–24), and parable (for example, Lazarus and the rich man in 16:19–31). 

The parable featuring the reversal of roles for Lazarus and his rich counterpart serves as an especially poignant metaphorical enactment of the blessings and woes announced by Jesus in 6:20–26. In our world today, the proximity of great wealth to crushing poverty is all too real. What would it mean if faith communities that seek to follow the way of Jesus stepped in as witnesses to and co-agents of God’s blessing, of God’s provision, for persons in desperate need?

A radical call to love even enemies

Verse 27 shifts to the imperative mood. A string of imperative verbs continues through verse 31: Love, do good, bless, pray, offer (your other cheek), don’t withhold (your shirt), give, don’t ask (for the return of what is yours), do! With the directives to “bless those who curse you,” to “pray for those who mistreat you,” to offer the other cheek, to add one’s shirt to the seized coat (verses 27–30), Jesus is not commending passive submission to abuse. Instead, he advocates a nonviolent, non-retaliatory resistance that deflects public dishonor to those who mistreat one. In a culture that, at least for elite males, tied identity, status, and honor to the ability to exert control over others, this is provocatively countercultural teaching. It is no less countercultural, no less provocative, today. 

That said, it is critical to name and oppose an all-too-common—and dangerous—appropriation of texts such as this that shackles persons abused by (for example) spouses, partners, or parents without escape or recourse to protection. The promise of future (eschatological) blessing that “redeems” and therefore leaves unremedied the wounding of the present is empty.

The radical claim of the passage is perhaps most stark in the call Jesus issues to “love your enemies” (verse 27). The command is remarkable, and it receives added emphasis through its repetition a few verses later (verse 35). How might God’s people in our present, conflict-torn world—and neighborhoods, and families, and (yes) churches—dare to imagine living by this vision? 

This is assuredly not the way the world operates; it is not a comfortable or safe path to walk. We are much more familiar with self-preservation strategies that prioritize our own safety and comfort, perhaps even at the expense of others’ flourishing. We expect to see harm answered with retaliation and revenge. Yet, what is the endgame for cycles of harm and vengeance, writ so large in our own time? There is no soft and easy message to proclaim from this text. It is the sort of message that could get one crucified by the empire. On All Saints Sunday, though, it is perhaps worth remembering those saints across the centuries who have dared to love enemies, even at great personal cost.

Daniel 7, an apocalyptic vision of the end of human history, is a challenging text for both the preacher and the person in the pew. The Bible’s apocalyptic texts, whether in Daniel or Revelation, have a wild and untamed quality that makes them hard to handle.

The lectionary divides this chapter in such a way that it seems like the heart of the passage has been excised. But even these few verses from Daniel’s central vision might inspire confusion and distress. Apocalyptic visions transport the reader from the mundane world to the fantastical realm of the heavens, where God and the heavenly host clash with hostile forces. They confront the preacher with difficult symbols that defy simple interpretation. They locate the reader in a timescape that moves back and forth between past, future, and present, thus upending our linear sense of time. All of these elements can have a profoundly disorienting effect.

Moreover, apocalyptic ideas have spawned a complex legacy of interpretation. In the 1950s, German New Testament scholar Ernst Käsemann asserted that apocalypticism was the womb of Christian theology. This tradition has been used to shape a vision of a redemptive future, which in turn has inspired movements for change. But a wide array of Christian scholars and communities have treated apocalyptic ideas with deep suspicion because apocalyptic language “seems particularly prone to reactionary ideological distortion and violence.”¹

The preacher should also be aware of congregants who were raised with theologies in which the end times were imminent, creating a profound fear that they might be “left behind.” Lay people and students alike have shared stories of this kind with me as they talked about deconstructing and reconstructing their faith.

In the earlier chapters of the book, Daniel, a Jewish wise man trained in dream interpretation, is called upon to interpret the dreams of the Babylonian kings. In this chapter, however, Daniel shifts from being the interpreter to being the dreamer. He finds himself in the heavenly throne room, where he sees a cosmic conflict between the winds of heaven and the great sea and four beasts. His skills in dream interpretation fail him, and distress and terror overtake him.

We all know from our own experiences that the dream world is a dynamic and unstable place that frequently produces confusion, even when the dream is not a nightmare. In the ancient world, as sometimes in the modern one, dreams were viewed as revelatory, but they required scrutiny and an interpretive framework.

Cosmic conflict

What we learn from the interpreting angel is that the cosmic conflict is nothing less than God’s hidden work of managing the brutal empires and tyrants of the world. The biblical writers often use beasts to symbolize the destructive power of ancient Near Eastern empires. The imagery used in verses 4–8 of a lion (Babylonians), a bear (Medes), a leopard (Persians), and an unidentified fourth animal (Greeks) highlights the monstrous and predatory nature of these empires.

The description of the fourth animal—identified by scholars as the empire descending from Alexander the Great—is especially negative. This point of view might be surprising. Our Western educational systems usually idealize Alexander’s achievements and legacy. But the writers of Daniel were trying to survive amid the cultural and military violence of the Seleucid kings, especially Antiochus IV (circa 175–164 BCE), who carried out Alexander’s program of colonization.

The visions in this book repeatedly chart the rise and fall of political powers. But throughout these cycles, God had been working to create an eternal kingdom, one that would differ completely from the earthly kingdoms of the past. In verse 18, the Most High inaugurates this kingdom and gives it to God’s faithful community.

The term “holy ones” needs some further explanation. In the Old Testament, the word used here almost always refers to angelic beings like Gabriel and Uriel, who will be named later in the book. The holy ones comprise the divine court and do the work of the Most High. But according to apocalyptic logic, events in heaven find their reflection in earthly events and people. Thus, when the holy ones receive the eternal kingdom from God, the vision signals that God is empowering the faithful on earth (see verse 27). The oppression, injustice, and arrogance of tyrants will come to an end, once and for all, at a time of God’s choosing.

The holy ones of the Most High

So, what does it mean for the holy ones to receive the kingdom? Or in other words, what are the people of God supposed to do with this vision? Over the past two millennia, interpreters have sometimes read this vision as evidence that God has anointed a political leader or party in the present to do the divine will on earth. Take, for example, the English Puritans who were led by Oliver Cromwell in the mid-1600s. They believed themselves to be the holy ones of Daniel 7 who were inaugurating God’s new monarchy. They used this chapter to legitimize military revolution.²

Hindsight shows us that such attempts to identify a political leader who is God’s own person almost always end up in violence and corruption. Instead, readers do well to follow Daniel’s example. So much of what Daniel does in this and the subsequent chapters of the book involves paying attention: searching, studying, and discerning. Daniel repeatedly says, “I kept watching,” throughout the chapter.

Each of these occurrences signals an important change in the dream sequence. Daniel continues to search for wisdom by asking for clarification (verse 16), rereading the prophets (9:2), and praying (9:4). He seeks out patterns of God’s actions in Israel’s history to discern God’s actions in his own time. He sees and records the Most High’s work, hidden in history, to restore justice and deliver the faithful. Like many of us, Daniel also seeks certainty regarding the distressing events he witnesses, but this will continue to elude both him and us.

All Saints Day

The lectionary assigns this reading to All Saints Day, and one might wonder what connection brings them together.

The word “saint” is linguistically related to the word for holy ones (7:18), through the Latin translation of the Bible. The celebration of All Saints Day reminds us that the Christian community reaches beyond the present and connects us with both the past and the future. It looks backward to celebrate the work of the faithful, both known and unknown, who labored for justice and righteousness. It reminds us that the faithful in the present are laboring for a future that is unknown to us. Perhaps most importantly, All Saints Day reminds us that we are never alone and never left behind.

Notes

1. Ry O Siggelkow, “Ernst Käsemann and the Specter of Apocalyptic,” Theology Today 75, no. 1 (2018): 40, https://doi.org/10.1177/0040573618763575.
2. Carol A. Newsom and Brennan Breed, Daniel: A Commentary (Westminster John Knox, 2014), 245.

Psalm 149 is the fourth of the five “Final Hallel” psalms (Psalms 146–150) that form the closing doxology of the Hebrew Psalter.¹

It begins and ends with “Praise the LORD!,” as do the other four Final Hallel psalms, but it seems somewhat out of place in this collection of psalms, since its focus is on God’s vengeance on the nations in defense of God’s people. In The Message of the Psalms, Walter Brueggemann states simply, “I do not know what to make of this, for it is quite unexpected in the hymns.”²

The tone of the first four verses of the psalm is much in keeping with the tone of the other Final Hallel psalms. In Psalm 149:1, the psalm singer calls on the “assembly of the faithful” to “sing to the LORD a new song.” The word translated “faithful” is hasidiym, formed from the word hesed, which refers to the covenant faithfulness between God and the people of Israel. Those who honor the covenant established between Israel and God are thus called to “sing.” The call to sing a “new song” occurs as well in Psalms 96 and 98 and, in each instance of its occurrence, seems to refer to some sort of new beginning or new insight into the relationship between God and the people.

Psalm 149:1–3 are filled with images of singing, celebrating, and dancing—“a new song” and “praise” in verse 1; “glad” and “rejoice” in verse 2; “praise,” “dancing,” “making melody” in verse 3. Singing and dancing were common parts of cultic activity in the ancient Near East. In Exodus 15, Miriam “took a tambourine in her hand” and all the women followed, “with tambourines and with dancing.” In 2 Samuel 6:14, we read that when the ark of the covenant was being brought into Jerusalem, “David danced before the LORD with all his might.” According to 1 Chronicles 25:4–6, David appointed temple musicians, like the sons and daughters of Heman, who were “under the direction of their father for the music in the house of the LORD with cymbals, harps, and lyres for the service of the house of God.”

Psalm 149:4 announces the twofold reason for praise. First, the Lord takes pleasure (rasah) in his people. The word means as well to “be favorable to, be well disposed toward.” Second, the Lord “adorns [pa’ar] the humble with victory.” The word comes from an Egyptian loanword that means “headdress, head wrap,” and is used to describe the head coverings of upper-class women of Jerusalem in Isaiah 3:20, priests in Exodus 39:28 and Ezekiel 44:18, and a bridegroom in Isaiah 61:10. Here is a wonderful picture of God rewarding the humble (the Hebrew word is also used to describe the “poor”) with the trappings of victory over those who oppress them. One commentator writes, “YHWH chooses the ‘poor,’ that is the despised, the oppressed, the powerless, and the degraded in order to reveal his glory in them and so to give them … honor and dignity.”³

Psalm 149:5–6 resume the call to praise begun in verses 1–3 and summon the faithful to “exult” and “sing for joy,” with the “high praises of God in their throats.” But in the middle of verse 6 comes a radical and disturbing shift in the tenor of the psalm. Along with the praise of God in their throats, the faithful are to have “two-edged swords in their hands, to execute vengeance on the nations.”

The word translated “vengeance” is from the Hebrew root naqam, and may be defined as “an invocation of judgment, calamity, or curse uttered against one’s enemies, or the enemies of God.” While it is used in the biblical text in reference to human revenge, most often it is used in speaking about the vengeance of God upon those who violate the basic order and balance of the created world. In Psalm 149 this divine prerogative is meted out to the “faithful.” Verse 9 gives the reason for the vengeance outlined in the previous verses: “to execute on them the judgment decreed.” The word translated “decreed” is “written” in Hebrew, likely referring to the instructions written in the Torah regarding right living in relation with others and God.

The idea of vengeance is difficult for many 21st-century Christians to embrace. James Mays reminds us that the vengeance called for in Psalm 149 is not “the emotion of a hate reaction but in the sphere of legal custom. Vengeance was an act to enforce or restore justice where the regular legal processes were not competent or had failed.”⁴ And the Old Testament tells us repeatedly that vengeance is not the prerogative of the people, but belongs to God (see Deuteronomy 32:35–36; Jeremiah 46:10; and Psalms 94:1 and 99:8). The end of verse 9 declares that the “judgment decreed” upon the nations, peoples, kings, and nobles is the “glory” for the faithful.

The words of Psalm 149 have been used to incite and justify war against those deemed to be the enemies of God. It was used to provoke the Peasant Revolt in Germany in the 16th century and to call the Roman Catholics to a holy war against the Protestants, beginning the Thirty Years War in the 17th century. The author of the book of Hebrews writes, however, that “the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword” (Hebrews 4:12). As Christians today seek God’s justice in the world, words can be a powerful weapon in the hands of the “faithful” against those who cause or allow others to suffer injustice.

Notes

1. Commentary previously published on this website for November 3, 2019.
2. Walter Brueggemann, The Message of the Psalms: A Theological Commentary (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1984), 166.
3. Frank-Lothar Hossfeld and Erich Zenger, Psalms 3, Hermeneia, ed. Klaus Baltzer, trans. Linda M. Maloney (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2011), 650.
4. James L. Mays, Psalms, Interpretation, ed. James L. Mays (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1994), 302–3.

Commentary for this text is forthcoming.