Lectionary Commentaries for November 1, 2026
All Saints Day

Early in its history, the church began setting aside individual days to honor individual saints and martyrs. In the fourth century, different regions of the church also began commemorating all the saints and martyrs on a single occasion.¹ In 735, Pope Gregory III set November 1 as the date for this festival in the diocese of Rome, and a century later, Gregory IV extended the celebration to the whole Western church. Similarly, various regions of the church observed different prayer days for their own deceased members until, in the 10th century, monasteries began offering special prayers and psalms for all the dead on November 2, which came to be known as All Souls Day.

During the Reformation, Protestants rejected the veneration of and prayers to saints, redefining “saints,” for the most part, as all believers made holy in Christ (based on Paul’s address of hagioi in his letters). Thus, most Protestant denominations have since combined the two observances into All Saints Day on November 1, when congregations remember and celebrate their dead—especially those who died in the previous year.

The beatitudes have been associated with All Saints Day since the medieval period because interpreters saw them as naming both the virtues and the rewards of the holy. The blessings open Matthew’s ethical discourse, the Sermon on the Mount (chapters 5–7). The ethic Matthew portrays Jesus presenting in the discourse is practical, idealistic, and eschatological all at the same time.

Following the narrative introduction to the discourse in verses 1–2, the beatitudes (verses 3–12) serve as Jesus’s opening address to the audience. But these are no throwaway lines. They are filled with rich, evocative ambiguity and draw on the language of First Testament texts such as Isaiah 61:1–11 and Psalms 37:11; 24:3–4; and 107:9. They share paraenetic language like that in 1 Peter 1:8, 22; 2:10; 3:4, 11, 14; 4:13, 14. Perhaps most importantly, however, the blessings are thoroughly apocalyptic in ways that sound foreign to our contemporary ears.

Indeed, so strange are they that we tend to domesticate them by treating them as imperatives for how to live a blessed, spiritual, even “saintly” life. Note, however, that with the exception of the final verse calling the hearers to rejoice, none of the verbs in the Beatitudes are imperatives. They are not “if… then…” statements (such as “If they become poor in spirit, then theirs is the reign of heaven”). They are all declarative statements.

As the climax of the section in verses 10–11 shows, Matthew writes to an audience oppressed and persecuted for its faith, and the indicative mood serves a prophetic, pastoral function with an eschatological slant. This certainly fits the traditional theme of honoring martyrs for the faith on All Saints Day (as does the blessing on those who mourn in verse 4).

One might be tempted to preach an eight-point sermon, giving time to each of the beatitudes, but of course this is impossible. Two other homiletical strategies are perhaps more useful. First, one can offer an overview of the beatitudes and then zoom in on one of them. Given the liturgical context of All Saints’ Day, the most obvious focus would be verse 4 or verses 10–12. But given particular congregational contexts and the individuals being honored, one of the other beatitudes may be more important.

Second, one can focus on the paradoxical, eschatological nature of the blessings overall. This approach will also serve well to set up the gospel lections from Matthew’s eschatological discourse appointed for the final three weeks of the liturgical year.

Different pastors, different congregations, and different individuals within those congregations will have varying understandings of the eschatological outlook Matthew offers. It is probably safe to say that people are generally confused about what the reign of heaven means, often collapsing it into the way they understand eternal life “in heaven.” Matthew, however, juxtaposes the advent of the reign of heaven brought about by the Christ event with the reign of Caesar. In this sense, the beatitudes put flesh on the prayer later in the Sermon on the Mount that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven. These blessings offer a view of God’s desire for the well-being of all, especially those who suffer, in the here and now.

But Matthew’s community knew what we know. While we have already experienced God’s salvific and providential care in so many ways, God’s will is not yet fully manifested throughout creation. We see this already/not yet character of Matthew’s apocalyptic worldview especially in the two sides of each beatitude. Jesus speaks the blessing in the present tense: “Blessed are _________…” Yet the rationale for why Jesus’s addressees are presently blessed appears in the future tense: “…for they will _________.”

Matthew heightens the paradox of this already/not yet eschatological state of Christian existence by presenting Jesus as using the present tense in the rationale for two of the beatitudes, when the promise is that “theirs is the reign of heaven” in verses 3 and 10. The two instances serve as an inclusio around the future-tense blessings. Theirs is (already) the reign of God, and they will (yet) be comforted, inherit the earth, be filled, receive mercy, see God, and be called children of God.

Preaching this second approach on All Saints Day invites sermonic imagery portraying those who have died in Christ (both historically and in the past year) as having experienced—and those of us alive now as still experiencing—the Christian life as a blessing amid the ongoing difficult and troubling realities of human existence.

Notes

1. This essay is adapted from the interpretation I present in Matthew. Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries (Fortress, 2013)

On All Saints Day the church does some memory work together. A congregation may take the time to recite the names of those who have died in the past year. A name is read; someone strikes a bell while another lights a candle. Silence follows, and then the next name is read. There might also be candles at different prayer stations around the worship space, offering worshippers the chance to light one in memory of some “saint” in their lives.

Worship on this day reminds the church that we are connected and included in a great company of God’s people in every age and generation. It proclaims through liturgy and sermon that we are not alone or isolated in God’s time. This is important spiritual work in a time like we are living in now.

At times we feel we are drowning in consumerism with highly produced messages designed to appeal to our individual tastes and desires. The individual is seduced into thinking that one’s self is the center of everything and that gratification in the present is all that matters. The memory work we do in worship on All Saints Day is countercultural. Remembering saints in the present and the past helps the church look through and beyond a chaotic, self-absorbed present into the future with hope.

Consider this essay then as an invitation to let this text support the proclamation of the gospel today. Don’t look past it this time. Granted, a text like this presses upon and stretches the preacher’s imagination and, at best, intimidates the listener with its obscure symbols, numbers, and allusions. There’s not enough time in one sermon, of course, to address all the distortions that have put stress on this text’s capacity to speak a clear word. Why is it even here? Why bother with it? We bother with it because it bothers us; it’s rather like a nag in a conversation trying to get our attention.

Giving attention to this text is more like going to a museum than going into the study surrounded by books. It’s rather like turning into a room where ancient artifacts are on display. Imagine that across one wall, behind some glass that preserves its color and texture, is a tapestry called “The Apocalypse of John.”

Perhaps you’ve seen other tapestries in such places. Tapestries in ancient Egypt depict the victory of a Pharaoh over some enemy using the “language” of images. The Bayeux tapestry in France features the victory of William the Conqueror in the Battle of Hastings in 1066. There are tapestries that depict Sitting Bull’s victory over Custer in the Battle of the Greasy Grass (Little Big Horn). Likewise, the Apocalypse of John depicts a cosmic victory that is to come: God’s victory over the enemies of humanity as told through a language of symbols.

Left on our own, the imagery in tapestries like this can be overwhelming. To keep the viewer from getting lost in the images, it’s helpful to have a guide to direct our attention to some details. Unfortunately, the only guides to Revelation often come from “television series, Hollywood movies, and trade paperbacks, and radio shows that exploit consumers’ spiritual greed and mortal fear.”¹ The right guide can make all the difference!

On a recent visit to an art museum in Denver, I walked through a special collection of paintings by Claude Monet. One group nearby was accompanied by an art historian who was serving as an interpreter of the paintings. I slowed down to overhear their questions and discussions. As the group stood before a painting, he would ask them, “Tell me what you see,” and after some response, he’d ask, “In a word or two, how does the painting make you feel?” Then he’d lead them deeper into the experience of the painting by pointing out some things they might have missed. The interpreter’s presence led the viewers to a greater appreciation for Monet’s art.

The trouble with Revelation is that we get impatient and want to rush past the images and the feelings to get to the meaning. Why not stand in front of the images in this text and consider that guide’s instruction: ‘’Tell me what you see.” Hidden in the English word “revelation,” or “apocalypse,” is the word “unveiling.” What’s revealed is an image of a “great multitude”; it is humanity as it really is “from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” (verse 9). There’s movement before a throne in the image. The ocean of people are dressed in robes and are waving palm branches.

Now the senses are more fully engaged. We’ve been in crowds before and know what it is like to be caught up in celebrations that take us out of ourselves! We know what it is like to be caught up in songs, moved even to sing along. We might have waved some palms before, but certainly we’ve waved our hands and swayed our bodies to music!

Letting the images guide our reading of this text helps us to identify with it. Someone, an elder, asks the question you’ve wanted to ask: “Who are these robed in white, and where have they come from?” (verse 13). The response is “Sir, you are the one who knows!” But you also know, don’t you? You’ve begun to see familiar faces in that great multitude, perhaps the face of someone you lit a candle for in the service.

Standing in front of this “tapestry-as-text” with patience helps us to see what the author saw: that there is a place of blessedness beyond the ordeals of suffering that human beings endure. The ones in robes on the other side are telling us who to thank: “Salvation belongs to our God who is seated on the throne and to the Lamb!” (verse 9). Through some mystery God has worked through the death and resurrection of Jesus, God has opened a portal for what lies in store for God’s people, a place “by the springs of the water of life, [where] God will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (verse 17).

Notes

1. Barbara Brown Taylor, “Homiletical Perspective,” in Feasting on the Word, Year A, vol.. 4, ed. David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor (Westminster John Knox, 2011), 219.

Psalm 34 is classified as an Individual Hymn of Thanksgiving.¹

Fifteen individual Hymns of Thanksgiving occur in the book of Psalms. In them, psalm singers give thanks to God for deliverance from various life-threatening situations: illness, enemies, and dangers. Two aspects of Psalm 34 intrigue this reader.

First, the superscription of the psalm places it within a particular life situation of King David: “when he feigned madness before Abimelech, so that he drove him out, and he went away.” The only story in the biblical text that might be associated with Psalm 34’s superscription is found in 1 Samuel 21:10–15. There, David fled from Saul and went to King Achish—not Abimelech—at Gath. But Achish recognized him and David was afraid for his life, so he feigned madness to disguise his true identity.

Ascertaining a specific historical event in the life of David in which to place Psalm 34 is not as important as using the setting to gain insight into the meaning and intent of the psalm. In Psalm 34, David praises God for deliverance from a life-threatening situation—perhaps his encounter with King Achish of Gath, later remembered as Abimelech.

Second, Psalm 34 is an alphabetic acrostic. Each verse begins with a successive letter of the Hebrew alphabet. Acrostic poems were the works of highly skilled literary artists and functioned in ancient Israelite literature in a number of ways.

Acrostics were most likely memory devices to aid in private and public—that is, individual and corporate—recitation; in addition, literarily, they summarized all that could be said or that needed to be said about a particular subject, summing it up from alif to tav, from A to Z. Adele Berlin suggests further that in an acrostic, the entire alphabet—the source of all words—is marshaled in praise of God. One cannot actually use all of the words in a language, but by using the alphabet, one uses all potential words.

Thus, Psalm 34 is an individual hymn of thanksgiving of David sung on the occasion of the deliverance of his very life by God, perhaps as the ultimate word about God’s help to those who are in need (a summary of all that could be said about God’s help in the face of oppression and hurt). Readers and hearers, then, should heed the words of Psalm 34, a song of thanksgiving for deliverance, and find in them hope for deliverance from various oppressive situations. In Psalm 34:1–8, the psalmist first offers praise to God:

I will bless the LORD at all times;
his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
My soul makes its boast in the LORD (verses 1–2).

Blessing and praising God are common themes in the Psalter. The word “bless” comes from the same root as the Hebrew word “knee.” Thus, to bless is literally “to bend the knee”—to kneel before a sovereign. The words “praise” and “boast” come from the same Hebrew root word, the word that occurs in the phrase “hallelujah.” Thus, praise will be in the mouth of psalmist, while the psalmist’s inmost being (here translated as “soul”) finds its praise (“boasts”) in the Lord.

The psalm singer then states the reasons for offering praise to God:

I sought the LORD and he answered me,
and delivered me from all my fears. (verse 4)

This poor soul cried, and was heard by the LORD,
and was saved from every trouble. (verse 6)

Two more common themes of the Psalter occur in these verses. God delivers (natsal) and God saves (yashah) the psalm singer when the singer cries out to God. The two verbs are similar in meaning but carry slightly different nuances of meaning.

Natsal suggests a “snatching away” or “pulling away.” Thus, we may picture God plucking the psalmist out of the midst of fears and moving the psalmist to a safer place. Yashah means “to take full care of” or “to help,” suggesting that God enters the troubled situation of the psalmist and cares for the psalmist in the midst of the trouble. Note that the word “soul” occurs in verse 6, just as it does in verse 2. The inmost being (soul) of the psalmist cried out to God and was cared for (verse 6) and thus finds its praise (boasts) in the Lord.

Finally, the singer exhorts hearers/readers to join in praise of God’s deliverance with words of admonition:

O magnify the LORD with me,
and let us exalt his name together. (verse 3)

Look to him, and be radiant;
so your faces shall never be ashamed. (verse 5)

The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him,
and delivers them.
O taste and see that the LORD is good;
happy are those who take refuge in him. (verses 7–8)

The words of verse 8 are familiar words, but what does it mean to “taste and see” the goodness of the Lord? The word translated as “taste” means “to try something by experiencing it.” The psalm singer admonishes readers/hearers to try God’s goodness for themselves and experience it as one would taste a new food. The word is used in the same metaphoric way in Job 11:12 and Proverbs 31:18.

Tasting is one of our five senses. Seeing is another. We see the goodness of God powerfully displayed in the created world. Recall that in Genesis 1, after each creative act, God “saw” that it was good. And at the end of the creation story, God saw that creation was not just good, but that it was “very good.” Psalm 34 encourages us to experience God for ourselves and to open our eyes and see the goodness of God that is all around us.

Verse 8 ends with the words “Happy are those who take refuge in him.” The word translated here as “take refuge” means “to hide oneself.” This writer pictures a small child wrapped up in its parent’s arms—protected, warm, loved. The result? Happiness.

The word “happy” occurs some 25 times in the Psalter (see 1:1; 2:12; 41:1; 65:4; 112:1, et cetera.). Some translations render the word as “blessed,” others as “happy.” Another option for translation is “content.” Taking refuge in God—being protected, warm, and loved—can result in a deep, inner sense of contentment, a feeling in the very depth of your being that all is well. Content, indeed, are those who allow themselves to be wrapped up in the arms of God.

Notes

1. Commentary first published on this website for November 6, 2011.

On All Saints Day we remember those who have passed away in the faith. Some churches will read aloud the names of people who have passed either this year or in the memory of their congregation. Others may pause for a time of silent remembrance. Our remembering is not just calling to mind or holding those we loved in our hearts, it is an act of hope, for we remember as Christians who believe in the resurrection of the dead. John assumes his readers know and are familiar with Jesus’s resurrection and the resurrection of believers. This assumption provides the framework for his word of encouragement.

What does it mean to be called children of God in 1 John? First John is rich with familial language. The author identifies God as Father and Jesus as God’s Son and indicates that believers have fellowship with both the Father and the Son (1:3). He describes believers as being brothers and sisters (2:9–11) and envisions a family life in which believers confess their sins and receive forgiveness (1:9), obey the commandments of Jesus (2:3), love their fellow believers (2:10), and reject the ways of the world (2:15). And then in 1 John 3:1 he writes, “See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called the children of God; and that is what we are.”

The word “see” is an imperative: “Look!” or “Behold!” What are they to look at? The Father. What kind of Father is he? The kind who has already given (perfect tense) great love. This love includes the gift of his Son, the forgiveness of sins, and the promise of eternal life. The result of looking at and receiving the great love of the Father is being called “children of God.” But this isn’t just what they are called; rather, it is who they are. Their true identity is offspring of the Father, those who belong to him.

In the Greco-Roman world, parentage mattered. Children gained honor and status in relationship to their fathers. Those who came from high-status families like those of Caesar, the senatorial or equestrian classes, had higher status than those who came from lowly fathers like freedmen or slaves. To be children of God is to hold a high position that they did not earn or deserve but that simply comes to be out of the gift of God’s love.

The Greco-Roman world also placed expectations on their children. The father was the head of the family, and children, especially sons, were expected to demonstrate loyalty and obedience to their fathers and to uphold the values of the family. So, too, the children of God resemble their Father. They share in his holiness and righteousness (2:29) and show their faithfulness to the Father through their obedience to his commands.

However, unlike the Greco-Roman world, where high-status children were known and privileged because of the status of their fathers, 1 John indicates that “the world” (those who are not believers in Jesus) does not recognize the children of God. The reason they don’t recognize them is because they do not know God. Their failure to recognize the children stems from their failure to recognize the Father. Despite the failure of unbelievers to recognize them as children of God, that is indeed what those who have fellowship with God are right now—children of God.

John moves from pondering their current identity as God’s children to considering what they will be in the future when Jesus Christ is fully revealed in the second coming. He indicates that he doesn’t know exactly what Christians will experience in that new reality. On All Saints Day when we remember those who have gone before us in the faith, it is tempting to imagine what their life with God looks like right now, but we don’t and can’t fully know. What we do know is that there will come a day when Christ is fully revealed. And when that happens, the children of the Father will look like the true Son.

John Stott, in the Tyndale Commentary, puts it this way: “It is enough for us to know that on the last day and through eternity we shall be both with Christ and like Christ; for the fuller revelation of what we are going to be we are content to wait.”¹ This anticipation of what will be in all its glory and fullness gives the children of God hope as they await the coming of Jesus.

Those who hope, who anticipate eternal life with the Father through Christ, purify themselves. This is one of the ways the children of God resemble their Father: They share in God’s purity. First John has already made clear that they do this by confessing their sins, receiving forgiveness, and refraining from lying and from hateful behavior toward others. They also care for those who are needy and love those around them. In this way Christians reflect the light, love, truth, and purity of God.

On All Saints Day, we remember that we are children of God and that, as God’s children, we have an invitation to be like our Father and to become like his Son. We don’t know with certainty what eternal life looks like for our brothers and sisters who have already entered the presence of God. But we do know that we are God’s children and that there will come a day when we are made even more like him. Until that day, we can live with hope for those who are already with God and for ourselves. And as we await that day, we are challenged to live in ways that reflect the purity of God.

Further Reading

David DeSilva, Honor, Shame, Kinship, and Purity: Unlocking New Testament Culture, IVP, 2^nd ed. (IVP Academic, 2022).

Notes

1. John Stott, The Letters of John, Tyndale New Testament Commentaries (IVP Academic, 2009), 123.