Sixth Sunday of Easter
May 14, 2023

I Believe... in the Communion of Saints

A Sermon Series on the Apostles' Creed

Matt Helms
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 31:1–5, 23–24
Romans 12:4–18

This Sunday marks the twelfth week in our thirteen-week series through the Apostles’ Creed, hard as that is to believe. And today, coming on the heels of “I believe in the holy catholic church,” we arrive at a curious phrase: “I believe in the communion of saints.”

This is actually one of the few statements in the Apostles’ Creed that doesn’t appear in the creed’s earliest versions. It isn’t believed to have been added until the fifth century, coming from the writings of a bishop named Nicetas, but soon appearing in every formulation of the creed thereafter. Hearing the word communion almost certainly evokes the sacrament for most of us, but interestingly this phrase “communion of the saints” isn’t referring to the elements themselves but the very spirit behind our Communion meal.

One of the ways of understanding Communion — something that is shared across denominations — is that in Communion the lines between past, present, and future are blurred; that whenever we share the bread and cup together we are not only remembering Christ’s final night with the disciples but also professing the future promises of God’s kingdom to come, even as we share the meal in a particular moment in a particular community.

And as part of that liturgy, we are reminded that we are part of a much wider family of faith, united not only with Christians around the globe but with all those who have come before us and all those who will come after us. That is the understanding of communion being referenced in the Apostles’ Creed, referring to a wider family of faith. But with the word saints, I’m guessing some people may wonder if they even have a seat at the table at all.

I think if you asked most people what the word saint refers to, you’d hear descriptions of someone who lived an exceptionally holy life, so much so that they become honored and venerated with an official title. Those of you who grew up in the Catholic or Eastern Orthodox church will be familiar with that sort of veneration, ranging from early apostles like Saint Peter and Saint Paul to the saint title being given to popes or people who dedicated their entire lives to service, like Mother Teresa.

But as Nicetas wrote in the fifth century, and as the earliest church seems to attest in the language used in the New Testament, we are actually meant to understand that term saints a bit differently. We are not holy or blessed by what we do. Our holiness comes from our very identity of being beloved children of God, the exact thing we were celebrating in our baptisms this morning. In some ways, it is an extension of the “faith vs. works” and “grace vs. merit” debate that came out of the Reformation, and our Reformed and Presbyterian tradition is clear: every single one of us is part of that communion of saints, whether we like that term being used for us or not.

And I’ll be honest: I don’t really like it. I don’t often feel like a saint, even though I recognize the word just means I am a beloved child of God. But what I do appreciate about that word saint is that it inspires me and challenges me to live up to that high calling in my life, which is exactly what Paul is getting at in the passage from Romans that we just read. “Let love be genuine,” Paul wrote. “Hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good; love one another with mutual affection; outdo one another in showing honor. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Do not repay anyone evil for evil, but take thought for what is noble in the sight of all.”

One of the core beliefs of our Reformed tradition is recognizing that all of us ultimately fall short of those things, but that does not mean we should stop striving for them or trying to make them part of our reality. Because ultimately building our relationships with God and building our relationships with one another is central to what it means to be Christian and to be the church. Paul begins today’s passage with the same metaphor he once shared with the church in Corinth — that the church is one body with many members, that we are inextricably linked to one another. In Paul’s words, “We, who are many, are one body in Christ, and individually we are members one of another.” But what the Apostles’ Creed is reminding us is that that body is wider than just a single church family. We are tied and linked with all those who came before us, just as we are with all those who come after us.

There is something incredibly beautiful about recognizing we are part of a much wider tradition and witness than just our current context, because the reality is that every single one of us have been shaped by those who came before us, even those we never had the opportunity to know and meet. I’m named after my great-grandfather on my mom’s side, Matthew, but never had a chance to meet him. In fact, my mom barely even knew him. He passed away when she was less than a year old. Her primary memory was a story shared with her about the time he snuck spoonfuls of ice cream to her as an infant and the joy he took in the utter delight on her face. But even though I never met him in person, I certainly met the spirit he handed down — the spirit of playfulness I see in my own grandpa, the care and love that my mom surrounded me with.

We are deeply connected to all of those who came before us — previous generations who shaped us and our wider world in ways that we may not even fully recognize and understand. Every third Sunday in May, we observe Dedication Commemoration Sunday here at Fourth Church, remembering the dedication of this Sanctuary space 109 years ago and remembering the generations of people who have worshiped in this space and sought to live lives of faithful witness, both in their own lives and in how this church served the city and the wider world. As we recognized before the scripture, this second Sunday is Mother’s Day, and there are few relationships more formative than the one we have with our mother. And all of us are invariably products of our wider culture and the areas and times we grew up in, whether we seek to pass down what we received or, at times, push back against them.

Because those ties that bind us together are so powerful, we cannot ignore the fact that not everything that has been handed down to us is something positive. There are many who have been hurt by the church over the years; we grow up in cultures that pass down bias and prejudice, whether overtly or subtly. And, frankly, not everyone has a great, or even good, relationship with their mother. But while we are invariably tied to the people and culture who came before us, that does not mean we are completely bound to them.

There is a reason this phrase “communion of saints” appears in the section of the Apostles’ Creed related to the Holy Ghost, or the Holy Spirit. God’s Spirit is forever inspiring and guiding us into our future, asking us to listen in this very moment about who we are being called to be right now, both as individuals and as a church. And we do so trusting that the generations who come after us — from those who were just baptized to those fifth graders who received their Bibles — will continue that work. One day they too may be deacons or members of Session, wrestling with what they received from us and passing down their faith, helping influence a generation we may never even meet and yet with whom, we believe and trust, we are still closely tied.

As Walt Whitman wrote in his poem “O Me, O Life,” “The powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.” The powerful play does go on — with the communion of saints who have guided us and shaped us into this very moment and the promise of that next generation of saints who will continue to carry what we hand down to them. So if the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse, what will your verse be? What will our verse as a church be?

Whatever that verse is, I hope it is one that is grounded in hope and love. I hope that verse rejoices with those who rejoice and weeps with those who weep, that it holds fast to what is good and repays no person evil for evil. I hope that the world I leave behind — the world we leave behind — is more compassionate and caring; less defined by enmity, hatred, and violence and more defined by forgiveness, understanding, and love. I hope that our verse as a church is reminding every single person who comes through these doors that they are a beloved child of God and that they have been called by the Holy Spirit to witness to God’s love in this world. I hope that verse is not only telling people but truly showing them that no matter what their age or income level is or whatever their gender identity, sexual identity, or racial identity might be, they have a home here. I hope that verse works for the honor and dignity of all, works to make dreams and opportunities flourish, and has little tolerance for injustice. I hope that we embrace and honor our past but are not limited or bound by it, trusting that God’s spirit is always at work in our midst, calling us into our future in trust and hope, calling each of us to be witnesses to love’s power in this world.

I believe in the communion of saints: those seated next to you this morning, those participating in this service online right now, those upstairs in their Sunday School and youth classrooms, those who are gathering in congregations across our city, country, and world. I believe in communion with all those saints who have come before us and all those who will come after us — trusting that each of us has a verse to share in this powerful play — a vast multitude connected in one body through Jesus Christ our Lord.

And I believe that God is working in and around and through you today, reminding you that you are a saint, even if you may not feel like one and that whenever you choose to share or speak love, whenever you sow seeds of kindness and compassion, whenever you seek understanding or show grace you are witnessing to the one who first shared those things with us.

So thanks be to God for this wider communion of saints we are a part of, and may the Spirit continue to guide us in this season of our lives and all the seasons that lie ahead. Amen.

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church