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Green Blades Preaching Roundtable

Year A

All Saints Sunday

November 1, 2026

Rev. Dr. Melinda Quivik
Twin Cities, Minnesota

Revelation 7:9–17
Psalm 34:1–9, 22
1 John 3:1–32
Matthew 5:1–12

Jesus’ sermon of blessings (Matt 5:1–12) names nine characteristics familiar to pretty much everyone’s life as a human being, at least at some points. It would be tempting for a preacher to speak about just one or even two of the nine ways Jesus names us. We might want to focus on what it means to be meek and what Jesus means by “inherit the earth.” And that could be a good path for this sermon.

But to step back and look at all of them together and to find the bottom line (the heart of what ties them all together) might be more fruitful in this time of turmoil in our world. All the characteristics Jesus names––being poor in spirit, grieving, feeling meek, hungry, or being merciful, pure in heart, a peacemaker, persecuted, and vilified for faith––conjure up an orientation that seeks something that is lacking.  Dissatisfaction is rampant. My take is that Jesus looks out on people and a world that is yearning. Jesus locates blessing not in what we have, but in yearning for the world for which God also yearns, that world which Jesus came to make real.

Suffering is everywhere because all the realities we hear Jesus naming as aspects of human life are also found in the natural world. Animals experience pain and grief. Plants and creatures of all kinds know hunger and thirst. Violence is a daily threat for sentient beings and also for mountains cracked open by lava, waters made deadly from toxic chemicals, lakes whose replenishing streams dry up, air filled with wildfire smoke, and depleted grasslands that turn into deserts.

Peacemakers yearn for a peaceful world; they seek to make it such. Birds sit on nests of eggs to shelter their progeny from enemies yearning for little beaks to feed. Oysters know when to clam shut, to hide themselves in their desire to live. Monkeys groom each other, bonding into families who can stick together, fend for food, and keep warm. Many creatures mate for life, cementing stability to share responsibilities for the young. All of this and more points to movement toward what is needed but not prevalent: safety and the comfort of peace.

Might we entertain the idea that an ostrich or a cicada experiences their Maker or yearns to do so in some way? Maybe not seeing God face-to-face as Moses did, but perhaps by seeing God in themselves and in the rest of the natural world? Jesus says that the pure in heart will see God. Some of our fellow humans say that they see God in nature. We cannot presume what ostriches, bears, wolves, mosquitoes, or oceans see. But we can imagine something for which we have no shared language. As with the hosts robed in white around the throne of God (who suffered through “the great ordeal” and bled), it may be that in this world, the Creator not only wipes away their tears but also the tears of the elements and creatures who suffer from wildfires and avalanches, warming oceans and rising seas. They, too, yearn for wholeness, peace, plenty, and life itself. Might we also see God yearning and caring for all the creatures of this Earth and the elements?

Imagine whether we could include our fellow creatures and Earth forms among those Jesus sees as “blessed” because their lives express unfulfilled desires. We might apply Jesus’ blessings to our interactions with Earth and fellow earthlings and notice (even critique) the means we use to determine how best to live with and help to heal those who suffer. Is not our grief at the systematic devastations to the whole web of life a yearning for God’s creation to flourish? 

Pastor and scholar Eugene Peterson rephrases the beatitudes with some helpful twists of insight. Keep in mind that the Hebrew word for blessed is ashar, which means “to find the right road.” What is the right road for you and me? What is the right road for the trees and grasslands?

 

You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope.

With less of you there is more of God.

You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you.

Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are––no more, no less.

    That’s the moment you find yourself a proud owner of everything that can’t be bought.

You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God... [who is] the best food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

You’re blessed when you care.

At the moment of being “care-full,” you find yourself cared for.

You’re blessed when you get your inside world––your mind and heart––put right.

Then you can see God in the outside world. 

You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight.

You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution... [because it] drives you even deeper into God’s [reign].[1]

 

The saints did not count their place at God’s throne as an accomplishment they had achieved on their own. They knew that without God’s power to give courage, they could not have hung on to the end of that rope. As my New Testament seminary professor, Bob Kysar, once said: the future makes demands on us for how we live our present lives and the problem is that where we stand today is created by the past. Yet, where we stand, according to Jesus’ sermon, is blessed. To be blessed is to be given the way of righteousness, the pathway of stability and care for ourselves and for all of this created world, the direction formed by a yearning for God’s future. A saint is someone who recognizes what is of deepest and most lasting value: giving honor to God and to all God’s yearning creation. The trees do clap their hands. The mountains and the hills break forth with singing.

Our neighbors who live around us in the wild may be speaking a language of desire that we don’t believe we can hear. Our neighbors may be hoping we grasp their desires for an end to suffering and chaos, a longing for peace and well-being, because we are, after all, made of the same stuff: dust and water. What we find ourselves groaning for may arise from the same hunger as Earth’s own groaning.

To inherit the earth is to live in joy. To get up in the morning and say: "Oh what a beautiful thing life is... I wonder what miracles God will show to me today... I wonder what people God will send me today... I wonder what marvelous creatures and landscapes I will behold today… I wonder where and how God will give me opportunities to show mercy and make peace..."  

Blessed be the God of light and life who gives us all that is good, who calls us blessed ones, who makes it possible for us to be meek and merciful.  +  +  +

 

_________________________

 


OPTIONAL HYMNS

ELW:

740      God of the Sparrow

737      He Comes to Us as One Unknown

 

All Creation Sings:

1065    Can You Fell the Season Turning

1071  In Sacred Manner


[1] Eugene H. Peterson, The Message (Nav Press, 1993), 15–16.

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Rev. Dr. Melinda Quivik
​
Twin Cities, Minnesota

Melinda Quivik, an ELCA pastor (who served churches in Montana, Michigan, and Minnesota) and former professor of worship and preaching, is currently the Editor-in-Chief of the quarterly journal Liturgy, a writer, and a preaching mentor with Backstory Preaching at backstory-preaching.mn.co. Her most recent book is Worship at a Crossroads: Racism and Segregated Sundays which is a response to Lenny Duncan's Dear Church. She calls all churches to learn why worship ways differ in our various traditions.

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