Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord;
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He has loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.Glory, glory! Hallelujah!
Glory, glory! Hallelujah!Glory, glory! Hallelujah!

Every time I hear these words of the "Battle Hymn of the Republic," I have visions of some old Civil War movie with soldiers marching off to meet their fate in the glory of the battlefield. In such a context this hymn takes on new meaning. Such a hymn would truly soothe any of the doubts or fears a soldier might have as he entered the bloody conflict. As the battle was about to commence, he could be sure that he was on the right side, the side of truth, of God's truth. Whether he would die or survive, simply being involved in such a holy war would assure him that he would catch a glimpse of the glory of God. That glory would come either in the victory of the battlefield or in the giving his life for a holy cause which, of course, would assure him of his place in heaven. And there in heaven he could at last see God in all of his glory.

Why did I have you sing this hymn on this All Saints' Sunday? Because on this All Saints' Sunday our thoughts turn to heaven and the eternal destiny promised to us in our baptism. We may not be about to march into battle but we surely are engaged in a kind of holy war. We are searching for a vision of glory that will inspire us to keep living and striving in a world in which our future is far from certain. Our talk about heaven is essential to the church's ability to talk of a future filled with hope. Without the hope of heaven can there be any hope for the future? How can we celebrate All Saints' Sunday without a belief in heaven? Perhaps one of your children has perplexed you with this question. Perhaps you have asked yourself this question, unable to find a satisfactory answer. "Is there really a heaven? And if so, where is it?" Your grade schooler is having her first science class on outer space. She comes home one day, obviously deeply troubled. After some gentle probing by you, she shares with you her problem. "Dad, if astronauts travel to outer space, if we have sent people all the way to the moon, if telescopes can see billions of miles into outer space then where is heaven?" In Sunday school she had heard the story of Jesus' ascension, and his rising up into the skies, disappearing in the clouds, and going to heaven. She had seen artists' imaginative paintings of heaven with angels relaxing in the clouds, fluttering their wings, adjusting their halos, and playing their harps. If that heaven is "up" there, why hasn't it been discovered? I still remember, when I was in grade school in the late 1950s at the height of the Cold War between the U. S. and Russia, how Russian cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space, had triumphantly announced to the world that he had been "up there" and he had seen neither God nor heaven. Of course, his comments pleased the leaders of the communist government and supported their official atheism. The question of heaven (Where is it?) is a timely one for us to consider on this All Saints' Sunday.

This is that one day during the church year when we make a special effort to remember and celebrate all of those saints of faith who have been this way before us and are now departed. We remember such saints as Abraham, Moses, Isaiah, Mary, the mother of our Lord, Peter, Paul, Martin Luther, Martin Luther King, Jr., and so on. We look to the example of their lives for inspiration as we struggle with what it means to live the Christian life. A day to remember the saints of the church has had a long history. In the third century the church set aside a special day to remember those who had been martyred, who sacrificed their lives for the faith. It was not, however, until the eighth century in the Celtic lands of Great Britain that November 1 became associated with a day to commemorate the saints. In that part of the world, this day seemed to be natural for this sort of thing. This was a time of the year when the late autumn frost thickly blanketed the ground with an eerie white cover and suggested to many that the spirits of the dead had made a visit. From this Christian holiday came our modern secularized holiday called "All Saints Eve" or "All Hallows Eve" or "Halloween."

Last month we buried Esther Hilker, a long-time member of this congregation. Many of us mourned Esther's passing. I am sure that her grandchildren wondered about their grandmother's fate. Where is Grandma now? Is she merely buried in her tomb, slowly returning to dust and ashes? At Esther's funeral we sang and spoke of her now being in heaven. But, again, where is that heaven? Is it "up," "down," "beyond"? The church along with Holy Scripture has described heaven as the abode of God. Heaven is where God is. But where is God? And isn't God supposed to be everywhere in creation? Then where is heaven? Everywhere? Nowhere? Somewhere? It is so difficult to speak of a dimension of existence which is very different from life as we know it. Yet, to deny the existence of heaven would make our Christian faith and hope for the future empty and meaningless. Such questions about the nature of heaven are more than just expressions of our curiosity. They are reflections of a much deeper anxiety, something that touches each of us in a very personal way. Such questions take on a special sense of urgency not only because we are concerned about the destiny of our departed loved ones (Has God abandoned them? Are they in misery or ecstasy or somewhere in between? Do they have a future?), but also because we are anxious about our own destiny. What does the future hold? What about us? What lies beyond death for you and me? Is this life all there is? Or is there more? And if there is, is it heaven or hell or somewhere in between? Maybe what we need to do is to stop thinking of heaven as a place somewhere "up there," above, in the sky.

When we confess in the Apostles' Creed that Jesus "ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father," we don't literally mean that there is a specific place in heaven where Jesus is sitting or that God actually has a right hand, a left hand, a right foot, a left foot, and so on.

What we are really saying is that Jesus has been honored by his Father for the job he performed faithfully on earth. "At the right hand" means a place of privilege and honor. With apologies to any left-handed people here this morning, as a right-handed person uses his right hand to do what he does best, so also, when God is doing what he really wants to do in this world, when God is doing that for which he wants to be best known, he does it through the risen and ascended Jesus "at his right hand." Jesus is God's "right-hand man," so to speak. So, where is heaven? It is wherever Jesus is present acting as God's right-hand man. And where is that? Jesus is present doing his heavenly thing wherever the forgiveness of sins is being offered. Martin Luther once said, "Where there is forgiveness of sins, there is also life and salvation." In other words, heaven is where Jesus is present doing God's right-handed thing, i.e., forgiving sinners. Where is heaven? Heaven is where the waters of Baptism are poured and the name of God is spoken. Heaven is where the body and blood of Jesus are offered in bread and wine.

Heaven is where the guilty are released from their deadly past through the granting of forgiveness. Heaven is where the stranglehold of death and hopelessness is broken: when enemies embrace, when spouses reconcile, when neighbors are neighborly, when victims refuse to get even, when the powerful offer to serve instead of demanding that they be served. When we sing, "Mine eyes have seen the coming of the glory of the Lord," we are not just singing of some glory we have yet to see, some glory that lies somewhere indefinitely in the future. No, we are making the outrageous claim that we have already seen the glory of the Lord! We have already caught a glimpse of heaven! We have already seen that place where death has been defeated, where there are no more tears, where there is only joy and celebration. We have seen Jesus. We have seen Jesus in the ministry of this congregation, in the lives of its members, and in the Word proclaimed in our midst, the breaking of bread, and the pouring of water.

In today's Gospel we saw this Jesus raise from the dead his friend, Lazarus of Bethany. Lazarus had been dead four days before Jesus finally arrived. Lazarus' sisters, Mary and Martha, were disappointed that Jesus had not come sooner. Perhaps if Jesus had been there before Lazarus died, he might have been able to do something. But now it is too late. Lazarus is long dead, four days dead, so dead that his body has begun to decay in the tomb. But Jesus will not be thwarted. He is determined to display the glory of God. He is determined to give those people gathered there at the tomb of Lazarus outside of Bethany a glimpse of the glory of God. And he does it. He raises Lazarus from the dead. That's fine. Once upon a time in a faraway place Jesus raised someone by the name of Lazarus from the dead. Jesus displayed the glory of God. I am sure all of those people were impressed. They got their beloved friend back from the dead. They knew they were in the presence of someone special. He was heavenly. He was "out of this world." He had power over death.

If they had known the song, I am sure they would have broken into a chorus of "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord." That's fine, but so what? What did those people think when Lazarus died again, which he surely did? Lazarus didn't live forever. What did they think when they saw their friends and loved ones die? What did they think when they came face to face with their own mortality? And what about us? I haven't seen anyone raised from the dead lately, especially someone who has been dead for four days. I still see people dropping off like flies. The death rate is still 100 percent. All of this talk of heaven seems rather farfetched, doesn't it? Why should anyone believe all this stuff? We are making some fairly outrageous claims when we claim that this community is a bit of heaven on earth. Thunder doesn't rumble and lightning doesn't flash when someone is baptized. The bread and wine of communion doesn't seem to taste like body and blood. This communion of saints still behaves an awful lot like sinners. And what right do we have to forgive the most outrageous of sins and do it in the name of God? And what about heaven? In this world of broken dreams and broken lives and broken promises, how can we dare to speak of heaven especially heaven here, among us, now?

Every year when I meet with the confirmation students I try to help them come to grips with this problem. When they complete their confirmation instruction and they come forward to confess their faith before the congregation, they are doing an outrageous thing. In a sense they are saying, "Mine eyes have seen the glory of coming of the Lord...." I ask them if anyone knows what a saint is. There is usually silence.

So, I give them a definition. A saint is someone who is special. A saint is someone whom God has chosen. A saint is someone whom God has set aside. A saint is someone perfect, sinless. A saint is not just dead in the ground. A saint is in heaven. Then, I ask them the big question: Does anyone think he or she is a saint? The class is silent for a few moments until one or two courageous souls hesitantly raise their hands. Then I quiz them. Do they really think they are saints? Do they really think they are perfect? I bet if I asked their brother or sister or parents, they would give me plenty of evidence to prove that they are not even close to being saints. They are a lot more like hell on earth than heaven on earth. The few courageous souls drop their hands. They aren't so sure any more. I ask them again. "Whoever thinks you are a saint, raise your hand." Aha! They now know what answer the pastor is looking for. The right answer is "No." No one is a saint. So, no one raises a hand the second time I ask the question. They know better now. They have learned their lesson well. Then it is time for the punch line. Then is it time for the surprise. Then it is time to make the outrageous announcement. Then it is time to let them experience how incredible this Christian faith is. Then it is time to proclaim the gospel! "All of you raise your hands." And they all stare at one another in disbelief. What is the pastor doing? Has he gone off the deep end? This doesn't make any sense. "Yes, this doesn't make any sense, but this is the startling truth: You are all saints! You are perfect, sinless, the apple of God's eye. You are already in heaven not because you are better than anyone else, not because you have not committed any sins, not because you have kept all the commandments. No, you are saints because God says so! You are saints because you are baptized. You are saints because Jesus suffered, died, and was raised again for you! You are saints because you have seen the glory of God!" I remind them that everything during their time of confirmation study will be about getting them to believe that outrageous promise and to discover the implications of that belief for their lives. But, so what? Why should they believe me? Why should they believe that this is true? Why should they believe that there is heaven not only beyond the grave, but, even more incredibly, here and now? Because I believe it. And I believe it because others before me have believed it. And they believed it because thousands before them believed it. They staked their lives on it. Many of them gave their lives for it. There is no other way to explain why so many for so long have believed something so incredible. It must be true. People, we believe because the church believes. Were it not for all those saints who have gone before us, we would not believe. Were it not for those believers, who not only saw Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead that day long ago outside of Bethany but also saw that same Jesus raised from the dead on Easter, we would not believe.

An outrageous announcement like the gospel is not something people make up and then sacrifice their lives for it. Were it not for those saints who have gone before us, we could not see the glory. We could not be touched by heaven. We could not believe the gospel. We could not know that we too are saints. We could not join that holy band that has gone before us in singing, "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord...." (Motion the congregation to rise and join in singing.)"