On All Saints’ Day we celebrate the communion of every saint across history and geography: those who have gone before us, those who are with us now, and those who will come after us. We look toward the day when we will all be together, when heaven and earth are redeemed and remade. We will worship at the throne of God—all nations, tribes, peoples, and languages together, a beautiful array of the diversity in God’s creation (Rev. 7:9).
Claiming this future, however, can feel hollow in a world where political violence is mounting and hateful rhetoric on both sides of the political spectrum drives even reasonable people further apart. What does unity across the ages matter if we cannot be at peace with our brothers and sisters sitting in the next pew?
The strife acted out on our streets and in the halls of power manifests itself in the body of Christ as well. Even the churches in America that appear uniformly liberal or uniformly conservative are often not. Much diversity of opinion and belief in the pews gets grayed out in attempts by church leadership to cater to a particular segment. People then respond in different ways. Some leave quietly. Some leave loudly. Some stay quietly and others stay loudly.
All people have an argument to support their actions. “Silence is complicity,” say those who speak up. “The relationship is more important,” say those who do not speak up. The intention seems good in both. We’ve all heard exhortations on how to reach across the aisle. Stay off Facebook. Listen carefully. Avoid assumptions. Give the benefit of the doubt. There is wisdom in these practical ways to face the societal malaise in which we find ourselves—namely, the sincere hope of maintaining relationships without compromising conscience. Our fellow Christians who differ with us need to know that we respect their dignity.
But none of this is enough! None of this gets us to that picture painted in Revelation. All the deep listening and peacemaking techniques in the world cannot bind us together into the body of Christ, into the fullness of him who fills all in all (Eph. 1:23). These techniques might preserve relationships for a time, and they might help us better understand how to navigate the complexities of our society.
But the eschatological unity of the body of Christ described in Scripture is so much deeper than this. It is not a unity that requires loss of individualism or identity, but one in which we all find ourselves fully by celebrating and participating in the mission of God for our world. In this unity, we will no longer bite our tongues or strive to see the good intentions in others. Instead, we will rejoice in God’s grace and self-sacrifice, a truth both clear and complex, one that binds us together in a unity unforced and unreserved.
That is the “not yet” side of the equation. But what about the “already”? A simple glance at the state of the Christian landscape shows us how badly our efforts fall short, but that does not mean there is no hope now. While we must wait until the in-breaking of the kingdom for the true unity that God promises, he is also building it in us now through the gift of his sacraments. While our attempts at peacemaking will always fall short, baptism and the Eucharist are the means by which we are bound together as the body of Christ in the here and now. A substantive and meaningful sacramental theology shows us how the body of Christ will survive turbulent times.
Through baptism we are brought into the household of God, made part of not only Christ’s family but also his eternal priesthood. We are made children of God in baptism, and through the priesthood of all believers we are each called to be a part of God’s mission and ministry here on earth. We are sealed with chrism, marked as Christ’s own forever (BCP, p. 308). This identity becomes the defining marker of our sense of self, the truth about us that overshadows all other aspects of our individuality.
We are granted entry into the body of Christ for eternity apart from our actions or efforts. While we make promises in baptism, including to seek and serve Christ in all persons and to strive for justice and peace among all people (p. 305), our ability to carry out these promises does not affect the validity or efficacy of our baptism. Our place is secure, regardless of where we stand among earthly markers of identity and of whether we can figure out maintaining relationships with one another.
If baptism is the entry into the body of Christ, the Eucharist is the food that keeps the body going. Through the Eucharist, we receive assurance of the promises made to us in baptism. We are fed with spiritual food, the body and blood of Jesus Christ, so that we know that we are members of his body and heirs of his eternal kingdom (p. 366). As we pray the Eucharistic Prayer each week, we remember before God how Jesus made the perfect sacrifice for the sins of the whole world (p. 334).
It is through the merits of that death that we receive forgiveness of sins and are filled with God’s grace and heavenly blessing (p. 336). Yes, through receiving the sanctified wine and wafer we are also sanctified to serve God in unity, constancy, and peace (p. 363). But our faithfulness in unity and peace is not the basis of God’s promises to us. His Son’s death and resurrection is. When all else fails, the Eucharist will still be there, the body and blood of Christ, sustaining us in the life to which God has called us, through the grace found in Christ’s self-offering on the cross.
Amid external threats to the unity of the body of Christ, the sacraments are the outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. This inward and spiritual grace keeps us whole as the body of Christ. It carries us through cultural wars, political strife, and infighting of the church. The outward and visible signs remind us that the inward and spiritual grace is there, working in us and through us, even when we lose sight of it. That grace holds together all the saints from centuries past through all eternity, and even in the here and now.
The Rev. Molly Jane (MJ) Layton is priest-in-charge of St. John's Episcopal Church, Lattingtown in Locust Valley, NY. Previous appointments include associate rector at the Parish of Calvary-St. George’s in Manhattan. Prior to ordination she taught classics and history.
