Sermon – All Souls & All Saints Day – The Light That Shines Through

I wonder if these names came a little more easily to mind.

For the people who shape and make a difference in our lives are rarely the ones with the most significant awards, headlines and achievements, but the ones who care, who notice, and who let light and love shine throughout their daily lives.

There’s a lovely story I like to recall on All Saints’ & All Souls’ Day of a priest explaining the stained-glass windows in her church.

The morning sun was streaming through them — red, blue, green, and gold.

The priest said,

“This first window is St Matthew, this one St Mark, this one St Luke, and this one St John.

Aren’t they beautiful, especially with the sunlight shining through?”

A little girl, gazing up, whispered,
“Now I know what a saint is.”

The priest smiled. “And what’s that?”

She answered, “A saint is someone the light shines through.”

That’s one of the best definitions of sainthood I know.

A saint is not someone perfect or untouchable, but someone through whom God’s light shines.

Their lives become a kind of window, coloured by their personality, sometimes cracked or uneven, but still reflecting the light of God’s love.

Another wisdom story tells of a little boy who read about a saint who lived for thirty years on top of a pillar in the desert.

Inspired, he climbed onto the kitchen cupboard and stayed there all morning.

At lunchtime, he climbed down, and his mother, understanding what he was doing, said:

“You mustn’t feel bad. You’ve tried something most people never do.
But remember, it’s almost impossible to be a saint in your own kitchen.”

And yet that’s precisely where sainthood begins, not on a pillar or in a monastery, but in our kitchens, workplaces, and neighbourhoods.

It begins with how we listen, how we speak, how we choose to love.

It’s found in the quiet, unseen moments where God’s light slips through our ordinary humanity.

In the Bible, the word saint, which means “holy ones”, those set apart for God’s purpose and who belong to God, doesn’t describe perfect characters or people without fault.

A saint is anyone who has opened their life to God’s love, someone chosen, blessed, and called to live in God’s light and reflect that light to others.

So when we speak of “the saints,” we are not only talking about holy people from long ago, but also the people we have known, teachers, friends, parents, mentors, whose love, forgiveness, and courage have left traces of God’s light in us.

And in our readings today, we glimpse what that light looks like:
in Daniel, trusting God when the world feels uncertain;
in Ephesians, seeing with hearts full of hope;
and in Luke, living out compassion and love in everyday life.

In Daniel 7, we hear of frightening visions, beasts rising from the sea, chaos everywhere.

Daniel feels anxious and confused, much like we sometimes do when the world feels dark or unstable.

Yet God’s message to him is one of hope:

“The holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess it forever.”

The saints are not spared from turmoil, they simply trust that God’s light will not be overcome.

Like the girl in the stained-glass window story, they know that even when life is uncertain, the light still shines through.

In Ephesians 1, Paul prays that

“the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you may know the hope to which God has called you.”

Paul reminds us that sainthood doesn’t begin with perfection or great achievement, but with an openness to love that changes how we see.

The saints are people who look with compassion, who recognise what is good and life-giving, and who keep their eyes open to hope even in difficult times.

And in Luke 6, Jesus blesses those the world often forgets, the poor,
the hungry, the merciful, the peacemakers.

They are the true saints, people who live with compassion, who let God’s love flow through them.

The Communion of Saints invites us to see ourselves as part of a living community of faith:
the saints of Scripture,
the saints of history,
the saints we have known,
and the saints we are becoming.

We are joined with them all — those who have gone before us and those who now walk beside us.

Their courage, faith, and love live on in us.

And as I look around this congregation,
I see God’s living saints — not because we are perfect,
but because we let God’s light shine through us:
in how we think and care for others,
in how we serve quietly,
and in how we pray, teach, comfort, and share what we have.

Sainthood isn’t about doing extraordinary things.
It’s about letting the light of Christ shine through our ordinary lives.

And that light still shines,
in those who’ve gone before us,
in those who care for us now,
and in us, whenever we live with love, hope, and compassion.
Amen.