"The Inheritance of our Saints, The Hope of our Calling" by Rev. Jillian Hankamer

November 2, 2025

Ephesians 1: 11-23

All Saints Sunday always makes me think of my loved ones who’re no longer here. Even those who weren’t particularly religious or churchy. Like my paternal grandmother, you know the one I’ve told you about, who weighed 80 pounds soaking wet, chain-smoked, and was mean as a snake. Her favorite hymn was “The Old Rugged Cross.” My maternal Grandfather, a good but complicated man, comforted in “Just As I Am.” Both of my parents love “It is Well With My Soul,” while my Aunt Jill said her favorite is “How Great Thou Art” because my grandmother used to play it on the piano. And my home church has always held “Amazing Grace” as its defining hymn.

Then there are those people I love whose favorite hymns I don’t know, but who I’m reminded of when I hear certain songs. My buddy Alyson was one of the most wonderful, interesting people I’ve ever known. She had the clearest sense of God working in her life that I’ve ever encountered, and I always think of her when I hear the hymn, “Hark the Voice of Jesus Calling,” because of its refrain, “Here I am, O Lord, send me.”

            On All Saints Sunday, we often talk about those who’ve gone before us, teaching us things, giving us examples to follow, and modeling the sorts of behavior and practices we’d like to emulate. That’s important to remember this morning as well, but I’d like to focus a bit more on hope this morning. Specifically, the hope we feel when we hear our saints’ favorite hymns - the hope that they’re still with us, the hope that they’re guiding us, the hope that they live on through us.

In this morning’s Ephesians reading, Paul prays that all his readers will come to know the hope to which God has called them. As Edgardo A. Colon-Emeric, Dean of Duke Divinity School, writes, “Hope is a much-misunderstood word. For some, hope denotes a lack of certainty. Often, hope is mistaken for wishful thinking. At other times, hope is confused with having a glass-half-full kind of attitude. But hope, in the theological sense of the word, is not any of these things. Pollyanna abounded in optimism; Paul abounded in hope.”^[1]

So it’s fair to ask, what is hope?

The author of Hebrews says that hope is the sure and certain anchor of the soul. For those who follow the work and theological concepts of Thomas Aquinas, “hope is the virtue that orders our actions to a difficult but desirable goal.”^[2] And more than a few lifetime church go-ers might say that hope, “... is the blessed assurance that Jesus is mine, a foretaste of glory divine.”^[3]

Again, as Edgard A. Colon-Emeric writes, “For Paul, hope is what keeps him fighting the good fight. Hope is what keeps him praying and praising even while in prison. Hope is what gives Paul the boldness to declare that the gathering of a few scores of Jews and Gentiles in the port city of Ephesus is no mere sociological fact but a new humanity in Christ.”^[4]

This is important because the calling of the church at Ephesus is to be an example of the kin-dom. To show others what a community that follows and embodies Jesus’ message looks like…“By eating together in friendship, they actively participated in the unfolding of God’s purpose for creation. By joining together in the singing of psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs, this small band of disciples witnessed that there is one body, one Spirit, one hope, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, and one God…of all, who is above all and through all and in all.”^[5] Said simply, God calls this little band of believers to be a sacrament. To be the physical manifestation of Christ’s love and reconciliation.

This, however, is a delicate calling. As we know, it’s incredibly difficult to be in the world but not of it. The example of Christ is powerful and inspiring but difficult to emulate. Unity is hard to maintain in the most empathetic of communities, peace is quickly broken, and the fellowship that’s found at the communion table often doesn’t extend beyond Sunday morning. Again, as  Edgardo A. Colon-Emeric says so well, “This is why Paul prays so fervently for the Christians at Ephesus. Paul fears that if the Ephesian Christians fail to stir the hope of their calling, they will trade the glorious inheritance of singing in symphony with all the saints for the safety of ethnic section rehearsals.”^[6]

If you’ve never been part of a musical ensemble, let me explain section rehearsals. This is when specific instruments specific voices - soprano, alto, etc. - split into individual groups or smaller groups to practice parts, work out the musical kinks, find the right notes, so that the overall ensemble can play or sing together well. Section rehearsals can be tedious and painful, particularly when you work on the same three to four measures over and over and over again. There’s nowhere to hide in section rehearsals. Wrong notes and incorrect rhythms stick out like a sore thumb. But these small groups are where you learn your part so that when the entire ensemble is together, what you’re doing makes sense “as a part of a larger whole.”^[7]

In fact, it’s when you’re with the entire ensemble that you’re aware of when you’re “in tune with the key of the piece…” It’s when you’re with the entire ensemble that you learn “to listen to the other parts.”^[8] But for “most of us, section rehearsals are all we have ever known…”^[9] because we live in a country that keeps single sections, single voices dominant. That ignores other voices, other sounds, other instruments, if you will, out of habit, out of a lack of awareness, out of an unwillingness to do the uncomfortable work of changing.

Singing a symphony or even playing a halftime show at a football game isn’t possible “...when one section blasts its part out of an overblown sense of self-importance…”^[10] just as it’s  “hard to be in tune with Christ when so many of us have tuned out our neighbors.”^[11] And it’s far too easy “...to give up on the Ephesian calling [because]...our calling takes” a back seat to our personal concerns and fears.

How can we possibly commit to praying and living together week in and week out when we are so different? How can we possibly include those who are different from us? Surely there isn’t enough money for people to have healthcare and SNAP benefits. Why bother?

Well, because “hope abides. God is not finished with us yet. The power [of Christ] is still at work today. There is power in the name. Power to enlighten the eyes of our hearts. Power to wake those who are asleep. Power to wake those who are pretending to be asleep. There is power in the name above every name. Power to free Christian tradition from cultural conservatism. Power to free love of country from fear of strangers. Power to turn off the treadmill of toleration and run the race of reconciliation. Power to grow into the full stature of Christ.”^[12]

My friends, the Good News this morning is that we can claim that power. We do not have to be afraid to be holy or to leave the safety of our section rehearsals. We do not have to worry about following Christ, who holds the baton, directing all of our lives. For the one calling us is God, “to join the celestial symphony with all the saints.”^[13] This includes our Northminster saints, whose favorite hymns DH and Craig helped me collect:

Charlotte Creech, Charles’ mom, loved “His Eye is on the Sparrow”

Sand Lawn loved “Come Labor On”

Tracy Sandow’s favorite was “Joyful, Joyful”

Nellen Hughes’ was “Great is Thy Faithfulness”

Marj Stricklin’s was “Be Thou My Vision” while her husband Tom’s was “Amazing Grace”

Jim Files’ favorite was “Blessed Assurance”

Welton loved “God of Grace and God of Glory”

And the woman I’m petitioning to be our personal saint here at Northminster, Dibble Pate, loved lots of hymns but particularly, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.”

May the songs of our saints strengthen us. May the hope of Christ fill us. May we follow God’s calling.

^[1] Edgardo A. Colon-Emeric, “The Hope of Your Calling,” https://faithandleadership.com/edgardo-colon-emeric-the-hope-your-calling, July 11, 2011.

^[2] Ibid.

^[3] Ibid.

^[4] Ibid.

^[5] Ibid.

^[6] Ibid.

^[7] Ibid.

^[8] Ibid.

^[9] Ibid.

^[10] Ibid.

^[11] Ibid.

^[12] Ibid.

^[13] Ibid.