Saints Here and Elsewhere -- Philippians 1:1-6, 12-21 (All Saints Day)
You may remember that my sabbatical plan had at its heart a pilgrimage back to the Iona Community in Scotland. Over the past three months, I have travelled many miles, and met many people – but the whole of the sabbatical was anchored in a return to the island of Iona.
Iona is a small, rocky island off the western coast of Scotland. It is a historic place – where it’s believed that Christianity first came to Britain. It’s the home of an ancient Abbey, established there in the 6th century by St Columba, pillaged by Vikings, rebuilt by Benedictines, and then re-built again in the 1950s and 60s, led by a Presbyterian pastor who wanted to give youth in the rougher parts of Glasgow meaningful work.
Since then, it has become home to an international peace and justice community.[1] We know the liturgy and music of the Iona Community: There are more than 20 hymns from the Iona community in our hymnal; we use their liturgy often in worship. There are Iona house-communities throughout Britain. And folks from around the world, from a broad range of denominations make pilgrimage to Iona to share a one-week retreat. You go and you live there in community – worshipping together, sharing meals together, and sharing chores together.
The Iona community embraces a Celtic spirituality – a spirituality that sees God in all things – in every bit of creation, in you, in me, in us all, together. It is a connected spirituality that sees God in every bit of life – God in our worship, God in our work, God in our daily life. Our worship flows out into our work, and our work into our worship. One whole life, with Christ in every bit of it: Christ above us. Christ below us. Christ beside us. Christ within us.
This time, my pilgrimage to Iona – my third – was really an easing back into that flow of life more consciously, particularly the rhythms of how that life is lived out when you are staying at the Abbey.
On this visit, in the flow of things, I noticed some words that I hadn’t really heard before. At morning prayer – (each day began with breakfast, morning prayer, and then chores) – at morning prayer, I noticed that they close the worship service saying: We now go to worship God ELSEWHERE. Now, remember, at the end of morning prayer, we were going to do our chores – to vacuum floors; to clean toilets, showers and sinks; to help in the garden; to fold sheets and towels. (Next week, I’ll tell you more about which of those one of those I got to do.) But that was our ELSEWHERE. We go now to worship God ELSEWHERE.
Over the course of the week, I noticed that for the volunteers who live there year-round or for a season – the folks who keep the Abbey running – this ELSEWHERE has become something they embrace with a bit humor. When they get up from the lunch table, you might hear them say: “If you’ll excuse me please, I’m going now to be ELSEWHERE.” OR, “If you need to find me later, I’ll be ELSEWHERE.” “Where is so and so? I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure you can find them ELSEWHERE.”
Gathered with the saints there on Iona, all of us away from our families and communities, worshipping together, and then each going about our different daily tasks – there is this deep sense of living life alongside the saints here and elsewhere.
In his letters, the Apostle Paul is always thinking about the saints here and elsewhere.After Resurrection and Pentecost, Paul carries the Good News of God’s love for us in Jesus Christ elsewhere.[2] From Jerusalem and Paul’s Damascus Road experience, Paul sets out into what we now call Turkiye – into the region of Galatia. He travels on to Ephesus, then up to Philippi, down into Greece to places like Corinth. And at each stop, Paul helps build up a local community that follows the Way of Jesus. When they are up and running, he moves on to the next city, never forgetting the saints he knows and loves elsewhere.
And so we have these letters – wherever he is, the Apostle Paul is thinking of the saints here and elsewhere – and as he travels – the embodiment and understanding of that “elsewhere” is expanding ever more broadly. There are a lot of saints.
The Scripture we read this morning is late in those journeys. Paul is in prison, likely in Rome – a prison he will not leave alive. And Paul writes back to the saints in Philippi.[3] Let’s look at the text:
Paul and Timothy servants/slaves of Christ Jesus to all the saints in Christ Jesus at Philippi, including the bishops and deacons. Notice that for Paul, “saints” means everybody – everyone loved and claimed by Christ Jesus, including the bishops and the deacons. Notice the mutuality there – no one is separated out – no one lifted up above anyone else – everyone greeted the same – everyone “saints.”
Now, in our culture, we can hear “saints” and think, oh, those are people who are super, super good. But in our tradition, we embrace this original, expansive meaning. From the beginning, “saints” meant everyone. As the centuries went on, the church began to lift up individuals who had lived remarkable lives – first there were martyrs, and then people associated with miraculous experiences.[4] The church would point to those remarkable lives to teach by example – not a bad thing – but along the way the broader notion of “saints” got a little lost. Our Protestant tradition goes back and reclaims that. “Paul and Timothy, to all the saints in Christ Jesus.” All y’all.
Notice the overflowing gratitude, grace, and joy. (We talked about this on the Sunday before I left.) Grace and peace to you. I thank God every time I remember you, and I am always remembering you with joy.
And, notice the sense that Christ is continually present in all this – in their life together, in this thanksgiving and joy, and in the good work that God is continuing on to completion in them, in all the saints, here and elsewhere.
Notice (starting in verse 15) that the expansiveness of the saints includes even the folks that the Apostle disagrees with. Now, this is surprising to read in a letter from Paul. In most of his other letters, the Apostle Paul is arguing vociferously against those who oppose him, those who are seeking to undo the work that he is doing. He names the reality of that here, too – the rivalry, disagreement, enmity even – but here, in prison, something has happened with Paul. All that is still his reality, but the most important thing, he writes, “whether from false motives or true, whether right or wrong, the most important thing is that the love of Christ Jesus is preached,” and embodied, in the saints... here and elsewhere.
Over the course of my sabbatical travels, I met a LOT of saints. As we planned my sabbatical together, we envisioned the places I would go, and the experiences that would hopefully offer renewal. But I don’t think I fully appreciated the wild abundance of people I would meet along the way.
· Of course, on Iona, I met folks from all over. My roommates were from Denmark, Cambridge in the UK, and Salinas. There were folks from Brazil, Canada, France. There was a group from a church in Cardiff in Wales; they adopted me and invited me to be in their skit at the talent show. I got the role, they told me, because that they needed someone who could deliver the lines with “an authentic American accent.”
· Jeff met up with me after Iona, and we went to visit Bill and Lena Hodgson in Stirling. They are in their 90s, and were great friends of my grandparents. Bill and Lena met my grandparents in their retirement as part of a home-stay program – staying with each other in Indiana and then Scotland – and then over the years travelling the US together. Bill and Lena became an extended part of our family – I have shared morning devotions with them at my grandparents’ kitchen table. Bill and I share a love of Iona. It was good to see them.
· In France, we went to church at the American Church in Paris – really, the English-speaking church in Paris, and we worshipped with folks from France, Nigeria, the Philippines, Ukraine, Côte d’Ivoire, Germany, Romania, Germany, and so more.
· I visited Professor Yolanda Norton – friend of this church – at her home in Lisbon. We talked about her continuing work to lift up Black women and girls, including the Beyoncé Mass, and plans to start the Black Girl Magic Academy. She sends her greetings. I got to see Yefeni, one of the singers who has sung here in church.
· I went to church in Montpellier – and understood the service in French. The service and the announcements ran a little long, and folks there started to squirm a bit, just as they might... elsewhere.
But actually, my first stop on sabbatical was in Alabama, where I went to my sister’s church in Equality, Alabama. Now, I will guess that the majority of folks at that church there will not be voting the same way as the majority of folks in our community here. But I love that church. I love worshipping there, and the warm welcome I always receive.
A couple days after that Sunday, I was walking my sister’s dogs, Ellie and Duke – out on the country road that winds around the lake. I was stopped by a neighbor who goes to that church. “You’re Jennifer’s brother right? I just want to tell you that on Sunday the Lord laid it on my heart to pray for you, and I’ve been praying ever since that the Lord will help you walk in the light.”
Now, I’m going to share something that’s a little complicated. But when someone who is gay encounters someone whom we read as evangelical and conservative, and they say, “I’m praying for you” – well, I will speak for myself, but my defenses go up – because far too often over the years, in the church, that “I’m praying for you” has not been all that loving.
But you know... I love that little church... and they have loved my sister and my family through incredibly difficult times. And so as I walked away from that encounter, I said to myself – and to Ellie and Duke – I’m not going to let my reaction stop me from receiving the grace of what she just said to me. She said, “I’m praying for you.” I don’t even know if she knows that I’m gay, or if that would even matter to her. What I do know is that she’s part of a church that has loved my family. And while I still hold what are healthy defenses, I remember her and that moment with thanksgiving. In the body of Christ, in the communion of the saints, all of that complicated mess of us can be true.
In the communion of the saints,
God creates and calls us to love all the saints here and elsewhere,
and there are so many saints in the world.
And of course, as I met all those saints elsewhere, you were in my heart here – knowing that you were living out all the good work for which God has called and claimed you... called and claimed us.
Here, on All Saints Sunday, when we think about and remember all the saints, we remember the saints we have loved who are now elsewhere in a way that is just as real and true. We remember the saints who have lived among us, and who have died, and we claim the mystery and the truth of how we are all still held together in love in the Body of Christ. And so, during Communion, we will say the names of those we love who have died this past year – saints here and elsewhere.
Over my sabbatical, I visited a LOT of churches. One hot Saturday afternoon, I walked into a church seeking some shade and quiet, and I stumbled into a baptism service. I’ll share more about that someday. I knew that I shouldn’t walk around like a tourist during the service, so I sat down and followed along as best I could in my Intermediate B-1 level French. It was a Catholic service, and when the priest led them in the prayers of the people, as he prayed for the child and the community, he said this:
Jesus, Holy Christ, pray for us.
Mary, mother of Jesus, pray for us.
Saint Anne, mother of Mary, pray for us.
Saint Peter and Saint Paul, pray for us.
Saint Joan, pray for us.
Saint Térèse of Lisieux, pray for us.
And, in that moment, though I was elsewhere, I thought of this moment, right here, right now, on All Saints Day, and I wondered, what if we prayed like that, on All Saints, with our understanding of the saints:
Saint Roger, pray for us.
Saint Jean, pray for us.
Saint Joan of Basore, pray for us.
Saint Stan, pray for us.
Saint Sally, pray for us.
Maybe as we are praying for them here, there are saints praying for us, elsewhere: I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy, because of the life we have shared in the gospel from the first day until now, confident that the One who began a good work in you – in us – will carry it on to completion in the day of Christ Jesus.
On this All Saints Day,
here we are gathered together with all the saints here and elsewhere,
here we are together again,
here we are together again... and always.
© 2026 Scott Clark
[1] For more on the Iona Community, see https://iona.org.uk
[2] For more on the life of the Apostle Paul in relationship to his letters and theology, see Udo Schnelle, Apostle Paul: His Life and Theology(trans. M.E. Boring) (New York: Baker Publishing Group, 2005).
[3] For general background on this text and Paul’s Letter to the Philippians, see Fred Craddock, Philippians (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1985, 2012); Morna D. Hooker, “The Letter to the Philippians,” New Interpreters’ Bible Commentary, vol. xi (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 2000); Monya Stubbs, “Philippians,” in True to Our Native Land: An African American New Testament Commentary(Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 2008), pp. 366-70.
[4] For some history with humor, see the BBC You’re Dead to Me podcast episode on medieval history. It echoes the brief history here on how “saints” went from broad to specific, and a good bit more on how that developed in the medieval era. https://www.bbc.com/audio/play/m002yvkq
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