Homily - 2 November 2017 - The Commemoration of the Faithful Departed

The Commemoration of the Faithful Departed

Today Holy Mother Church prays for her children who, at the moment of death, though destined for the everlasting glory of heaven, were not yet prepared to enter into that joy, but who were also not deserving of hell. These are the members of the Church Suffering, the Poor Souls in Purgatory who are being purged – purified – for the everlasting life of heaven. This Commemoration of the Faithful Departed, this All Souls’ Day, is a stark reminder to us that not every soul enters the glory of heaven immediately at the moment of death.

This realization marks us with great sorrow and so we pray the Father of Mercies to “bestow on [his] departed servants [his] great mercy … and the fullness of eternal joy.”[1] Whereas yesterday Mother Church honored her heroic children who lived well the faith of Jesus Christ – the saints of every age and place – who are now with the Lord in glory, today we pray for those who hope to share in that glory, “those who have gone before us with the sign of faith.”[2]

Jesus says, “Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and I will not reject anyone who comes to me” (John 6:37). It is our choice in this life whether or not to belong to Christ, but just as he will not reject anyone who comes to him, neither will he force anyone to come to him. As Saint Augustine put it, “God made you without your consent, but he does not justify you without your consent.”[3] The choice is ours, to be made again and again, at every moment of our lives. With every word we speak, with every thought we think and every deed we do, we are free to accept or to reject the grace given us. He extends his hand toward us, saying, “Come, follow me” (Luke 18:22), and he waits for us to either grasp his hand or to walk away.

We know that “death puts an end to human life as the time open to either accepting or rejecting the divine grace manifested in Christ.”[4] This is why the manner in which we live this life is so important, for by it we make our decision for or against Christ. “With death, our life-choice becomes definitive – our life stands before the judge.”[5] Today, then, is a fitting day for us to consider what the choice of my life is, towards what my life is oriented. This choice can have a multiplicity of forms, for each of our lives is different, though the fundamental choice before us remains the same.

There are some people whose lives are so filled with wickedness that any desire for truth and love has been completely snuffed out within them. This is what is meant by the word, “hell.” There are also people whose lives are so imbued with love and purity that their love for God flows readily to their neighbor. Such holiness of life clearly marks one for heaven. But such people are not common, are they?

What, then, of the rest of us? What of those of us who want to live holy lives but who fail so often? It is true that within the majority of people,

there remains in the depths of their being an ultimate interior openness to truth, to love, to God. In the concrete choices of life, however, it is covered over by ever new compromises with evil – much filth covers purity, but the thirst for purity remains, and it still constantly re-emerges from all that is base and remains present in the soul.[6]

What, then, becomes of these souls who are open to and desirous of truth and love, but whose lives are also marked with sin? "Will all the impurity they have amassed through life suddenly cease to matter?[7]

Our sins, the impurities of our lives, cannot simply be treated as inconsequential; simply admitting such souls covered with the filth of their sins into God’s presence would go against his justice. Yet casting such souls into hell would violate his mercy, for these souls yearned for him, even if imperfectly. Such souls, then, must first be purified to be able to receive the fullness of truth and love. Thus we hear the words from the Book of Wisdom: “God tried them and found them worthy of himself. As gold in the furnace, he proved them, and as sacrificial offerings he took them to himself” (Wisdom 3:5-6). This process of purification is called purgatory for it is a true purgation, a cleansing, of the soul. It is “the inwardly necessary process of transformation in which a person becomes capable of Christ, capable of God, and thus capable of unity with the whole communion of saints.”[8]

We often speak of the pain of the fire of Purgatory; why do we do so? The Psalmist tells us, “fire goes before [the Lord]; everywhere it consumes the foes” (Psalm 97:4). Saint Paul tells us that we will be saved, “but only as through fire” (I Corinthians 3:15). What is this fire, then, but the fire of divine love?

The Lord’s “burning flame cuts free our closed-off heart, melting it, and pouring it into a new mold to make it fit for the living organism of his body.”[9] This fire is the encounter with Christ Jesus himself, who is both Judge and Savior, and this encounter with him is the moment of judgment. Many today are afraid of the notion of judgment “because they confuse judgment with petty calculation and give more room to fear than to a loving trust.”[10] They fear judgment because they have not yet opened themselves to the mercy of God.

Pope Benedict XVI explained this encounter with Jesus most powerfully:

Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms us and frees us, allowing us to become fully ourselves. All that we build during our lives can prove to be mere straw, pure bluster, and it collapses. Yet in the pain of this encounter, when the impurity and sickness of our lives becomes evident to us, there lies salvation. His gaze, the touch of his heart heals us through an undeniably painful transformation “as through fire.” But it is also a blessed pain, in which the holy power of his love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally of ourselves and totally of God. In this way the interrelation between justice and grace also becomes clear: the way we live our lives is not immaterial, but our defilement does not stain us forever if we have at least continued to reach out towards Christ, towards truth and towards love… The pain of love becomes our salvation and our joy.[11]

Today’s celebration, while it is one of deep sadness as we mourn our beloved dead and pray for them, is also one of profound hope rooted in the love of God that makes us like himself.

Let each of us, then, raise our prayers and offer our sufferings to the Father of Mercies for the Poor Souls in Purgatory. We know our prayers on their behalf are beneficial to them because, “no one lives alone. No one sins alone. No one is saved alone.”[12] We are all one in the Body of Christ. Therefore, let us keep ever in mind the words of Saint Ambrose, the great spiritual father of our heavenly patron: “We have loved them during life; let us not abandon them in death until we have conducted them by our prayers into the house of the Lord.”  Amen.

---

[1] Roman Missal, Prayer after Communion 3 for the Commemoration of the Faithful Departed.

[2] Roman Missal, Eucharistic Prayer I.

[3] Saint Augustine of Hippo, Sermon 169.13.

[4] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1021.

[5] Pope Benedict XVI, Spe salvi, 45.

[6] Ibid., 46.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Joseph Ratzinger, Eschatology: Death and Eternal Life, Second Edition.  Michael Waldstein, trans. with Aidan Nichols, O.P., ed.  (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1988), 230.

[9]Ibid., 229.

[10] Joseph Ratzinger, Seek That Which Is Above: Meditations Through the Year, Second Edition.  Graham Harrison, trans.  (San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 2007), 77.

[11] Pope Benedict XVI, Spe salvi, 47.

[12] Ibid., 48.

Delighting in dandelions

The annual Commemoration of the Faithful Departed is always something of a melancholy day, marked as it is by both grieving for our beloved dead and hope in the promise of the resurrection. With its joy and sadness, All Souls' Day is one of my favorite days of the year.

I have not visited Calvary Cemetery where so many members of my family - including my parents - are buried back home in Quincy on All Souls' Day in many years, but at least that possibility existed and I have always been able to visit their graves within a few days of All Souls' Day. Now, of course, that possibility does not exist, which adds a particular sadness to this day.

Even so, I awoke this morning with a curious desire to do something, though I had no real idea what it was that I wanted to do. Wishing in the end to avoid the crowds, I decided to take a rather long walk along the famous Via Appia, leading south out of the capital city:

As I made my way along this most ancient of the imperial roads, I could not help but wonder how many hundreds of thousands of people had passed by this way before me. I wondered, too, about the many people entombed along this road and what grief filled their families when their graves were pillaged and ransacked by various invading armies. These thoughts seemed fitting on this day when Holy Mother Church prays for "us who are alive, [that] God may grant pardon for our sins, and to all the dead, a place of light and peace."

The Via Appia provides a charming and peaceful walk for many miles away from the burgeoning crowds in the city. The road is used today by pedestrians, bicycles, cars, and even horses:

Most of the tombs, as I mentioned, were destroyed centuries ago, but here and there something of the mausolea can still be seen here and there:

Despite all of this beauty, what caught my attention was something small, simple, and generally something people do not like:

Yes, I found myself delighting in dandelions because they brought back many happy memories from childhood and at the same time provided a meditation on death (it's been a long time since I last saw one).

"All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field," says the prophet Isaiah. "The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the LORD blows upon it; surely the people is grass. The grass withers and the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand for ever" (Isaiah 40:6-8). The Prince of the Apostles - who encountered the Risen Lord on the Via Appia - tells us "that word is the good news which was preached to you" (I Peter 1:25).

This good news includes these words of Jesus: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin; yet I tell you,even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith" (Matthew 6:28-30).

God clothes even the humble dandelion in a bright yellow flower before its seeds are simply blown away by the wind. What is more, those who have been baptized into the Death and Resurrection of Jesus "have put on Christ" (Galatians 3:27). Yes, he clothes us in himself and so we have confidence that "the souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them" (Wisdom 3:1).

But more than this, the dandelion reminds us that "my life is a breath" and that "my days are swifter than a weaver's shuttle," that "they are soon gone, and we fly away" (Job 7:7, 6; Psalm 90:10). For this reason, we must pray to learn "to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom" so that we might "dwell in the house of the LORD for years to come" (Psalm 90:12; 23:6).

Yes, we can delight in the simplicity, the brightness, and even - for lack of a better word - the fluffiness of the dandelion, even as learn from it.

Purgatory: The look and fire of His love (as seen in a statue)

In my boyhood church of St. John the Baptist (which was its own parish until 1999 when it was merged with St. Rose of Lima parish to form All Saints parish, which was more recently merged with St. Boniface and Immaculate Conception parishes to form Blessed Sacrament parish), a lovely statue of souls being freed from Purgatory could be found:

Photo: Keith Urbon

I spent many hours contemplating this statue when I was younger and,to this day, I have not seen its equal. I would dearly love to look upon it again, but - since it was sold - this not now possible; I do not even know to whom it was sold.

At any rate, above this statue was written the phrase, "Remember, me, for the hand of God has touched me." An allusion to a passage from the Book of Job which reads, "Have pity on me, have pity on me, O you my friends, for the hand of God has touched me" (19:21), the phrase also served as a constant reminder to the faithful to pray for the faithful departed because, as Pope Francis said today,

...we are called to remember everyone, to remember everyone, even those who no one remembers. We remember the victims of war and violence; the many "little ones" of the world crushed by hunger and poverty. We remember the anonymous who rest in common graves. We remember our brothers and sisters killed because they are Christians; and those who sacrificed their lives to serve others. We especially entrust to the Lord, those who have left over the last year.

These words are spoken by Job, who has suffered greatly and, according to his way of thinking, unjustly - because he committed no sin. Job demanded from the Lord to know the reason for his suffering, but never received it. Suffering as he did, Job found himself quite alone. "My kinsfolk and my close friends," he said, "have failed me; the guests in my house have forgotten me; my maidservants count me as a stranger; I have an alien in their eyes" (Job 19:14-15).

Even so, the holy man of God declared, as we hear from time to time at a funeral:

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and at last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then from my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. My heart faints within me (Job 19:25-27)!

Returning to the statue, we see that as a woman receives "the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him" (James 1:12; cf. Revelation 2:10). As she is crowned by the Lord Jesus, her eyes look into his; from her flesh she sees God, her own eyes behold his face:

At the heart of the Church's teaching on the necessity of Purgatory for those who die in friendship with God but not yet fully purified (cf. Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1030-1032).

In his encyclical letter Spe salvi, Pope Benedict XVI suggested that the purification of Purgatory is the encounter with Jesus Christ:

Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms us and frees us, allowing us to become fully ourselves. All that we build during our lives can prove to be mere straw, pure bluster, and it collapses. Yet in the pain of this encounter, when the impurity and sickness of our lives becomes evident to us, there lies salvation. His gaze, the touch of his heart heals us through an undeniably painful transformation “as through fire.” But it is also a blessed pain, in which the holy power of his love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally of ourselves and totally of God. In this way the interrelation between justice and grace also becomes clear: the way we live our lives is not immaterial, but our defilement does not stain us forever if we have at least continued to reach out towards Christ, towards truth and towards love… The pain of love becomes our salvation and our joy (47).

The pain of the fires of Purgatory is the pain of knowing we have fallen short of the love God, it is the pain of our own disappointment.

As we pray today for our departed brothers and sisters, let us beg the Lord to let the light of his face shine brightly upon the souls of the faithful departed, that by the look of his love they may at last be fully purified.

Blessing of Graves

I forgot to post this earlier.

At 4:00 p.m. this afternoon we will visit the cemetery to bless the graves and to pray for our beloved dead.

We will gather at the entrance of the cemetery and process to the cross where the blessing will take place.

If you are in the area and are free, please join us.

Homily - 2 November 2008 - All Souls' Day

The Commemoration of the Faithful Departed
All Souls Day

Today Holy Mother Church prays for her children who, at the moment of death, though destined for the everlasting glory of heaven, were not yet prepared to enter into that joy but who were also not deserving of hell. These are the Poor Souls in Purgatory, those who are being purged – purified – for the everlasting life of heaven.

This Commemoration of the Faithful Departed, this All Souls Day, is a stark reminder to us that not every soul enters the glory of heaven immediately at the moment of death.

This realization marks us with great sorrow and so we pray the Father of Mercies “hear our prayers and console us” and “strengthen our hope that all our departed brothers and sisters will share” in the resurrection of Christ Jesus, and we with them.[1]

Whereas yesterday Mother Church honored her heroic children who lived well the faith of Jesus Christ – the saints of every age and place – who are now with the Lord in glory, today we pray for those who hope to share in that glory, “those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith.”[2]

Jesus says to us, “Everything that the Father gives me will come to me, and I will not reject anyone who comes to me” (John 6:37). It is our choice in this life whether or not to belong to Christ, but just as he will not reject anyone who comes to him, neither will he force anyone to come to him. The choice is ours, to be made again and again, at every moment of our lives. With every word we speak, thought we think, deed we do, we are free to accept or reject the grace given us. He extends his hand toward us, saying, “Come, follow me” (Luke 18:22), and he waits for us to either grasp his hand or walk away.

We know that “death puts an end to human life as the time open to either accepting or rejecting the divine grace manifested in Christ.”[3] This is why the manner in which we live this life is so important, for by it we make our decision for or against Christ. “With death, our life-choice becomes definitive – our life stands before the judge.”[4] Today is a fitting day for us to consider what the choice of my life is, what my life is oriented towards.

This choice can have a multiplicity of forms, for each of our lives is different, but the fundamental choice before us remains the same.

There are some people whose lives are so filled with wickedness that any desire for truth and love has been completely destroyed within them. This is what is meant by the word, “hell.” There are also people whose lives are so imbued with love and purity that their love for God flows readily to their neighbor. Such holiness of life clearly marks one for heaven. But such people are not common, are they?

What, then, of the rest of us? What of those of us who want to live holy lives but fail so often?

We can presume that in the majority of people

there remains in the depths of their being an ultimate interior openness to truth, to love, to God. In the concrete choices of life, however, it is covered over by ever new compromises with evil – much filth covers purity, but the thirst for purity remains, and it still constantly re-emerges from all that is base and remains present in the soul.[5]

What, then, becomes of these souls who are open to and are desirous of truth and love, but whose lives are also marked with sin? “Will all the impurity they have amassed through life suddenly cease to matter?”[6] Certainly not.

Update: word order fixed: It would go against God’s mercy to cast them into hell, but it would also go against his justice for them to enter into heaven straight away with such filth covering their souls. The answer is clear: they must first be purified. Thus we hear the words from the Book of Wisdom: “God tried them and found them worthy of himself. As gold in the furnace, he proved them, and as sacrificial offerings he took them to himself” (Wisdom 3:5-6).

This process of purification is called purgatory for it is a purgation, a cleansing, of the soul. “[Purgatory is] the inwardly necessary process of transformation in which a person becomes capable of Christ, capable of God, and thus capable of unity with the whole communion of saints.”[7]

We often speak of the pain of the fire of Purgatory; why do we do so? The Psalmist tells us, “fire goes before [the Lord]; everywhere it consumes the foes” (Psalm 97:4). Saint Paul tells us that we will be saved, “but only as through fire” (I Corinthians 3:15). What is this fire, then, but the fire of love?

The Lord’s “burning flame cuts free our closed-off heart, melting it, and pouring it into a new mold to make it fit for the living organism of his body.”[8] This fire is the encounter with Christ Jesus himself, who is both Judge and Savior, and this encounter with him is the moment of judgment. Many today are afraid of the notion of judgment “because they confuse judgment with petty calculation and give more room to fear than to a loving trust.”[9]

Pope Benedict explains this encounter with Jesus most powerfully:

Before his gaze all falsehood melts away. This encounter with him, as it burns us, transforms us and frees us, allowing us to become fully ourselves. All that we build during our lives can prove to be mere straw, pure bluster, and it collapses. Yet in the pain of this encounter, when the impurity and sickness of our lives becomes evident to us, there lies salvation. His gaze, the touch of his heart heals us through an undeniably painful transformation “as through fire.” But it is also a blessed pain, in which the holy power of his love sears through us like a flame, enabling us to become totally of ourselves and totally of God. In this way the interrelation between justice and grace also becomes clear: the way we live our lives is not immaterial, but our defilement does not stain us forever if we have at least continued to reach out towards Christ, towards truth and towards love… The pain of love becomes our salvation and our joy.[10]

Today’s celebration, while it is one of deep sadness as we mourn our beloved dead and pray for them, is also one of profound hope rooted in the love of God.

Let each of us, then, raise our prayers and offer our sufferings to the Father for the Poor Souls in Purgatory. We know that our prayers on their behalf are beneficial to them because, “No one lives alone. No one sins alone. No one is saved alone.”[11] We are all one in the Body of Christ. Therefore, let us keep ever in mind the words of St. Ambrose: “We have loved them in life; let us not forget them in death.” Amen.

[1] Collect of the day.
[2] Roman Missal, Eucharistic Prayer I.
[3] Catechism of the Catholic Church, 1021.
[4] Pope Benedict XVI, Spe salvi, 45.
[5] Ibid., 46.
[6] Ibid.
[7] Joseph Ratzinger, Eschatology: Death and Eternal Life, Second Edition. Michael Waldstein, trans. with Aidan Nichols, O.P., ed. (Washington, D.C.: The Catholic University of America Press, 1988), 230.
[8]Ibid., 229.
[9] Joseph Ratzinger, Seek That Which Is Above: Meditations Through the Year, Second Edition. Graham Harrison, trans. (San Francisco, California: Ignatius Press, 2007), 77.
[10] Pope Benedict XVI, Spe salvi, 47.
[11] Ibid., 48.