Life Changed Not Ended
Near a towering oak in Section CC of the large Catholic cemetery out in the suburbs sits a man of about 80. Usually he brings one of those old-school beach chairs that fold up flat, the Kmart ones from the ‘70’s that have an interlaced canvas mesh which scratch one’s thighs if he or she stays too long in the sun. When the weather is nice, he sits with a Wawa coffee and a prayer book, fresh flowers – usually pink carnations (her favorite) – placed atop the gravestone. If it’s too cold or raining, he still comes, but sits in his car along the neatly-manicured roadway, listening to Sinatra or other oldies that they danced to as high school sweethearts.
He comes every day, ever since she lost her battle with lung cancer fifteen years ago. They had been married nearly 47 years at that point, and not a day goes by that he doesn’t ache to have her back. To anyone who still asks after her, he would tell them: “My heart was shaped by her love, and now there is a piece of it that feels so empty and incomplete. I know it won’t be filled until we’re together again.”
Let’s be honest: All Souls Day is often a tough day for hearts that are broken. It sometimes hurts to remember. It hurts to miss deeply. It hurts when it feels as though there were things left unsaid and undone. It hurts to let go of love as we have known it this side of heaven.
But the Church in her great love for us offers this day because she knows exactly what broken hearts need: to honor, to pray, and to stay united.
Mr. Rogers, the PBS TV host who taught generations of children how to be Christ-like without ever needing to put on minister’s robes, once stood before an auditorium of Hollywood celebrities and asked them to take 10 seconds to recall the person or people who had gotten them to this point in their lives and careers. The cynical, worldly TV-stars chuckled at the suggestion, but Fred was serious: “I mean it. Take 10 seconds and think about the ones who loved you to this point. I’ll watch the clock.” As the cameras panned the crowd, the viewers at home could feel the sacred silence that fell over the theater, and quite a few celebs were caught shedding tears. Then from the stage came the voice of a saintly man: “How it must please that person to know that you remembered the impact they made on you. Never forget that love.”
All Souls Day honors the love: the love of parents, spouses, children and siblings, friends and neighbors, who have gone before us and are now in the hand of God, as the Book of Wisdom reminds us. It is a day to call to mind and heart the communion that we share: the love that binds us here while we are together and continues – albeit in a different way – once the veil of heaven separates us for a time. In one way, you could say that this feast keeps the flame of love burning in our hearts, a reminder that love is more powerful than death and that love triumphs over all else. God’s love poured out on Calvary proves this.
And it is precisely because of that love from the Cross that All Souls Day leads us into the heart of prayer. As the Church militant – fighting to get back to Heaven one day – we are called to become prayer warriors in every aspect of our lives, but especially for those who need our prayers the most.
I get the sense these days that most of us have forgotten that the souls who have gone before us need us to pray for them. Attend any modern funeral, listen to any eulogy at a Mass of Christian burial, and we’ve all but canonized the deceased. I get it. We want nothing more than for our departed loved ones to be held in the eternal embrace of the Father.
But here’s the reality: if I were to die this moment, my soul quite frankly wouldn’t be ready to enter Paradise. I aim for holiness, but often miss the mark. I assume many of us would say the same. I hope that “what I have done and what I have failed to do” doesn’t warrant hell, but would God’s justice allow me to spend eternity with Him as I stand right now? Or would I need a space and time of purification – all through God’s mercy – to allow His love to finish the work that wasn’t completed here?
Our Protestant friends would say that Jesus’ offering at Calvary was enough, and when we die it’s a straight ticket to heaven for those who believe in Him. His Blood sanctifies; His Sacrifice makes whole. All of this is true, of course – we don’t deny that as Catholics. And yet, Purgatory is the gift that takes His Sacrificial Love and allows it to complete the good work that was begun in us. Most of us will need the cleansing fire of Purgatory, knowing that once we are there, we will in His way and time get Home to God forever.
That separation – that purgation – is painful, though: comparable to a fire that burns away the dross that doesn’t belong on our souls. It is the Fire of Mercy that heals and repairs; it is the Fire of Mercy that is offered each time we humbly kneel before the Lord in the Sacrament of Confession. Anyone of us who have felt the pain of separation know how much that hurts, and so the souls who are being purified need us to lift them up in prayer, asking God’s Mercy to raise that soul to eternal life. They can pray for us; they cannot pray for themselves.
Today, then, let us renew our efforts to pray for the souls in purgatory: our own loved ones and friends who need our prayers. Many saints have often commented how the souls of the deceased have come to them (in dreams and states of prayer) asking for their intercession. Even St. Bernadette of Lourdes reminded her fellow sisters to pray for her after she died. She trusted in God’s Mercy but didn’t want to be presumptuous of it. Have Masses offered for your loved ones. Pray for the souls that are forgotten. Offer little sacrifices that the souls in Purgatory will be admitted to Paradise. This is our sacred duty, and how blessed will that day be when the souls we’ve prayed for greet us and thank us for the ways we prayed their souls back to God.
Thus, the final reality of All Souls Day: when we are here celebrating Liturgy, our loved ones are truly united with us. The Saints in Heaven, we on earth and the holy souls in purgatory are one in the Lord who is present to us at every Sacrifice of the Mass. Because we wrestle with sin, our senses fail to grasp the reality taking place at this very altar: we share in the one Eternal Sacrifice that sets us free. We are present in a way we can’t fully grasp to the Last Supper and Sacrifice on Calvary. When we are here, we are there at the Crucifixion – where Love saves us for eternity. And when we are here, so are all those united in Christ: the saints and the ones being purified for sainthood. How beautiful and consoling is the thought that each time we come to receive our Lord in Eucharist – Body, Blood, soul and divinity – we are also receiving the love of the saints and souls who have made it beyond the veil. A part of their love is united with Christ, and we with them. What a comfort that is to know. Love feeds us, and Love mends our broken hearts.
In one way, that widower who sits daily at the graveside of his beloved wife points to a sacred reality that this holy day is truly all about: Eternal life is our goal, and we help each other get there. Love walks with and keeps vigil. Love remembers and love prays for. Love stands at the Cross, and love never forgets. Love is Eucharist and love is here at every Mass.
How blessed we are to be united in this love … all of us, both here and in the hereafter.