Our parish tradition has been to celebrate the Feast of All Saints with the Feast of All Souls on the weekend nearest their dates (November 1st/2nd). So we honor the memory of our loved ones in the parish who God called back during the year. Our faith community shares their loss with families who have provided photos while we have lit a candle for each person—symbolizing the flame of their life is still alive within our memory and heart.
In Church history, we first had what was called the “Feast of All Martyrs.” In 835, this was changed to the Feast of All Saints, and took place at what was then considered in Celtic tradition the beginning of the year (November 1st). As Jewish people begin their Sabbath at sundown Friday, so these people began their Holy Day on “all hallows eve” (or the evening of the holy ones or saints). Over time these words elided into Halloween—October 31st. Celebration with apples and cider took place—and the Church expanded the remembering of ALL who died (not just saints) to November 2nd—and that became All Souls Day. So this is a special weekend for our parish—with photos of our loved ones on the Mass program. One day, your photo will be there. How will you be remembered?
We’re called to the altar where we can bring once again our prayer of thanksgiving for those who can be our advocates in heaven. Their place in the pew can’t be taken in quite the same way, but we should reflect on the hard reality that the pews have emptied in our churches throughout the country (12% of the Philadelphia Catholic population going to Mass). Our loved ones have passed the torch to us—but many have not taken it from them. Such is the nature of society becoming more and more secularized. In countless ways, we are barraged with messages saying that God is unimportant to our lives.
Ron Reagan, son of the former president, proudly proclaims in radio commercials that he’s an atheist and advertises for people to join his “Freedom From Religion Foundation.” Incongruously, among the pieces of merchandise that Mr. Trump sells is a bible—even though he practices no religion. So it appears we’re influenced by powerful people to keep the pews empty.
Today reminds us that the loved ones we’ve buried this year would not want an empty church to be their legacy.
Let’s face it. To be a Catholic, or have a Christian identity, is no simple thing. I can understand why people would just as soon sleep in on Sunday or drink beer on Saturday afternoon. Those behaviors call us to just take life for granted, and carry on doing whatever it is we want to do. We’re seduced into thinking that, as the beer commercial said: “It doesn’t get any better than this.” Yep! TV and beer—that’s the meaning of life. Right? Uh…….no.
People seem to have forgotten that scripture’s story is our story, and that to understand where our story should go—we have to immerse ourselves in its content, its stories that shed light on our experience. To live our life-story the best possible way, we need to know scripture’s lessons and be part of the prayerful gathering of the faith community each weekend (or more often) to discern why God made us who we are. Within the sacramental experience, we learn why God created us for this period in history. It was GOD who wanted YOU—here and now. Why?
Why did God see that you be born to the people who tended your upbringing. Why has God sustained your life until now, and put different sorts of people into your life? Creation isn’t complete without your presence in it—with your presence intended to affect the lives of others—in your own unique way of living as Jesus has taught.
Our deceased loved ones know these things better than I can express them here. All I can do is remind you of our vocation as people of the Gospel, people of the sacraments, people of the Word, and people of the Cross. What a profound symbol—the cross—pointing in 4 directions—pointing to all places and all people. It points to the sky above and the earth below where all living things dwell. In pointing upward, it reminds us of the God who made us and who is above our human joys and sorrows. We look toward the heavens, vertically, asking our Creator for guidance, encouragement, and inspiration.
Arms of the cross reach out horizontally—reminding us of one another, of the human family who are brothers and sisters in Christ. As Jesus did, so are we called to reach out to fellow-travelers (and not just immediate family members). I think of people who belittle those seeking refuge where they can find it—like our ancestors who came to the shores of America seeking refuge. Just as our Irish, Italian, German, and other Europeans were greeted with hate by militia groups like the Ku Klux Klan, so today WE Irish, Italian, German, and other European descendants belittle, taunt, and abuse people coming from the south. I think of how we lost our beloved brother, Carlos Sanchez, this year and wonder how many other people like Carlos seek refuge as his family once did. The past is present—just in different faces. God’s people—the cross offering its outreach.
Today’s gospel passage hits the bull’s eye of Christian theology. Namely, Mark reported that Jesus spoke of the commandments and said that “the most important one is this: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” In giving this reply to a “teacher of the law,” Jesus combined Deuteronomy 6:5 (love Lord) and Leviticus 19:18 (love neighbor).
The Christian cross, or crucifix, symbolizes a wisdom that non-Christian (although baptized Presbyterian) Mark Twain captured in an adage. He observed: “The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.” This behavior relates to the horizontal element of our Christian identity. It is the “reaching out” to others that is our Gospel mandate (part 2 of the “Greatest Commandment”). Sadly, our wounded world gives daily witness to hurts we inflict on one another literally. or verbally, or through neglect.
Twain’s Huckleberry Finn tells of two families who attend church services and then go right back to engaging in bloodshed. Their behavior (which is ours, too, in our own unique way) moves one to wonder if Jesus were here today, “there is one thing he would not be — a Christian” (if their practice, or ours, bears this type of fruit).
As Christianity’s most profound symbol, the cross at Catholic churches is displayed with a “corpus,” or “body.” A cross without a corpus conjures up thoughts of Jesus becoming “the Christ,” or “Messiah” who overcame the cross by rising to new life. The presence of a “corpus,” by contrast, visually hammers home the challenge Christians face in TRYING to incarnate Jesus. Their horizontal outreach to others is their attempt to “love them as they love God” but those others may well resist. The artistic-symbolic-bloodied corpus is a stark reminder to us that in living our Christian identity, we may experience Calvary. Or are you like the families in Huckleberry Finn? Do you bear grudges that move you not to attend a funeral, but instead send a nice letter to the deceased’s family saying you approved of it?
Feeling ill-will is one thing, but acting on it is another. Would you write such a letter, or take the higher road? Which action would Jesus take? Our behavior boils down to this: 1) the only person to fully live the Christian message was Jesus—and look what happened to him! 2) We are called to live as Jesus did—and make every effort to blaze a creative, horizontal trail in outreach to others. For example, if the funeral cited above were that of Satan himself, why not consider this: “Who prays for Satan? Who, in 21 centuries, has had the human decency to pray for the one sinner who needed it most?” Maybe this can be the lens through which we act out our identity as people of the Gospel.
How revolutionary our Christian identity would be if Satan were on our list of “who to pray for.” Contemplating the power of prayer we have over this fallen one is wind in our sails to move forward and pray for, or outreach in some way, any person who we’ve deemed hate-worthy. In praying for the prince of demons, we can face anything—and STILL realize Genesis tells us that we humans were made at the end of the week’s work–when God was tired. So we’re all frail vessels—but still filled with the grace of God.
Discipleship calls us to “fight the good fight” by recognizing where we see the ABSENCE of behavior associated with Jesus. It is at those times that we are called to be his presence. In doing so, we can attain the heavenly vision to which God calls our earthly life to see. So extend your arms—like a cross does—and be the horizontal lifeline for others that you were created to be. Behaving this way, when our day of death arrives, even the undertaker will be sorry we are gone.
You might wonder if I, the “priest at church,” feels confident of the path he pursues in living the greatest commandment. Well, I don’t like to be presumptuous about my destination being heaven or hell – you see, because I have friends in both places.
(Interspersed within the above are quotes from Mark Twain’s commentaries on religion).