The weekend of November 1 and 2 is a very special time for me — it’s All Saints and All Souls days. These two days have a profound emotional impact on me, and I think the church shows tremendous wisdom in putting these two feasts together.
   Most of us consider death an unpleasant topic. We don’t mind discussing it in general terms (philosophically) but we don’t want to think about our own death, and we especially dislike the idea of someone we deeply love dying. Some people even refuse to make a will because that forces them to consider the consequences of their own demise. Well, guess what; that’s stupid. You and I and everyone we love is going to die, so if death is going to eventually come and take us away then death had better be our friend and not our enemy. Think of it: when the angel of death comes to escort you to judgment, do you want him to be your friend or your enemy?
   In putting these two feasts together the holy mother Church offers us a wonderfully consoling and balanced way of looking at death. On All Saints Day (Saturday, 11/01) we celebrate the glory of the saints in heaven. The church teaches that everyone in heaven is a saint, and All Saints Day is dedicated to all the “unofficial” saints in heaven. We have a bunch of men, women and children who are canonized (official) saints, and each one has a day assigned to them. On All Saints Day we celebrate everybody else in heaven. Think of your loved ones who have died and gone to heaven. This is a chance for you to be happy for — and with — them. You and I rejoice that they are perfectly happy being with God and everyone else in heaven. They have no pain, no frustration or annoyance, all they know is absolute, complete happiness because they can see (i.e., understand) God perfectly. On this day we rejoice for them.
   On All Souls Day (11/02) we mourn our dead. Even though we rejoiced for them the day before, today we admit that we may still feel some sense of pain or loss because of their separation from us. We’re not afraid or ashamed to cry or grieve. After all, Jesus wept over the death of His friend, Lazarus. We don’t grieve because we lack faith or because our faith is weak. We grieve because the people we love aren’t with us like they used to be.

The beauty of these two days together is that they are so honest and healing: we admit our joy for our departed, and we admit our sorrow at the distance. It’s just like life, isn’t it — we take the good with the bad, and we let Jesus make sense of it for us.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.

 

Adapted from Fr. Douglas J. Guthrie Pastor's Column 26 October 2014.