Fr Billy Swan
Dear friends. One of the strongest features of the Irish Catholic tradition is praying for and remembering the dead. On Patron Day, on their anniversaries and for today's feast of ‘All Souls’, we make a special effort to recall those who have gone home before us to God. We decorate their graves, book their anniversary Mass and gather as families to share, tell stories and keep their memory alive. Today I would like to reflect on our ongoing connection with the dead through faith and explore how this connection is not something to be feared but rather celebrated with joy and hope.
I begin with the human soul since it is after all the feast of All Souls. At the very beginning of the Bible in the creation accounts in the Book of Genesis, we are told basic things: first that God made us in his own image and likeness. If this is true then you and I are made in the image and likeness of God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. God is one with three persons who know each other and are open to each other in love. Since we are made in the image of God, it means that the human soul is made with this same openness to others. To be human is to be in relationship with others. To be human does not mean to be closed off from others in my own world. Also from the account of creation in the Bible, we are told that ‘it is not good for man to be alone’. God made us to be together, not to use each other, but to delight in the presence of the other as companions and friends. In the first reading today, we have the image of the banquet that the Lord of hosts will prepare for all peoples. It is a very rich image with God as host seated at table with all peoples sharing a meal of good food. And it is in this togetherness with God and with one another than true joy is found. This is the joy for which we are made and where all sorrow is no more.
Our faith tells us that this openness to others and this togetherness is so strong that not even death can break it. The relationships we have with those we love are not destroyed with death but continue, albeit in a different way. Neither does death destroy the sense of togetherness for which we are made. In the first reading the people who gather at the same banquet with us in the company of God are not just the living but the dead who are alive in Him. For this reason in the creed of every Mass we stand and say ‘I believe in the communion of saints’. This is what we mean every time we say the creed: that we are still open and present to our loved ones who have died and they are open and present to us. In the words of St John Chrysostom: ‘Our loved ones who have died are no further away from us than God and God is very near’.
In my life as a person and a priest, I know and have seen this openness to the dead and communion with our faithful departed. When I think of my own father and talk about him to others, I know and believe that he is close and can hear me. He is present. He is still my Dad and I am still his son. Death hasn’t destroyed the openness and connection that love creates. I have seen this too in my life as a priest. Many times I have been with families who gather around the bed of a loved one who is dying. I have seen many examples where the dying show signs of being connected to the people who have gone before them and being open to the great communion of saints who wait to receive them and welcome them into their company. Many others testify to this too. In a new book called ‘Heading for the Light: 10 things that happen when you die’, Colum Keane has put together remarkable stories from people that confirm the power of the human soul being open to others, to God and being connected to them, in this life and the next.
We totally underestimate the power of all of this. When we become self-centered, we can cut ourselves off from a vital source of life that flows through our friendships that we enjoy with both the living and the dead. But when we are open to others in this world and to the communion of saints in the world to come, then we are nourished and never alone. The old Celtic tradition describes the boundary that separates us from the next world as but ‘a narrow stream’. I often think about this when walking along the beach. As I walk along, on my right is the land which represents this world: everything and everyone I can see. On my left is the sea which represents the world that lies beyond us, the world that is more mysterious but no less real. And as I walk along the beach, I know that I am walking along the boundary of the two worlds and that both worlds meet in me. Little wonder then why some many find walking along the beach such a spiritual and healing experience.
Never underestimate the power of openness to others and the togetherness that not even death destroys. If you have hurt someone who has died, it is not too late to ask forgiveness. They will hear you. If someone has hurt you who is not dead, tell them of your pain. If you miss and love someone who has died, tell them. You are not talking into an empty space. Love passes into prayer and prayer leads us to God. Openness to each other and being together is only possible in God. He is the one who makes love possible for He is love itself. He made us to be open and He wants us to enjoy his togetherness with him for all eternity. This is why we gather at the Eucharist where it all comes together. Joined with each other and with God in the communion of saints, we gather at this banquet table on the feast of All Souls and remind ourselves that:
"Nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord".
Romans 8:31-39
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