Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed (All Souls Day, Ages 9-12): Uniting the Living and the Dead
- thebetterpart
- 12m
- 5 min read
Each year we celebrate All Saints Day on November 1st and then All Souls Day on November 2nd. On All Saints, we remember the crowd of people that the Church knows for sure are filled with the Risen Life of God. On All Souls, we remember the crowds of people who died before us. We begin this month, the last month of the Church year, thinking about death. Why?
Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him.
Jesus travels around Galilee from town to town. St. Luke tells us that Jesus travels with his disciples—those who follow him because they want to learn from him about the Kingdom of God—and a large crowd of people—people who find Jesus curious.
As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother’s only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town.
Here comes another crowd of people. One crowd with Jesus, entering the town; one crowd with the mother who lost her only son. Perhaps this crowd finds death curious.
When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, ‘Do not weep.’
The Lord has compassion when he sees the woman. We know that compassion means feeling what another person feels—sharing their feeling. The Greek word that St. Luke uses is more physical than the English. Seeing the woman causes something to move in Jesus' guts. He feels her grief as physical pain inside.
The Lord has compassion when he sees the woman, not when he sees the dead man. Death does not cause something to move in Jesus' guts. The woman's grief and pain moves him.
Why does the Lord tell the woman not to weep? We know people cry when they fill with sorrow, when they face death. Why does he want her to stop? Perhaps he needs her attention.
Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still.
The Lord steps away from the crowd following him into the woman's circle. He touches the stretcher on which the dead man lies. Why? He touches the stretcher; he touches death. Death does not worry him. It does not cause something to move within him.
Everyone stands still. The noise of the two curious crowds fades away. It is as if, for a moment, time stops. Does he think of another mother—his own—alone when her son dies? Does he think of another son—himself—who rises? When he opens his mouth to speak, then, whose voice does he speak with? Does he speak with his father’s voice, the voice that calls us all into life?
And he said, ‘Young man, I say to you, rise!’ The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.
It is a miracle. It is a sign. The Lord unites the living and the dead. With him, they are together again.
Fear seized all of them; and they glorified God, saying, ‘A great prophet has risen among us!’ and ‘God has looked favourably on his people!’
We hope the fear that grips the crowds is holy fear, reverence and awe, fear of the Lord. We hope it is not terror, but instead a gift of the Holy Spirit. The crowds glorify God; they give God praise. One crowd, at least—the one curious about death?—knows that God has looked favourably on God's people. This is a good fruit of the miracle.
But listen to what else the crowds say:
‘A great prophet has risen among us!’
Is Jesus a great prophet? Perhaps the crowds remember the story of Elijah the prophet who raises a widow's son to life. Do they remember that story correctly? When the widow's son dies, Elijah cries out to the Lord,
‘O Lord my God, let this child’s life come into him again.’ The Lord listened to the voice of Elijah; the life of the child came into him again, and he revived (1 Kings 17.21-22).
Does Elijah raise the boy to life? It seems that the Lord does this work.
Perhaps the crowds think of the prophet Ezekiel, who has a vision about death and life. The Church remembers this vision on this feast of All Souls, too. Ezekiel sees a valley full of a crowd of dry bones. The Lord God says to Ezekiel:
Thus says the Lord God to these bones:
‘I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live.
I will lay sinews on you,
and will cause flesh to come upon you,
and cover you with skin, and put breath in you,
and you shall live;
and you shall know that I am the Lord.’
‘Thus says the Lord God:
I am going to open your graves,
and bring you up from your graves, O my people;
and I will bring you back to the land of Israel.
‘And you shall know that I am the Lord,
when I open your graves,
and bring you up from your graves, O my people.
‘I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live,
and I will place you on your own soil;
then you shall know that I, the Lord,
have spoken and will act,’” says the Lord.
The crowds get it wrong. Jesus is not a great prophet. He is the Lord. The Lord raises the dead to life.
We know that Jesus is the Lord. We do not want to be rude, but what good is this miracle to us today? On this day when we pray in a particular way for those who died before us, why do we need to hear this miracle? Can we participate in this miracle today? Can we experience, like the woman does, the fullness of the Kingdom, even for a short, short moment?
What do we do when our loved ones die, and it is as if time stops, and separates into the time before death, and the time after death? What do we do when our faith tells us they step into newness of life, the fullness of the Kingdom, and yet we feel such pain?
We remember that the grief of the living causes Jesus' insides to churn.
We remember that he steps into our circle of grief.
We remember that the Lord unites the living and the dead.
How can we experience this? In the Eucharist, we can taste that fullness of the Kingdom that our loved ones enjoy. For a moment time stops and the noise and confusion of our grief fades away. The Lord of Life who grows through death to everlasting life steps out of eternity into our moment of time. For a moment, life and death, the living and the dead, eternity and the present, embrace.
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