Hopeful People - Homily for All Souls' Day

          A few years ago, my cousin Jason discovered that our Great Great Great Grandfather died during the Civil War.  William Meyer joined the New Jersey 13^th Regiment when it was mustered in Newark on August 25, 1862.  With only one month of training, the New Jersey 13^th was assigned to the Army of the Potomac’s XII Corps and was sent to the battle of Antietam.  It later fought at Gettysburg, Chancellorsville and Chattanooga, where William died and was buried in 1864.  William was never mentioned in our family stories.  I had never heard of him before Jason’s discovery, let alone that he was a Union soldier who died in the service of our country.  I’m very proud of that fact, but learning about William had a greater impact on me than just pride.  I felt a connection with someone I've never met:  a family connection, a patriotic connection, a spiritual connection.  And I live in great hope for the day when I can meet my Great Great Great Grandfather William face to face.  I can hope for that day because we Christians are hopeful people.  That’s what All Souls’ Day is all about, and our readings tell us why.

          On its face, All Soul’s day sounds like a consolation prize.  On November 1, we celebrate the Saints, those who've made it to heaven!  On November 2, everybody else.  It sounds a little like the participation trophy that every kid gets at the awards ceremony.   But All Souls’ Day isn't a day set aside for those who didn't make it to heaven, it’s the day we remember all who have died – those of happy memory, and those who may have slipped from our earthly memory with the passage of time, like William.  It’s a day to connect with our ancestors, but most importantly, it’s the day we come together as a hopeful people to celebrate our hope in the resurrection of the dead and life everlasting.  

          So what makes us so hopeful?  Let’s look at our readings.  Our first reading from the Book of Wisdom is a statement of hope.  “This pericope clearly says that death is not the end but a passage into peace in the presence of God.”[1]  The beautiful 23^rd Psalm reminds us that we “shall dwell in the house of the Lord for years to come.”  And in our Gospel, Jesus assures us that he will not reject anyone who comes to him and that it’s the Father’s will that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life.  “When these texts are read in the light of All Souls, a common denominator is what the Catholic funeral Mass asserts:  ‘Life is not ended but changed.’”[2]  So we have every reason to hope, a hope, in Saint Paul’s words, that “does not disappoint.”

          We have every reason to hope.  The hope that Paul speaks of is assured.  God doesn't renege on his promises.  God’s love for us is reliable; it doesn't ebb and flow with changing circumstances because God can’t change.  “In sending the greatest gift of all, his Son who would die for us, God set no conditions.  God’s love is given freely – all we need to do is accept it.” [3] 

          But accepting it isn't always easy.  We get distracted by the many challenges of earthly life.  We lose hope as we face insult and injury, poverty and despair, sickness and death.  We lose courage and conviction as our secular society treats our hope as foolish or superstitious.  But living in hope is nothing to be ashamed of.  Christian living is often paradoxical and difficult, but it’s also a life of great joy, of selfless charity and of infinite love.  This is the faith that’s been handed onto us by our ancestors.  The ancestors we honor today.  It’s something to be proud of.  So when we feel like we’re losing hope, let’s turn to the faith of our fathers and hope together as hopeful people.

          Every time we remember those who've gone before us, we invite God into our lives.  Our memory is prayer; our memory is communion, expressed so beautifully in our Eucharistic Prayer when we pray “Remember also our brothers and sisters who have fallen asleep in the hope of the resurrection, and all who have died in your mercy:  welcome them into the light of your face.”[4]  In prayer, we enter into communion with God, with each other and with all he has joined to himself.  In prayer, we come together as hopeful people.

          When my wife Jessica was pregnant with both of our daughters, we had a really tough time picking out a boy’s name.  Well guess what:  the only boy’s name we ever agreed upon was William.  To our knowledge at that time, neither one of us had a William in the family (Jason hadn't found William Meyer yet).  We just liked the name.  It spoke to us.  So when we learned of William Meyer’s honored place in our family tree, we mused that if we had had a son, he would have been named after William, whether we knew it or not.  I don’t believe in coincidences, but I do believe in connections – especially spiritual connections.  And I do believe that William and all our dearly departed speak to us, and pray with us as we wait, together, in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior.  We can believe this, and we can hope for that day because we are hopeful people.

Readings:  Wisdom 3: 1-9; Psalm 23; Romans 5: 5-11; John 6: 37-40

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[1] Patricia Datchuk Sánchez, “Remembering and Celebrating Our Own,” National Catholic Reporter, vol. 50, no. 26 (October 10-23, 2014) at 31.

[2] John Shea, The Spiritual Wisdom of the Gospels for Christian Preachers and Teachers:  On Earth as It Is in Heaven, Matthew, Year A (Collegeville, Liturgical Press, 2004) at 237.

[3] Graziano Marcheschi and Nancy Seitz Marcheschi, Workbook for Lectors, Gospel Readers, and Proclaimers of the Word, 2014 (Chicago, Liturgy Training Publications, 2013) at 281.

[4] Eucharistic Prayer II.