After this I had a vision of a great multitude,
which no one could count,
from every nation, race, people, and tongue.
They stood before the throne and before the Lamb, wearing white robes and holding palm branches in their hands.
They cried out in a loud voice:
"Salvation comes from our God, who is seated on the throne, and from the Lamb."
Entering November and the season of "death and judgment, heaven and hell," we celebrate the Saints. Catholics are by definition immersed in our history and traditions, and we go nowhere without the Elders who went before us. We are proud of them and we hope they are proud of us, although we know we often fail to live up to the standards they attained.
We don't suppose they can imagine the bizarre challenges that face us daily. Only the most recent saints might know what "AI" stands for, nor would they be any more prepared for its coming than we are. Sometimes we think nostalgically they had it so much easier than us; and then we read their stories more closely and we can only admire their courage in the face of unendurable challenges. With relief we thank God we do not face the same challenges -- until they come at us one day.
The saints remind us the Church has always had its back to the wall. The "world" was never friendly to us, or eager to receive us. If some nations occasionally welcomed our missionaries, it probably wasn't for our Gospel.
On this first day of November, as we anticipate the darkness of winter and the unholy demands of the world's idea of Christmas, we call upon the saints to show us the way forward. Somehow their stories and their presence must teach us how to walk faithfully in the footsteps of Jesus through the quicksands of the immediate future. We might be surprised one day if we look back and see our own footprints with the Lord's and all those who walk with Him.
Today, we join the saints and angels in praise of God. When I served as the Catholic chaplain at the Veterans Affairs Hospital in Louisville, Kentucky, celebrating Mass five days a week, there were many days when no one joined me in the chapel. I seemed alone with the television camera that, I hoped, was transmitting the sacred event to the patients' room. (I rarely heard from them about it.) But I knew the Mother of God, and all the saints and angels were there with me. I had to believe it; I could not endure without it.
On this Saturday, when the American bishops have made this holy day of obligation optional, many pastors will not offer the Mass, and many parishioners will not attend those that are offered. (Due to prior engagements, we're offering none here at the Mount.) But we remember the saints nonetheless, and hope they forgive us for not observing the feast with more festivity. Many of them, imprisoned or abandoned, suffered years without a liturgy of any kind.
The Lord remains with us, and so do the saints. Tomorrow we shall observe the Commemoration of All Souls, and we will keep faith with everyone who has passed before us. After claiming the saints today, we claim the sinners tomorrow. As we know, and they know, we belong among them! We're in this together. And we're praising God.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.