All Souls Day 2025

-

I am pictured here with my dear friend, Sr. Lucille Beaulieu, OSM, who passed away in 2024.

 Maybe you have a photograph on your dresser, or on the refrigerator — a loved one who’s gone before you. You see that picture every day. You might even find yourself saying a little hello when you walk by. That’s not foolish or sentimental. That’s love. And love never dies. That photograph is more than paper and ink — it’s a reminder that the bond you shared is still alive in God.

Brothers and sisters, today is a tender day in the life of the Church. All Souls’ Day is not flashy, not loud, not triumphant. It is quiet. It is prayerful. It is a day when the Church invites us to do something sacred, something deeply human: to remember.

We remember faces we still miss. Voices we can still hear in our minds. Hands we once held. We remember people who shaped us, loved us, and in some cases—carried us through life. And even if the world expects us to “move on,” our hearts know better. Love does not just stop. Love does not simply end because someone has died.

Our faith has words for that truth. We call it the Communion of Saints. We profess it every Sunday, but today we feel it. Today we lean on it. The Communion of Saints means that in Christ, we are still connected—the living and the dead—because love is stronger than death, and God is the God of the living.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells us, “I will not reject anyone who comes to me… it is the will of my Father that I shall lose nothing of what He has given me.” What a promise. What a consolation. Jesus is telling us that the people we love are not lost. We may not see them right now, we may ache for them, we may long for one more conversation or one more embrace—but in God, they are not lost. He holds them, remembers them, and loves them even more than we do.

And so today, we do something the world struggles to understand: we pray for the dead. Not because God forgets them, but because we refuse to. Our prayers reach beyond the veil. Our love, joined to Christ, becomes a bridge of grace. The bonds of affection, forged in faith and love, do not unravel in the face of death.

Some of us come today with grief that is fresh. Others carry a loss that has lived in the heart for years. Some losses are simple and peaceful. Others are complicated, unfinished, or painful. All of it—whatever we carry—belongs here. God receives it. He receives us. And He whispers to us the same words Jesus spoke in the Gospel: “I shall raise them up on the last day.”

My friends, as we celebrate this Eucharist, heaven and earth touch. The veil is thin here. We are closest to our beloved dead not at the cemetery, not in old photographs, but right here at this altar, where Christ gathers His whole Body—those on earth, those being purified, and those already in glory. In this sacred moment, we are not alone, and they are not far.

So tonight, let us pray with confidence. Let us love without fear. And let us entrust our beloved dead to the One who promises that He shall lose nothing and no one. May the Lord gather them into the fullness of His peace, and may He heal our hearts until that day when we shall see them again, face to face, in the Kingdom where love never ends.

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


Location: Morrisonville, NY, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

27th Sunday in Ordinary Time (2025)

-
Image
  When I was in middle school and high school, my parents did something I didn’t really appreciate at the time — something that, looking back now, I see as one of the clearest examples of living the Gospel I’ve ever witnessed. They took in my mother’s parents — my grandparents — to live with us.  My grandmother had Alzheimer’s and could be very difficult to care for.  My grandfather had only one leg and later was diagnosed with colon cancer.  And all of this was happening while my parents were raising seven children on my father’s teacher’s salary.  Seven kids, two elderly parents in need of constant care, and not a whole lot of money to go around. And here’s what I remember: there were no awards, no public recognition, no one stopping by to say, “Wow, what saints you are.”  There were no “thank you” speeches. It was just what they did. Day after day, year after year.  Because it was the right thing to do. Because that’s what love does. At the time, I ...
Read more

Palm Sunday 2025

-
Image
My friend, Danielle and her son, Charlie, are together changing the world! So can YOU! My friend Danielle is the mother of a child with special needs. Her son, Charlie, was born with autism and epilepsy. He needs constant attention.  A couple of weeks ago, he was rushed to the hospital, and for a few terrifying days, Danielle and her family truly feared that they might lose him. Thanks be to God, Charlie pulled through. He’s recovering. But in the days that followed, Danielle found herself reflecting on everything her family had just been through — the hospital, the fear, the sleepless nights, the love, the help from others. She wrote about how grateful she felt: Grateful that Charlie was still with them.  Grateful for her daughter, Ryan, who stepped up to help at home. Grateful for her husband, Jim, who wasn’t there when Charlie was born, but who loves him with the fierce devotion of a father. Grateful for her coworkers who replied to her emails at odd hours, not expecting h...
Read more

Pentecost Sunday 2025

-
Image
We’ve all heard someone say, “It looks like that person is rubbing off on you!” Maybe you’ve picked up a friend’s catchphrase… started telling jokes like your dad… or caught yourself reacting just like your mom. It happens. Who we spend time with shapes us. The people we surround ourselves with influence how we speak, how we act, and even how we think. So here’s the question for today: What happens when you start spending time with the Holy Spirit? What happens when the Spirit starts rubbing off on you? That’s the heart of today’s feast. On Pentecost, we celebrate the day the Holy Spirit came down—not just as a symbol, but as power. A mighty wind. Tongues of fire. A group of frightened followers suddenly speaking in every language under heaven. It’s not just a miracle of communication—it’s a miracle of transformation. That’s what happens when the Spirit rubs off on you. In today’s Gospel , Jesus appears to his disciples behind locked doors. They’re afraid. Confused. Still stuck in Goo...
Read more