Reflection for the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed

Eternal rest grant unto them, o Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.  ~ Entrance Antiphon for All Souls’ Day

One day you will die. Remembering our mortality is not only a good “reality check” and a sober self-examination, but it is an opportunity to recall with the English priest and poet John Donne (†1631) that “No man is an island…Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind. And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.” The bonds of love that are forged in this life are not undone by death (Sg 8:6); “Indeed for your faithful, Lord, life is changed not ended.” (Mass for the Dead) One of the ways in which our solidarity with the dead is expressed is by praying for the souls in Purgatory during the month of November, especially by making a visit to a cemetery. In fact, this year the Holy See has extended the opportunity to obtain a plenary indulgence for the dead, which is normally restricted to the first week of November, to the entire month of November. Visiting cemeteries is a very beautiful, a very Catholic, a very compassionate exercise for us. It is a reminder of our own mortality, a reminder to repent of our sins and to use the time we have on earth wisely. It is an opportunity to pray for our family members and friends who have gone before us, and recall that though the pain of death remains, communion and eternal life are our hope. Finally it is an act of charity, a spiritual work of mercy, to pray for the dead, to assist them with our prayers as they are purified and prepared for the Beatific Vision and eternal life with all the Saints in glory.

Fr. Richard Hinkley

And you became imitators of us and of the Lord. ~1 Thes 1:6

The Second Reading from Mass this Sunday finds us beginning a new sequence of readings, namely, those from the First Letter of Saint Paul to the Thessalonians. This was likely the earliest of the epistles Paul wrote that are inspired and part of the canon of Sacred Scripture. Readings from this letter will constitute the second reading at Sunday Masses from now until the end of the liturgical year, with the exceptions of All Saints (November 1, next Sunday) as well as Christ the King (November 22).

In the opening of his letter, Paul reminds the Thessalonians of how he, along with other early missionaries, were models of the love of Christ for the Thessalonians, and how in turn the Thessalonians became models worthy of imitation for others throughout the surrounding regions. The theme of imitation is a basic Christian one, and certainly one that comes up from time to time in the letters of Paul. Perhaps the most famous presentation of this theme is the devotional book The Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. This late medieval work is perhaps, after the Bible, one of the most frequently read, printed, and translated works of Christian devotion. It was written by à Kempis in the late Middle Ages, just a few decades before Luther and the beginning of the Protestant Reformation. The Imitation of Christ belongs to a pre-Reformation movement, the Devotio Moderna movement. This movement, which was based largely in north-central Europe, was a response to the dissatisfaction with much of the corruption in the Church, with a celebration of the liturgy that could often times feel very distant and merely the domain of the clergy, and an exercise of popular piety that was largely focused on externals and at times superstitious practices. The Modern Devotion movement placed emphasis on sanctification through an interior configuration to Christ, above all in our moral life. As Erasmus of Rotterdam, another figure of the Devotio Moderna movement, once observed: we worship Christ and honor the saints more through our imitation of them, than by merely praying to them.

Disappointment with members in the Church can be a frequent source of discouragement and even a temptation to quit our efforts to be holy. Rather than worrying so much about the shortcomings and sins of others, we would do well to heed the example of the Thessalonians: to become imitators of Christ and the saints.

Fr. Richard Hinkley

Remember the story of Jesus turning over the tables at the Temple? Well, those money changers Jesus had disrupted were quickly back in business, because they had to be there for the Temple to function. It was forbidden to use Roman coins for the offerings needed for the rituals. They had to change the money into a coin without that image of Caesar. There was in that issue, two conflicts: that Israel’s law allowed no images, and that Caesar claimed to be divine. Those within hearing distance and the Jewish/Christian community for whom Matthew writes must have smiled or maybe even laughed over the way Jesus traps the trappers. Jesus has no coin. When one of them pulls out the forbidden coin, without a word spoken, Jesus has them cornered.

Many look at this as a precursor to separation of church and state, but that is not the point at all. This is not about being able to compartmentalize what is worldly and what is holy. Rendering to Caesar is a partial fulfillment of a much more basic duty which is rendering to God what is God’s. In other words, the two are not equal. The two renderings are not separate but equal, or two halves of a responsibility. Jesus recognizes that everyone must have a certain concern for the political and social well-being of one’s country, but that well-being is just one part of a responsibility for what is God’s. That loyalty or concern for Caesar or one’s country is rooted in the greater and more important concern and fidelity to God because everything is God’s. There is no intention on the part of Jesus to make them equal. Today, Jesus appeals to us all to look beyond the simplistic politics and black and white legalisms that are represented by Caesar’s coin and realize that we are called to embrace the values centered in a faith that sees the hand of God in all things.

Deacon Jeff Willard

I know indeed how to live in humble circumstances; I know also how to live with abundance. ~Phil 4:12

The Second Reading from Mass this Sunday recalled for me the following passage from the beginning of St. Ignatius of Loyola’s Spiritual Exercises, identified as the Principle and Foundation:

Man is created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by this means to save his soul. And the other things on the face of the earth are created for man and that they may help him in prosecuting the end for which he is created. From this it follows that man is to use them as much as they help him on to his end, and ought to rid himself of them so far as they hinder him as to it. For this it is necessary to make ourselves indifferent to all created things in all that is allowed to the choice of our free will and is not prohibited to it; so that, on our part, we want not health rather than sickness, riches rather than poverty, honor rather than dishonor, long rather than short life, and so in all the rest; desiring and choosing only what is most conducive for us to the end for which we are created.

There is no set of circumstances in life that can ultimately frustrate for us the Divine Plan. Often times when we “imagine” how we want our life to be, and the expectation goes unmet, we become sad, angry, discouraged. The lesson from St. Ignatius is the same as that from St. Paul: whether we have wealth or poverty, health or sickness, the only thing we should want is that God be the principle and foundation to all my thoughts, words, and actions. All else is ancillary.

Fr. Richard Hinkley

Have no anxiety at all.  ~Phil 4:6 

Is this even possible?  Is St. Paul asking us to assume an attitude that is possible in this life?  The Greek word for anxiety is the same verb that our Lord uses in the context of his visit to the house of Sts. Martha and Mary, when Martha is anxious about many things in contrast to Mary who remains at the feet of Christ.  The context, too, in which Paul asks us to relinquish worry is similar since it is connected to our entreating God with our requests and petitions. 

Fear is the belief that we will be sad or harmed or disappointed in the future.  Undoubtedly, Paul is encouraging the Philippians to make an act of faith, recognizing that with which God has already blessed them and using these things as the basis for their confidence that God will not abandon them now.  Such faith is obviously a grace; left to our own efforts we are unable to produce such a degree of confidence and detachment from our own expectations so as to leave us “free from all anxiety.”  However, such a peace is indeed possible.  By focusing on all that is “true… honorable… just… etc.” we dispose ourselves to the peace that dispels anxiety and unites us with those goods that no one can take from us. 

Fr. Richard Hinkley

Have among yourselves the same attitude that is also yours in Christ Jesus. ~Phil 2:5

Following his initial salutation of the Church in Philippi and his updating them on the Church’s missionary work, St. Paul delivers in Chapter Two both a series of moral exhortations as well as the striking “Christ Hymn” which is contained in the longer version of the second reading for this Sunday. Scholars are divided as to the origin and nature of the poem. Most would agree that it represents a piece of early Christian poetry. Consequently, Paul is presenting us with a glimpse of a form of Christology which predates even his own letters, perhaps from even the mid-30s A.D. Being such an early textual witness to the Church’s faith in the identity of Christ and of the nature of salvation, it provides yet another assurance that what we believe about Christ is not the concoction of later eras, but represents a continuous deposit of faith.

This hymn’s structure traces out for us the itinerary of Christ, an itinerary that theologians have described as a “going out” (exitus) and a “return” (reditus). Part of the mystery of the Incarnation is that though Christ never ceases to be God the Son, he “goes out” from the realm of divine transcendence and through our human nature assumes the lowest place: a slave’s death on the Cross. By this perfect act of humility and obedience, God is perfectly glorified and Christ is exalted over all.

This itinerary of Christ is not meant to be merely descriptive, however. Paul is not just reminding the Philippians of what God has done and how they are saved. No, in light of the preceding passages exhorting the Philippians to charity and unanimity, Paul is offering the content of this “Christ Hymn” as the archetype and the sole means by which such profound and lasting communion between people can be achieved.

If you want world peace, the itinerary of Christ is the only route.

Fr. Richard Hinkley

Whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s. Rom 14:8

Survivor’s Guilt is a mental condition in which a survivor of a traumatic event experiences symptoms of remorse and self-hatred for having survived. The degree and complexity of the condition can vary from individual to individual and depend on the nature of the event, but the fact of the matter remains that the reason some people survive certain catastrophic events and others do not is a mystery. Why? Why do some people survive their illnesses while others do not? Who is at fault? Were there not enough prayers offered? Was there fault with the healthcare provider or the family of the patient? What could have been done differently?

These types of questions, though they can at times help to identify the cause of these tragedies, are ultimately less than helpful since they can place us in the continual state of straining after answers that cannot be grasped in this life. Trust in God’s providential guidance of the universe, which he governs with perfect wisdom and love, alleviates us of the duty to resolve all of these questions here and now. But we do know this: both in life and in death, man was created to know, love and serve God. As long as I live, I live to continue my work at knowing, loving, and serving God with all my being. When I die, Deo volente, I will die in Christ and so continue to know, love, and serve God in eternity. So, whether I die today, die tomorrow, or die 50 years from now, my life and my death are the Lord’s and none other’s.

Fr. Richard Hinkley

“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Rom 13:9

Certain passages of scripture, due to our familiarity with them, can seem as captivating as a glass of water: good and essential but hardly exciting or challenging. Such is the case with the “Golden Rule” reechoed by Saint Paul in his letter to the Romans. It has been observed that nearly all religions and philosophies have arrived at some formulation of this principle. Nevertheless, the articulation of it in Leviticus 19:18, is still arguably the first time we see it appear in history. While the command: love your neighbor as yourself seems clear, deeper reflection reveals a more complicated proposition. What is love? Who is my neighbor?

Our Lord gives substance to what could otherwise be an ambiguous moral directive. He does this, among other ways, by means of the Parable of the Good Samaritan (Lk 10:29-37) which anticipates the saving action of his own Passion, Death, and Resurrection. As this Parable demonstrates, neighbor is not so much a relation brought about by proximity of place or some other category of identity (sex, race, ideology), but is rather a reality established when mercy – love for someone in misery – is shown. In the case of the Good Samaritan, neighbor-hood is established between those who would have been ethnic and religious enemies. God reveals: to love your neighbor entails loving your enemy as yourself.

There is a general election coming up. It is very easy not to love our neighbors the politicians and their supporters. I believe there are very few of us, for example, who are not guilty of at least some form of detraction when speaking about those with whom we disagree politically. To love is to will the good of the other for the other’s sake. That doesn’t mean we ignore evil or those who commit evil, but it does mean we must speak with them and about them with the same love that the Savior would have us do. This is certainly a great challenge. And yet, it’s as essential as water.

Fr. Richard Hinkley

No sooner has Christ entrusted the Keys of the Kingdom of Heaven to Peter, identifying him as the Rock upon which He will build His Church, than Peter is rebuked by Christ, identified as a satan, Hebrew for “adversary.” The limits of Peter’s authority are clear: his role and role of all the popes and bishops of the Church is not to conform the Gospel message of Christ to the expectations of this age, but rather to preach boldly that Gospel, even and especially when that message seems awkwardly received.

We are frequently tempted to be embarrassed by the teachings of Christ and the Church. Desiring to have either a comfortable life for ourselves or to maintain the esteem of those whom we respect, the Gospel message can seem outdated, harsh, irrational, and down right cruel. Like Peter, we would rather avoid the aspects of the Gospel that challenge ourselves or others to experience the self-denial that the Cross requires. However, to empty the Gospel of the Cross is to empty it of the power to give Life. So utterly vacuous does Christianity become that it necessitates an immediate and direct correction from Christ himself. Let us never fear the challenges that the teachings of Christ pose for us. Echoing the words of Paul:

“I urge you, brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship. Do not conform yourselves to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.”

Fr. Richard Hinkley

There were once three umpires.

The first said, “I call them as they are!”

The second said, “I call them as I see ‘em!”

The third said, “They ain’t nothin’ till I call ‘em!”

In the gospel passage for this Sunday, Saint Matthew delivers the account of Saint Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Christ, the Son of the Living God. Peter’s ability to proclaim and confirm the truth about the authentic identity of our Lord is not the result of merely human efforts whether they be: study, discussion, or guesswork. Christ clarifies for all present that it is a special charism, a gift, given to Peter by God the heavenly Father that allows Peter to make these claims. The Divine Plan for Peter and Peter’s unique role in the College of Apostles is subsequently confirmed by Christ. Peter is given a new name: Peter i.e. Rock, reflecting his fundamental role in the Church and to him is entrusted a special mission i.e. the Keys of the Kingdom of Heaven.

One of the aspects that is frequently misunderstood about the ministry of the pope as the successor of Peter is the dogma of Papal Infallibility. For many, this dogma is like the position of the second and third umpires. Papal Infallibility is an arbitrary and positivistic imposition of a pope’s opinion on the entire Church. However, the charism of Papal Infallibility is rather like that of the first umpire: merely to state clearly for all those present what the facts are. To be clear, popes have only exercised this extraordinary gift on rare occasions. The two most clear instances occurred when the dogmas of the Immaculate Conception (1854) and the Assumption of Mary (1950) were declared. The purpose for this gift, like all the gifts by which Christ adorns his Church, is destined to one end: the salvation of souls. The clarity and infallibility with which the Church speaks is directed towards the mission of Christ: the defeat of the gates of Hell and the rescue of humanity from sin and death. Like a good umpire, Peter and his successors are empowered at particular moments to “make the right call,” cooperating with Divine governance of the Church so that we, like Peter, might come to an authentic and secure act of faith. Umpires are fallible, but when the successor of Peter teaches with regard to faith and morals, with recourse to the authority given to him by Christ, and that this teaching is to be held definitely by the entire Church, such teaching is free from error; it’s always true.

Fr. Richard Hinkley

By Fr. Richard Hinkley

Hosánna fílio David: benedíctus qui venit in nómine Dómini, Rex Israel: Hosánna in exscélsis.

Hosanna to the Son of David; blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, the King of Israel.  Hosanna in the highest.

This antiphon, taken from Matthew 21:9, provides the first words sung before the Procession or Solemn Entrance that precede the Mass of Palm Sunday of the Passion of the Lord.  The cry hosanna hearkens to Psalm 118 which originally would have been used to accompany a liturgical procession of the Davidic king into the temple for sacrifice.  Hosanna originally meant an entreaty for help: “O Lord, save!  Grant us salvation!”  This is how the word hosanna is used throughout the entire Old Testament. (See Ps 118:25)    However, by the time of our Lord it had assumed the meaning we generally associate with it: “Praise and Glory!”  Psalm 118 is further quoted by the crowd of disciples when they sing, “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” (Ps 118:26)  While these are the only portions of Psalm 118 that are directly quoted here, the entirety of Psalm 118 casts light on the meaning of this messianic action by Christ and his followers.  We recall that Psalm 118 is used on the following occasions liturgically: The Easter Vigil, Easter Sunday, the 2^nd Sunday of Easter and the 4^th Sunday of Easter.  It is also used every other Sunday for Morning Prayer in the Liturgy of the Hours.  For the Church, Psalm 118 is a “resurrection psalm” perhaps the “resurrection psalm” par excellence.  I would like to invite you to read Psalm 118 now, a psalm (like all of them) Christ would have known by heart, and consider how the words of that psalm contextualize the procession, the crowd’s activity, the city’s perplexity and ultimately the messianic mission Christ intends to accomplish in the coming days.  I’ll leave you now to read Psalm 118.

***

Stunning, is it not?  Christ, mounted on a colt, Israel’s true king is he who, “conquers the Daughter of Zion, a figure of his Church, neither by ruse nor by violence, but by the humility that bears witness to the truth.” (CCC 559)   So consider Christ meditating on these words of the psalm: “In danger I called on the LORD, the LORD answered me and set me free… I shall not die but live and declare the deeds of the LORD….  Open the gates of righteousness; I will enter and thank the LORD….  The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.  By the LORD has this been done; it is wonderful in our eyes.”  The children of the Hebrews quote the psalm; Christ fulfills it.  The pilgrimage of Christ that has Jerusalem and his Pasch as its culminating goal began in the amenable and immaculate womb of the Virgin Mother thirty-three years before.  All the mysteries of the Nativity, the hidden years, and public ministry of the Lord have now entered into their final and climactic days.  The pilgrim, Priest-King of Israel, assuming the form of a slave, meets his people and allows them to ascend with him to the place of sacrifice and encounter with God, knowing full well how the intense suffering predicted in the Psalm are to be fulfilled.  Yet as it is soon to be revealed, that place of sacrifice and encounter is no longer a temple built by human hands, but the true Temple: Jesus Christ.

In the course of the liturgy today, we observe how the cries of “hosanna” are replaced with cries of “Let him be crucified!”  The expression of exultant praise is abandoned and yields to rejection and condemnation.  As much as these two expressions are opposed to one another, recalling the original meaning of hosanna with its evolution from: a cry for salvation to an expression of praise and then followed by the sentence that Christ suffer and die: all this reveals the Wisdom of God for us and that of the Paschal Mystery.  To save us (hosanna) God allows himself to be annihilated in the flesh (crucified), and in this the glory of God shines forth (hosanna)!  And while our Salvation and the glorification of the Father is something God achieves through himself and his own might (Ps 118:15-18; 23) one of the fruits of the Procession with Palms is that he allows us sacramentally to join him in his triumphant entrance, to join him in procession to the altar of sacrifice, to accompany him into his Passion, Death, Resurrection, and thereby discover anew the reason for all things.

The heart of the Procession of Palms is to be found interiorly, in a soul that meekly follows the Lamb and boisterously cries out that the Lord is glorified in his saving works.  This heart of the Procession is not beyond our reach this year.  Whether we have blessed palms from this year or years past, or even some branches we cut down today, we have no less opportunity to acclaim him.  To acclaim him in our hearts, to acclaim him through the prayers we pray individually or as a family, and to orient ourselves in the same direction as the Lord, moving each day this week towards the celebration of the Paschal Mystery.  St. Thomas from last week provides us with the only instruction we need: “Let us also go to die with him.” (Jn 11:16)

By Fr. Richard Hinkley

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

The Fifth Sunday of Lent, the penultimate before the glorious Paschal Triduum and Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord, is here and contains a great amount of material for our assimilation.

The Fifth Sunday of Lent ushers in the “mini-liturgical” season of Passiontide which includes the Fifth and Sixth Week (Holy Week) of Lent. In dioceses in the United States, as in much of the World, the practice of covering crosses and images throughout the church from now until the Easter Vigil is frequently observed. In addition, Prefaces I and II of the Passion of the Lord is used at daily Masses from now until Holy Thursday. The sobriety of all of these signs and prayers serves to heighten our awareness that the purpose and destiny of our Lenten observance is upon us, and as Laetare Sunday prompted us to recognize the ultimate joy that this destiny produces, the sobriety of Passiontide prompts us to prepare for this joy through a more intense desire for: conversion, horror for our sins, and devotion to the God who saves us through suffering.

In addition, the Fifth Sunday of Lent normally marks the Third and Final Scrutiny in preparation for the Baptism of the catechumens who are to be admitted to the Sacraments of Christian Initiation at the Easter Vigil. Obviously, things are out of joint this year, but whenever the Scrutinies are celebrated they are an intense summons to conversion and prayer of exorcism over the catechumens so that they may be all the more ready spiritually for their metamorphosis in Christian Initiation. At some point during the Fifth Week of Lent, at a special liturgy, the catechumens receive formally the “Our Father”, that is to say, they are formally entrusted by the Church with this the Lord’s Prayer, the recapitulation of the Gospel, in preparation for the Triduum.

Much is occurring in this Fifth Week of Lent, and such is the case too in the Sunday Gospel. The Raising of Lazarus, along with the gospel accounts of the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well and the healing of the man born blind, constitutes the third of the Cycle A Sunday Lenten Gospel readings which have as their chief focus and theme Baptism into Christ. The dialogues and signs (the theologically charged word St. John uses to describe Christ’s miracles) from these gospels sacramentally clarify for us what the Lord intends to achieve perfectly through his Passion, Death and Resurrection. What do faith in and baptism into Christ give us? First, they bring an awareness of our desires, our sinfulness, and our hunger for God (3rd Sunday’s Gospel). Second, they bring about a new creation within us, a healing of spiritual blindness, and an illumination with the Truth (4th Sunday’s Gospel). Third, they bring eternal life (5th Sunday’s Gospel)

Like the whole of the Gospel of John, the gospel reading today exudes a rarified theological language and symbolism. The words, actions, time, place, and number of everything and of everyone is highly charged and significant. One of these elements on which I would like to focus is the number four. We know that Lazarus was ill. Christ was notified of this fact, but unlike in the case of the royal official’s son (Cf. Jn 4:43-54), whom Christ healed immediately upon being notified of his illness, Christ seemingly does nothing…. for two days. It is not until the third day (Cardinal Ratzinger notes in one work that in the Old Testament, the third day is the day of theophany, encounter with God) that Christ announces his plan to risk his life, to return to Judea, and to wake Lazarus up so that they might believe.

When Christ and the Apostles arrive in Bethany, Lazarus has been dead for four days. While the number four may not bring any kind of negative connotation for us (there are, after all, Four Gospels, Four Marks of the Church, etc.) in the case of Lazarus, four is not a pretty number. If three is the number that brings us to an encounter with God, with four something has gone wrong. We have missed the mark. We have sinned. Saint Augustine, in his commentary on this passage from John, notes that Lazarus, while his illness and death certainly garner our grief and sympathies, was a sinner. In fact, for Augustine the four days of Lazarus’ rotting in the tomb are a symbol of the four-fold sinfulness of mankind: Original Sin, sins against the Natural Law, sins against the Mosaic Law (the Old Covenant), and sins against the Gospel (the New Covenant). St. Augustine’s insistence on Lazarus’ status as a sinner and this four-fold sense of sin will go on to influence several ancient Eucharistic Prefaces that will serve as the basis for the Preface we use for the Fifth Week of the Lent.

While this insistence on Lazarus’ status as a sinner can seem initially off topic, the relevancy of this is further expounded by St. Augustine as he makes another critical observation: how many times Jesus’ love for Lazarus is mentioned.

Someone may say, “How can Lazarus be a symbol of the sinner and yet be so loved by the Lord?” Let the questioner listen to the Lord: “I came not to call the righteous, but sinners”! If God did not love sinners, he would not have come to earth.

On hearing of Lazarus’ illness, Jesus said: “This illness is not unto death; it is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by means of it.” Such a glorification of the Son of God did not really increase his glory, but it was useful to us. He says, then, “This illness is not unto death.” The reason is that even the death of Lazarus was not unto death but happened for the sake of the miracle, the performance of which would lead men to believe in Christ and so avoid real death. Consider here how the Lord indirectly calls himself God, having in mind those who deny that he is God.

The illness and death of Lazarus are not brought about by his or his family’s personal sins any more than the blind man’s blindness (Gospel 4th Sunday) was caused by his or his family’s personal sins. However, Lazarus was a sinner. Lazarus was born with Original Sin. As a consequence of the latter, Lazarus was subject to all the effects of Original Sin, including illness and death, and as a consequence of his personal sins he was especially in need of liberation. Why does Christ allow for Lazarus – and his relatives and friends at that matter – to go through all of this? Is not that same observation by Martha and Mary never far off from our minds: Lord, had you been here, this would not have happened? Why were you not here?

Christ’s response to this question is clear and manifest: I am with you in your suffering. I weep with you. I know your loss for Lazarus was my friend. As Adrien Nocent, OSB, notes: if St. Irenaeus of Lyons is correct and the glory of God is man fully alive, then God cannot be fully glorified by Creation until the Creature has been restored to full life. Yet the destruction of sin and death, the ultimate impediments between humanity and God, cannot be abolished without a sober and serious cure. The Lord who raises Lazarus as the seventh and ultimate sign before his own definitive conquest of Death, does not reveal this sign by distancing himself from us, but rather drawing near and suffering with us. The One who is sinless suffering for the sinner.

Our own struggles these days test our faith in the Lord’s abiding presence and power over Death. The seeming failure of the Lord to answer our prayers in the manner or time we think he should answer them may lead us to the false conclusion that we should slacken our prayers or that our faith is not “an essential business” after all. However, I hope we can draw at least two fruits away from Christ’s mighty sign in this week’s Gospel. First, we are sinners and that whatever hardships we must endure now, in light of the offenses we have given God, are a way in which we can do penance for our sins which ultimately are only remitted by the Pasch of Christ. Second, these same hardships are not to end in ultimate death and annihilation. Christ has conquered Sin. Christ has slain Death. Eternal life is not so much an event or a theory, it is a Person: Jesus Christ. The more we live in him these days the less we have to fear and the more we have to gain.