SORROW WILL TURN INTO JOY

‘In the tender compassion of our God

the dawn from on high shall break upon us,

to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death,

and to guide our feet into the way of peace.’

(Lk 1:78-79 Canticle of Zechariah)

What a terrible thing death is.

When it descends unexpectedly, suddenly, violently, the shock and pain can send the living spiraling down into a deep well of despair and loss, anger and hopelessness. Cut off forever from a loved one, every place and sight and sound and smell is a punch to the gut when it triggers memories. Even when we know it’s coming, the pain lies heavy and the loss seems too great to bear.  The tears won’t stop. The hole in your chest is too big to close. Nothing anyone around you says is a comfort. Logic flees and you can’t rationalise your way through the stages of grief.

It’s a heart thing, not a head thing.

So when Jesus tells the widow, ‘Don’t cry,’ the mourners must have been taken aback. How can He tell her to stop grieving? Doesn’t He realise some of them are, in fact, paid to mourn?

She doesn’t know Him. She may have some vague recollection that not far from where she’s walking with the empty body of her only son is the place where Elijah once raised to life the dead son of a widow just like her. But in her grief and despair and fear – she’s alone now, and in that time and place, it’s not an ideal situation for someone like her – she doesn’t recognise that here’s a greater authority than Elijah, preparing to change her sorrow to joy.

She doesn’t know Him, but we do. Even so, it may be hard for us to find a spark of hope or to rest in the belief that salvation is a promised thing – already there for us and our loved ones now gone. It’s hard to let go. Especially when we’re at our most vulnerable and the pain of loss and despair drops out of the blue like an anvil, and we can’t breathe for crying. Months, years, later, this might still be the pattern, except maybe a bit dimmer, a bit less intense.

But we who know God, and believe in Him – we grieve differently. ‘But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.’ (1 Thess 4:13-14).

Today, we commemorate those who have gone before us. The official name of this is the Commemoration of All the Faithful Departed, while it’s also known as the Feast of All Souls, and the Day of the Dead. We remember and pray for the souls of our departed friends and loved ones, especially for those in Purgatory; we offer Masses for them, and visit their graves or niches, spending time with them in spirit. 

But this is also a time when we embrace – in prayer and in action – the bereaved. The ones left behind, reeling from shock and pain from sudden loss, and the ones who’ve come to accept the more distant loss but still feeling the sadness and separation.

We embrace their souls, too.

And yes, there’s suffering, and bitterness, but there are three other things:

Hope.

I am sure I shall see the Lord’s goodness in the land of the living

The psalmist breathes faith and hope in every line of today’s responsorial psalm. He may be walking in the valley of the shadow of death, but you can hear the confidence in his voice as he calls on the Lord to hear and answer him. There is no tone of desperation. He wants to live in God’s house and ‘savour the sweetness of the Lord’, and he urges us to ‘hope in him, hold firm and take heart; hope in the Lord!’.

Isaiah assures us that God ‘will remove the mourning veil’ and ‘destroy Death for ever’. Not just for the Israelites, but for anyone who has hope and faith in God. That hope, the prophet says, will be justified and we will rejoice because everything we hoped for will come true.

What, actually, is the Christian hope? The hope our faith gives us isn’t worldly optimism or hoping that life will be pain-free. It’s based on the fact that God demonstrated His love by sending Jesus to die for us when we had turned away from Him. It’s a steadfast look towards God's promise for the future. Suffering produces a hope that rests on God’s love, and Paul echoes that when he tells the Romans ‘hope is not deceptive’ – we have already received salvation because Jesus died for us and made us a direct path to Heaven. Our hope lies in our sure knowledge that God loves us immeasurably, with a love ‘poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit’.  In no way does the Father intend to leave His children broken-hearted forever.

Trust.

‘Jesus wept.’ (John 11:35)

The shortest verse in all the Gospels.

And the most profound, because here’s God the Son, maker of the universe, able to raise people from the dead – and in fact, did that for Lazarus in the very next moment – breaking down in tears because someone He loved has died.

Why?

Maybe it was so we can believe, two thousand-plus years later, that He really was as human we are while maintaining His divinity, and being as we are, He suffered the same pain of loss, the same heartache and grief.

Jesus still weeps when we weep.

And therein lies our trust in One who felt first-hand what mourners today feel. He knows exactly what despair is. He is, after all, the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief. We may not be able to trust the world around us, the circumstances that took our loved ones away, but we can put our hearts in His hands and trust that He’s right there in our sorrow. What He wants is for us to trust when we cannot see, to believe that His plan is to help us grow in faith and ultimately lead us home where we will only experience great joy. ‘We are filled with joyful trust in God, through our Lord Jesus Christ’, Paul says, because we have faith that God has already planned a joyful reunion for us in time to come.

Joy.

Isaiah paints a vivid picture for the suffering Israelites of what future joy looks like: God Himself will ‘prepare for all peoples a banquet of rich food’, and remove all traces of their sorrow after He destroys Death ‘for ever’ – think of that! There will be no reason to grieve because everyone God has ever created will be alive in His kingdom in Zion. It’s a promise God will keep, and that future joy is a guarantee for all who put their trust in God and hold on to hope in Him, even in their darkest moments.

Jesus’ compassion for those who mourn, who are heartbroken, who suffer, turns His love into healing and hope. ‘Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.’ (Psalm 30:5). We lament for now, but we will rejoice forever.

All Souls’ Day carries a message of hope, both for the Church Militant and the Church Penitent. Today, as we hold in our hearts those we’ve lost, let the Gospel breathe God’s love and compassion into you. Pull into your embrace someone else’s pain and be Jesus for them. Recall His authority over death and tell your heart to trust that He will restore us when we’re broken. God hasn’t just visited His people – He’s here, now, in the Holy Spirit in us, in the compassion of those around us, in the Sacraments where He’s waiting to hold us. Spend time reflecting:

• What are we struggling against this week? Are we focusing on the unfairness, the lack of sense or explanation of bad things in our lives? Do we trust God enough to offer it to Him and place all our trust in Him?

• Are we giving in to despair, resignation, fear, doubt, worry, distrust, anger, grief, pain? Can we offer this up to God, even without understanding?

• Can we tell ourselves, day by day, to allow Him to heal and comfort us? Can we teach our hearts to believe He wants only our good?

• This week, are we open to giving hospitality, tender care, and companionship to someone who’s hurting?

Looking at the signs of hope, trust, and future joy, perhaps we may begin to see that death, in fact, isn’t such a terrible thing. How can it be, if it’s the doorway that opens to Heaven? When it’s our turn to step through, we’ll see clearly, and our joy will be overflowing with the longed-for reunion.

For now, though, we pause this day to recollect, reminisce, and reflect on what death and loss give us. Then holding fast onto hope, especially when the bad days come, we’ll turn again and again in trust to the God who loves us so deeply, who understands first-hand the pain and the sorrow, and we’ll recover a bit of that joy as we look at the faces and feel the embrace of those walking with us.

To all of you who are remembering today family or friends who’ve passed over into God’s keeping, know that the Church of the Holy Family grieves with you, prays with you, and walks with you. And we give special thanks to our Bereavement Ministry, and our priests and parishioners in their various roles who support and carry us along that journey.

Eternal Father,

we offer thee the Most Precious Blood of Thy Divine Son, Jesus,

in union with all the Masses said throughout the world today,

for all the Holy Souls in Purgatory, for sinners everywhere,

for sinners in the universal church,

those in our own homes and within our own families.

Eternal rest grant unto our faithful departed, Lord,

and let Your perpetual light shine upon them.

Grant them the peace Your Son promised.

Mary, our Blessed Mother, pray for them and for us.

Saint Joseph, intercede for them and for us.

In the name of Jesus, our Lord, we pray. Amen.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Article by Joyce Norma, HFC Blog Contributor