Now that we are in the month of November, the Church, especially in her liturgy, invites us to reflect on the Four Last Things:  death, judgment, Heaven, and Hell.  All of them are related, for when death comes for each of us, as it most certainly will, we will undergo a judgment.  At that judgment, known as the Particular Judgment, we will be evaluated based on love, whether we are in a position of loving God and our neighbor at that point when our earthly journey comes to an end.  For those who die in God’s friendship, having accepted His invitation to grace, they will be admitted into Heaven.  For those who have rejected that invitation, even in one’s final moment when the Lord pleads for them to accept His mercy, their final destination will be Hell.  Note that Purgatory is not listed among the Last Things, for there is no finality in Purgatory.  Purgatory is a place of transition where those who have died in friendship with Christ, before being admitted to Heaven, are purified from any remaining effects of sin not purged away through penance in this life.

There is also the Last Judgment, which the Catechism describes in these words:

The Last Judgment will come when Christ returns in glory. Only the Father knows the day and the hour; only he determines the moment of its coming. Then through his Son Jesus Christ he will pronounce the final word on all history. We shall know the ultimate meaning of the whole work of creation and of the entire economy of salvation and understand the marvellous ways by which his Providence led everything towards its final end. The Last Judgment will reveal that God’s justice triumphs over all the injustices committed by his creatures and that God’s love is stronger than death. (CCC 1040)

This description is a helpful companion to what Pope Benedict has been writing about in this last section of Spe salvi on judgment as a setting for learning hope.  the Holy Father writes in the next paragraph:

The image of the Last Judgement is not primarily an image of terror, but an image of hope; for us it may even be the decisive image of hope. Is it not also a frightening image? I would say: it is an image that evokes responsibility, an image, therefore, of that fear of which Saint Hilary spoke when he said that all our fear has its place in love. God is justice and creates justice. This is our consolation and our hope. And in his justice there is also grace. (SS 44)

I find the pope’s invitation to see how the image of the Last Judgment evokes a sense of responsibility to be helpful.  The judgment is related to justice in that justice is one receiving what is their due.  We take responsibility for our actions, for maintaining our relationship with the Lord, with how we live the commandment of loving our neighbor and working for a more just world.  At the same time, we know that we do not earn our salvation, for that is a pure gift, or grace, that the Lord gives to us.  That grace, however, is something we have the responsibility of accepting and living throughout our lives.  May we not fear the idea of judgment, but may we take it seriously, living intentionally to know, love, and serve God and our neighbor in this life, so that when this life comes to an end and we are judged on how we have loved, we may hope to be forever happy with God and all of the saints forever in Heaven.

Today, the church celebrates the dedication of the Basilica of the Lateran in Rome. While that church is very special and is one of the great wonders of Catholic Rome, today’s celebration is not simply focused on this particular church. Today, as we celebrate the dedication of the Lateran Basilica, we remember that the Church is not merely a building. 

To be fair, we are blessed with our church buildings – they are beautiful structures that are the house of God and a place for us to worship. This is the purpose of the Church building – to be a house for God and his people to gather, and to be a place to offer sacrifice.

The more fundamental “Church,” however, is “built of living stones” – it is the body of Christ made up of Jesus, our head, and us, his members. We thankfully have our beautiful buildings to properly worship God, but they aren’t “the Church.”  What happens in our worship of God in these buildings is the offering of Jesus Christ and our worship of the Father through Him, with Him, and in Him. At Mass, Jesus offers this worship to his heavenly father, and we are invited to participate in his offering. True worship is when we participate in the offering of Jesus from the depths of our hearts.

“You yourself,” St. Paul tells us, “are the temple of the living God.” You and I are God’s temple, and we are built upon Jesus Christ as our foundation. We share his Holy Spirit, and our hearts are living altars of sacrifice. We place our prayer intentions upon our hearts; we lift up every moment of our day upon the altar of our hearts. This is a very priestly thing to do, but it is not only for ordained priests to do. This is the job of every Christian, because we all share in the common priesthood of Jesus Christ. 

This idea of the altar of the heart in no way detracts from the necessary and saving action of Christ on the cross presented to us on the altar at Mass. In fact, it should serve, rather, to heighten our awareness of our ability to participate in Christ’s offering. At the offertory, the priest looks out and says to the people gathered together, “Pray brothers and sisters, that my sacrifice and yours may be acceptable to God the almighty Father.” The inclusion of those two words, “and yours,” is very intentional. We bring a sacrifice to the altar too, and we can place our own sacrifice, spiritually, upon the altar at Mass.

Therefore, to cultivate a habit of continually setting our lives upon the altars of our own hearts is a perfect preparation for weekly or daily Mass. This is simply another way of stating the age-old “offer it up!” As Saint Peter tells us, “…like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” As baptized Christians, we are this holy priesthood, and every moment of our life can be offered up as a spiritual sacrifice upon the altar of our hearts (in prayer), and then at the altar of the Mass (in union with Christ’s offering to the Father).

God receives this offering with great love, and he pours out blessings on our lives when we offer ourselves and our families to him. We give you today, O Jesus our king, all the trials, works, joys, and happiness of our daily life. We ask you to pour out your blessings upon all the members of our families, absent and present, living and dead. When one after another we will have fallen asleep in death, may all of us in heaven find our family reunited in your Sacred Heart. Amen. (this final prayer adapted from a prayer of consecration to the Sacred Heart of Jesus)

As Pope Benedict continues his reflection on the judgment as a setting for learning and practicing hope, he addresses the First Commandment, which says: “shall have no other gods before me. “You shall not make for yourself a graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.” (Ex 20:3–4) He notes in particular the prohibition of any images which was basically idolatry.  In light of that prohibition, the Holy Father then writes: “God has given himself an ‘image’: in Christ who was made man. In him who was crucified, the denial of false images of God is taken to an extreme.” (SS 43) He then continues:

God now reveals his true face in the figure of the sufferer who shares man’s God-forsaken condition by taking it upon himself. This innocent sufferer has attained the certitude of hope: there is a God, and God can create justice in a way that we cannot conceive, yet we can begin to grasp it through faith. Yes, there is a resurrection of the flesh. There is justice. There is an “undoing” of past suffering, a reparation that sets things aright. (ibid.)

Because of Christ’s Resurrection, we are able to look at the world through different eyes, especially when we are faced with so many examples of suffering and injustice.  From a purely human perspective, those examples seem too much to overcome, that there is no way that all of these can be set aright.  The Holy Father explains that because of Christ’s Resurrection and the upcoming Last Judgment, the injustices of history do not have the final word.  Rather, we can turn to the Word of God Himself as He speaks about the Final Judgment as recorded in the final chapter of the Book of Revelation: “Behold, I am coming soon, bringing my recompense, to repay every one for what he has done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.” (Rev 22:12–13) It is this final end and in this final promise that we place our hope, and with that, we can say in faith: “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” (Rev. 22:20)

As a reminder, the month of November is a time when we pray especially for the Poor Souls in Purgatory, who are assured of the hope of eternal life in Heaven and who rely on our prayers to help them to realize that hope.  A plenary indulgence for the Poor Souls is available from November 1-8 when we visit any cemetery and pray for them.  A plenary indulgence also requires that the person have the interior disposition of complete detachment from sin, that they sacramentally confess their sins, that they receive Holy Communion, and that they pray for the intentions of the Holy Father.  Regarding these conditions, the Church has clarified:

It is appropriate, but not necessary, that the sacramental Confession and especially Holy Communion and the prayer for the Pope’s intentions take place on the same day that the indulgenced work is performed; but it is sufficient that these sacred rites and prayers be carried out within several days (about 20) before or after the indulgenced act. Prayer for the Pope’s intentions is left to the choice of the faithful, but an “Our Father” and a “Hail Mary” are suggested. One sacramental Confession suffices for several plenary indulgences, but a separate Holy Communion and a separate prayer for the Holy Father’s intentions are required for each plenary indulgence.  (cf. Apostolic Penitentiary, Prot. N. 39/05/I)

I think most people answering that question would do a quick Google search and find that there are about 2.5 billion Christians around the world, around 1.4 billion of which are Catholic. That would be a good answer, and even those numbers are staggering. Still, that answer would be technically and truthfully incomplete. 

What is the Church? As St. Paul tells us in his letter to the Corinthians, “Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it” (12:27). The Church then, is most basically the body of Christ – those human beings who have been joined to him by the saving grace of Baptism, the infusion of the Holy Spirit, and the bond of Charity. This unity is far deeper than the unity of a club or social organization, though it is more distinct than the unity of the parts of a physical body. As members of the Church, we make up a mystical body of Christ.

It is true, therefore, that all 2.5 billion Christians on earth are in some way tied to this body, at various levels of “attachment.” As Catholics, we joyfully believe that we possess all the sacramental means of remaining rooted in this body, as well as the fulness of the Truth that Jesus desires to light our way as members of his body. The body, however, is even bigger than this!

In fact, the Church has always maintained that our “membership” with the body is not ended after death. Heaven itself can simply be seen as an ultimate and perfected union with Christ’s body. All those in Purgatory too, those who will be in heaven but are in need of further purification after death, are members of this body. 

If this is true (and it is!), then the answer to that question, “How many people are in the Church?” is a number far higher than we can count. Every human being who has died in the grace of God now lives as a member of Christ’s body in eternal life.

Yesterday, the Church celebrated the feast of All Saints, on which we remember all those who are currently in Heaven. We recognize our unity with them still and our ability to relate to them, speak to them, and rely on their prayers for us. They are perfectly united with Jesus and await our ever deeper union with them during our lives on Earth and one day in Heaven with them.

Today, the Church celebrates the feast of All Souls, on which we remember all those who have died in God’s grace but are still being purified. They joyfully suffer this purification as their souls near the eternal rest of Heaven. We recognize our unity with them still and our ability to pray for them. 

A couple weeks ago I explained that St. Augustine taught that we, the body, are all one with Christ our Head. He called this unity the totus Christus – “the whole Christ.” We see through today’s teaching that this totus Christus includes not only all those members of the earthly pilgrim Church, but also the suffering Church of Purgatory, and the triumphant Church of Heaven. We are one body, one Church, united in Christ. We pray for one another, we speak to one another, and we await a true and lasting union in Heaven with our Head, Jesus Christ. 

The proper response to the magnitude of this reality is wonder and awe! I pray that you only grow to appreciate this unity more and more. God bless you on this All Souls Day.

As he continues this section on judgment as a setting for hope, Pope Benedict brings up the atheism that emerged in the 19^th and 20^th centuries.  He explains that the growth of this rejection of the belief in God is due in part to the reaction to the injustices present in the world.  He writes:

A world marked by so much injustice, innocent suffering, and cynicism of power cannot be the work of a good God. A God with responsibility for such a world would not be a just God, much less a good God. It is for the sake of morality that this God has to be contested. Since there is no God to create justice, it seems man himself is now called to establish justice. (SS 42)

If there is no God to determine what constitutes justice, according to this line of thought, then it falls to human beings to determine justice.  From the Christian perspective, we know this to be dangerous, for our humanity, wounded by Original Sin, is prone to error and division.  This has played out, unfortunately, in tragic ways when human beings have taken control of defining and enforcing justice according to their standard of ethics and morality.  In light of this point, the Holy Father concludes soberly: “A world which has to create its own justice is a world without hope.” (ibid.)

Perhaps you have encountered individuals, such as co-workers, friends, or family members who have concluded that God must not exist for similar reasons to those listed above.  If God is good, how can He permit these things to happen?  It is sometimes easier to decide that there is no God than to wrestle with the mystery of how God can be present while there are so many bad things that have happened, and continue to happen, with little hope that the situation will get better.

In his Letter to the Romans, St. Paul writes: “We believe that all things work for the good for those who love God and are called according to His purposes.” (Rom 8:28) It takes a lot of faith to believe this is true, that it applies to all things, even the worst tragedies.  How that will come about is certainly not clear, but the promise is given to us by the Holy Spirit speaking through the Word of God.

As Christians, words like this and many others from the Scriptures give us good ground for hope, a hope that in the end, God’s justice will indeed triumph, a justice that always makes room for mercy.  But our belief in how God will resolve all things for the good does not give us permission to disengage and just let God work it all out.  Rather, we are invited to commit to cooperating with God in bringing about a more just and more merciful world by living according to the Gospel which alone has the power to transform society in a true and lasting way.  Though we may not always see the immediate results, and in fact, we may see things getting worse, nevertheless we continue to strive to bring the Gospel values to the world around us, trusting that the Lord can and will use what seems so insignificant in our eyes to serve His Providential plan for our good and for the salvation of the world. 

As the world around us becomes Autumn, we begin to recall the fleeting nature of life. The days have shortened and continue to shorten, and the weather is becoming more bitter as we approach the winter. As the leaves fall off our deciduous trees and the grass turns more and more beige, we can’t help but see that the structure of life includes a thing we call “death.” True, the trees are not actually dying, but their external life is going to sleep. 

It is fortunate for us that the world continues this steady cycle of seasonal change. With modern conveniences like heating, cooling, transportation, etc., not much of the regularity of our daily lives actually changes with the turn of the season. We can live under the illusion that things will just keep on running as they always have. Still, as human beings who change and who one day will undergo a truly substantial change in death, we need the reminder that life here is not going to last forever. 

For the Christian, however, this reminder does not come without hope. Autumn is followed by Winter, an even bleaker season, but then comes Spring! Spring always comes, life seeps back into the landscape with every budding leaf and flower. The death of Fall awaits its Springtime, and our own natural death awaits a future resurrection. We place our hope in Christ. We have the faith that after the decline of our life and our future death, our Lord will appear like the warmth of the sun in Spring to raise our bodies to new life, never to die again. 

I offer you a poem on this theme, the falling Autumn leaves:

They fall… and silhouettes
And twigs and limbs of wooden beasts
Are left to break the white-gray sky.

They fall… some green, maroon, 
Orangeish brown warm colored
Lifeless engines of life – their hue
Suspended in time by the chilled
And buoyant breath
Of nature.

Some stay… a gradient of death
Attached to the skeleton that remains,
Still, moved by nothing
But the sharp and constant breath
Of the north.

Frozen structures devoid of feeling,
Growth, and color; dormant
Waiting for life and light. Asleep
Till boldened by the springtime sun.

As you read the title for this article, you might be slightly confused as these two words seem very different in nature.  When we hear the word ‘judgment’ (particularly as it applies to the Last Judgment), we have a sense of uncertainty, even a bit of fear.  On the other hand, hope almost always stirs a feeling of delight and peace.

With this next paragraph in Spe salvi, Pope Benedict begins the final section of the document, looking at how judgment is a setting for learning and practicing hope.  It makes sense that he would save this for last, as judgment is indeed one of the Last Things.  Instead of treating judgment as something overwhelmingly negative, the pope invites the reader to see how our awareness of judgment is meant to influence how we live here and now, and that by living according to the Gospel, we can have great peace in believing that the promise of eternal rest, for which we hope, is something the Lord delights to give us after we complete our earthly pilgrimage.  On this point, the Holy Father writes:

From the earliest times, the prospect of the Judgement has influenced Christians in their daily living as a criterion by which to order their present life, as a summons to their conscience, and at the same time as hope in God’s justice. (SS, 41)

He then explains how these two topics – judgement and hope – were depicted in the artwork of Christian sacred buildings:

In the arrangement of Christian sacred buildings, which were intended to make visible the historic and cosmic breadth of faith in Christ, it became customary to depict the Lord returning as a king—the symbol of hope—at the east end; while the west wall normally portrayed the Last Judgement as a symbol of our responsibility for our lives—a scene which followed and accompanied the faithful as they went out to resume their daily routine. (ibid.)

This highlights an important awareness that we as Christians should always keep in mind, that there will come a time for all of us – at an “unknown day and unknown hour” (cf. Mt. 24:36) when the Lord will come to us and ask us for an account of our lives.  This judgment known as the Particular Judgment, is described in the Catechism of the Catholic Church in the following words:

Each man receives his eternal retribution in his immortal soul at the very moment of his death, in a particular judgment that refers his life to Christ: either entrance into the blessedness of heaven—through a purification or immediately,—or immediate and everlasting damnation. (CCC 1022)

Admittedly, this sounds a little bit dark, but it does not have to, especially when we live as intentionally as possible the commandments of love of God and love of neighbor.  This point is made in this paragraph of the Catechism, with a quote from St. John of the Cross:  “At the evening of life, we shall be judged on our love.” (St. John of the Cross, Dichos 64) We believe that God is love (1 Jn 4:16), and that He has poured this love into our hearts (Rom 5:5), and that by remaining in that love (Jn 15:9-10), our hope in His Promise is firm, for He delights to give us the Kingdom. ( Lk 12:32) Therefore, let us ask the Lord for the grace to persevere every day in that love of His, so that when we take our last breath, we will awaken to see Love Himself in the glory of Heaven.

After I was ordained a priest, I and a classmate took a camping trip out west to Glacier, Yellowstone, and the Grand Tetons National Parks. It was an amazing trip, and I loved looking at the mountains, a feature of the landscape we certainly don’t have around here. I had never been so close to mountains before, and some of the sights left me in a state of wonder. One of the more beautiful aspects of the stony faces of the mountains was the way they reflected the sunlight. At different times of day, they appeared to be different colors, much like the clouds here in the Midwest.

During Mass this weekend, you’ll hear from Psalm 121, which begins, “I lift up my eyes toward the mountains; whence shall help come to me? My help is from the LORD, who made heaven and earth.” The Psalmist is searching for help as he makes his way up to Jerusalem, a sort of allegory for making his way up to Heaven from the depths of this earthly life. He needs (and we need!) a lot of help along the way. So, where do we turn for that help? Should we turn to the seemingly impregnable mountains? What are these mountains? 

Saint Augustine can help us understand what is going on here in this Psalm by revealing a deeper spiritual meaning behind the words. He reads the mountains mentioned in this Psalm as the “great” figures of history, especially of salvation history – the patriarchs, prophets, saints, and holy ones of the scriptures. They can help us by giving us light, a light which comes from God alone.

We read,

“… the mountains do not give off light of their own. They transmit light from him of whom scripture says, He was the true light, which illumines every human person who comes into this world (Jn 1:9). We can take the mountains to be symbols of great and illustrious people. And is anything greater than John the Baptist? What a mountain he was! …You can certainly see in him a lofty mountain bathed in light; but listen to [John’s] confession: From his [God’s] fullness we have all received (Jn 1:16). Help comes to you not from the mountains themselves but from him whose plenitude endows the mountains. All the same, unless you lift your eyes to the mountains through the scriptures, you will not be brought near to be illuminated by him” (St. Augustine, Expositions of the Psalms, 120.4).

St. Augustine calls us to keep our eyes fixed on the “mountains” by looking to the examples and words of the holy people in the scriptures. At the same time, we have to recognize that our true help does not come from these people but from God alone. In God alone is the light that fills us with life. In God alone is sure salvation. We need the models of grace so that we can be built up in faith, but they don’t give us life.  As we continue through the Psalm, we hear that the Lord alone guards us without sleeping, and that he will never fail us. 

May we put our trust in the Lord always. He stands beside us to keep us safe from all evil. He gives us great models, mountains of holiness, to serve as beacons who reflect the saving light of God. Lord, help us keep our eyes fixed on these mountains and the many beautiful ways they reflect your light – the light that gives us life. Amen.

As he brings this section on learning hope through suffering, Pope Benedict offers a few words on the spiritual practice of “offering up” our minor daily hardships, a practice that “used to be a form of devotion—perhaps less practised today but quite widespread not long ago.” (SS, 40)

For those of you of a certain age reading this may recall your parents or religious sisters in school repeating that phrase over and over again, especially when they found you complaining about your problems.  “Offer it up.”  Sadly, that phrase was often not explained well, and it simply became synonymous for “get over it” or “quite whining.” Acknowledging that this practice has suffered in the past from misguided or exaggerated forms of expression, the Holy Father pauses to question where there actually may be some value in revisiting this devotion.  He offers the following reflection:

What does it mean to offer something up? Those who did so were convinced that they could insert these little annoyances into Christ’s great “com-passion” so that they somehow became part of the treasury of compassion so greatly needed by the human race. In this way, even the small inconveniences of daily life could acquire meaning and contribute to the economy of good and of human love. Maybe we should consider whether it might be judicious to revive this practice ourselves. (ibid.)

A few months ago, I came across a podcast episode in The Road to Emmaus podcast hosted by Dr. Scott Hahn in which he interviewed Megan Hjelmstad on this very topic, referring to the book that she recently wrote, titled Offer It Up: Discovering the Power and Purpose of Redemptive Suffering (published by Emmaus Road Publishing).  Dr. Hahn wrote of this book:

In Offer It Up, Megan Hjelmstad transforms a trite slogan into an invigorating battle cry. Those who are suffering in mind or body, as well as their caretakers, will find ample encouragement to embrace their cross and participate more intimately in our Lord’s saving mission. (https://stpaulcenter.com/store/offer-it-up-discovering-the-power-and-purpose-of-redemptive-suffering)

Though I have not read the book, I was inspired by the interview.  If you are reading this and are not too scarred from past admonitions to “offer it up”, perhaps this can be a good book for your spiritual reading.  And if you do not have the time right now to read the book, perhaps listening to the interview would be a blessing.  Here is the link:  https://youtu.be/i1Akj9DcLFw?si=iJJ-EHv6thJ4MgKg (or you could search for “The Guide Through Life’s Struggles with Megan Hjelmstad and Scott Hahn” in YouTube and it should show up).

The line that really caught my attention toward the end of the interview came from words that Jesus shared with St. Faustina, the Apostle of Divine Mercy: “You will save more souls through prayer and suffering than will a missionary through his teachings and sermons alone.” (Diary of St. Faustina, no. 1764) May we never underestimate the power of suffering to teach us many important lessons and so be a means for growing in hope and being instruments of hope to others.

Spiders are one of those strange creatures that are both beautiful and frightening at the same time. They can be dangerous – and look the part! – But the traps they make for their prey, their webs, are some of the most delicately intricate structures in nature. I’m considering in particular here the orb-weaving spiders that make the wheel-like webs, though even other web shapes have a certain finesse to them. 

A quick Google search provides the information that it takes anywhere from thirty to sixty minutes to create a good web. Many of these webs are then “recycled” daily – the spider may eat the old web and create a new one each evening. This process is a good deal of work for the arachnid, and provides a unique image for Christian prayer, specifically the prayer of meditation.

In the Latin text of Psalm 90, we read this curious phrase, “Anni nostri sicut aranea meditabantur.” This can be translated, “Our years toiled around like a spider” (Translation found in St. Augustine, Expositions on the Psalms, 89.9). While St. Augustine comments on the actual meaning of the verse, I personally find the Latin text enlightening. The Latin translation of the Hebrew of the Psalm uses “meditabantur” to refer to the way a spider toils around its web. This word is the same word used for “consider” or “think about,” and it is precisely where our word for “meditation” comes from. 

When we meditate, we consider a subject from different angles. Like a spider travelling round and round its web as it is creating it, we look at the subject from all different points of view, over and over again. We ask different questions from as many different points of view as possible. This helps us to fully grasp the subject and truly understand it – in a way, to catch the prey of knowledge. 

This is the process of Lectio Divina in a nutshell. This type of prayer refers to the meditative reading of scripture. We invite the Lord into our mind and our reading and then take time to consider the passage we have read. When we want to meditate fruitfully on a passage from scripture, we don’t just read it once and leave it at that. No, we read it once, think about it for a bit, then read it again, and ask different questions about it. We may then read it again or even several more times in the course of the meditation. 

The classic steps to Lectio Divina are 

1. Lectio – Reading
2. Meditatio – Meditation
3. Oratio – Prayer
4. Contemplatio – Contemplation

While reading the passage is the first step, a reading of the passage generally also takes place before each of these steps. We turn the scripture over and over in our mind, considering it from different angles, asking questions, seeking answers, and trusting in the aid of the Holy Spirit. The spiders “meditate” daily over their webs – likewise, the more often we practice meditation, the easier it becomes. 

There is one primary difference between prayerful meditation and a more natural meditation on any other subject: when we are praying, the “prey” we are attempting to catch is not simply new knowledge but rather a deeper relationship with Jesus Christ through his Word. 

May the Lord enlighten our minds and hearts and grant us the grace to drink deeply from his Word. Amen!