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until the recent hyper-industrialized present, life was often a constant encounter
with the ever-present interruption of sudden death. Children fell early and often.
Childbirth was a risky business. Many diseases that are routinely treated today
were the doorway to the beyond. It's no mystery that those generations joined
with those back to Adam and Eve to regard Death as an insatiable stalking beast.
Such a beast must have allies in the land of the living to operate so freely with
such impunity--the dark forces of scripture and pagan legend. These and the
nature of grief, tied with a yearning for God's promised comfort, promoted vari-
ous cultural observances, such as the Latin American tradition of the Día de la
Muerta, where a day, or a month, in the fall was set aside to acknowledge our
connection with the dead of our past and with the dread of our own passing that
pursues our overactive subconscious--even in this supposed empirical age.
We remember, but we indulge in sweets, because the ubiquity of life itself is a
taunt to the shallow power that death has over the heart of the faithful. In true
faith, life is endless. It is enduring. It recognizes death, but as another cross-
road or geographic obstacle that the determined pilgrims will negotiate in their
own manner. This is the answer the riddle of the implied, repeated inquiry Jesus
makes in today's gospel, "Where are you from?" Our answer should not be,
"We've been hanging around a long time and we're waiting for whatever we have
coming." Rather, it should reflect a decisive, "Lord, even in our confusion we
have heard and seen You, and we want to do what we need to follow You home."
The "whither" is answered. We
came from a lot of dark places
and we're headed, however halt-
ingly, toward the Light. Tomor-
row is, and will always be, The
Great Feast of All the Saints.
P
RAYER
Lord, point me home and push
me again in that direction.
_______
D
ON
M
ILICI
Parishioner