Homily for the All Souls Day – Year C
Wis 4:7-15; Psalm 25; Phil 3:20-21; Jn 11:17-27
In the Hand of God: Hope That Transcends Death
Dear brothers and sisters in Christ,
today the Church invites us into a sacred remembering — not a remembering of despair, but of hope that transcends death. We gather before the altar under the gaze of eternity, carrying in our hearts the faces and names of those we love and still long for. In human eyes, death seems to steal everything — laughter, presence, touch — yet faith whispers another truth: “The souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them.” (Wisdom 3:1) In that divine hand rests not only our departed brothers and sisters, but our own fragile hearts — sustained by a love stronger than the grave, a mercy wider than our sorrow, and a promise that life is not ended, only changed.
We remember those whom God has called out of this life and into the life to come. We remember our loved ones, our friends, our brothers and sisters in the Lord — and beyond that we remember the whole Communion of Saints and the great cloud of witnesses that surrounds us.
On this day of the faithful departed we are invited to look beyond sorrow and loss, and to enter into a deeper hope — a hope rooted in the resurrection of Christ and in the promise of God’s mercy.
Our first reading reminds us: “The souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them.” (Wisdom 3:1).
How consoling these words are. They do not deny the pain of death, the grief of separation, the sense of a life interrupted. They acknowledge that “in the sight of men… they seemed to die; their departure was thought to be affliction, their going forth from us, utter destruction.” But then the truth bursts forth: “But they are in peace.”
Today we bring our grief, our tears, our memories. We bring the ache of missing someone, of thinking “if only…” and “why now?” And yet in that very pain the Church proclaims the truth: our loved ones are held in God’s hand; they rest in his love; they abide with him in peace.
The psalm reminds us: “Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil; for you are with me.” (Psalms 23:4).
Yes — the valley of the shadow of death is real: the dark silence of a funeral, the hollowness leaving the grave, the “now-empty chair” at the table. But the psalm assures us: the Lord is with us. Not in spite of the valley — but in the valley. He holds us, guides us, comforts us.
On this day we remember that to walk with Christ is even to walk through the depths of grief — yet not alone. If any of us feels abandoned, fearful, unsure of tomorrow, this is the hour to lean into the presence now promised and already given.
In the second reading St. Paul tells us: “Hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” (Romans 5:5).
When someone dear to us dies, hope can feel weak, distant, brittle. But Paul reminds us that hope is anchored in the love of God — poured into our hearts by the Spirit.
And he goes further: “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. Since therefore we are now justified by his blood, much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath.” (Romans 5:8-9) This is not only about forgiveness of past sin — it is about the promise of life, life without end, life in communion with God and all his saints.
What does this mean for us today?
So, what are we to do with all this? How do we live in the tension between grief and hope? We have 3 takeaways:
A. Pray and remember.
Today is not simply a liturgical formality. It is an act of love. We pray for the faithful departed — yes for those who died in Christ, but also for all who may still be undergoing purification, still being drawn into the light of God’s perfect love. Our prayers, our Masses, our remembrance assist them. We are one Body, and death does not sever the Body of Christ.
Let us also remember — not simply in the mind, but in the heart. Let us bring names, stories, faces to the Lord. Let our memories become intercession.
B. Live considering eternity.
The Scriptures urge us not to live as though this world is all there is. The souls of the just abide with God. Death is not the end but the gateway. The Christian vision does not end simply at the grave.
So let this day awaken in us the call to live now according to that future. Let us conform our choices to what matters for eternity: mercy, justice, love, fidelity, prayer. The ones we loved and lost — how would they want us to live now? Perhaps as people who forgive more easily, love more generously, serve more humbly.
C. Comfort one another.
We are pilgrims, and in our journey, we support one another. On All Souls’ Day the Church stands as one extended family: the living, the dead, the saints in heaven. If you are mourning, let the arms of the Church hold you. If you are comforted, let your comfort reach the one who still weeps. In the communion of saints there is no final separation, only transformation in love.
In our ministry, our friendship, our families — let us be bearers of hope to one another. Let our presence say: “You are not alone. The Lord is with you. And so, I am.”
Dear friends, death is serious. It tears, it wounds, it grieves. But our faith tells us that death has been swallowed up in victory. That Christ, the Resurrection and the Life, calls us — the living and the dead — into his eternal embrace.
Today we light candles, we visit graves, we offer Masses — all because we believe that even beyond the grave our love remains — because God’s love remains. We commit our departed brothers and sisters into the hands of their Maker and Redeemer. We commit ourselves to his journey. And we commit to one another — in hope, love, and fidelity.
Have a splendid day!
