Homily on Solemnity of All Souls

All Souls - 2nd November 2025

My brothers and sisters, today we gather on the Solemnity of All Souls, a day when the Church holds before God the memory of all who have gone before us. I want to speak plainly: losing someone you love is one of the deepest wounds we carry. It changes the shape of our days, it alters the rhythm of our breath, and it can make the world feel darker for a time. Grief is not a problem to be fixed quickly; it is love learning to live in a different way. On this solemn day the Church invites us both to lament and to hope — to bring our sorrow into the light of God’s living mercy.

When a name comes to mind — a parent, a partner, a child, a friend — that memory brings a whole life back in a moment. We remember jokes, ordinary routines, the small acts of kindness that marked them out. Those memories are sacred. They are the footprints of love. To grieve is to honour those footprints. The Gospel does not call us to erase pain with platitudes; it calls us to enter it with truth, and to let the truth of Christ’s resurrection meet us there.

Theologically, All Souls stands in the continuity of Christian hope. We confess that death is not the final word. Jesus’ own death and resurrection are the hinge of our faith: in him death is transformed, not simply masked. Our belief in the resurrection is not an abstract idea but a promise grounded in the life, death and rising of Christ. Because he rose, we can trust that the bonds of love which death cannot break are held forever in God’s hands. This is not a distant doctrine; it is a lived conviction that colours how we remember, how we mourn, and how we pray.

We also hold certain truths about what is promised to those who die united to Christ. The Church teaches that resurrection will be the fulfilment of the whole person — body and soul — re-created and glorified. That teaching assures us that the goodness of a loved one’s life is not lost but will be gathered up and made whole. For those who still need healing, charity and prayer help in a mysterious way; they are signs of our solidarity and instruments of God’s mercy. Our prayers for the dead are not superstitious rituals but acts of love that express faith in God’s unending providence.

Grief is often messy. It can be angry, bewildered, numb or painfully acute. There is no single “right” timetable for sorrow. Some days we can speak of our loved one with a smile; other days merely seeing their photograph is unbearable. The Church offers rituals — funeral rites, the liturgy of the hours, this day of remembrance — to hold that unpredictability and to give it a place in prayer. These rites do not erase loss, but they give language to it and place it within the story of God’s saving grace.

In the face of death we are also called to consolation — not to hurry it away, but to be present with it. Presence is one of the greatest gifts we can offer one another: a hand held, a silence shared, the simple repetition of a name in prayer. When we pray for the dead, we join our desires with Christ who mediates every grace. We intercede because we love; we trust because Christ has opened the gate of life for us. This is the quiet power of hope: it does not deny pain, but it reframes it in the light of God’s promise.

We should also remember that remembering is an active work of love. Speaking of those who have died, celebrating their virtues, continuing acts of charity in their memory — all these are ways their life continues to bear fruit. The memory of the faithful is a treasury for the living Church. On All Souls we are reminded that none of us stand alone in our sorrow; we stand in a communion of saints that embraces both the living and the dead. That communion binds us together across the veil of death with mutual care and prayer.

So how might we live out this day? Allow yourself to remember without shame. Let the tears come. Light a candle, attend Mass or Evening Prayer if you can, and bring before God the names you carry. Offer small acts of kindness in memory of the departed. Pray not only for their peace but for the consolation of those who miss them. And keep the conversation going — with family, with friends, with God. Faith does not remove the ache; it gives it a story and a direction: toward the God who loves, restores and promises life without end.

Finally, a word of pastoral reassurance: if your grief feels like a heavy burden you cannot bear, reach out. The Church is a healing community where clergy and companions walk with you. You do not have to “be strong” alone. Let others share the load, let prayer root you, and let hope, however slowly, begin to shape your days again.

Let us pray: for all who have died, that they may share the fullness of Christ’s resurrection; for those who grieve, that they may find comfort in God’s unfailing love; and for ourselves, that we might live in such a way that our love for others points us toward the life God promises. Amen.

Archbishop Felix Gibbins OSB Cam