The Last Day of the Liturgical Year (Vigilance)

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

We’re told in St. Luke, “Watch yourselves, or your hearts will be coarsened by debauchery and drunkenness and the cares of life, and that day will come upon you unexpectedly, like a trap. For it will come down on all those living on the face of the earth. Stay awake, praying at all times for the strength to survive all that is going to happen, and to hold your ground before the Son of Man” (Luke 21:34-36).

On the last day of the year, the message of the liturgy is full of these warnings and encouragements. “Watch yourselves.”

The Church tries to remind us of the really important things in life as the liturgical year ends, and a new liturgical year is about to begin with the spirit of Advent. “That day will come upon you unexpectedly, like a trap.”

And we’re told also in the Book of Revelation, “Then he showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit. … There shall no more be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb shall be in it, and his servants shall worship him; they shall see his face, and his name shall be on their foreheads” (Rev. 22:1–4).

Sacred Scripture draws to a close where it all began: in the Garden of Eden, in Paradise. The readings for the last day of the liturgical year speak to us about our final destination: the House of the Father, our true homeland.

Bishop Fulton Sheen tells a story once of how he was going to give a lecture in the town hall of Philadelphia, and he lost his way. There were some kids playing football in the street and he stopped and asked them what was the way to the town hall.

One of the kids, typical gum-chewing, brash American kid looked up at him and said, “What do you want to go there for?”

He said, “Well, I’m going to give a lecture.” And then he asked, “What about?” It was about some lofty eschatological topic, but he didn’t want to complicate the lives of the kids too much, so he just said, “Well, it’s a lecture about heaven and how to get there. Would you like to come?”

The kid said, “Well, how are you going to give a lecture about heaven and how to get there if you don’t even know the way to the town hall?”

The moral of the story is that we have to know where we’re headed—the House of the Father, our true homeland. Through a rich use of symbols, God teaches us in the Book of Revelation about the nature of eternal life.

I heard a meditation from a priest recently who happened to mention how, in this world, people don’t think about eternity. Part of our role as apostles in the middle of the world is to remind people about eternity, which is the fulfillment of mankind’s deepest yearnings. We are to see God face to face and glorify Him forever.

The Readings of this day depict the happy state of God’s faithful servants in heaven. The water is a symbol of the Holy Spirit who proceeds from the Father and the Son. It runs as a river from the throne of God and of the Lamb. The name of God is to be found on the foreheads of the blessed. They belong to the Lord.

The Book of Revelation says, “In heaven night shall be no more. They need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they shall reign forever and ever” (Rev. 22:5).

The end of the liturgical year acts to remind us about the end of time, about the end of our life, the end of time for us. It reminds us that death is an indispensable step towards our reunion with God. It’s not the end. Our life doesn’t end in a hole in the ground. If it did, life might be worthless. The children of God should view death as a transition to eternity.

Once we are in God’s company, night shall be no more. To the extent that we grow in our sense of divine filiation, we should become more desirous of meeting Our loving Father. We should therefore look at death without fear, but with holy expectation.

After all, as Pope St. John Paul said, “life is a journey towards eternity. … Every moment becomes precious precisely through this perspective. We must live and work in time, bearing within us the nostalgia for heaven” (John Paul II, Address, October 22, 1985).

In other places, Pope St. John Paul likes to say that we’re all called to “the eternal wedding feast” (ibid., Apostolic Exhortation, Evangelii gaudium, Point 288, November 24, 2013). God wants to marry us. Marriage in this world is just a preparation for a marriage in the next. If something happens in our marriage or family in this world that is not what we expected, never mind, it’s a pathway to the eternal wedding feast. It’s our preparation for the next.

People who lead celibate lives in this world give witness to the fact that the real marriage comes later. They skip the historical reality so as to bear witness to that truth.

But we’re also very aware that many people don’t share this nostalgia for heaven. They perhaps have grown accustomed to their prosperity and material comfort, as if these things were going to last forever. They’ve forgotten the fundamental truth: “For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city which is to come” (Heb. 13:14).

Our hearts are made to last for all eternity. “Our hearts are restless, Lord, until they rest in you” (St. Augustine, Confessions, Book I, Chapter 1).

As we look forward to the joy of Christmas, the excitement of Christmas, all the hype that there is, we could ask Our Lord for the grace not to get lost in the material things or the material celebrations, but to have that Christ Child in Bethlehem very much before our eyes all the time so that we learn the lesson that the things of this world cannot satisfy our nature. We have been created for infinite truth and infinite goodness.

Everything in this world can become an obstacle to our eternal happiness. We can lose our way. We can get distracted by the material things. We are “vessels of clay” (2 Cor. 4:7); we have a wounded human nature. We’re all capable of great mistakes.

We shouldn’t be surprised that the prospect of death could frighten us. It’s quite natural. But we solve those fears with supernatural truths: our body and soul were created by God to be united with Him forever.

The Church prays in the Preface for Masses of the Dead, “Lord, for your faithful people, life is changed, not ended. When the body of our earthly dwelling lies in death we gain an everlasting dwelling place in heaven” (The Roman Missal, Preface I for the Dead).

Our deaths, or deaths of people around us, can be something happy and joyful. When I was working as an intern on a ward, an oncology ward, we had people who died—it was a cancer ward. I was always very happy when finally, the people have gone, they’ve gone to heaven, they’ve passed on. But the doctor I was working with did not share those sentiments. He used to say, “That is weird.”

Our Christian faith gives us a wonderful outlook, with very practical consequences. So the true child of God “expresses his joy in seeing at last the transcendent perfections of the Father in all his holiness” (Bonaventure Perquin, Abba Father).

I remember being with a woman in the hours close to her death. She was repeating the Holy Name frequently, saying, “If I’d known that dying was so beautiful, I would have wanted to die before.”

A spiritual writer continues, “The child recognizes the condescension of Infinite Majesty in adopting him on earth, in guiding, training, sanctifying, and preparing him for heaven.

“Now he has invited that child to enter heaven, to be with his Father for all eternity. God has had regard for his littleness and given him the power to glorify the Trinity forever” (ibid.).

So, we have good reason to exclaim. St. Josemaría says, “We shall never die! We will only be changing our lodgings, nothing more. In conjunction with faith and hope, we Christians also need to have this sure hope. At our death we make only a temporary farewell. We should want to die in the spirit of these words: ‘Until we meet again’” (Josemaría Escrivá, quoted in Newsletter No. 1).

We know we shall see all of our loved ones again. The goal of our life is to be united with them forever in heaven.

Scripture tells us, “But the saints of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever, forever and ever” (Dan. 7:18).

We will find that everything appears new and young in heaven. The old universe will seem to have “vanished like a scroll that is rolled up” (Rev. 6:14).

Theologians say that we will get our bodies back in heaven, the resurrection of the bodies, in its most perfect state. Whatever state our body may have been in at its most perfect moment, we get that back. All our pimples and wrinkles and gray hairs will have disappeared. We’ll all look wonderful in heaven.

And yet heaven will not be a complete surprise for us if we have spent our life focusing on that eternal homeland to which we are called.

Heaven is the new community of the children of God who have attained the fullness of their adoption. In this world, we are the adopted children of God. Christ is the natural son of God; we are the adopted children of God.

We will have a new heart and a new will. A purified heart, a purified will. For infinite goodness, truth, and love.

At the time of Christ’s glory, our bodies will be transfigured. And that happiness based on the vision of God will not override personal relations.

Theologians say that people in heaven are still very close to their loved ones on earth. They have a special vision and place in their heart for those that they were close to on earth.

Another writer says: “There in heaven will be found all authentic human love: the love between spouses, the love between father and mother and their children, friendships, family relationships, noble camaraderie” (C. Lopez-Pardo, On Life and Death).

This writer says, “We are all traveling in this life. As the years go by, we find that more and more of our loved ones are now on the other side of that barrier. This knowledge might be a source of fear, but can also be a cause for joy.

“This is possible if we believe that death is the door to our true home. It leads to our definitive homeland which is inhabited by ‘all those who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith.’ Our common homeland is not a forbidding tomb; it is the bosom of the Lord” (ibid.).

While we’re here on earth, we find it difficult to imagine what Heaven will be like, although the periods coming up to Christmas can give us a little insight into that joy.

The Old Testament compares our condition in Heaven to that of the Promised Land. “They shall not hunger or thirst, neither scorching wind nor sun shall smite them, for he who has pity on them will lead them, and by springs of water will guide them” (Isa. 49:10).

Our Lord spoke frequently of the incredible happiness that lies in store for us if we are faithful. “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man the things that God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor. 2:9).

The most important thing on this earth is that we get to heaven. We have to try and engrave that message in the souls and hearts of our children and of our families.

We will contemplate God as He truly is. And the blessed in heaven will delight in the knowledge of other people in God—parents, relatives, children, friends.

St. Thomas teaches that the blessed will know in Christ everything that pertains to the beauty and integrity of the world. God is beauty. Things that God has created are beautiful. God is good. God is truth. All these things will be reflected.

He says, “Because of our membership in the human community, the blessed will know the objects of Christ’s love on earth. The blessed will have a clear understanding of the truths of the faith regarding our salvation: the Incarnation, the divine maternity of Mary, the Church, grace, and the sacraments” (cf. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, 1, Question 89).

Is it any wonder that the Church leads us along that sort of pathway in the coming period of Advent to get to know a little more, year by year, of the majesty of the Incarnation? Or aspects of the divine maternity of Mary or the role of St. Joseph?

“How pleasing to Our Lord is the incense burnt in his honor” (J. Escrivá, The Forge, Point 995). If we try to make Advent a true time of penance or sacrifice or purification, then all the more will the Christ Child reveal Himself to us.

A spiritual writer in the 18th century said, “God reveals himself to us in the measure in which we prepare for his coming.”

You can imagine what is done in your house to welcome a very special guest, or what’s done in a country or in an organization. That’s a little bit how we have to try and prepare during the coming days.

In The Forge we’re told, “Think also how little the things of this earth are worth; even as they begin they are already ending. In heaven, instead, a great Love awaits you, with no betrayals and no deceptions. The fullness of love, the fullness of beauty and greatness and knowledge. … And it will never cloy: it will satiate, yet you will still want more” (ibid.).

We can reflect on these great truths as we end this liturgical year. Remind ourselves of where we’re going.

In Heaven we will see God, and this will fill us with a great joy. The extent of this joy will be related to our holiness here on earth.

Every day, every hour, is an opportunity for us to grow in holiness. To live our norms of always—acts of faith, acts of hope, acts of atonement, acts of love.

Yet the mercy of God is so great that He has prepared additional motives for our joy in Heaven. These theologians have termed these goods “accidental glory.”

We will see God, but there will also be other little glories around us: the company of our friends and relatives, the company of Our Lady, of St. Joseph, of the angels, particularly our own guardian angel, who has helped us so much since the moment of our conception.

Company of all the saints, of all the faithful. We’re going to have a great time in heaven. It’s worthwhile getting there. Going to be an eternal party.

We’ll have the joy of being with the people that we loved here on earth. Friends, perhaps those who showed us our vocation.

And in heaven, St. Thomas says, we’ll also “be capable of acquiring new knowledge using our faculties” (T. Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Question 89).

We can learn new things using our intellect and will—perhaps through acquired knowledge this time, not through study. We’ll have the joy of seeing new souls enter heaven.

We’ll also be able to look back and see the fruits of all the seeds that we have sown here on earth. From a mother and a father and a family, that’s a very powerful idea. All the truths, or the good example, or the guidelines that you try to give your children—humanly, spiritually, morally—that might have seemed to fall on dry ground. There are many of those seeds and fruits that will bear fruit in due season. And it will be your eternal joy in heaven to see that fruition come.

Or the fact that you, by a life of acceptance of God’s will, whatever it may have been for your life, for your marriage, for your family, for your finances, for your health—your humble acceptance of your position in life, the will of God for you—over time, that may set in train a whole series of values that get transmitted from generation to generation.

Values and a lifestyle that you have helped to set in motion. Ideals of generosity, of commitment, of striving for virtue, of trying to be better, of trying to be holy. Of having a big influence in society, of making a splash.

We’ll see the fruits of all of our apostolic efforts and sacrifices. The Catechism of the Council of Trent says, “At the time of the Last Judgment we shall possess our resurrected and glorified body. Accidental glory can increase up to the time of the Last Judgment” (cf. Catechism of the Council of Trent).

The words that we “whispered in the ear of our wavering friend” (J. Escrivá, The Way, Point 973), which perhaps seemed to be rejected or fruitless—maybe some little bit of grace will come in five years’ time or ten years’ time, and will help that person to realize the truth of your words. “The Spirit breathes where he will” (cf. John 3:8).

We have great reason to foster the virtue of hope so that it will strengthen us in moments of difficulty. And hopefully we can spread that hope to many other people around us who might be going through a rough period, who may have a cross to carry—everybody has some cross to carry—who may need that little bit of encouragement, humanly or spiritually. Encouragement of our words, or more importantly, the encouragement of our prayer and of our example.

So much is at stake. When we see the greatness of the task, that’s when we can turn to the supernatural means: our Mass. The power of each Mass of every day, each Mass that is capable of washing away all the sins of mankind, all the scandals, all the horrors, all the evil in this world. We have a great power in our daily Mass. The Blood of Christ is there. “Blessed be your Most Precious Blood” (cf. Divine Praises).

All these considerations could lead us to a deeper appreciation of the Holy Sacrifice of the Altar. A deeper desire to try and attend Mass more frequently, or to receive Holy Communion more frequently, so that we put all our hope there. Because so much is at stake.

Lord, help us to be vigilant. Vigilant in our struggle to be detached from the things of this earth.

In one of the Readings we’ve just read, Our Lord gives us ample warning. “Take heed to yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the cares of this life. … But watch at all times, praying that you may have strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man” (Luke 21:34,36).

Our Lord has also told us, “I go to prepare a place for you…so that where I am, you may be also” (John 14:2-3).

There we’ll enjoy the company of Jesus and Mary and of St. Joseph. But here we’re just wayfarers, travelers, pilgrims. We’re passing through.

If at times the things of this world let us down, disappoint us, things don’t work out well, we wonder why things are not better...that can be a little whispering from the Holy Spirit to remind us that we are destined for greater things, higher things, supernatural things. This world is not perfect. Perfection is something we’ll find in the life to come.

“When that moment comes when we are to give an account to God, we will not be afraid” (Álvaro del Portillo, Homily, August 15, 1989).

St. Josemaría has liked to say that our guardian angel will be there with us (cf. J. Escrivá, Furrow, Point 693). Our guardian angel will produce a little notebook that he’s been keeping all through our life. Little acts of virtue or little acts of kindness that we practiced with other people, that possibly we didn’t think twice about. But he took note. Little gestures that we’ve done that have helped the lives of others. He’ll produce all these things at the time of the judgment and help the balance to weigh very much in our favor.

“Death will only be a change of lodgings” (Á. del Portillo, ibid.). Life is changed, not taken away. “It will come when God wants.” We can look forward to that entry into the fullness of life.

Blessed Álvaro del Portillo continued, “Life changes; it does not come to an end. We have a firm hope that we will live in a new way, very united to the Blessed Virgin, as we adore the most Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This is the reward that awaits us” (Álvaro del Portillo, Homily, August 15, 1989).

We end this liturgical year looking back and making Acts of Thanksgiving for all the graces that God has given to us in this past year through the sacraments; for all the inspirations He’s given to us in our times of prayer or in our spiritual reading; or for all the times the Holy Spirit has spoken to us through friends or relatives, or our spiritual director, or in the ordinary events of each day.

We can thank God for all the work we’ve accomplished, for big things and little things. The virtue we’ve tried to put into practice in the order of each day.

We look back with thanksgiving, because hopefully we appreciate more the graces that we’ve been given. We have so much to be grateful for.

We can make a resolution to be always giving thanks to God. The first line of the Preface of each Mass says, “It is [truly right and] just…for us always and everywhere to give you thanks.”

Tomorrow we begin the season of Advent, a time of expectation and of hope. We ask Our Lady to take us by the hand and lead us through this time of spiritual bonanza, savoring the liturgy, so that we can await the arrival of Jesus while staying very close to Our Lady and to St. Joseph.

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

EW