Allhallowtide. Staging the passages of grief in the
season of diminishment, sensing the presence of the dead among us. It mirrors
the Easter Triduum of Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Resurrection Sunday.
Halloween, now a children’s costume party, invokes the
ghosts that accompany the living: months,
years, decades after a death. Ghosts of the mind bringing fresh torrents of
sorrow. It’s suitable that children, symbols of new life, be given food that
pacifies ghosts.
All Saints celebrates those of exceptional holiness,
whether they are closer to God, or God is closer to them: perhaps it’s a mutual
embrace. Saints are guides through the wilderness of grief, making sacred the
way before us. St. John of the Cross, for example, illuminates The Dark Night
of the Soul.
All Souls means you, me, him, her, they, and them. All
sinners, all forgiven. This is a terrifying thought, Christ embracing the whole
world. Who should not be forgiven? It’s
a warm feeling, and a cold thought.
I’ve known six deaths in less than six months this
year, some close, some distant. Ghosts of the past are constant companions. The
Holy Land is currently a field of deaths. Dear God, Hallowed be Thy Name.
