All Souls' Day

by Benedictine Monks of Buckfast Abbey

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1. The Church militant on earth — animated as she is by the spirit of Jesus Christ, her Divine Bridegroom — is of necessity always in deepest sympathy with all those who belong to her and to Christ. The joys of her children are hers and she sorrows with them in their trials and affliction. So on All Saints' Day she exults in the triumph of the Saints and Elect. Wistfully she looks up to heaven, to that mighty throng of heavenly Citizens, gathered round the throne of Majesty. And as she catches faint and distant echoes of their shouts of victory, she is filled with a great longing — she yearns for the day — illa dies — the day of the Lord, which shall end her exile in this world, where she feels forever a stranger and wayfarer.

But in the midst of the joyful hymns of the day of victory, a note of sadness is suddenly struck. From the deeps and hollows of the earth sounds of wailing and pleading seem to rise, in strange contrast to Heaven's Alleluias. "Out of the depths I have cried," and again: "Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends, because the hand of the Lord hath touched me." (Job XIX. 21).

All the children of the Church, whom death has taken away from her fostering care, have not yet reached the blessed City whose golden towers and pinnacles beckon to us in the distance. For "the holy City of Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, having the glory of God" . . . is all pure and bright, so that "there shall not enter into it anything defiled." (Apoc. XXI. 10, 11, 27.)

Such is human frailty that there are few who depart from hence in such purity as to enable them to open the eyes of their soul forthwith upon the unveiled splendors of the Face of Him who is called the "father of lights." (James I. 17.) Hence, even were our Sacred Books silent on the subject, reason, enlightened by faith, would suggest the existence of some place, or state, where souls might be cleansed from those stains which penance has not blotted out during this mortal life. The doctrine of Purgatory is one of those dogmas of the Church which one may be allowed to call the most reasonable, in the sense that it commends itself most to sound reason. So much so, in fact, that a denial of Purgatory has gradually led to a denial of Hell — inasmuch as many non-Catholics fondly imagine that the pains of Hell itself may after all not be eternal, or merely punitive, but may have a purifying virtue. Or they fancy that another chance, as they say, or many chances may be given to those who have failed in this life. Their error arises, of course, from their not understanding, or admitting, the distinction between mortal and venial sin. Mortal sin, if persevered in to the last, drags the soul down into the abyss, by its own fatal weight: here there is no longer any possibility of either change of heart, or forgiveness; the night has come in which no man can work.

But those who leave the world with the relics of forgiven mortal sin, or with actual venial sin upon their soul, are sent by God's justice into that mysterious land where the very banishment from God — temporary as it is — is the sharpest punishment and best expiation of sin. Newman expresses this thought in his own inimitable way, when he makes the soul speak thus to the angel guardian:

"Take me away, and in the lowest deep
There let me be
And there in hope the lone night-watches keep
Tolled out for me.

* * *

There will I sing, and soothe me stricken breast
Which ne'er can cease
To throb, and pine, and languish, till possest
Of its Sole Peace.

* * *

Take me away
That sooner I may rise, and go above,
And see Him in the truth of everlasting day."

(Dream of Gerontius sect; 6.)

The Church has always believed in Purgatory, and exercised, on behalf of its inmates, her divinely-given power of helping them by prayer and suffrage. Already in the Old Testament we find what is perhaps the most weighty of all the Scriptural proofs of Purgatory. "The most valiant Judas . . . sent twelve thousand drachms of silver to Jerusalem for sacrifice to be offered for the sins of the dead, thinking well and religiously concerning the resurrection (for if he had not hoped that they that were slain should rise again, it would have seemed superfluous and vain to pray for the dead). And because he considered that they who had fallen asleep with godliness had great grace laid up for them." These words are the more remarkable when we bear in mind that those for whom the Machabee offered sacrifice had fallen in battle solely because of their sin — a venial sin — that of taking some coins with pagan emblems from the bodies of their enemies, "Which the Law forbiddeth to the Jews: it is therefore a holy and wholesome thought," the sacred writer concludes, "to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins." (II. Mach. XII. 43-46.)

2. So salutary a thought could never be absent from the mind of so kind and sympathetic a Mother as the Catholic Church. Already in the Catacombs we meet with instances of prayer for the dead. The oft-recurring "In Pace" on a tombstone is rather a prayer that the sleeper may enter into peace, than an assertion that he already enjoys it. The writings of the early Fathers are full of instances which put the faith and practice of the early Church beyond doubt or cavil. St. Augustine wrote an entire treatise on the subject, "De Cura pro mortuis gerenda," from which are taken the lessons of the Office of All Souls' Day. "Supplications for the spirits of the dead are not to be omitted, so much so that the Church makes a general commemoration of all those who died members of the Christian and Catholic Church, even though their names are not known; so that if among them there be any to whom parents, sons or relations do not render such offices, they may be rendered by the kindly Mother of them all." (Lect. II. Noct.)

In the XIIth book of the Confessions, St. Augustine relates his holy mother's last request: "Tantum illud vos rogo, ut ad Domini altare memineritis mei, ubicumque fueritis: — this one thing I ask, that wheresoever you may be, you be mindful of me at the altar of the Lord." (L. IX. Cap. XI.) In chapter XII he speaks of the prayers which he said whilst Mass was being offered up for her, "sicut fieri solet."

In 998, according to the Chronicle of Sigebert of Gembloux, St. Odilo, Abbot of Clugny, ordained that a commemoration of all the faithful departed should be made in all the monasteries dependent on Clugny, on the day following the feast of All Saints. Other Orders promptly followed this example, until, gradually, the day became of universal observance throughout the Church.

3. Every priest is familiar with both Mass and Office of the Dead: there is no man living who comes oftener in contact with death and the dead than we priests. Unfortunately it is difficult, in fact altogether impossible, to trace the origin of these stately and impressive Offices. Since the Pontificate of Pius X we have a complete Office of the Dead, both for the night and the day Hours. The rite of this Office is practically that of the last three days of Holy Week. The Gloria at the end of the psalms is replaced by that touching prayer in which the Church asks for eternal rest for those who have toiled, and fought, and won, during the years of their earthly pilgrimage.

The Mass of All Souls' Day has all the features of the ordinary Requiem Mass, except that Collect, lesson and gospel are peculiar to the day, though not so as not to be used also on other special occasions.

The Introit is obviously based on IV Esdras, II. 34, 35: "Expectate Pastorem vestrum, requiem aeternitatis dabit vobis . . . parati estote ad praemia regni, quia lux perpetua lucebit vobis per aeternitatem temporis." Touching words on which Holy Church lingers in the antiphons and responsories of the Paschal Office of Apostles and Martyrs.

The Collect is often on our lips: let us heed the concluding words, which make us pray that "they may rejoice in the full forgiveness which they have always desired." Repentance and hope of forgiveness are the essential conditions of the blotting out of sin both here and in Purgatory.

The Epistle is St. Paul's triumphant proclamation of the immortality of the whole of man. The soul, being a spirit, is by nature indestructible. The body, made of the perishable elements of this world, may, and does, crumble into dust — but only for a time, for "in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye . . . the dead shall rise again incorruptible . . . for this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality."

The famous, unique, Sequence of the Mass of the Dead is a composition of Thomas of Celano, a small town in the Abruzzi. Thomas was admitted into the Franciscan Order by St. Francis himself, in 1213, became the Saint's trusted friend, and eventually his first biographer. The Dies irae is a hymn in the style and metre familiar to those days. It describes the world's last day — its terrors foretold both by Prophet and Sybil. In accents of deepest pathos it pleads for mercy in that day of horror, reminding the inexorable Judge who then comes with great power, upon the clouds of heaven, that though we be sinners, we are yet his handiwork. Once upon a time He toiled for us, sat wearily by the roadside, worn out by the heat of the day and the length of His journey: tantus labor non sit cassus!

The work of Celano only goes as far as the strophe "Lacrymosa"; the remainder is part of the Responsory "Libera me," which dates from the Xth century and consisted of a great many more verses than we sing today. That the poem was used at funeral, is suggested by the last strophe:

Pie Jesu, Domine
Dona eis requiem

The Gospel is Our Lord's solemn and public promise of that final resurrection which St. Paul has described in the Epistle.

The Offertory is of great antiquity — in fact it is the only offertory which preserves its antique character, composed as it is of Antiphon, refrain and versicle. It is not easy to explain its meaning, and I have nearly exhausted the space allowed me for this article. The Church prays that God would "save the souls of all the faithful departed from the pains of hell and from the deep pit . . . and suffer not endless darkness to enshroud them. Rather do Thou bid holy Michael, they standard-bearer, to bring them forth into glorious light . . ."

That there is no redemption in Hell is a dogma of the Church. To explain the words of this Offertory, some commentators suggest that when Holy Church prays for deliverance from "the pains of hell," "the deep pit," "the lion's mouth," she only uses very emphatic language to describe the pains of Purgatory. Now, though we know that these pains are very great, in fact, we have no terms in which to describe or express them, as they are utterly different from anything that may come within our experience, owing to the different state in which the separated soul finds itself — none the less, such terms seem altogether unsuitable as a description of a strictly temporal punishment. Holy Church is always most careful and moderate in her expressions and her prayer is ever in harmony with strictest theology.

Therefore it is surely nearer the truth to say that in this Offertory, the Church prays, not so much for those who have already departed this life. Rather does she consider the struggle of the departing soul. In that supreme moment the dread lion, who is ever going round, seeking whom he may devour — roars his loudest, makes his fiercest attack upon the soul. Well may we pray that we may be saved in that moment "from the deep pit" and "the lake of fire" — for there is always danger as long as the breath of life is within us. So we should look upon the Offertory as the Church's supplication, not so much for the dead, as for the dying. The word defunctus is susceptible of this interpretation. Certain it is that many prayers which are said at the burial of the dead, are really retrospective, that is, are prayers for the moment of death, not for the dead. Thus we learn from the Breviary lessons on St. Dominic's day, Aug. 4th, 2nd Noct., that the Saint died as the brethren were saying: "Subvenite Sancti Dei, occurrite Angeli, etc., a prayer now said after the soul has left the body. Again, at the beginning of the Absolution, at the end of the Requiem Mass, we pray thus: Non intres in judicium cum servo tuo, Domine," though the soul is then already judged and allotted her place "in the house of our eternity."

The Communion is antique in form, that is, antiphonal, and touchingly dwells on the theme of the Introit, praying for light and rest for those who have gone before us "with the seal of faith, and sleep the sleep of peace."

4. Since the Pontificate of Pius X every priest is allowed to say three Masses on All Souls' Day. Even those priests who, by special privilege, say the Missa Quotidiana pro def., daily, may repeat this Mass three times on that day. Only the prayer "Fidelium" is said (F) at that Mass, without any second or third prayer. Such a priest — if he be caecutiens — leaves out the Sequence. (CF. Acta S. Sedis, March, 1921, page 156).

The priest may accept a stipend for only one Mass. One of the two other Masses must be offered for all the departed, and the other according to the intentions of the Supreme Pontiff.

Charity towards our neighbor is the more urgent according as the neighbor is more helpless as the Souls in Purgatory. The Office and Mass of All Souls' Day put in our hands means to help them, of surpassing efficacy: let us use them to the fullest on this day of universal sympathy — this mellow Autumn day which comes round, year after year, charged with an indefinable sense of both sorrow and gladness, making, like All Saints' Day, the unseen world appear so much more real than the solid structure of this visible world.

When Job had been struck "with a grievous ulcer, from the sole of the foot even to the tope of his head . . . he took a potsherd and scraped the corrupt matter, sitting on a dunghill," without the city. Even thus are many of our brethren seated in desolation and affliction without the Gates of the blissful City. The stains and scars of past sins are scraped from off their soul by the instruments of God's justice. Their wounds are licked, not by the soothing tongues that licked the sores of Lazarus at Dives' gate, but by the sharp, stinging tongues of a fire which can only be quenched by our suffrages and the cooling showers of the Most Precious Blood of Jesus Christ. The prayers of the Liturgy enable us to cause this refreshing dew to fall upon them most plentifully. And when these blessed spirits shall have entered the golden halls of heaven, unlike the prison friend of Joseph of old, they will assuredly not be unmindful of their benefactors.

May then "Light eternal shine upon them, O Lord, in the companionship of all Thy Saints, for Thou art merciful." (Post-communion).

© Joseph F. Wagner, Inc.

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