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[November 2, 2025, version _08, ] All Souls 2025: The Communion of Interceding Hearts
Gospel: John
6:37–40 “This is the will of my Father, that I should lose
nothing of what He has given me, but that I should raise it up on the last day.”
1. What It Means to Intercede
To intercede is to stand in the gap for another—to lift up
someone’s need before God, just as the saints do for us.
The Catechism says, “Intercession is a prayer of petition
which leads us to pray as Jesus did” (CCC 2634).
In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the Father’s will that none be lost. He
reveals Himself as the great intercessor, the one who stands before the Father
for us, offering His own life.
This moment in John’s Gospel—often called the Bread of
Life discourse—is not just about receiving Communion; it is about being
in communion. Jesus prepares Himself and us to give and receive love
through His Body and Blood. He intercedes for us by making Himself VULNERALBE –
through the sacrifice we receive, so
that we might be united with Him and with one another.
This act of divine intercession continues a long tradition
reaching back through salvation history. Think of Joseph, the
son of Jacob: betrayed and sold by his brothers – also VULNERABLE - yet later
raised to power in Egypt so that he could save the very family that had
abandoned him. Joseph, the rejected one, becomes the rescuer.
And in Christ, the Church herself becomes an interceding Body: praying, waiting, and standing in love for the living andlthe dead.
2. Christ the Great Intercessor and His Body, the Church
Jesus says, “Everything that the Father gives me will come
to me, and I will not reject anyone who comes to me.” This is the heart of divine intercession: the Son standing before the Father
for the sake of humanity.
The Catechism teaches, “In the age of the Church,
Christian intercession participates in Christ’s, as an expression of the
communion of saints” (CCC 2635).
Through baptism we become members of His Body—the living, the departed, and the
saints in glory—joined in one unbroken communion.
When we pray for the faithful departed, we exercise that bond
of charity that death cannot destroy. The Church commends the dead to God’s
mercy, offering prayers—especially the Eucharistic sacrifice—on their behalf
(CCC 1055).
At the altar, heaven and earth meet. The saints intercede for
us; we intercede for the dead; and Christ offers Himself for all.
One image that often captures this communion for me is the wedding.
Here at Our Lady of Lourdes, it my hope and plan that the groom arrives at the
church before the bride—standing at the altar rail, smiling, waiting. The
bride, too, is waiting in her own place. Both are longing for the same moment
of union.
That is what love looks like: waiting, watching,
interceding for the other. Marriage becomes a living parable of the
Church’s communion—a reminder that we are always waiting for one another, both
in time and in eternity.
On this All Souls Day, we remember that same kind of waiting:
the living praying for the dead, and the saints praying for us, all joined in
Christ who bridges every distance.
3. Everyday Intercession and the Saving Name
Intercession does not belong only to saints and priests—it
unfolds in the ordinary spaces of life:
·
a parent praying for a struggling
child,
·
a caregiver offering the
exhaustion of the day,
·
a friend lighting a candle for
someone sick or gone.
Years ago, I was driving with my father across the George
Washington Bridge on our way to City Island in the Bronx. This was long before
GPS—no cell phones, no digital maps. My father had E-ZPass; I didn’t.
He drove through his usual lane—toll number 64—and went ahead of me while I
waited to pay cash.
By the time I crossed, he was far ahead. But I knew he was
thinking of me, checking his mirrors, worrying whether I’d make it. When I
finally arrived, there he was—standing at the gate, waiting. He had gotten
there first, but he hadn’t forgotten me.
That is what intercession looks like: getting there first, but
waiting for others to arrive; remembering those who are still on the way.
And that is what we do today. We pray for those who have
died—not because they are forgotten, but because they are remembered
in the mercy of God.
Pope Francis reminds us, “Praying for the dead is an act
of mercy and hope. It entrusts our loved ones to God’s mercy and opens us to
eternity.” (General Audience, Feb 2, 2022)
Each prayer, fast, or act of charity participates in that same redemptive love.
Our intercession is not anxious pleading; it is confident
trust in Christ’s promise:
“This is the will of my Father, that I shall lose nothing of
what He has given me.”
4. Saying the Name, Praying the Name
When I was ten years old, my family spent a week at the Jersey
Shore. One morning, my little brother Michael—just four years old—got lost on
the beach.
Panic broke out. Lifeguards were called, police notified,
people fanned out along the shoreline. In those days there were no cell phones
or photos to share—only a name. So we shouted it over and over: “Michael!
Michael!”
Half an hour later he was found—frightened but safe.
Even decades later, that memory reminds me of intercession—people
calling out, searching, refusing to rest until the lost is found.
All Souls Day is like that: we call out the names of our beloved dead before
God—parents, children, friends, the forgotten and the cherished—trusting that
love does not end with death.
Each name becomes a prayer.
Each prayer becomes an act of communion between heaven and earth.
We may not know where each soul stands on the journey, but we know this: God
knows their name, and Christ will not lose them.
It is, as Scripture says, “a holy and wholesome thought to
pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins” (2 Maccabees
12:46).
And this is where the Church’s teaching on Purgatory
gives hope.
One of my seminary professors once said:
“In a world that believes everything is a gray area, we
Catholics believe in one great gray area—Purgatory.”
Purgatory is not despair or punishment. It is the mercy
of God—the place where His fire purifies, where His love prepares the soul to
see Him face to face. Saint Thomas Aquinas called it “a fire that purifies,
so that the soul may be made worthy of heaven.”
Pope John Paul II reminded us that the souls there “are
helped by the acceptable sacrifice of the altar.”
Every Mass offered, every prayer spoken for the departed, every act of charity
done in their memory participates in that cleansing mercy.
Even as we call out their names, God calls theirs in return.
The chasm between life and death is crossed not by our power, but by His grace.
5. Conclusion: A Communion of Hope
Every name we speak today is a story still unfolding in God’s
mercy.
We pray for them, and they, in turn, will one day pray for us.
This is the mystery of the Communion of Saints—the
circulation of love that never ends.
We do not stand alone at the altar; we stand with those who have gone before us
and those who will come after us.
At every Mass, heaven and earth join in one great act of
intercession. The saints are present. The souls in Purgatory are remembered.
Christ, the great Intercessor, offers Himself once more.
We are not just at the 11:30 Mass here on earth—we are also at
the heavenly liturgy, joined to the saints at God’s throne.
So as we read the names of our beloved dead today, let it be
an act of faith and love.
Let us entrust them to the Lord who promises:
“Of those You have given Me, I have lost none.”
Lord, remember them. Lord, remember us. Bring us all to the joy of resurrection.
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