November 3, 2024: A Collage of Saints

Oct 24, 2024

A few months ago, I created a Communion of Saints prayer collage. I pasted onto a large poster board icons of my favorite canonized saints, along with photos of family and friends—my personal saints—who have gone to their heavenly place. Next to Ignatius and Martin de Porres are my godparents, Marie and Jack Mulligan. With Julian of Norwich and John XXIII are our fellow parishioners Jean Junker, Carlos Cuartas, and Nicolás Nuño as well as my dear friend Fr. Michael Sehler, S.J., longtime teacher at Loyola School. Every morning, as I begin my day, I spend some time in quiet prayer with all of them. I ask for their blessing and inspiration, I thank them for loving me into the person I have become, and I pray for them as they continue their journey on the other side of life and death. The prayer collage is like a window into heaven; we all come to the glass and enjoy a few moments with each other, sharing a loving gaze.

I have noticed that as I age, the ranks of those I know on the other side are steadily filling. The generation that came before me are, one by one, departing. Now and then, a peer crosses over as well, a reminder that my time here is limited. Each death deepens my devotion to the Communion of Saints, a beautiful but underappreciated dogma of our church. And I am grateful that our tradition dedicates this month of All Souls to remembering and praying with them.

It is a blessing to be able to say to our loved ones all that needs to be said before we are parted from each other, words like, “I love you.” “I forgive you.” “I apologize.” “I am grateful for all you have done for me.” I feel blessed that I was able to have a long and enjoyable conversation with Jean Junker the last time I saw her, that I was able to tell Carlos how much I appreciated his friendship, and that the last thing Mike Sehler said to me before he died was, “I love you.” This is how it should be, but sometimes unforeseen circumstances or emotional obstacles or breakdowns in relationships might leave important things unsaid before death comes. Often, when someone dies, we are left with a lot of “if only…”

The Communion of Saints affirms that our relationships with the dead continue, that love is stronger than death. God’s infinite mercy and creativity allow us another opportunity to tend to unfinished business. Moreover, I have found that death has the power to strip away barriers to communicating about what is important; we are more able to speak and listen from the heart. The defenses and defensiveness that we so carefully curated in life around certain relationships are dismantled. As the years pass, we might come to better understand those who have gone before us – their stories, their gifts, their wounds. Compassion can begin to flow—and perhaps, over time, in relationships where it is needed, reconciliation occurs.

Near the end of his life, the great spiritual writer Henri Nouwen reflected more deeply on death and dying, and what becomes of our love and connection to those who go before us. “You have to trust that every true friendship has no end,” Nouwen wrote, “that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another. You know from experience how real this is. Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you, not just as memories but as real presences.” This month of All Souls offers us an invitation to renew our connection with loved ones who have taken their places among the saints. May we pray for and bless them as they do us!

— Brian Pinter, Pastoral Associate