Vos, purpurati martyres,
Vos candidati præmio
Confessionis, exsules
Vocate nos in patriam.

Ye martyrs all, a purple band,
Confessors too, a white-robed train,
O call us to our native land,
From this our exile back again.

Rabanus Maurus
Hymn Placare, Christe

After the solemn celebration of the Kingship of Our Lord Jesus Christ on the last Sunday of October, the First of November is dedicated to those who fought with Christ in the bonum certamen, meriting to triumph with Him in His dazzling victory over the devil. On the following day, the Second of November, another immense army of holy souls is remembered: those whom the fire of Purgatory purifies like gold in the crucible, making them worthy of being admitted to the glory of contemplating the Divine Majesty. We see the King surrounded by His most valiant companions in arms, His soldiers: Prophets, Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors, Virgins and Widows; Popes, Bishops and Abbots; Kings and Queens, as well as the ranks of the simple faithful. And we see also the Queen of them all, the Mistress of the Militia, the Most Blessed Ever-Virgin Mary. And, in addition,the angelic hosts: Seraphim, Cherubim, Thrones; Dominions, Virtues, Powers; Principalities, Archangels, and Angels. Myriads of souls illuminated like a mystical firmament by the dazzling light of the Sol Justitiæ, Our Lord Jesus Christ, King and High Priest.

Tibi omnes angeli,
tibi cœli et universae potestates:
tibi cherubim et seraphim,
incessabili voce proclamant:

Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus,
Dominus Deus Sabaoth.
Pleni sunt cœli et terra maiestatis gloriæ tuæ.

Te gloriosus Apostolorum chorus,
te Prophetarum laudabilis numerus,
te Martyrum candidatus laudat exercitus.

The only ones missing from this vast gathering of Saints are we who in this vale of tears journey toward the heavenly homeland that we too often believe to be far away. A homeland from which we are exsules, exiles expelled by Divine Justice as children of Adam and Eve, readmitted by Grace to the beatific presence of the Holy Trinity thanks to the Redemption of the New Adam and the Co-Redemption of the New Eve. We have many traveling companions with us; others have preceded us, others whom we will still meet along the way. Our parents, once they have left this fleeting life, will continue to pray for us in eternity, and we will find them waiting for us when our hour comes. Our children, our grandchildren, will also one day mourn our loss, and we will bless the time we taught them to recite a De profundis, because their prayer will ease our purifying suffering and bring us closer to that locus refrigerii, lucis et pacis for which we so ardently long. We too will pray for them, whether from Purgatory or from Paradise, so that with the help of Grace they may be able to atone for their sins on this earth, through penance, fasting, and prayer; with Charity, which covers a multitude of sins (1 P 4:8). Charity: the only Virtue that will never fail, because it is consubstantial with the One and Triune God. The Virtue whose fire burns with such love for God that it consumes all our infidelities.

Those of you who are still young, and think you still have a long time before the Particular Judgment, perhaps cannot understand why, in older people, a sort of “nostalgia” for the glory of Heaven becomes increasingly perceptible, making us almost desire death in order to reach the Heavenly Father and the Saints of Paradise sooner. We older people feel this desiderium patriae that makes us yearn for it more than the light of the sun [Patria me major quam lucis sidera deerat. Ovid, Tristia, I, 3]. It is a desire that comes not from the memory of something we have left behind—since we have never before been admitted to Paradise—but rather from that indelible mark we bear imprinted on our nature and that reminds us that we are the work of the Creator’s wise hand, made in the image and likeness of the Holy Trinity, and that we too are Trinitarian in our faculties—memory, intellect, and will. The memory of the Father, the intellect of the Son, the will of the Paraclete.

We could say that the ancestral memory of Paradise lost has been transmitted, along with the consequences of original sin—death, illness, pain—just as the prodigal son felt nostalgia for the house of his Father, whose inheritance he had squandered. That poignant call reminds us where we come from, but above all it points us toour Patria – our Homeland for which we are destined. The pilgrimage of the chosen people through the desert toward the Promised Land is a figure of the Church’s pilgrimage toward the Return in Glory of her Head, but also an image of the pilgrimage of each one of us toward the New Jerusalem.

We have been created for glory. We were intended, and therefore loved, to share in the Glory of God the Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. We are members of the Royal Line of the King, children and heirs of God, co-heirs with Christ. And our inheritance begins here, dear brothers and sisters. It begins with the scala crucis, theladder of the cross depicted in medieval imagery, in which the Savior climbs the rungs of a ladder leading to the Cross. Our eternal inheritance begins with the voluntary acceptance of the cross that Providence has destined for us, and which is the only one we are capable of carrying, the only one we can serenely ascend, the only one upon which we can confidently open our arms. The scala crucis is also the scala paradisi, because in following the Redeemer, this via regia leads directly to the presence of the Divine Majesty. An evocative image by Saint John Climacus shows us souls ascending toward Heaven, with Angels accompanying them on the ascent while devils try to drag them down.

The Saints—those whom we venerate on our altars, whose relics we incense, over whose remains we celebrate the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and who intercede for us in Heaven—are not the exception to a norm of mediocrity. It is not normal notto be saints. There were times when holiness was synonymous with being a Christian, because in the fury of persecution, men and women, both young and old, were called daily to face martyrdom. Many suffered it as catechumens, even before being admitted to Baptism. We bear their names precisely so that their example may spur us on to imitate them on the same path to holiness. We profess the same apostolic faith, we celebrate the same mysteries, and we continue to have the same enemies: the world, the flesh, the devil. A Catholic who does not want to be a saint, who does not desire Heaven, who does not yearn for God—sicut cervus ad fontes aquarum—and who does not feel this “nostalgia” for the True and the Good has understood nothing of our holy Religion, much less of the miracle of infinite Charity that moved the Second Person of the Holy Trinity to become Incarnate and suffer for us, with no other motivation than Divine Love for us and the Glory of the Trinity itself. For becoming a saint is indeed a duty for each one of us, in obedience to the precept: Be holy as God is holy (Lev 19:2; 1 P 1:16). But if only we allow ourselves to be conquered by Our Lord, holiness is then no longersimply an obligation, but rather the necessary, spontaneous, and grateful response to the call of the King, under Whose banner Holiness is a military honor.

The Saints are those who have acclaimed and continue to acclaim: Regnare Christum volumus! against the blasphemous cry of the scelesta turba, the wicked crowd. They are those who let their Lord reign first in their own souls, making them a worthy dwelling place of the Holy Trinity through the life of Grace and union with God. They are those who humbly allow themselves to be guided by the wise hand of the Lord, docile as a pen between His fingers, so that it may be clear that the fruit of their work is entirely Divine. Quoniam tu solus Sanctus.

We exiles, however, have been granted a glimpse of Paradise on this earth. A glimpse of the glory of the Divine Majesty that anticipates what awaits us and makes supernatural Graces available to help us undertake the journey to our final destination. We find this corner of Paradise in our churches, in our Tabernacles, around each of which all the Angels gather in adoration. We find it in the Holy Mass, when the priest calls down the King of Kings from Heaven, repeating in a bloodless form the Sacrifice of the Cross. And in this Paradise on earth, bounded by the columns and vaults of a church like the beams of a barn, we can receive the Body and Blood of Christ, truly present in His Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity exactly as He sits on the Throne of the Lamb in the Glory of Heaven.

Te per orbem terrarum
sancta confitetur Ecclesia,
Patrem immensæ maiestatis;
venerandum tuum verum et unicum Filium;
Sanctum quoque Paraclitum Spiritum.

Perhaps it is precisely as a result of the sacredness of the Mass, the solemnity of its arcane gestures, the depth of its liturgical texts, and the impetuous torrent of Graces that the Holy Sacrifice pours upon us, that we experience that “longing” for Heaven, for the presence of our loved ones, for the light of the supreme Truth, for the warmth of perfect Charity, for the glory of God and His Saints. Tu rex gloriæ, Christe. Cum sanctis tuis in æternum, quia pius es. And so may it be.

+ Carlo Maria Viganò, Archbishop

1 November MMXXV
In festo Omnium Sanctorum