In this Friendly Word, Friar Luciano Audisio meditates on the Gospel of All Souls’ Day: the words of Jesus, “Do not let your hearts be troubled”, are today a consolation and a promise. Christ opens a door in the midst of sorrow: that of trust in the eternal love of the Father.
“Let not your heart be troubled; believe in God, and believe also in me.”
With these words, Jesus consoles his disciples on the night when his own death is approaching. They sense that something serious is going to happen, that the Master will leave them, and sadness invades the cenacle.
It is then that Jesus opens a door in the midst of darkness: the door of trust. He does not promise that there will be no pain, nor does he avoid separation, but he reveals to them the meaning of the way:
“In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places…I go to prepare a place for you.”
A promise that gives meaning to pain
These words are for us today, as we remember our deceased. We too feel the weight of goodbye, the wound of absence, the silence of those we love.
But in the midst of that shadow, the voice of Christ resounds with tenderness and strength:
“Let not your heart be troubled.”
The Lord does not ask us to repress our pain, but rather not to let pain rob us of our hope.. He invites us to look beyond the grave, towards the Father’s house, where every life finds its place and every story its meaning.
Believing in love that does not die
Faith is not an illusory refuge, but a different way of looking at reality. Believing in God and believing in Christ means accepting that love has the last word. love has the last wordthat even what seems like loss or failure is sustained by the hands of the Father.
That trust transforms the way we live and also the way we die.
“To believe is to let oneself be sustained by the love that overcomes death.”
The many abodes of the Father
When Jesus speaks of “many dwelling places,” he is not describing a physical place, but a space of communion.
In the Father’s house there is room for all: saints and sinners, the strong and the weak, those who have loved fully and those who have just begun to love.
No one is left out of God’s saving desire. His mercy is wider than our measures, more tender than our judgments.
To celebrate the faithful departed today is an act of faith in the breadth of God’s heart. It is to believe that those we love are in the hands of the one who prepared a place for them.
Love does not die
In the risen Christ, the Father’s house has already been opened. Therefore, when we pray for our deceased, we do not do so as those who knock at a closed door, but as those who know that someone inside is waiting for us.
Our prayer is a participation in that invisible communion that unites earth and heaven. It is the thread of hope that runs through time.
“Love does not die, because love is of God and God does not die.”
Jesus, the way to the Father
Jesus adds:
“I am the way, the truth and the life.”
The road to the Father is not a distant route, but his his own person. Whoever lives in him, whoever walks in his footsteps, is already walking the path to the Father’s house.
Heaven does not begin after death, but when we begin to live in Christ. Every act of love, every forgiveness offered, every hope maintained in the middle of the night, is already a seed of eternity.
The restlessness that leads us to God
St. Augustine expressed it profoundly:
“You have made us, O Lord, for yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”
That restlessness is not despair, but desire. God himself has placed it in us so that we may seek him. And when the heart opens to the love of Christ, it begins to rest, to glimpse the promised home.
Death as a door
Death, then, is not a wall, but a door. It is not the end of love, but its maturation. What we now mourn will one day be endless joy.
That is why today’s liturgy, though tinged with silence, is not somber. It rises above the pain as a song of hope:
“The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear” (Ps 26).
Pilgrims to the Father’s house
Remembering our deceased is also remembering who we are: pilgrims.
Nothing we have is final, except the love we give and receive. In the Father’s house, everything else will be left behind: fears, limits, wounds. Only love will remain, because “love never passes away” (1 Cor 13:8).
When we light a candle, when we say a beloved name, when we visit a cemetery, let us do so with faith. That flame that burns at the tomb is a sign of the risen Christ, a light that no darkness can extinguish.
And as we continue to walk, let us listen again to the voice of Jesus:
“Let not your heart be troubled.”
May that word descend to the depths, where fear dwells. May the peace of one who knows that there is a place prepared for him emerge.
One day, when our own path is finished, the Lord will come to meet us. He will not ask us to give an account of success or perfection, but of love.
Until then, let us walk in hope, sustained by the promise of Christ, the Way, the Truth and the Life.
“Come, good and faithful servant… enter into the joy of your Lord” (Mt 25:23).