Today, on the Feast of All Souls, we gather to remember all who have gone before us marked with the sign of faith. We pray for our loved ones, for those who have no one to pray for them, and for every soul entrusted to God’s mercy. This day reminds us that in the communion of saints, the living and the dead are held together in the love of Christ, who has conquered death.

In the Gospel, Jesus meets a funeral procession in the town of Nain — a widow grieving her only son. She represents all of humanity, burdened by loss and helplessness in the face of death. Moved with compassion, Jesus restores her son to life. This is not only a miracle of resurrection but a revelation of God’s heart: a heart that cannot remain indifferent to suffering.

That same divine compassion is what we desperately need to rediscover today.

We see mothers in Ukraine, Gaza, and Sudan mourning their children. We see families torn apart by conflict, lives reduced to ashes, and futures buried under rubble. We see countless souls on perilous journeys across seas and borders — migrants and refugees seeking safety, often met not with welcome but with suspicion or rejection. And closer to home, we witness a different kind of grief — the anxiety of families struggling with the cost of living crisis, where dignity is eroded by poverty, loneliness, and fear of the future.

The world’s pain today echoes the sorrow of that widow at Nain. Yet Christ still walks among us. The compassion that moved him then is the same compassion that stirs in our hearts when we refuse to be numb to others’ suffering — when we pray for peace, speak out for justice, and reach out to those in need. Every act of mercy is a small resurrection, a sign that death does not have the last word.

The Feast of All Souls calls us to hope — not a naïve optimism, but the Christian hope rooted in the Resurrection. We believe that every tear, every loss, every life cut short will be gathered into God’s eternal love. Death is real, but it is not ultimate. As St. Paul says, “Whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord”.

So as we light candles and whisper the names of those we miss, let us also remember the unnamed — the victims of war, hunger, displacement, and despair. Let our remembrance move us, as it moved Jesus, to compassion and action. May our prayers for the dead awaken our care for the living.

And may we trust that the same Lord who said to the widow, “Do not weep,” now speaks to us — comforting, healing, and calling all creation to the fullness of life in God.