DEAR friend, on February 26, 1815, Napoleon escaped from exile on the island of Elba and returned to France. In a short time, Bonaparte recruited an army of 120,000 men and, on June 15, invaded Belgium, defeating the Prussian and English troops. Three days later he arrived at Waterloo, where he faced the allied forces of Austria, Britain, Russia and Prussia under the command of the British general, the Duke of Wellington. A bloody battle ensued, in which more than 50,000 men lost their lives. But who had won?
On top of a hill on the English coast, British communication experts awaited a signal declaring either victory or defeat for their army. Soon, the wait was over. The first signal they received was unequivocal: the code word Wellington. The second signal was defeated. They could not receive anything further because a heavy blanket of fog had descended over the English Channel. In a short time, the sad message Wellington defeated reached the entire nation. That night, all of England was gripped by the fear that they could no longer stop Napoleon’s expansion. Their country was in grave danger.
The next morning, the agents on the English coast awaited further news from Waterloo, and it was not long in coming. The first two words of the message were the same as the previous day, Wellington defeated, but then came a third word: Napoleon. The full message was therefore: Wellington defeated Napoleon. The information had always been the same, but because of the fog the English agents had not received the last, crucial word.
Often, when we are faced with the reality and experience of death, we behave like the English people who mistakenly believed in Wellington’s supposed defeat – we fall into despair. Perhaps this was the case when we faced the death of our parents, a dear friend or someone especially important to us. They were all gone forever. The message that seemed to be cruelly communicated was extremely harsh: They have all been defeated by death.
It is not unusual for people to think this way. I imagine that this was also the thought of many people one Friday and Saturday more than 2,000 years ago in Jerusalem. They had seen a good man named Jesus, who had always spoken of God’s love, die a cruel death on a cross. No doubt, they all thought that the message being communicated to them loud and clear was that Jesus had been defeated – defeated by the Sanhedrin, by Roman law and, ultimately, by death.
However, we know that this is only part of the story. It is only part of the message. The last word is missing. We know that after that Friday and Saturday came Sunday – came Easter. We know that on that morning Jesus came out of the tomb and broke the chains of death forever. We know that the message of the cross is not Jesus was defeated by death, but Jesus defeated death.
All Souls’ Day is a day of remembrance, marked by both the sorrow of missing our loved ones and the hope of reuniting with them in Heaven one day. Indeed, our faith in Christ reassures us that this reunion is not merely a wish, but a promise we look forward to with steadfast conviction.
On November 2, we friars of the Basilica of St. Anthony in Padua will remember your deceased loved ones at the altar. Let us therefore unite our hearts in prayer that, through the intercession of our beloved St. Anthony, our dear departed ones may find eternal peace in the loving embrace of our heavenly Father.
Peace and all good!