I have always liked – but for no morbid reason – the month of November, a month when the turning of the seasons mirrors the cycle of life and death. There is something about the days growing shorter and nature itself dying back into winter that connects in my being. For our Celtic forbears this was a liminal time, Samhain, when the veil between worlds became more transparent and the connectedness of both worlds became present. In all of this, nature herself calls us to remember those gone before us. The month is laced with ritual, beginning on All Hallows’ Eve, to the great interwoven feasts of All Saints on the 1st November and All Souls on the 2nd November, days of remembrance and remembering. These feasts, rooted in time and tradition, connect, celebrate and offer prayers for the departed as expressions of hope in the resurrection and eternal life.
The practice of commemorating the dead finds deep resonance in our Benedictine tradition. At the Abbey of Cluny in medieval France – one of the most influential monastic centres in Europe – the remembrance of the dead was woven into the very fabric of daily life. Founded in 910, Cluny became renowned for its spirituality, liturgy, learning, and architecture, but also for its spiritual concern for the souls of the departed. The Cluniac monks introduced the practice of offering regular Masses and prayers for the dead, formalising what would become the Feast of All Souls. This innovation spread throughout Christendom, shaping how generations of Christians would remember their ancestors and loved ones. This emphasis on remembrance was an act of profound faith in the communion of saints, a belief that we, the living, remain united with our dead in Christ through prayer and love. This in essence is what we remember during this month of November.
As in all parishes, this tradition finds quiet continuation here at the abbey in Glenstal. Woven through the monastic rhythm of prayer, reflection and work, is this thread of remembrance. Each day, at the conclusion of the various hours we pray ‘May the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of God rest in peace’. In particular, at Midday Prayer on Sunday, we commemorate all our deceased brethren, relatives, friends, and benefactors as we chant;
‘With your holy ones, O Christ,
give rest to all your servants in a place of peace,
where there is neither pain nor sorrow but joy in everlasting life. Alleluia!’
Rather than a place of desolation, the cemetery here becomes a witness to continuity; between life and death, between past and present, between earth and heaven. The autumnal dying light, the rustling leaves, and the scent of damp soil all seem to join in the liturgy of remembrance. In this setting, history breathes gently and memory is renewed through the quiet chant of the monks.
Thus, for a Christian, November’s commemoration is not nostalgia; it is an act of faith and love. To remember our dead, ‘those gone before us marked with the sign of faith’, is to affirm that life transcends mortality; that those gone before us remain part of us, part of our spiritual family, as one day will we for those left after us. Remembrance is a sacred bridge between them and us, between here and there, between time and eternity.
May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed,
through the mercy of God rest in peace. Amen
Pádraig McIntyre OSB