HOLDING ON TO WHAT ENDURES

V/​ I will turn to you O God, 

R/​ to God who gives joy to my youth

V/​ Give me the Wisdom that sits by your throne; 

R/ that I may be counted among your children

Lord, in your all-providential plan, you have led me to this moment to rediscover me in your Word and Wisdom. Aid me to make this time of meditation and prayer enriching, transforming, and liberating for my well-being and others. Amen!

HOLDING ON TO WHAT ENDURES

By Vivien Foster, OCDS

33^rd SUNDAY IN ORDINARY TIME, YR C

Malachi 3:18-20; Psalm 97(98):5-9; 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12; Luke 21:5-19

16th November 2025

I wonder if you have ever visited an archaeological site or museum? If so, you may have been struck by the fact that every ancient civilisation – however sophisticated or glorious – was ultimately left in ruins: “with not one stone left standing on another” (Luke 21:6). It is hard to imagine that such a fate might one day befall our own civilisation; although history suggests this may be inevitable.

When Jesus foretold the destruction of the Jewish Temple, he spoke prophetically. The events that he shockingly foresaw transpired just 40 years later, in AD 70, when the Romans retook the city of Jerusalem following a Jewish revolt, destroying the Temple as a punitive measure.

While it is highly unlikely that any of us will experience the end of the earth, we are nonetheless guaranteed to experience our own earthly end. And this end is sure to bring its own portion of upheaval. Indeed, during these last weeks of the liturgical year, the Church bids us reflect on the difficult topic of death and the hereafter (CCC, Article 7).

How then are we to approach our own death? Carmelite spirituality suggests that two things are particularly important, and we can and need to start practising them now, however near or far from death we might consider ourselves to be.

The first thing is graciously letting go. The second thing is doggedly clinging on.

Graciously letting go. Our journey towards death entails the loss of everything we have ever known – relationships, possessions, prestige, capabilities – all of these have their days numbered, all are destined to fade away. Whether sooner or later, instantly or infinitesimally, everything that can be lost will be lost.

The question is to what extent we will struggle against each of these losses or graciously relinquish what has never been fully ours. Ultimately, we must either give everything away or have everything taken from us. The outcome may look much the same, but spiritually, there is a world of difference.

Both St Teresa of Avila (Way of Perfection, Chapters 8-10) and St John of the Cross (Ascent of Mount Carmel, Sketch) emphasise the centrality of detachment in the spiritual life. We can practice detachment by relinquishing our sense of entitlement, by gradually loosening our grip on everything.

Doggedly clinging on. But the Good News is that not everything can be lost. Indeed, Jesus speaks of storing up heavenly – rather than earthly – treasures, precisely because the former cannot be taken away from us (Matthew 6:20).

What cannot be lost is God himself. God who dwells in us, whose life sustains our own. God, who is – as John of the Cross would have it – “the centre of the soul”. God, who is, according to Teresa of Avila, the Divine King occupying the innermost recess of our “interior castles” (Interior Castle, First Mansion, Chapter 1).

Only through a deep life of prayer can such awe-inspiring theology become a lived reality. Prayer, Teresa explains, is the means of entering our “interior castle”, of turning our attention inwards and gradually journeying towards our deepest centre. Through prayer, we are offered means of clinging to the God who is our only ultimate hope.

Thus, the preparation for the end times entails a combination of graciously letting go of everything that we know will ultimately be taken away from us in any case, while at the same time doggedly clinging on to that inalienable connection with God that we enjoy in the depths of our soul.

[Today’s readings give us hope that when the end time comes, God will not abandon us. As the Prophet Malachi insists, “for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its rays” (Malachi 4:2). Or, in the words of Jesus, “stand firm and you will win life” (Luke 21:19).]

The final word goes to Robert Bridges, whose famous hymn “All my hope on God is founded” seems to capture the essence of today’s readings perfectly as follows:

“What with lavish care man buildeth,

Tower and temple fall to dust.

But God’s power, hour by hour,

Is my temple and my tower.”