Friday, November 8, 2024

After the Election: “We are living here meanwhile as strangers and pilgrims”

 Let us not forget:

“Dearly beloved brethren, we should keep well in our mind and thoughts that we are living here meanwhile as strangers and pilgrims. Let us hail that day which will see us each at home in one of the many mansions, which will see us delivered hence, and disentangled from the nets and snares of things temporal, and put us back into the Garden of Eden, and into the kingdom of heaven. Is there any in a far country but is quick to make his way to his Fatherland? Was ever any in haste to make his voyage homeward, but longed for a fair wind, that he might the sooner embrace his loved ones?

“We reckon Paradise to be our home; already we begin to have the Patriarchs for our kinsmen. Why should we not make haste and run, to see our home, and to greet our kinsfolk? There are a great many of those we love waiting for us there father, and mother, and brothers, and children, there in great company they await us, they who are sure now never to die any more, but not yet sure of us. O, when we come to see them and to embrace them, what gladness will it be both for us and for them! O, what will be the brightness of life in that heavenly kingdom where there is no more fear of death, but the certainty of living everlastingly! O, what consummated, O, what enduring happiness?

There is the glorious company of the Apostles, there is the jubilant fellowship of the Prophets, there is the countless army of Martyrs crowned for victory in strife and in suffering. There triumph the virgins who by noble self-control have tamed the desires of the flesh and of the body. There are repaid with mercy the merciful, who by feeding and gifting the needy, have wrought righteousness, have kept the commandments of the Lord, and have exchanged heritages upon earth for treasures in heaven. Thitherward, dearly beloved brethren, let us eagerly run, with such as these soon to be, unto Christ soon to come, let us be fain.”

From the Book upon Death, written by the holy Martyr Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage.
At end

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