“Quantus tremor est futurus, quando iudex est venturus cuncta stricte discussurus” - “How terrible will that moment be, when the Judge comes, and holds his most strict reckoning with all of us!”
So the Hymn Dies irae expresses the truth which is quite rarely heard these days, but which is nonetheless still true for all that: one day we must render before God an account of our whole life. And that thought may well make us squirm. The Prophet Amos in our first reading today put it in not very consoling terms: Never will I forget a single thing you have done (Amos 8:7). Our Lord himself says elsewhere, On the day of Judgement men will render account for every careless word they utter (Mt 12:36). Or again: Whoever is angry with his brother shall be liable for judgement... (Mt 5:22). Or again: Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume, and where thieves break in and steal. But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven... (Mt 6:19-20).
When we come to face the reality of our own death, everything else in life is relativised for us. We realise that in comparison with our need to get to God, nothing else whatever - nothing, nothing, nothing - really matters. It’s true that some things in life are legitimately of great importance to us; some things we worthily care about; some of our loves and aspirations are certainly good and praiseworthy. But when death comes, we will be removed from the scene, and then we will be forced to let go of everything whatever that belongs to this earth.
The prudent Steward of today’s parable wasted no time. He knew perfectly well that by any honest account of his actions he must be condemned. He had squandered the goods of his Lord, just as the Prodigal had squandered the goods he had taken from his Father. And we also, like that Steward, need to take immediate action, for our own long term good. One day, maybe sooner than we think, we shall find ourselves looking directly into the face of Jesus Christ our Lord. The result of that encounter will be either eternal joy in heaven, or eternal punishment in hell. There’s not much point in preparing for that by drawing up lists of excuses, or mitigating factors, or by pointing to comparisons with others, to our own advantage. The Lord knows the whole truth of everything.
We perhaps feel we’re at least not as bad as our Steward. But we also have been entrusted with great goods by our heavenly Father. Our baptism made us sons of God in Christ, set free for a life of perfect holiness in union with him. Our confirmation sealed us with all the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Every single Holy Communion we have ever received has been enough, and more than enough, to make us a Saint. Then there have been all the natural goods we have received in our life: the gifts of health or talent or opportunity; good example, good instruction; the loving care we have received. How have we used all that? St. Peter writes in his first letter:
The end of all things is at hand... As each has received a gift, employ it for one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace... that in everything God may be glorified through Jesus Christ (1 Pt 4:7-10).
An excellent practice some people favour, especially in face of imminent death, is to make a general confession of all the sins of their life. Confronting all that can be quite a horrible experience: certainly humiliating; but also deeply liberating. One has to accept, openly, all the wicked deeds one has ever committed. Mention may be made also of interior attitudes indulged in, like envy and jealousy, pride and anger, bitterness of heart, self centredness, and self pity. Omissions also have to feature, perhaps especially towards God: failure to give him due honour; failure to be thankful; failure to walk ever in his presence; failure to give him love for love.
The commentators tell us that the debts the rascally Steward dishonestly remitted were by no means trivial. “One hundred baths of oil” apparently means eight or nine hundred gallons: that is, of pure olive oil. “One hundred kors of wheat” also would be a huge quantity, variously interpreted. Our Steward has been gambling with high stakes, and here he considerably raises them. And we also. In preparing for our final judgement, we’re not just playing games. This is a serious business, with obviously enormous consequences for us.
So some of the Saints exercised heavenly prudence, by boldly taking extreme measures. St. Antony of Egypt fled to the desert, there to live in perfect solitude and constant ascetic toil. St. Francis of Assisi divested himself of all his property, even of the clothes he was standing in, in order to become poor with the poor Christ. St. Teresa of Calcutta left her respected teaching Order, so as to live with the poorest of the poor in Calcutta’s slums. St. Benedict, we read, rolled in nettles in order to rid himself of sinful thoughts. Others, we can imagine, might commit themselves to a 12 step programme, in order to be rid finally of a crippling addiction. Some will retain the use of their money, but give it away generously, not only to the poor, but also for God’s glory. They might help build Cathedrals or monasteries, or underwrite works of apostolic outreach, or perhaps support noble causes in the political domain, such as pro-life or pro-marriage or anti-slavery.
All of us, anyway, need to get really serious, from now on, about forgiving others the wrongs they have committed against us. That’s the condition Jesus sets for receiving his own forgiveness. Then: we need to pass on to others the love we ourselves have received. In so far as we can, then, we should try to do good deeds for others. We must certainly also confess our sins, as honestly and fully as we can: though of course without scruple. And we should keep our gaze fixed on the Cross of Jesus. There we see the Lord of all, suffering the consequences of our sins. He bears them all willingly before his Father: drowning them, blotting them out, in his outpoured blood. There also we see our Judge, enthroned: but the sentence he pronounces there is one of forgiveness. There too, on the Cross, we see the final proof and demonstration of love without limit. And there we can confidently set all our hope; seeing there the cause of our joy without end.