“After this I saw a great multitude which no man could number … clothed with white robes, and palms in their hands: And they cried with a loud voice, saying: Salvation to our God, who sitteth upon the throne, and to the Lamb.” [Apocalypse 7:9-10] That’s what the saints are all about – giving honor and glory to God. And that vast crowd that no man could number, that’s us. That’s what we’re made for.
When the day comes that the sky is emptied of stars, and the sun is black, and the distraught winds have only the void for their lament, I am sure that somewhere men will be merry together, somewhere good hearts will greet good hearts, and somewhere our dreams of unbroken love and good talk and laughter will have come true. This is a glorious somewhere, and it is far nearer to us than the stars. There our Lady talks of children to unknown mothers who taught their many children the love of her single Son. There Saint Joseph is a man among peasants. There Xavier is home from his wars, and there Suarez and Aquinas have their arguments out. There Thomas more swaps jests with the older Teresa, while the younger Teresa gathers her roses. There Saint George boasts of his conquests of the dragon, and mayhap the good thief listens, or mayhap he hears little Saint Francis singing his songs. It is a good place, this somewhere. It has been called Paradise. It has been called the Tavern at the End of the World. And it has been called Home. It is only Catholicism that would ever allow the likes of me to hope some day to be there
From “Mr. Blue” by Myles Connolly