The year is slowly winding down. We feel it in the shorter days, the cooler air, and the quiet sense that another chapter is closing. In two weeks, the Church’s liturgical year will end, and Advent will usher in a new beginning. The readings at this time of the year reflect that movement: things wind down, and Jesus speaks of ultimate things.
If you study the synoptic Gospel’s record of the end times’ discourse, you may’ve noticed a pattern. As Jesus nears the end of his earthly ministry, his teaching turns toward the end of time. Scholars call it the “eschatological discourse” (Matthew 24, Mark 13, Luke 21). It is fitting that at the end of his ministry, Jesus speaks of the end of all things.
Anything that has a beginning in time has an end in time. We know this not only because Scripture says it, but life also teaches the same reality.
The Personal Face of Endings
In recent months, I’ve lived with what I call a “living grief”; that slow, aching awareness that people we love are fading. You know it comes with aging, a reality no one teaches us until we begin to mature in age. A cherished friend grows quiet and frail. A mother’s memory softens at the edges and slips away from the clarity it once held. These are not sudden losses; they are drawn-out farewells, the kind that stitch longing into our days.
We want to hold on to what we’ve lived, enjoyed and celebrated, the laughter, ordinary routines, and familiar voices. But even as we hold on, something in us knows change is inevitable. What once felt permanent and stable, an anchor, is shifting before our eyes.
This mirrors the message of this 33rd Sunday. When Jesus spoke of the destruction of the Jerusalem temple, one of the most magnificent structures in their world, the disciples felt the ground move beneath them. They asked him, “Teacher, when will this be…?” (Luke 21:7). They were curious, I suspect, not because they wanted the destruction, but because the thought of the possibility of losing their iconic symbol of identity as a people scares them.
For them, the end of the Temple meant the end of everything. For us, the slow loss of those we love often feels the same, and the pain of losing what we couldn’t recoup is excruciating.
Endings Are Real, But Not Final
Jesus’ prophecy came true in AD 70. Listeners worried that the end of the world would follow immediately. Two thousand years later, the world continues. The message remains:
Predicting the exact timing of the end is the most misguided attempt anyone can make.
People often ask if certain signs or private revelations mean the end is near. But Jesus answers simply: “No one knows the time or the hour” (Matthew 24:36; Mark 13:32).
The end is certain, but the timing belongs to God. So, there is no need to panic or be obsessed over timelines. Avoid living in fear.
Instead, Jesus invites us to live with holy readiness, anchored, and not anxious.
Living Wisely in a Fading World
Just as we face the slow fading of the people we love, we also face the fading of our plans, health, structures, and certainties. These are reminders and tutors. They teach us that this world is not ultimate and that clinging to what cannot remain only deepens sorrow. But letting go into God’s hands brings peace.
Go about your daily life with faith. Sanctify each moment. Do what you can. What you cannot bear, place in God’s hands. Worry less. Trust more. Tomorrow belongs to God.
For Those Watching Loved Ones Fade
And for those standing at the bedside of aging parents, frail friends or loved ones slipping away, just do what you can with the greatest affection you can muster.Be present. Stay even when they become unbearable. Visit them even when they push you away. Sit with them even when their fading voices stir old wounds from when they were stronger.
Be present, not because it is easy, but because love stays. Be present because presence heals and because God is present in you and God abides. Your fidelity in their fading becomes a quiet healing, for them, you, and the world.
May God grant us the grace of relentless trust, trust that endures, sees hope beyond fading days, and rests in the One who never passes away. Amen.
God love you. God bless you.
Fr. Maurice Emelu
[Readings: Malachi 3:19-20a; 2 Thessalonians 3:7-12; Luke 21:5-19]
Related Reflections
Unbelievably instructive as I myself enter the final stage with those I have loved for a long time.
Brother, it seems that way for sure God Bless