The Womb, The Cord, and the World Beyond

Reflections on the All Souls’ Day: Wisdom 3:1-9, Romans 6:3-9, John 6:37-40

In the hidden darkness of their mother’s womb, two unborn twins grew together. Their tiny world was all they knew, yet within that small space arose questions as vast as eternity. One twin was a sceptic, trusting only in what could be seen and touched. The other was a believer, guided by intuition and hope in realities not yet visible. Their conversation becomes a parable for us: about life, death, and the promise that lies beyond.

1. What is life After Delivery? 

One day, the sceptic asked: “Do you really believe there is life after delivery?” The believer answered with conviction: “Of course. This life must be preparation for something greater.” The sceptic mocked: “Nonsense! Life after delivery? What could it be like? We have the umbilical cord to sustain us. Without it, there is nothing. Delivery must be the end.” But the believer imagined more: “I don’t know exactly. Perhaps there will be light. Perhaps we will walk with our legs, eat with our mouths.” The sceptic laughed: “Absurd! Walking? Eating? Impossible. Life after delivery is impossible—the cord is too short.” Yet the believer held firm, “I trust there’s something beyond, different but real.”

They could not have known that, in just a month, they would be thrust into a dazzling world as they open their eyes to a brilliance they had never imagined. Death is not a leap into darkness, but a passage into life. This world is not the end but a womb. Our lives here prepare us for a reality far larger than we can grasp. As the first reading proclaims, “In the eyes of the foolish they seemed to have died,… but they are at peace.” We are on a journey from faith to sight, from preparation to fulfilment, from exile to home.

2. What Mother?

Another day, their conversation turned to the mystery of their mother. The believer said, “When we’re born, we’ll see our Mother, and she’ll care for us.” The sceptic protested, “Mother? Where is she? I see no evidence of her.” The believer replied gently, “She’s all around us. We live and move within her. Without her, this world wouldn’t exist.” The sceptic retorted, “If I can’t see her, she’s not real.” But the believer urged, “Be still. Sometimes you can hear her voice, feel her presence.” Again, neither could have imagined that when the hour of their birth arrived, they would emerge, gasping and crying, only to be gathered into their mother’s arms. There they would finally behold the face that radiated the love they had always lived in, though never before seen.

Life is not a march toward solitude but a journey into communion. The gospel promises, “This is the will of my Father, that everyone who sees the Son and believes in him may have eternal life”. We are journeying to a Person. In Christ, our saviour and brother, we will see God as He is (1 Jn 3:2). And in that perfect communion of love, which we call Heaven, we will also know and be reunited with all those who have gone before us in faith. The bonds of love forged in this life are not severed by death; they are purified and perfected in God.

3. Where is this new world?

The womb was all the twins knew—small, dim, and confined. The believer dreamed of a world beyond, saying, “After delivery, there’ll be more light. We’ll move and live differently.” The sceptic dismissed it, “This is all there is. A new world is a fantasy. The cord sustains us, and without it, we’re nothing.” The believer countered, “Our growth, these changes—they’re preparing us for something new. We have no choice, but I believe it’s the beginning of a new world, a new life.” And indeed, the moment came. Their eyes opened to a world vaster, brighter, more alive than they had ever dreamed.

Paul explains this mystery in the second reading, “We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that… we too might live in newness of life”. The new world awaiting us is not a vague spiritual dream but the transformation of our whole being. This hope is not abstract. It touches how we remember our departed loved ones. Death does not erase them; rather, it draws them into God’s promise of a new creation. As we remember our departed loved ones, let us be strengthened by the hope of life beyond this life, a hope born of our communion with God and oriented toward the promise of a new creation.