October, the month of the Holy Rosary, has come to a close. In the Catholic tradition, the month of November is dedicated to prayer for the souls in Purgatory and a reminder to us, ahead of Advent, of our own mortality. 

Nov. 1 is the Solemnity of All Saints. Nov. 2 marks the Commemoration of the Faithful Departed, All Souls Day. Indeed, while many people — especially children — celebrate Oct. 31 as “Halloween,” we should be reminded that its origins at least were part of Christian culture: the English word for “All Saints” was “All Hallows,” so “Halloween” was the “Eve of All Hallows,” the vigil day of the Solemnity.

Nov. 1 and 2 also remind us of another dogma we Catholics declare our faith whenever we say the “Apostle’s Creed,” i.e., whenever we pray the Rosary. We say we believe in “the communion of saints.” What does that mean?

Really, it’s an ecclesiological question. (Ecclesiology is that branch of theology that deals specifically with the Church.) Indeed, we profess faith in the “communion of saints” right after declaring belief in “the holy Catholic Church.”

The “Church” is not just the people in my parish or even my diocese. The Church itself is all living people who are part of the “one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church.” That is the “Church Militant,” the Church still working out its salvation.

But that’s not the whole Church.

The “Church” also includes those who have left this world, having lived in it successfully. Living successfully in this world means becoming a saint, i.e., entering heaven. Don’t just take my word for it: Jesus himself asked (Mark 8:36), “What does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?” Those who have reached the goal of their lives, heaven, have not “left” the Church. They are, in fact, the most perfect expression of the Church, one of whose notes is “holy.” They are the “Church Triumphant.” We celebrate the Church Triumphant on All Saints’ Day.

Finally, the “Church” also includes those who have left this world in a state of grace but who still are weighed down by some sin and imperfection. God is holy, and we cannot enter his presence with the stain of sin. God “does not take us as we are,” because he wants us as he made us, not what we made ourselves into. Those souls, therefore, need to be cleansed to be ready for heaven. Because they are dead, i.e., their bodies and souls are separated, they cannot perform morally beneficial acts for themselves (though they can for others — such is the mystery of love). They need our prayers (which is what November is especially for). They are the Church in Purgatory, whose salvation is assured but not completed. They are the “Church Suffering.” We pray for the Church Suffering on All Souls’ Day.

So this is a fitting time to consider Our Lady as “Queen of All Saints” (because that is what she is and we hope to be) and also as Queen of the Universe who will be part of the Last Judgment. Mary has accompanied us through the generations, bringing our needs (as she did at Cana) to her Son and urging us to “do whatever he tells you.”

But human history will come to an end, and there will be a moment of assessment as to whether or not we’ve done what we’ve been told. That is the purpose of the General Judgment. Because we are social creatures, because our lives have all been woven together with others, humanity needs and has a right to see how “it all fit together.” How God’s graces were used or wasted. How God’s plan unfolded and what straight lines God had to make out of our crooked ones. How each of us succeeded or failed in the one thing that mattered in life: our salvation.

Ever since Calvary, Mary has been our Mother. The Last Judgment is the time to see how the family did.

Mary is Mother of the Church. And because, one day, there will only be one Church — the Church Triumphant — Mary will be its Mother and Queen.

We have already seen the 15th-century Netherlandish painter Jan van Eyck and his “Annunciation.” Now we look at his “Last Judgment,” part of a diptych (two paintings hinged together that can be folded closed) held by the New York Metropolitan Museum of Art. (The other panel depicts the Crucifixion.)

Jesus is the central figure of the painting, since he “will come to judge the living and the dead.” His Mother Mary is on his right; John the Baptist, who heralded his call to repentance, is in green on his left. Above Jesus is his cross, borne by angels. Jesus himself displays his pierced hands and open side. Other angels bear other instruments of his Passion, e.g., the crown of thorns and the spear and sponge by which he was pierced. They all bear witness: this is what I did for your salvation. What you did with it is the question of the moment.

Still other angels blow trumpets (1 Corinthians 15:51-57), the call to judgment and the transformation to immortality, for weal or woe. The 12 Apostles sit in white below the throne, Peter at the top of the row on the left with his key. Other saints emerge to greet the throng, while smiling angels point out to the successfully judged their lodgings in the Father’s house of many dwellings.

Below them, the resurrection of the body is in full swing. St. Michael wields his sword against evil. To his right, bodies emerge from their graves: Easter Sunday has reached its climax. To his left, the sea gives up its dead.

St. Michael stands upon death, the skeleton, which has been defeated. What follows below is the chaos of those who, nevertheless, chose to cast their lots with evil and death. Compared to the joy and expanse of heaven, the souls of the damned are crushed into darkness and death, alongside demons. Whatever joy is seen in heaven is absent here: at best, there is the perverse Schadenfreude of sharing in senseless and eternal damnation.

Those on each side chose their identities. But not all identities are equal.

None of the bottom half of this painting had to be. That it is not God’s will, but man’s. Freedom is a mortally serious matter. Choice has eternal consequences. Because it’s not the act of choosing but the choice that determines these fates. And the Last Judgment is nothing more than Jesus repeating to ourselves the words of the prayer he taught us: “Thy will be done.”