We are born of the faith of our fathers, descending from a great cloud of witnesses whose faith is attested to on every page of Scripture (see Hebrews 12:1). We have been made his people, chosen for his own inheritance, as we sing in Sunday’s psalm.

Sunday’s Liturgy sings the praises of our fathers, recalling the defining moments in our “family history.” In the epistle, we remember the calling of Abraham; in the first reading we relive the night of the Exodus and the summons of the holy children of Israel.

Our fathers, we are told, trusted in the Word of God, put their faith in his oaths, convinced that what he promised, he would do.

None of them lived to see his promises made good. For it was not until Christ and his Church that Abraham’s descendants were made as countless as the stars and sands (see Galatians 3:16-17, 29).

It was not until his Last Supper and the Eucharist that “the sacrifice … the divine institution” of that first Passover was truly fulfilled.

And we now too await the final fulfillment of what God has promised us in Christ. As Jesus tells us in the Gospel, we should live with our loins girded — as the Israelites tightened their belts, cinched up their long robes and ate their Passover standing, vigilant and ready to do his will (see Exodus 12:11; 2 Kings 4:29).

The Lord will come at an hour we do not expect — will knock on our door (see Revelation 3:20), inviting us to the wedding feast in the better homeland, the heavenly one that our fathers saw from afar, and which we begin to taste in each Eucharist.

As they did, we can wait with “sure knowledge,” his Word like a lamp lighting our path (see Psalm 119:105). Our God is faithful and if we wait in faith, hope in his kindness, and love as we have been loved, we will receive his promised blessing, be delivered from death.