Genesis 23:17Meaning & Commentary from the Church Fathers

From this, we can derive two key insights: first, that our earthly existence is a pilgrimage, where the grave serves as our homeland and inheritance; and second, that everything we possess in this life is ultimately foreign to us, with the grave being our only true possession, wherein our bodies will return to dust.

Life is indeed a journey, not only because people may relocate frequently, with individuals born in one region choosing to live in another, but because life is a transient state, constantly evolving from infancy to youth, from youth to maturity, and ultimately into old age. At no moment does our existence truly settle; even if the sun appears to pause in the sky, it is still moving swiftly, tracing its course in a twenty-four-hour cycle. In the same manner, human life flows unceasingly, devoid of stagnant moments, unlike the sun during Joshua's time when “the sun stood in the midst of heaven, and would not go westward soon at the fulfilment of one day” (Hab. 10:13). Our existence rushes by, often unnoticed, much like a traveler who briefly views a scene before moving on. Additionally, life is characterized by instability; today one may be wealthy, yet tomorrow impoverished; today joyful, yet tomorrow sorrowful; today honored, yet tomorrow disrespected. Just as the wayfarer passes through cities, mountains, and forests, briefly admiring the beauty around, our lives will inevitably flow past all worldly allure, regardless of our desire to linger and possess it all.

The author of Wisdom powerfully captures this truth, lamenting: “What use is pride to us, or riches with greatness, what reward shall we receive? All these things pass away like a shadow, and like tidings flowing, and like a ship passing through the waves of the waters, and like a bird flying through the air, whose paths no sign is found, and like an arrow shot to the intended place: such is our wandering life” (Prem. 5:8-13). Thus, David, in prayerful reflection, states, “I am a stranger and a sojourner with you, as all my fathers were” (Psalm 38:13). The holy Apostle Peter also reminds us: “Beloved, I pray you, as strangers and travelers, to fend off the lusts of the flesh, which war against the soul” (1 Pet. 2:11).

What, then, is the homeland and inheritance of mortal beings? In human terms, our homeland is the grave, the earth, and ultimately dust, for from dust we came and to dust we shall return as decreed by God: “Earth you are, and to earth you shall go again” (Gen. 3:19). Just as the soul, gifted by God, returns to Him after leaving the body (if righteous), so too does the body that was formed from the earth return to its origin.

Moreover, St. John the Theologian, upon entering his prepared tomb, instructed his disciples, “Having drawn the earth, my mother, cover me.” If such a holy figure recognized the earth as his body’s homeland, calling it mother, what conclusion can we draw about ourselves? Are we not to return to that mother, to the earth and the grave as our true homeland? What can we expect there? Only decay and worms await us, as Sirach states: “When man dies, he shall inherit creeping things, and beasts, and worms” (Sirach 10:13).

Given that life is a pilgrimage and the grave is our body’s homeland, everything we possess here is foreign. Like Abraham, who lived in Canaan as an outsider, everything surrounding him was alien: the cities, the fields, the trees—only the cave he purchased for burial was truly his own. A traveler in a distant land does not claim any place as his own; he may find temporary shelter, but nothing belongs to him. This transient lifestyle reflects our mortal condition, where homes and possessions are merely temporary, as they will eventually pass into the hands of others.

If our existence aligns with God’s will, then we need only simple sustenance for our journey, as our focus should be on reaching that eternal life with Christ. People often become attached to material things, thinking of themselves as owners of houses, lands, and wealth, yet the truth is: all we have is but borrowed, and it will not endure. We did not enter this world with any property; we leave as we came—naked and bare. What is genuinely ours? Only the grave remains, where we shall dwell forever, as the Psalmist notes, “Their tombs shall be their dwelling places forever” (Psalm 48:12).

In that house, we shall dwell without escape until the call of the archangel and the last trumpet sound. No one will eject us, nor will anyone covet what we possess there—the decay of our bodies—as they will be ours and ours alone. The grave, our true abode, stands in contrast to the ephemerality of earthly possessions. With this understanding, we must consistently reflect upon our true home—the grave—and remember our mortality. Just as Abraham purchased a burial site at a cost, so we too should strive for good deeds to secure a place within God’s mercy, leading to a peaceful death and righteous rest. To attain such a passing, one must first die to sin and bury their worldly mind, embracing the suffering of Christ and cherishing the thought of His sacrifice. The honorable departure of such a one shall be greatly valued by the Lord, resulting in a blessed end.