are required to assist at the Mass, that we may in a perfect and
worthy manner recognize God's Sovereignty and our dependence on
Him. When we assist at Mass, the meaning of our action, if put
into words, would be something like this: "I acknowledge Thee, O
God, for my Sovereign Lord, and the Supreme Disposer of my Life
and Death, and because I am not able worthily to express Thy
Greatness, I beg of Thee to accept, as if it were my own, all the
submission with which Thy Son honored Thee on the Cross, and now
again honors Thee in this Holy Sacrifice."
{449}
Now, it cannot be imagined that we are required to make this
profession to God without at the same time being required to have
in our hearts that sentiment of God's greatness and sovereignty
which we express with our lips. Our Lord did not come to suffer
and die, and give His life [as] a sacrifice to the Father, to
dispense us from the obligation of worshipping God ourselves, but
to give to our worship a perfect example and a higher
acceptability. Without our worship the Mass is incomplete. On our
Lord's part, indeed, the Sacrifice of the Mass is always
efficacious, for He is present wherever it is celebrated; but on
our part it is empty and unmeaning if no one really fears God,
submits unreservedly to Him, is willing to do all He commands,
and acknowledges that all that could be done for Him is too
little. A worship of Sacrifice implies a life of sacrifice. This
is beautifully illustrated in the life of St. Laurence, whose
Martyrdom we celebrate to-day.
St. Laurence was one of the seven deacons of the city of Rome in
the third century of the Christian era. As deacon, it was his
office to serve the Mass of St. Xystus, who was at that time
Pope. "When the persecution broke out under the Emperor Valerius,
St. Xystus was seized and carried off to martyrdom. As he was on
his way, St. Laurence followed him weeping and saying: "Father
where are you going without your son? Whither are you going, O
holy priest, without your deacon? You were not wont to offer
sacrifice without me your minister, wherein have I displeased
you? Have you found me wanting to my duty? Try me now and see
whether you have made choice of an unfit minister for dispensing
the Blood of the Lord." And St. Xystus replied: "I do not leave
you, my son, but a greater trial and a more glorious victory are
reserved for you who are stout and in the vigor of youth. We are
spared on account of our weakness and old age. You shall follow
me in three days." And, in fact, three days after, St. Laurence
was burnt to death, his faith rendering him joyful, even mirthful
in his sufferings.
{450}
Now, I do not look on this conversation as poetry. Times of
affliction are not times when men look around for fine ways of
expressing themselves. At such times words come straight from the
heart. I see, then, in the words of St. Laurence the sentiments
with which he was accustomed to assist at Mass. As he knelt at
the foot of the altar at which the Pope was celebrating, clothed
in the beautiful dress of a deacon, his soul was filled with the
thoughts of God's greatness and goodness, and along with the
offering of the heavenly Victim, he used to offer to God his
fervent desire to do something to honor the Divine Majesty, the
color sometimes mounting high in his youthful cheek as he thought
how joyfully he would yield his own heart's blood as a sacrifice,
if the occasion should offer. Martyrdom to him was but a natural
completion of Mass. It was but the realisation of his habitual
worship.
In the early history of the city of St. Augustine, in Florida, it
is related that a priest, who was attacked by a party of Indians,
asked permission to say Mass before he died. This was granted
him, and the savages waited quietly till the Mass was ended. Then
the priest knelt on the altar steps and received the death-blow
from his murderers. With what sentiments must that priest have
said Mass! with what devotion! with what reverence! with what
self-oblation! So, I suppose St. Laurence, and St. Xystus, and
the Christians of the old time were accustomed always to assist
at Mass, with the greatest desire to honor God, the most complete
spirit of self-sacrifice. Now, I do not say we are all bound to
be as holy as these great saints. I do not even say we are bound
to desire martyrdom; but I do say there is not one kind of
Christianity for the saints and another for ordinary Christians;
one kind, all self-denial for them, and another kind, all
self-indulgence, for us.
{451}
I say God is to us what He is to the saints--our Creator and our
Sovereign; and He demands of us the worship of creatures and
subjects--the worship of _sacrifice_--a willingness to do
all He demands of us now, and a readiness to do greater things
the moment that He makes it known to us that such is His Will.
How many difficulties, my brethren, such a spirit takes out of
the way of Christian obedience! It cuts off at One blow all our
struggles with the decrees of God's providence. How much of our
misery comes from murmurings against the providence of God! One
is suffering under sickness and pain, another is overwhelmed with
reverses and afflictions, another is irritated by continual
temptations. No one can deny that these are severe trials; but
see how the spirit of sacrifice disposes of them. It says to the
sick man, to the suffering man, what Isaac said to his father
Abraham on the mountain: "See, here is fire and wood, but where
is the victim for a burnt offering? Here are the materials for a
beautiful act of sacrifice. It wants only a meek heart for a
victim, and love to light the flame, to turn the sickbed, the
house of mourning, the soul agitated by temptation, into an altar
of the purest worship, and the language of complaint into the
liturgy of praise. Again: it sometimes happens that a man gets
involved in relations of business or friendship, or becomes
addicted to some indulgence, which threaten to ruin his soul, and
he is required to renounce them, to give up the intimacy, to
change his business, to deny himself that indulgence. The command
of God is distinct and peremptory: "_If thy hand or thy foot
scandalize thee, cut it off and cast it from thee. And if thy eye
scandalize thee, pluck it out and cast it from thee_."
[Footnote 190]
[Footnote 190: St. Matt. xviii. 8.]
{452}
How does he receive it? He says: "It is too hard." Too hard! And
is it, then, only God for whom we are unwilling to do any thing
hard? We must make sacrifices of some sort in life, and heavy
ones, too. We cannot get rid of the necessity of making them, do
what we will. The world requires them of us. Our families require
them. Our health requires them. Our pleasure requires them. Nay,
our very sins require them. And what we do willingly for the
world, for our families, for our health, our pleasure, our sins,
shall we refuse to do for the great and good God? for Christ our
Saviour, who did not refuse the Cross to give us an example of
the obedience we owe His Father?
Or take another example: A person who is not a Catholic finds
much that is reasonable in Catholic doctrine, but makes a great
stumbling-block of confession; or even a Catholic gets a dread of
it, and stays away for years and years from the sacraments of the
Church. Now, of course, in such cases it is only charitable to
show that the difficulty of confession is very much magnified,
and that, like many other things that frighten us, it loses its
terror when we approach it; but, to say the truth, I always feel
something like shame when I hear one trying to prove to such
persons that confession is easy; partly because I know he cannot
succeed perfectly, since confession is of its own nature arduous,
and in particular cases may be very difficult; but chiefly,
because I cannot help thinking if God Himself were to answer
them, it would be in the few strong words He has used in the Holy
Scripture: "_Be still: and know that I am God_." [Footnote 191]
A creature must not parley with his maker, a sinner with his
Judge.
[Footnote 191: Ps. xlv. 11.]
{453}
Yes: we shrink from the very mention of sacrifice, yet it is the
spirit of sacrifice that makes all our duties easy. No doubt it
is our privilege to reason about the commandments of God; and we
shall often see, what we know is always the case, that they are
full of wisdom and goodness; but we need in practice some
principle that is ready at hand always to be used in every time
of trial, in every difficulty, and that is the Spirit of
Sacrifice, a profound reverence for God, an unquestioning
conviction of His absolute right to dispose of us as He will.
Abraham had this spirit, and therefore faltered not a moment when
the command came to sacrifice his son Isaac. Moses had it, and
therefore "_when he was grown up, refused to be called the son
of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to suffer persecution with
the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasure of sin for a
time_." [Footnote 192]
[Footnote 192: Heb. xi. 24.]
The Christian saints have had it, and therefore they trampled on
every repugnance, every attachment, when it came in the way of
their perfection. And this principle is the life of the great
religious and charitable orders of the Church. These institutions
are a mystery to Protestants. Soon after the "Little Sisters of
the Poor" were established in London, a Protestant writer, in one
of the periodicals of the day, described a visit he had made to
their establishment, and after giving a most interesting account
of the self-denying labors of the community, he says he was
curious to trace the feelings that actuated these ladies in
devoting themselves to duties so apt to be repulsive to their
class. He supposed that benevolence was the impulse most
concerned, but, on questioning the Sisters, found that this was
not the case, but that the basis of their action was a principle
of self-renunciation for Christ's sake. To him such a motive had
in it something strange and unnatural; but, really, this is
always the sustaining principle of all high religious action.
Every thing fails sooner or later but the spirit of sacrifice.
This is the spirit that does great things for God, that cuts down
the mountains in our road to heaven and fills up the valleys,
making straight paths for our feet.
{454}
And how pleasing is such a spirit to God! Even among men such a
spirit is highly esteemed. Who does not admire a generous,
self-sacrificing man? In a family, who is so much loved as the
one whose thoughts are all for others? Where are such tears shed
as over the fresh grave of a self-forgetful friend? What makes
the character of a mother so beautiful but the trait of
self-sacrifice? And so before God there is nothing so beautiful
as the spirit of Sacrifice. A religion which does not centre in
itself, but which centres in God, that is His delight. There is
nothing abject in such a spirit. To serve God is to reign. God
knows our nature, and He requires of us nothing but what gives to
our whole being its highest harmony. The man who has the spirit
of sacrifice is a royal man. How beautiful, my brethren, is an
altar! Every thing connected in our minds with an altar is
beautiful. When we think of an altar, we think of sweet flowers
and burning lights, and smoking incense, and a meek victim, and
worship, music, and prayer. So, in the heart where the spirit or
Sacrifice reigns, there are sweet flowers of piety, and flaming
zeal, and the silent victim of a heart that struggles not, and
the incense of prayer, and the harmonies of joy and praise. Oh,
if there is a sacred place on earth, a home of peace, a shrine, a
holy of holies, a place where heaven and earth are nearest, where
God descends and takes up His abode, it is in the heart of the
man who is penetrated through and through with the sense of God's
greatness, and who walks before Him in reverence and continual
worship.
My brethren, I covet for you such a spirit. I do not always find
it among Catholics. I remember, some years ago, when collecting
for a charitable object, I called on a man who was engaged in a
large business, and asked for a contribution. He said, Oh yes, he
thought highly of the undertaking, and wished to give a generous
donation, say one hundred dollars. When I called for it at the
appointed time, he asked me if I did not want any goods in his
line.
{455}
They were articles of luxury, such as very few persons have
occasion for, and I told him, no. Then he mentioned a rich
gentleman with whom I happened to be acquainted, and asked me to
secure for him his custom, intimating that this donation of one
hundred dollars depended on my success. Now I do not know that
this person was at all sensible of acting an unworthy part, but I
think you must all feel that this was very far from the spirit in
which one ought to give any thing to God; and yet, my brethren,
inferior motives enter too much and too often into our religious
actions. Selfishness mingles too much with our piety. Oh, how
diluted, how paltry and feeble is our religion, compared with
that of other times! David refused the site for an altar that
Areuna offered him as a gift, saying: "_Nay but I will buy it
of thee at a price; and will not offer to the Lord my God
holocausts free cost_." [Footnote 193]
[Footnote 193: 2 Kings xxiv. 24.]
Magdalene took a box of spikenard ointment, because it was the
most precious thing she had, and very costly, and broke the box,
and poured it wastefully on the Saviour's head. [Footnote 194]
[Footnote 194: St. Matt. xxvi. 7.]
Those who have examined the cathedrals of Europe that were built
in the Middle Ages, tell us that away up on the outside of the
roof, there is found carving as rich, as beautiful, and as
elaborate as that on the parts in full sight. A human eye would
hardly see it once a year; no matter: it was done for the eye of
God and the angels. Oh that you had such a spirit! I want you to
think more of God. I want you to fear Him more deeply, and to
love Him far, far more fervently. O my brethren, is the service
you are rendering Him at all worthy of Him? Look at the earth and
sky that He has made; look at the glorious Throne of Light from
which He sways the universe, look at the Cross, look into your
own hearts, and answer. "Holy things are for the Holy." "_Great
is the Lord, and greatly to be praised." [Footnote 195] "O Lord
God Almighty, just and true, who shall not fear Thee and magnify
Thy Name!_" [Footnote 196] "_As the eyes of servants are on
the hands of their masters, and as the eyes of a handmaid are on
the hands of her mistress, so our eyes are unto Thee, O Lord our
God, Thou that dwellest in the heavens._" [Footnote 197]
[Footnote 195: Psalm xlvii. 1.]
[Footnote 196: Apoc. xv. 3.]
[Footnote 197: Psalm cxxii. 2.]
------------------------------------
{456}
Sermon XXV.
Mary's Destiny A Type Of Ours.
(The Feast Of The Assumption.)
"Mary hath chosen the best part,
which shall not be taken away from her."
--St. Luke x. 42.
To-day is the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. To-day she
entered into the enjoyment of heaven. The trials and troubles of
life are over. The time of banishment is ended. She closes her
eyes on this world, and opens them to the vision of God. She is
exalted to-day above the choirs of angels to the heavenly
kingdom, and takes her seat at the right hand of her Son. I do
not mean to attempt any description of her glory in heaven. I am
sure whatever I could say would fall far short, not only of the
reality, but of your own glowing thoughts about her. Who is there
that needs to be told that the Blessed Virgin is splendid in
sanctity, dazzling in beauty, and exalted in power? But, my
brethren, it is possible to contemplate the Blessed Virgin in
such a way as to put her at too great a distance from us. It is
possible to conceive of her glory in heaven as flowing entirely
from her dignity as Mother of God, and therefore to suppose it
altogether unattainable by us; and, as a consequence of this, to
regard her with feelings full of admiration indeed, but almost as
deficient in sympathy as if she were of another nature from us.
{457}
Now, this is to rob ourselves of so ennobling and encouraging a
part of our privilege as Christians, and at the same time to take
away from our devotion to the Blessed Virgin an element so useful
and important, that I have determined, on this her glorious
Feast, to remind you that our destiny and the destiny of Mary are
substantially the same.
And the first proof I offer of this is, that the glory of the
Blessed Virgin in heaven is _not_ owing to her character as
Mother of God, but to her correspondence to grace--to her good
works--to her love of God--in a word, to her fidelity as a
Christian. This is certain, for it is the Catholic doctrine that
the Blessed Virgin, like every other saint, gained heaven only as
the reward of merit. Now, she could not merit it by becoming the
Mother of God. Her being the Mother of God is indeed a most
august dignity, but there is no merit in it. It is a dignity
conferred on her by the absolute decree of God, just as He
resolved to confer angelic nature on angels, or human nature on
men. It is no doubt a great happiness and glory for us to be men,
and not brutes, but there is no merit in it; so there is honor
but no merit in the Blessed Virgin's being the Mother of God.
Now, if she did not merit heaven by becoming the Mother of God,
how did she merit it? for it is of faith that heaven is the
reward of merit. I answer, by her life on earth. It was not as
the Mother of God that she won heaven, but as Mary, the daughter
of Joachim, the wife of Joseph, the mother of Jesus. It is
impossible to read the Gospels without seeing how careful our
Lord was to make us understand this. He seems to have been
afraid, all along, that the splendor of that character of Mother
of God would eclipse the woman and the saint.
{458}
Thus once when He was preaching, a woman in the crowd, hearing
his words of wisdom, and, perhaps, piercing the veil of his
humanity, and thinking what a blessed thing it must be to be the
mother of such a son, exclaimed: "_Blessed is the womb that
bare thee, and the paps that gave thee suck,_" [Footnote 198]
but He answered immediately: "_Yea rather, blessed are they who
hear the word of God and keep it_." No one doubts that the
Blessed Virgin did hear the Word of God, and keep it. So our
Lord's words are as much as to say: "You praise my mother for
being my mother; what I praise her for is her sanctity." In the
same way, when they came to Him on another occasion, when there
was a great throng about Him and said, "_Behold, thy mother and
thy brethren stand without, seeking thee_," He answered,
"_Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? And stretching
forth his hand towards his disciples, he said: Behold my mother
and my brethren. For whosoever shall do the will of my Father who
is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother_.
[Footnote 199]
[Footnote 198: St. Luke xi. 27.]
[Footnote 199: St. Matt. xii. 48.]
External advantages, however great, even to be related to the Son
of God, are as nothing in his sight, compared to that in which
all may have a part--obedience to his Father's will. Perhaps,
also, this is the explanation of his language at the marriage of
Cana in Galilee. When the wine failed, and his mother came to Him
and asked Him to exert his Divine power to supply the want, He
said: "_Woman, what hast thou to do with me? My time is not yet
come_." [Footnote 200]
[Footnote 200: St. John ii. 4 (Archbishop Kenrick's
translation).]
He does not allow her request on the score of her maternal
authority, but what He refuses on this ground He grants to her
virtue and holiness, for He immediately proceeds to perform the
miracle she asked for, though, as He said, his time was not yet
come. So, too, on the cross He commends the Blessed Virgin to St.
John's care, not under the high title of Mother, but the lowly
one of woman. "_Woman, behold thy Son_." [Footnote 201]
[Footnote 201: St. John xix. 26.]
Now, why was this? Did not our Lord love his Mother? Was He not
disposed to be obedient to her as his mother? Certainly; but it
was for our sakes He spoke thus.
{459}
In private, at Nazareth, we are told, he was "subject to her,"
but on these great public occasions, when crowds were gathered
around Him to hear Him preach, when He hung on the Cross, and a
world was looking on, He put out of view her maternal grandeur,
in compassion to us, lest there should be too great a distance
between her and us, and we should lose the force of her example.
He wished us to understand that Mary, high as she was, was a
woman, and in the same order of grace and providence with us. We
might have said: "Oh, the Blessed Virgin obtains what she asks
for on easy terms. She has but to ask and it is done. She enters
heaven as the son of a nobleman comes into his father's estate,
by the mere title of blood and lineage." But no: our Saviour
says: "_To sit on my right hand is not mine to give you, but to
them for whom it is prepared by my Father_." [Footnote 202]
[Footnote 202: St. Matt. xx. 23.]
It is not a matter of favor and arbitrary appointment; not even
my Mother gains her glory in that way. She must comply with the
terms on which my Father promises heaven to men, and therefore
the Church applies to her words spoken of another Mary: "_Mary
hath chosen the best part; therefore it shall not be taken away
from her._" Oh, blessed truth! Mary is one of us. Her destiny,
high as it is, is a human destiny. And she reached it in a human
fashion. She built that splendid throne of hers in heaven with
care and labor while she was on the earth. She laid the
foundation of it in her childhood, when her feet trod the Temple
aisles. She reared its pillars when with faith, purity, and
obedience unequalled, she received the message of the archangel.
And her daily life at Bethlehem, Egypt, and Nazareth, her holy,
loving ways with Joseph and with Jesus, her perfect fulfilment of
God's law, her interior fervent acts of prayer, covered it with
gold and ivory.
{460}
Then, when the blind world was going on its way of folly; while
one King Herod was deluging villages in blood, and another
steeping his soul in the guilt of incest, and of the blood of the
Son of God; while the multitude were doubting, and Scribes and
Pharisees disputing about Christ, the lowly Jewish maiden, with
no other secret but love and prayer, was preparing for herself
that bright mansion in Heaven wherein she now dwells, rejoicing
eternally with her Son. Oh, happy news! One, at least, of our
race has perfectly fulfilled her destiny. Here we can gain some
idea of what God created us for. Here is the destiny that awaits
man when original sin does not mar it; when co-operation with
grace and unswerving perseverance secure it. The Jews were proud
of Judith. They said: "_Thou art the glory of Jerusalem; thou
art the joy of Israel; thou art the honor of our people._" So
we may say of Mary: "O Mary, thou art the pride of our race. In
thee the design of God in our creation has been perfectly
attained. In thee the redemption of Christ has had its perfect
fruit. Mankind conceives new hopes from thy success." Christ,
indeed, has entered into glory; but Christ was God. Mary is
purely human, and Mary has succeeded. Why tarry we here in the
bondage of Egypt? Mary has crossed the Red Sea, and has taken a
timbrel in her hand and sings her thanksgiving unto God. True it
is that she is fleet of foot, and we are all halt and weak; but
even she needed the grace of God, and the same grace is offered
to us, that we may run and not faint. Listen to her song of
triumph. She does not set herself above us, but claims kindred
with us, and bids us hope for the same grace which she has
received. "_My soul doth magnify the Lord, for he hath exalted
the humble, and hath filled the hungry with good things. And his
mercy is from generation to generation to them that fear
Him_."
{461}