vocation from the Lord Himself, to leave the world and follow
Him. God calls to his service only those who are well disposed
and fit for it, and we may, therefore, believe that Judas was at
least sincere and piously inclined, before the Lord called him.
He believed in our Lord's teaching, when he heard Him preach; he
followed Him with constancy for a length of time; and obeyed the
inward grace and outward call by which He invited him to become
his disciple. As a disciple he must have been faithful, and must
have shown himself worthy of a higher grace. For the Lord, who
knew his heart, and always chooses fit instruments for his
purposes, gave him a vocation to become a Priest, and not only
that, but a Bishop and an Apostle. With this vocation He gave him
all the special gifts and graces necessary to prepare him for the
apostolic ministry, to make him a worthy companion of St. Peter
and St. John, and to enable him to win like them, the gratitude
and veneration of the world, and a glorious crown in heaven.
{227}
He preached and wrought miracles like the others, and very likely
was for a time not only without grievous sin, but really fervent
and holy. Reason and experience teach us that he could not have
changed all at once from a fervent apostle to a faithless
apostate, ready to betray his Lord for money. He must have
changed gradually. He relaxed by degrees in fervor, he neglected
little things, and did not profit by the admonitions which the
Lord gave him from time to time. Thus he went on from bad to
worse, growing more indifferent and hardened every day, heaping
up venial sins continually, and disposing himself for those that
were more grievous. He became unkind and quarrelsome with his
fellow disciples, dishonest in the use of the common purse which
was intrusted to his care, harsh and repulsive toward the poor
people who came to hear the preaching of his Master, and to
recommend their wants to his mercy.
{228}
So he lost the grace of God, fell, we know not where or how, into
mortal sin, and became an alien in heart from Jesus Christ,
though still in name and appearance his disciple. By degrees he
began to despise his Master, to sicken of his service, to
disbelieve his words. He was already a slave of Satan, having
lost sanctifying grace, and, it may be, faith also. When Satan
suggested to him to abandon his Master, to betray him for money,
and then to go away and live as he pleased, he dallied with the
temptation, deliberated, and at length consented. The devil then
took complete possession of him, drove him on, and wove a chain
of circumstances around him that hurried him forward to the
execution of his treacherous intentions. What follows we all
know. Having put the seal on his own guilt and perdition by a
sacrilegious communion, he delivered over the Lord to death. His
crime being now consummated, the diabolical spell that had been
around him was broken, despair seized on his soul, he hanged
himself and went "to his own place," bequeathing the memory of
his infamous treason to the execration of all future generations.
{229}
This is the history of many a one, besides Judas. For instance,
take this from the life of St. Francis of Assisi. [Footnote 102]
[Footnote 102: F. Challipe's Life, vol. i.. p. 91.]
"A sixth disciple, named John, and surnamed de Capella, began
well, and finished ill. He was charged with distributing among
his brethren the alms that had been contributed, and took on
himself voluntarily the office of procuring all that was wanting
for the community. But, by degrees, he became attached to
temporal things, went abroad too much, and relaxed extremely in
the observance of regular discipline. The holy Founder, after
giving him a number of severe reprimands in vain, threatened him
with a frightful malady and a miserable death, as the punishment
of his indocility. In fact, this bad religious was smitten with a
horrible leprosy, which he had not the patience to bear. He
abandoned his companions, the poor of Jesus Christ, and giving
himself up to despair, hanged himself, like Judas." This example
is no doubt an unusual one, in this respect, that the penalty of
this unhappy man's sinful life was more striking and visible than
is commonly the case.
{230}
But it is essentially like thousands of examples everywhere, and
in every-day life, in which the origin, progress and end of sin
are really the same, though more secret and hidden. So the
careless Christian begins his downward career, by a negligence
which goes from bad to worse, from small things to those of
greater and greater moment, until all fervor is lost, and his
conscience falls into a deadly slumber. Then come grievous sins;
singly at first, but afterward in quick succession. This stage of
the disease lapses at last into the state of obduracy and final
impenitence. Sacrilege is very commonly mixed up with it, more or
less, as the religions, ecclesiastical or secular condition of
the person, or his peculiar character and circumstances, may in a
greater or lesser degree expose him to the occasion of profaning
sacraments. He may be hurried along into an open, and perhaps,
from his station and antecedents, a very scandalous apostacy from
the faith, and thus become a declared traitor to his allegiance
to Jesus Christ and the Church. He may fill up the measure of his
wickedness in some other way; but it ends the same, in
self-destruction: not by suicide, but by the gradual and sure
destruction of conscience, and of moral and spiritual vitality,
ending in a spiritual and eternal death which knows no
resurrection forever.
{231}
So he goes "to his Own place," to the place he has prepared for
himself, the place he has merited, the place that suits his moral
condition, the place assigned to him as his eternal abode by the
unerring justice of God.
This is the sinner's progress in following the footsteps of
Judas. Negligence, habitual sin, contempt of divine warnings,
sacrilege, obduracy, abandonment of God, despair, eternal death.
At every stage it becomes harder to go back. Stop, then, where
you are; or better still, if it is not too late, beware of taking
the first step. If you have not yet gone very far in the downward
path, and are only beginning to be negligent, take warning by the
example of Judas, and correct that negligence at once, or else it
may lead to the most fatal consequences. "_He that despiseth
small things, shall perish by little and little_." It is
easier to preserve yourself from a great fall, by diligence and
care, than it will be to remedy the hurts you will receive by
falling, and to regain the height on which you are now standing.
{232}
You can never tell whither any sin will lead you. You can never
calculate the consequences of yielding to any temptation. Venial
sins, even, may become the principle of great and fatal
disorders, which will lead you to your final ruin. Threads, fine
at first as spider's webs, may be so woven together, and become
so strong by being multiplied, that they will entangle you in
meshes which cannot be broken through without the most violent
efforts. Sweep your soul, then, diligently, of these spider-webs
of negligence, or you may become, like Judas, an example of one
who began well, but ended miserably, and may finish that career
which you commenced in the service and friendship of Jesus, by
betraying both your Master and your own soul.
But even if you have already gone far in sin, it is never too
late to go back, until eternal death has actually made you its
prey and closed its gate behind you. The case of Judas was not
hopeless until after he had placed the halter on his own neck.
The Lord never ceased to remonstrate with him until that last
treacherous kiss, and though after this He spoke to him no more,
and Judas never saw Him again, yet He did not close the door of
mercy on him even then.
{233}
He closed it on himself by despairing. This was the greatest and
most fatal of all his sins. Had he hoped in the mercy of Jesus
Christ; had he returned to Him in sorrow and tears; had he thrown
himself at the feet of his injured Master, and implored pardon,
he would, no doubt, have been too late to save that Master's
life, but he would have been in time to save his own soul. Even
from the Cross the Saviour would have smiled upon him, and the
guilt of his treason would have been effaced in that redeeming
blood which his treason had made to flow. Oh! sinner, never
despair! Even if you have gone to the length of an open apostasy,
do not abandon hope; do not place the halter around your own
neck. All is not yet lost. Retrace your steps; return to Jesus
Christ; offer him the kiss, not of a traitor, but of a penitent;
and you will receive from his clemency the pardon of your sins.
--------------------
{234}
Sermon XV.
The Interior Life.
"The Kingdom of Heaven is within you."
St. Luke xvii. 21.
(From the Gospel for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost.)
A few years ago, and the people of California were a quiet,
agricultural and trading people, by which they procured for
themselves the three great wants of life; viz., shelter, clothing
and food. They were content with as much as this, for they were
unconscious that underneath their very feet, as they were working
their farms and gardens, there lay that immense treasure of gold
which has since been brought to this city. By chance a lucky
spade turned over a clod of earth and stone, on which a yellowish
tinge was noticed.
{235}
It was found to be gold. The report soon found its way next door,
and then about the neighborhood, and so went rapidly through the
country. The cabbages and potatoes, the peas and beans, which
till now had been the pride of the cottage, were pulled up
without ceremony and thrown aside, in the eager search that was
everywhere being made for gold. The news came over to us, and I
dare say you remember well the excitement created by it here. The
great tide of commerce was turned toward San Francisco, and such
was the haste of our people to get there, that a crowd was daily
seen pressing around the offices of the various packet and
steamship lines, eager to secure an early passage.
We, my dear brethren, are living on the surface of life, with our
cabbages and beans, very much as those Californians were, and all
the while within our souls there is a mine of untold riches, of
which we seem to be quite unconscious. We are leading a
grovelling life, when we might be living an angelic one. Our
condition differs as much from what it might be as the state of
the caterpillar differs from that of the butterfly.
{236}
They are the same creature, yet how different! The caterpillar
crawls upon the ground; it feeds upon roots and leaves, and one
is tempted to put his foot upon it as he passes by. The butterfly
is a light airy thing on beautiful wings. It feeds upon honey
which it gathers from the flower gardens, and is the admiration
of every one. But before the caterpillar can become a butterfly
it must build for itself a little house of silk. It must enclose
itself there, and in proportion as it dies to itself, it lives
again in the butterfly. My brethren, this house is your soul.
There, with God, is your true life. Would that I could make you
realize this. Would that I could realize it myself. Well, in
order to do something toward it, I will this morning show you
under what beautiful images Holy Scripture describes the beauty
of a soul that is in union with God. I will name two great
advantages of this union; and finally, I will tell you the
conditions on which God offers it to you.
I. The beauty of a soul in union with God.
We cannot see our souls, and God has no where given us a
description of them; but many things are said in Holy Scripture,
from which we get the idea of their great beauty when united to
him.
{237}
The soul is called God's "Palace." This is what our Lord says in
my text: "_The kingdom of God is within you_." What is the
idea that we have of a kingdom? Why, I suppose we call to mind
some of the great powers of Europe, with their extensive
dominions, great power and wealth. Among the cities of these
Kingdoms there is usually one more populous than the rest, where
the streets are laid out, and the public buildings and private
houses are erected with a view to magnificence; as for example:
London in England; Paris in France; Vienna in Austria; St.
Petersburg in Russia. The Sovereign's palace is there. This
palace is grand in its proportions outside, and it is furnished
within in as costly a manner as gold and silver, polished wood,
rich silks and tapestry and choice paintings can make it.
Well, then, the soul must be this, and more; for it is the palace
of the King of kings. Holy Angels are there in attendance upon
Him. There He entertains his faithful at his table with the Bread
of Angels. It is there that He deigns to hold those conversations
with the soul after communion that are so precious.
{238}
St. Teresa has this same idea under another figure. She begins by
saying that the beauty of the soul is incomprehensible. That the
mind cannot conceive its real worth, as words cannot express it.
Then she says that she conceives the soul to be like a
magnificent diamond castle, with rooms above and below; but in
the very centre there is a room more spacious and more sumptuous
than all the others, where our Lord dwells with the soul.
The soul is God's "Temple." "_Ye are the temples of the Holy
Ghost_," [Footnote 103] says St. Paul.
[Footnote 103: 1 Cor. vi., 19.]
We often see engravings of those grand Cathedrals and churches
which are so common abroad. There is one in almost all the old
towns of England. Their tall spires or massive towers stand
majestically over the country, and their whole exterior is
elaborately worked in stone. On the inside they are poor and cold
enough, it is true, for a false worship has been set up there,
which has stripped them of their fine statuary and paintings,
banners and rich hangings, which formerly decorated the sanctuary
and walls, and they are no longer what they once were, "the
Temples of God."
{239}
There is no correspondence between the size and magnificence of
those churches of the olden time, and the formal service that is
held in them now; and so a few square yards are penned off in the
middle for the handful who will assemble. But there has been a
time when those walls were two narrow to enclose the thousands
who came to follow their Lord as He made the circuit of his
Temple, in the procession of Corpus Christi. Those floors have
been covered with kneeling multitudes who waited for his
benediction in the Blessed Sacrament. Then, gold and silver,
lights and flowers, massive candlesticks and rich vestments
adorned the altars with something approaching to regal splendor,
for it was the Temple of God. Those cathedrals and churches are
now standing, after the lapse of hundreds of years, as monuments
of the ancient faith that inspired their erection; but the day
will come when, as our Lord said of Jerusalem, "_one stone
shall not be left upon another_." But our souls are
everlasting Temples. How strong, then, as well as how beautiful,
God must have made them!
{240}
The soul is a "Fountain" of never-failing water. This is what our
Lord told the Samaritan woman. "_The water that I will give him
shall become in him a fountain of water, springing up unto
everlasting life_." [Footnote 104]
[Footnote 104: John iv., 14.]
I think our blessed Saviour could not have said any thing which
would have given us a more beautiful idea of the effect of his
presence upon our souls. The deserts of the East are like the
ocean in their great, boundless wastes of hot sand. Travellers
tell us that for days there is no living object to be seen, even
to a blade of grass. Occasionally, however, they come upon what
appears like an island, where there are trees, grass and flowers.
Invariably it is found that in the middle of these "oases," as
they are called, there is an overflowing spring of the purest
water. This is the cause of all that verdure in the midst of so
barren a wilderness. How beautiful such places must be to the
weary traveller, and how grateful to the eye, as he catches sight
of them in the distance! How he must bless God as he sits under
the cool shade of the rich foliage, or as he bathes his feverish
brow and limbs in the cool waters!
{241}
Well, our souls are so many "green islands" in the desert of this
world, and our Lord is the fountain in their centre. His presence
adorns the soul with all that fragrance and fulness which we find
in the innocent and pure. St. Teresa had a great fondness for
this passage of Scripture from her very childhood. Though at that
time she did not know the value of this promise of our Lord as
she did in after life, she says: "I very often asked the Divine
Master to give to me this precious water."
The soul is God's "Image." "_Let us make man to our image and
likeness_." [Footnote 105] So God said when he created the
first human soul.
[Footnote 105: Gen. i., 26.]
Our souls, then, are like God. God is the perfection of all
beauty. As we say, God is truth, so we say, God is beauty. There
are two ways in which we are like God, for He says: "Let us make
man to our image _and_ likeness." In one way, the devils and
souls in mortal sin are like God. They have the gifts of
intelligence and free will. This is the image of God which, when
a creature once has, it can never lose. The likeness which a soul
in the state of grace bears to God, is in the gift of habitual,
or sanctifying grace.
{242}
This can be lost, and the devils and souls in mortal sin have
lost it. God has made us pupils of his, as it were. Our Master
has drawn the outline of Himself upon our souls, and our work is
to fill up this sketch with light and shade. A Christian is
therefore an artist of the highest class; for there can be no
subject so inspiring as his. What a beautiful talent it is to be
able to transfer to canvas some scene from nature, of which it
becomes the exact copy. There are certain combinations of water
and mountain, meadow and foliage, nature and art, blended and
softened by a peculiar state of the atmosphere, which act like a
spell upon one. All we can say, is, how very beautiful!
But, beautiful as it is, it will vanish before the winter's
frost. The canvas, too, in time will moulder away. But the image
of God on our souls is more beautiful than any scene in nature,
and it will preserve its beauty forever.
These are some illustrations from Holy Scripture which enable us
to form an idea of what is the beauty of a soul when in union
with God.
{243}
Did you ever know, my brethren, that God had been so good to you?
Have you not over looked and undervalued your treasure? This life
of yours hitherto, on the surface of things, has been both a
great mistake and a great misfortune.
II. To make you realize this, let me tell you two great
advantages of an interior life.
The first is, the great "peace" that it brings to us. Peace, did
I say? Is it, then, possible to wear a constant smile in this
valley of tears? Can these fretful souls of ours find rest even
upon earth? We pray for the Holy Souls in Purgatory, "that they
may rest in peace," as if we felt that there was no rest short of
Heaven. Can we find it, then, even short of Purgatory? Yes, for
it is a share, by anticipation, of the ineffable peace which
those holy souls enjoy in the possession of God. Like them, we
can be glad while we suffer. Joy and suffering are not
irreconcilable! How was it with our blessed Lord? You know He is
called the "Man of sorrows," in that his Passion is thought to
have been before Him during the whole of his thirty-three years
on earth. But all the while, his human soul was in the perpetual
enjoyment of the Beatific Vision, and therefore in perfect peace.
{244}
Well, of this peace, in the midst of trouble, our Lord, as the
great Head, allows us, his members, to participate. Hear what He
said to his Apostles: "_Peace I leave with you, my peace I give
unto you_." [Footnote 106]
[Footnote 106: John xiv., 27.]
What robs a man of his peace of soul, is either an inordinate
desire for something which he has not, or the fear of losing some
thing that he has. Now, the man who lives an interior life, is in
the possession of God, who is the fulness and perfection of every
good. He does not fear the loss of pleasure, for his highest
pleasure is to do the will of God. He says, it is not God's will
that I should have pleasure now. Nor of riches, for he fears them
as a snare. He does not fear poverty--he will have less to give
account of at the Last Day; nor of station, for he feels that
there is no nobility like being a son of God. He is living with
God and his Holy Angels, as their companion; as though God and
they and he were the only beings in the world. Nor of comforts,
for he has learned to bear his cross, and he is learning to love
it. Nor of reputation, for he seeks the favor of God alone.
{245}
Man's judgment of him will neither aid nor injure him before his
only true Judge. The daily round of bodily weakness, sickness,
disappointment, or mortification, is turned into so many
occasions of gaining merit with God. It is true of him what the
Scripture says, that "_all things work together for good, to
those who love God_." [Footnote 107] He is like Midas, the
fabled King of Thrace, who was said to have the power to turn
every thing that he touched into gold.
[Footnote 107: Rom. viii., 28.]
St. Basil was such a man. On one occasion he was called before a
magistrate, who said in great anger, "Basil, I will tear out your
liver." "Well," was the meek reply, "you will do me a great favor
then, for it is a great trouble to me where it is." Such a man is
invulnerable.
To come nearer to our own day, I can show you such a man, in our
Holy Father Pope Pius IX. What is the invariable testimony, both
of Protestants and of Catholics, as to the manner of his
receiving them? Every one speaks of his composure, of his
cheerful conversation, and of the sweetness of his smile. Now,
where is the man in Europe, who has so much care and anxiety upon
him as he has?
{246}
For whom would we be so ready to make excuse, in case we were
told that he was found to be reserved, or even at times out of
humor, on occasion of those "receptions," which are so numerous
and indiscriminate, and which we would think must be so very
tiresome to him? At this moment, while Sovereigns and statesmen
are threatening him with the seizure of the ancient inheritance
of the Church, which is intrusted to his care, and himself with
banishment, not only is he calm, but he prophesies that, from
these present trials, great glory shall result to the Church.
Pius the Ninth is a man who lives in close union with God. Down
in the bottom of his soul there reigns a supernatural calm.
With an interior life comes also a strength to do and to suffer,
which is naturally quite beyond us.
As our Lord chose his Apostles among a class of men whose natural
advantages were very few, in order that his guidance and power
might be shown in them, so He has adorned the early Church with a
number of young female Martyrs, whose amazing fortitude under the
severest torture, clearly proves that He was also the source of
their strength.
{247}
Let me give you an example. St. Potamiena was a Nubian slave of a
Roman master. He required her consent to something which was
contrary to the law of God. On her refusal, he threatened her
with such torture as was exercised upon those who, like herself,
had embraced the Christian faith. The magistrate before whom she
was brought on the charge of being a Christian, commanded her to
obey her master in all things, or she should be cast into the
cauldron of boiling oil, which was seething before her. She
replied: "I have but one request to make: allow my clothes to
remain upon me; then, if you will, let me down by inches into
this cauldron, and you will see what strength Jesus Christ, my
Lord, will give me to bear its pain." This was the cruel death by
which, without a murmur, she won her crown of "Virgin Martyr."