impenitency and unbelief till the things of thy peace be quite hid
from thine eyes. These tears will then be the last issues of (even
defeated) love, of love that is frustrated of its kind design. Thou
mayst perceive in these tears the steady, unalterable laws of
heaven, the inflexibleness of the divine justice, that holds thee in
adamantine bonds, and hath sealed thee up, if thou prove incurably
obstinate and impenitent, unto perdition; so that even the Redeemer
Himself, He that is mighty to save, can not at length save thee, but
only weep over thee, drop tears into thy flame, which assuage it not;
but (tho they have another design, even to express true compassion) do
yet unavoidably heighten and increase the fervor of it, and will do so
to all eternity. He even tells thee, sinner, "Thou hast despised My
blood; thou shalt yet have My tears." That would have saved thee,
these do only lament thee lost. But the tears wept over others, as
lost and past hope, why should they not yet melt thee, while as yet
there is hope in thy case? If thou be effectually melted in thy very
soul, and looking to Him whom thou hast pierced, dost truly mourn over
Him, thou mayst assure thyself the prospect His weeping eye had of
lost souls did not include thee. His weeping over thee would argue thy
case forlorn and hopeless; thy mourning over Him will make it safe and
happy. That it may be so, consider, further, that,
4. They signify how very intent He is to save souls, and how gladly
He would save thine, if yet thou wilt accept of mercy while it may be
had. For if He weep over them that will not be saved, from the same
love that is the spring of these tears, would saving mercies proceed
to those that are become willing to receive them. And that love that
wept over them that were lost, how will it glory in them that are
saved! There His love is disappointed and vexed, crossed in its
gracious intendment; but here, having compassed it, how will He joy
over thee with singing, and rest in His love! And thou also, instead
of being revolved in a like ruin with the unreconciled sinners of old
Jerusalem, shalt be enrolled among the glorious citizens of the new,
and triumph together with them in glory.
BOURDALOUE
THE PASSION OF CHRIST
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
Louis Bourdaloue was born at Bourges, in 1632. At the age of sixteen
he entered the order of the Jesuits and was thoroughly educated in the
scholarship, philosophy and theology of the day. He devoted himself
entirely to the work of preaching, and was ten times called upon
to address Louis XIV and his court from the pulpit as Bossuet's
successor. This was an unprecedented record and yet Bourdaloue could
adapt his style to any audience, and "mechanics left their shops,
merchants their business, and lawyers their court house" to hear
him. His high personal character, his simplicity of life, his clear,
direct, and logical utterance as an accomplished orator united to
make him not only "the preacher of kings but the king of preachers."
Retiring from the pulpit late in life he ministered to the sick and to
prisoners. He died in Paris, 1704.
BOURDALOUE
1632-1704
THE PASSION OF CHRIST
_And there followed him a great company of people, and of women, which
also bewailed and lamented him. But Jesus turning unto them, said,
"Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not for me, but weep for your selves,
and for your children_."--Luke xxiii., 27, 28.
The passion of Jesus Christ, however sorrowful and ignominious it may
appear to us, must nevertheless have been to Jesus Christ Himself an
object of delight, since this God-man, by a wonderful secret of His
wisdom and love, has willed that the mystery of it shall be continued
and solemnly renewed in His Church until the final consummation of the
world. For what is the Eucharist but a perpetual repetition of the
Savior's passion, and what has the Savior supposed in instituting
it, but that whatever passed at Calvary is not only represented but
consummated on our altars? That is to say, that He is still performing
the functions of the victim anew, and is every moment virtually
sacrificed, as tho it were not sufficient that He should have suffered
once; at least that His love, as powerful as it is free, has given to
His adorable sufferings that character of perpetuity which they have
in the Sacrament, and which renders them so salutary to us. Behold,
Christians, what the love of God has devised; but behold, also, what
has happened through the malice of men! At the same time that Jesus
Christ, in the sacrament of His body, repeats His holy passion in a
manner altogether mysterious, men, the false imitators, or rather base
corrupters of the works of God, have found means to renew this same
passion, not only in a profane, but in a criminal, sacrilegious, and
horrible manner!
Do not imagine that I speak figuratively. Would to God, Christians,
that what I am going to say to you were only a figure, and that you
were justified in vindicating yourselves to-day against the horrible
expressions which I am obliged to employ! I speak in the literal
sense, and you ought to be more affected with this discourse, if what
I advance appears to you to be overcharged; for it is by your excesses
that it is so, and not by my words. Yes, my dear hearers, the sinners
of the age, by the disorders of their lives, renew the bloody and
tragic passion of the Son of God in the world; I will venture to say
that the sinners of the age cause to the Son of God, even in the state
of glory, as many new passions as they have committed outrages against
Him by their actions! Apply yourselves to form an idea of them; and in
this picture, which will surprize you, recognize what you are, that
you may weep bitterly over yourselves! What do we see in the passion
of Jesus Christ? A divine Savior betrayed and abandoned by cowardly
disciples, persecuted by pontiffs and hypocritical priests, ridiculed
and mocked in the palace of Herod by impious courtiers, placed upon a
level with Barabbas, and to whom Barabbas is preferred by a blind and
inconstant people, exposed to the insults of libertinism, and treated
as a mock king by a troop of soldiers equally barbarous and insolent;
in fine, crucified by merciless executioners! Behold, in a few words,
what is most humiliating and most cruel in the death of the Savior of
the world! Then tell me if this is not precisely what we now see,
of what we are every day called to be witnesses. Let us resume; and
follow me.
Betrayed and abandoned by cowardly disciples; such, O divine Savior,
has been Thy destiny. But it was not enough that the apostles, the
first men whom Thou didst choose for Thine own, in violation of the
most holy engagement, should have forsaken Thee in the last scene of
Thy life; that one of them should have sold Thee, another renounced
Thee, and all disgraced themselves by a flight which was, perhaps, the
most sensible of all the wounds that Thou didst feel in dying. This
wound must be again opened by a thousand acts of infidelity yet more
scandalous. Even in the Christian ages we must see men bearing the
character of Thy disciples, and not having the resolution to sustain
it; Christians, prevaricators, and deserters from their faith;
Christians ashamed of declaring themselves for Thee, not daring to
appear what they are, renouncing at least in the exterior what they
have profest, flying when they ought to fight; in a word, Christians
in form, ready to follow Thee even to the Supper when in prosperity,
and while it required no sacrifice, but resolved to abandon Thee in
the moment of temptation. It is on your account, and my own, my dear
hearers, that I speak, and behold what ought to be the subject of our
sorrow.
A Savior mortally persecuted by pontiffs and hypocritical priests!
Let us not enter, Christians, into the discussion of this article, at
which your piety would, perhaps, be offended, and which would weaken
or prejudice the respect which you owe to the ministers of the Lord.
It belongs to us, my brethren, to meditate to-day on this fact in the
spirit of holy compunction; to us consecrated to the ministry of the
altars, to us priests of Jesus Christ, whom God has chosen in His
Church to be the dispensers of His sacraments. It does not become me
to remonstrate in this place. God forbid that I should undertake to
judge those who sustain the sacred office! This is not the duty of
humility to which my condition calls me. Above all, speaking as I do,
before many ministers, the irreprehensible life of whom contributes so
much to the edification of the people, I am not yet so infatuated as
to make myself the judge, much less the censor of their conduct.
But tho it should induce you only to acknowledge the favors with which
God prevents you, as a contrast, from the frightful blindness into
which He permits others to fall, remember that the priests and the
princes of the priests, are those whom the evangelist describes as the
authors of the conspiracy formed against the Savior of the world, and
of the wickedness committed against Him. Remember that this scandal
is notoriously public, and renewed still every day in Christianity.
Remember, but with fear and horror, that the greatest persecutors of
Jesus Christ are not lay libertines, but wicked priests; and that
among the wicked priests, those whose corruption and iniquity are
covered with the veil of hypocrisy are His most dangerous and most
cruel enemies. A hatred, disguised under the name of zeal, and covered
with the specious pretext of observance of the law, was the first
movement of the persecution which the Pharisees and the priests raised
against the Son of God. Let us fear lest the same passion should blind
us! Wretched passion, exclaims St. Bernard, which spreads the venom of
its malignity even over the most lovely of the children of men, and
which could not see a God upon earth without hating Him! A hatred not
only of the prosperity and happiness, but what is yet more strange, of
the merit and perfection of others! A cowardly and shameful passion,
which, not content with having caused the death of Jesus Christ,
continues to persecute Him by rending His mystical body, which is the
Church; dividing His members, which are believers; and stifling in
their hearts that charity which is the spirit of Christianity! Behold,
my brethren, the subtle temptation against which we have to defend
ourselves, and under which it is but too common for us to fall!
A Redeemer reviled and mocked in the palace of Herod by the impious
creatures of his court! This was, without doubt, one of the most
sensible insults which Jesus Christ received. But do not suppose,
Christians, that this act of impiety ended there. It has passed from
the court of Herod, from that prince destitute of religion, into those
even of Christian princes. And is not the Savior still a subject of
ridicule to the libertine spirits which compose them? They worship Him
externally, but internally how do they regard His maxims? What idea
have they of His humility, of His poverty, of His sufferings? Is not
virtue either unknown or despised? It is not a rash zeal which
induces me to speak in this manner; it is what you too often witness,
Christians; it is what you perhaps feel in yourselves; and a little
reflection upon the manners of the court will convince you that there
is nothing that I say which is not confirmed by a thousand examples,
and that you yourselves are sometimes unhappy accomplices in these
crimes.
Herod had often earnestly wished to see Jesus Christ. The reputation
which so many miracles had given Him, excited the curiosity of this
prince, and he did not doubt but that a man who commanded all nature
might strike some wonderful blow to escape from the persecution of His
enemies. But the Son of God, who had not been sparing of His prodigies
for the salvation of others, spared them for Himself, and would not
say a single word about His own safety. He considered Herod and his
people as profane persons, with whom he thought it improper to hold
any intercourse, and he preferred rather to pass for a fool than to
satisfy the false wisdom of the world. As His kingdom was not of this
world, as He said to Pilate, it was not at the court that He designed
to establish Himself. He knew too well that His doctrine could not
be relished in a place where the rules of worldly wisdom only were
followed, and where all the miracles which He had performed had
not been sufficient to gain men full of love for themselves and
intoxicated with their greatness. In this corrupted region they
breathe only the air of vanity; they esteem only that which is
splendid; they speak only of preferment: and on whatever side we cast
our eyes, we see nothing but what either flatters or inflames the
ambitious desires of the heart of man.
What probability then was there that Jesus Christ, the most humble
of all men, should obtain a hearing where only pageantry and pride
prevail! If He had been surrounded with honors and riches, He would
have found partisans near Herod and in every other place. But as He
preached a renunciation of the world both to His disciples and to
Himself, let us not be astonished that they treated Him with so much
disdain. Such is the prediction of the holy man Job, and which after
Him must be accomplished in the person of all the righteous; "the
upright man is laughed to scorn." In fact, my dear hearers, you know
that, whatever virtue and merit we may possess, they are not enough
to procure us esteem at court. Enter it, and appear only like Jesus
Christ, clothed with the robe of innocence; only walk with Jesus
Christ in the way of simplicity; only speak as Jesus Christ to render
testimony to the truth, and you will find that you meet with no better
treatment there than Jesus Christ. To be well received there, you must
have pomp and splendor. To keep your station there, you must have
artifice and intrigue. To be favorably heard there, you must have
complaisance and flattery. Then all this is opposed to Jesus Christ;
and the court being what it is--that is to say, the kingdom of the
prince of this world--it is not surprizing that the kingdom of Jesus
Christ can not be established there. But wo to you, princes of the
earth! Wo to you, men of the world, who despise this incarnate wisdom,
for you shall be despised in your turn, and the contempt which shall
fall upon you shall be much more terrible than the contempt which you
manifest can be prejudicial.
A Savior placed upon a level with Barabbas, and to whom Barabbas is
preferred by a blind and fickle rabble! How often have we been guilty
of the same outrage against Jesus Christ as the blind and fickle Jews!
How often, after having received Him in triumph in the sacrament of
the communion, seduced by cupidity, have we not preferred either a
pleasure or interest after which we sought, in violation of His law,
to this God of glory! How often divided between conscience which
governed us, and passion which corrupted us, have we not renewed this
abominable judgment, this unworthy preference of the creature even
above our God! Christians, observe this application; it is that of St.
Chrysostom, and if you properly understand it, you must be affected by
it. Conscience, which, in spite of ourselves, presides in us as judge,
said inwardly to us, "What art thou going to do? Behold thy pleasure
on the one hand, and thy God on the other: for which of the two dost
thou declare thyself? for thou canst not save both; thou must either
lose thy pleasure or thy God; and it is for thee to decide." And the
passion, which by a monstrous infidelity had acquired the influence
over our hearts, made us conclude--I will keep my pleasure. "But what
then will become of thy God," replied conscience secretly, "and
what must I do, I, who can not prevent myself from maintaining His
interests against thee?" I care not what will become of my God,
answered passion insolently; I will satisfy myself, and the resolution
is taken. "But dost thou know," proceeded conscience by its remorse,
"that in indulging thyself in this pleasure it will at last submit thy
Savior to death and crucifixion for thee?" It is of no consequence if
He be crucified, provided I can have my enjoyments. "But what evil has
He done, and what reason hast thou to abandon Him in this manner?" My
pleasure is my reason; and since Christ is the enemy of my pleasure,
and my pleasure crucifies Him, I say it again, let Him be crucified.
Behold, my dear hearers, what passes every day in the consciences of
men, and what passes in you and in me, every time that we fall into
sin, which causes death to Jesus Christ, as well as to our souls!
Behold what makes the enormity and wickedness of this sin! I know that
we do not always speak, that we do not always explain ourselves in
such express terms and in so perceptible a manner; but after all,
without explaining ourselves so distinctly and so sensibly, there is a
language of the heart which says all this. For, from the moment that I
know that this pleasure is criminal and forbidden of God, I know that
it is impossible for me to desire it, impossible to seek it, without
losing God; and consequently I prefer this pleasure to God in the
desire that I form of it, and in the pursuit that I make after it.
This, then, is sufficient to justify the thought of St. Chrysostom and
the doctrine of the theologians upon the nature of deadly sin ...
That there are men, and Christian men, to whom, by a secret judgment
of God, the passion of Jesus Christ, salutary as it is, may become
useless, is a truth too essential in our religion to be unknown, and
too sorrowful not to be the subject of our grief. When the Savior from
the height of His cross, ready to give up His spirit, raised this cry
toward heaven, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" there
was no one who did not suppose but that the violence of His torments
forced from Him this complaint, and perhaps we ourselves yet believe
it. But the great Bishop Arnauld de Chartres, penetrating deeper into
the thoughts and affections of this dying Savior, says, with much more
reason, that the complaint of Christ Jesus to His Father proceeded
from the sentiment with which He was affected, in representing to
Himself the little fruit which His death would produce; in considering
the small number of the elect who would profit by it; in foreseeing
with horror the infinite number of the reprobate, for whom it would
be useless: as if He had wished to proclaim that His merits were not
fully enough nor worthily enough remunerated; and that after having
done so much work He had a right to promise to Himself a different
success in behalf of men. The words of this author are admirable:
Jesus Christ complains, says this learned prelate, but of what does He
complain? That the wickedness of sinners makes Him lose what ought to
be the reward of the conflicts which He has maintained; that millions
of the human race for whom He suffers will, nevertheless, be excluded
from the benefit of redemption. And because He regards Himself in them
as their head, and themselves, in spite of their worthlessness, as
the members of His mystical body; seeing them abandoned by God, He
complains of being abandoned Himself: "My God, my God, why hast
thou forsaken me?" He complains of what made St. Paul groan when,
transported with an apostolic zeal, he said to the Galatians: "What,
my brethren, is Jesus Christ then dead in vain? Is the mystery of
the cross then nothing to you? Will not this blood which He has so
abundantly shed have the virtue to sanctify you?"
But here, Christians, I feel myself affected with a thought which,
contrary as it appears to that of the apostle, only serves to
strengthen and confirm it. For it appears that St. Paul is grieved
because Jesus Christ has suffered in vain; but I, I should almost
console myself if He had only suffered in vain, and if His passion was
only rendered useless to us. That which fills me with consternation
is, that at the same time that we render it useless to ourselves, by
an inevitable necessity it must become pernicious; for this passion,
says St. Gregory of Nazianzen, "partakes of the nature of those
remedies which, kill if they do not heal, and of which the effect is
either to give life or to convert itself into poison; lose nothing of
this, I beseech you." Remember, then, Christians, what happened during
the judgment and at the moment of the condemnation of the Son of God.
When Pilate washed his hands before the Jews and declared to them that
there was nothing worthy of death in this righteous man, but that the
crime from which he freed himself rested upon them, and that they
would have to answer for it, they all cried with one voice that they
consented to it, and that they readily agreed that the blood of this
just man should fall upon them and upon their children. You know what
this cry has cost them. You know the curses which one such imprecation
has drawn upon them, the anger of heaven which began from that time
to burst upon this nation, the ruin of Jerusalem which followed soon
after--the carnage of their citizens, the profanation of their temple,
the destruction of their republic, the visible character of their
reprobation which their unhappy posterity bear to this day, that
universal banishment, that exile of sixteen hundred years, that
slavery through all the earth--and all in consequence of the authentic
prediction which Jesus Christ made to them of it when going to
Calvary, and with circumstances which incontestably prove that a
punishment as exemplary as this can not be imputed but to decide which
they had committed in the person of the Savior; since it is evident,
says St. Augustine, that the Jews were never further from idolatry nor
more religious observers of their law than they were then, and that,
excepting the crime of the death of Jesus Christ, God, very far from
punishing them, would, it seems, rather have loaded them with His
blessings. You know all this, I say; and all this is a convincing
proof that the blood of this God-man is virtually fallen upon these
sacrilegious men, and that God, in condemning them by their own mouth,
altho in spite of Himself, employs that to destroy them which was
designed for their salvation.
But, Christians, to speak with the Holy Spirit, this has happened to
the Jews only as a figure; it is only the shadow of the fearful curses
of which the abuse of the merits and passion of the Son of God must be
to us the source and the measure. I will explain myself. What do we,
my dear hearers, when borne away by the immoderate desires of our
hearts to a sin against which our consciences protest? And what do
we, when, possest of the spirit of the world, we resist a grace which
solicits us, which presses us to obey God? Without thinking upon it,
and without wishing it, we secretly pronounce the same sentence of
death which the Jews pronounced against themselves before Pilate, when
they said to him, "His blood be upon us." For this grace which we
despise is the price of the blood of Jesus Christ, and the sin that we
commit is an actual profanation of this very blood. It is, then, as if
we were to say to God: "Lord, I clearly see what engagement I make,
and I know what risk I run, but rather than not satisfy my own
desires, I consent that the blood of Thy Son shall fall upon me. This
will be to bear the chastisement of it, but I will indulge my passion;
Thou hast a right to draw forth from it a just indignation, but
nevertheless I will complete my undertaking."
Thus we condemn ourselves. And here, Christians, is one of the
essential foundations of this terrible mystery of the eternity of the
punishment with which faith threatens us, and against which our reason
revolts. We suppose that we can not have any knowledge of it in this
life, and we are not aware, says St. Chrysostom, that we find it
completely in the blood of the Savior, or rather in our profanation of
it every day. For this blood, my brethren, adds this holy doctor, is
enough to make eternity not less frightful, but less incredible.
And behold the reason: This blood is of an infinite dignity; it can
therefore be avenged only by an infinite punishment. This blood, if we
destroy ourselves, will cry eternally against us at the tribunal of
God. It will eternally excite the wrath of God against us. This blood,
falling upon lost souls, will fix a stain upon them, which shall never
be effaced. Their torments must consequently never end.