obstinacy of the Jews, and of their final impenitence, and of
their terrific chastisement. But he did it all with many tears
and with a depth of regret better told by tears than words.
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Brethren, there is a deep mystery taught us by this scene. It is
the mystery of the union of two sentiments in God which to us
seem essentially different--justice and mercy. How could our
Saviour weep over a downfall so well deserved? How could he
regret what none knew so well as he was to be a punishment all
too light for the crimes of the Jews? Is there not a mystery
here? How can it be explained? There is no adequate theoretical
explanation of it. But there is a practical one, and a very
excellent one, too. It is this: Put yourself in a Jew's place;
fancy yourself one of that apostate race; stand up before our
Lord and listen to his sentence given against you with infinite
reluctance--every hard word a sigh of tender regret. Do you not
see that this exhibition of mercy in the Judge only renders the
justice of the sentence more evident to you and more dreadful?
Mercy thus lends to Justice a weapon which, while it only crushes
down its victim the deeper, at the same time elevates much higher
in the culprit's eyes the rectitude of the sentence.
Of course, the justice of God and his mercy are perfectly equal.
Yet in some true sense we may say that his mercy is more powerful
than his justice. Does not the Psalmist say that God's mercy "is
above all his works"? Do we not know by observation and
experience that where the wrath of God sets apart a single victim
his tender love wins over a thousand? Why, the very sentiments of
our hearts, the very convictions of our minds by which we earn
forgiveness in the Sacrament of Penance, are they not the free
gift of God, earned by us only because "us" means persons
penetrated with light and strength streaming down from the throne
of mercy?
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We offer our repentance to God in a kind of a way as children
make Christmas presents to their father. Where do they get money
to buy them? From their mother, and she saves it up from the
household expenses or gets it as a gift from her husband. In the
long run the presents were bought by the one to whom they are
given. Yet they are very dear to the father; he values them; they
are real presents to him; they express a real devotion; they lose
nothing of their character of presents because he is at the
expense of it all. So with our Heavenly Father. If he gives the
gold we coin it; we stamp the beloved form of the Son of God on
our poor prayers, so that when they have made the circuit and are
back again in the divine bosom from which they sprang forth,
somehow we have added something to them.
Brethren, let us hope that when our Lord's tears concerned us it
was not in view of our reprobation, but of our salvation. Let us
be inflamed, too, with a sense of our ingratitude that we are
such unworthy children of so good a Father. A man may swagger and
brag down his better self when merely threatened with punishment.
But who among you can face, without flinching, the tears of so
good a friend as our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ?
-------------------
Sermon CVI.
Neglect Of Divine Warnings.
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The Gospel to-day tells us, my dear brethren, that Jesus wept as
he approached Jerusalem; not for himself, nor for all he was so
soon to suffer there, but for the city itself, and for his chosen
people, to whom he had given it for their glory and joy. Yes,
this beautiful city was their joy and their pride; long before
they had been taken from it into captivity by their enemies for a
time, and as the Psalmist says, speaking in their name, "By the
rivers of Babylon we sat and wept when we remembered Sion." And
he goes on: "If I forget thee, Jerusalem, may I forget my right
hand; may my tongue cleave to my mouth if I do not remember thee,
if I do not make Jerusalem the beginning of my joy."
And now this city of theirs was to be taken from them again by a
more grievous and fatal disaster than it had ever yet suffered.
They were to be scattered from it all over the world to do a long
penance for their sins and their rejection of him who had come to
redeem them. And our Divine Lord's Heart yearned for them, for
these his creatures, and at the same time his brethren and his
countrymen. Fain would he have saved them, if they would but have
been willing, from the terrible sufferings they were to undergo.
Gladly, as he says himself, would he have sheltered them, if they
would even now have come to him, from the tempest which was about
to break upon them from the justice of God. He wept because they
would not come and avail themselves of his love.
We should pray for them that the day may be hastened when they
shall return and acknowledge their true Messias, their own Lord
and Master, the only true King of the Jews. But they are not the
only ones to weep for; they are not the only ones whom he has
loaded with favors, and who have been ungrateful; there are
others besides the Jews whom Almighty God has chosen for his
people, but who have rejected him and distressed his loving
heart.
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Who are they? They are in general all sinners, but especially
such as are Catholics; they are those souls for whom Jesus has
done so much from their earliest years, in the midst of whom he
has lived and wrought so many works of power and goodness; those
whom he has enlightened with his truth, those whom he has warned
against sin, those whom he has borne with so long and forgiven so
often, those whom he has fed with his own Body and Blood. And
yet, through evil habits, by frequent mortal sin, they live on,
deaf to his warnings, despising his love, not knowing the time of
their visitation, until evil days and a sad ending come upon
them. Can we wonder that their enemies, the evil one and their
bad habits, compass them round about, and straiten them on all
sides, and beat them down and leave them wasted and desolate? Can
we wonder that, since they would not bear the sweet and ennobling
yoke of Christ, they will be forced to groan in the fetters of
Satan and be exiled for ever from the true Jerusalem, the home of
peace, which is above? No, brethren; such is the fate of those
who persistently abuse God's grace, who reject his mercy and his
efforts to save them. God forbid that such a career, such an
ending, be ours. Let us, then, take warning; let us be careful
about temptations; let us not presume on our own strength nor on
God's goodness in the past; let us not make light of anything
which is dangerous or forbidden. Let us endeavor not to grieve
our Lord by any infidelity, great or small, but try to be
faithful to every grace in this the day of our visitation, and to
follow the things that are for our peace here and our happiness
hereafter.
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Sermon CVII.
Living From Day To Day.
_If thou also hadst known, and that in this thy day,
the things that are for thy peace._
--St. Luke xix. 42.
The fault of the Jews, my brethren, was twofold: boasting of the
past and waiting for the future. It is especially on account of
the latter fault that our Lord in this day's Gospel lays such
stress on the words "and that in this thy day." It is a warning
against trying to live in the future.
We all know, to be sure, that one may go to the other extreme,
and by a form of sloth be too careless of the future. Some things
there are which are certain to come upon us, and their coming
must be provided for. There is a judgment to come, and every
minute of to-day is like a bailiff busy gathering evidence for
that Divine Court. Temptation is sure to come, and its strain
upon our virtue must be foreseen in every prayer of every day.
The common wants of life for one's self and family are inevitable
in the future, and must be prudently provided against. In all
such things we know that the future is an actual fact, and is
just as present to God as this very instant is to us.
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What our Lord would rebuke is not a prudent foresight, but that
weak and idle state of mind which postpones to the future what
should be done at once. This is the commonest of human delusions.
In a temporal point of view it is condemned by the saying,
"Procrastination is the thief of time," and it might be added of
many other valuable commodities. In a spiritual point of view the
dreadful result of delaying till to-morrow what should be done
to-day is expressed by the saying, "Hell is paved with good
intentions." Wise men resolve to do in the future only what they
cannot do now. Many and many a poor soul has lost the kingdom of
heaven for that one reason: resolving instead of doing.
Brethren, a practically-minded Christian lives his spiritual life
from day to day. He knows that the future is something entirely
in God's hands. As for himself, his actual ability to do good
begins and ends with each passing hour. If he provides well for
it as it comes and goes he has done his part; God will not fail
to take care of the future. One's peace of mind is never secure
till one has learned to be content with present duty well done.
Oh! what a happiness when one's soul is unburdened of care for
the future. Do you covet that happiness? It is yours if you leave
nothing undone for the present. If you can honestly say, "That is
all I can do for the present," you may add, "and the future
also."
But, you say, what about a purpose of amendment? Does not that
dwell specially on the future? Yes, it does; but it springs from
a present sorrow. And if the sorrow be as heartfelt as it should
be the purpose of amendment will take care of itself. A deep
hatred of sin is the only true sorrow, and such a hatred must be
enduring. The test of a contrite man is not what he promises but
what he does. His sorrow unites the past and future in the
present. Warned by his past weakness, he begins right here and
just now by prayer and work to guard against a future relapse.
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Learn a lesson, brethren, from our Lord's warning and from the
fate of the Jews. It is better to say one's morning prayers
to-day than to resolve to become a saint next week. To-day is
here, and next week is nowhere. This day is mine; I know not if I
shall have so much as one other. God has the past and the future.
I will thank him for the past, I will beg him for the future. As
to the present, with God's help, I will set to work to do my
utmost.
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_Tenth Sunday after Pentecost._
Epistle.
1 Corinthians xii. 2-11.
Brethren:
You know that when you were heathens you went to dumb idols,
according as you were led. Wherefore I give you to understand,
that no man, speaking by the Spirit of God, saith Anathema to
Jesus. And no man can say, The Lord Jesus, but by the Holy
Ghost. Now there are diversities of graces, but the same
Spirit; and there are diversities of ministries, but the same
Lord. And there are diversities of operations, but the same
God, who worketh all in all. But the manifestation of the
Spirit is given to every man unto profit. To one, indeed, by
the Spirit, is given the word of wisdom: to another, the word
of knowledge according to the same Spirit: to another, faith in
the same Spirit: to another, the grace of healing in one
Spirit: to another, the working of miracles: to another,
prophecy: to another, the discerning of spirits: to another,
divers kinds of tongues: to another, interpretation of
speeches: but all these things one and the same Spirit worketh,
dividing to every one as he will.
Gospel.
_St. Luke xviii._ 9-14.
At that time:
To some who trusted in themselves as just, and despised others,
Jesus spoke this parable: Two men went up into the temple to
pray: the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The
Pharisee, standing, prayed thus with himself: O God, I give
thee thanks that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners,
unjust, adulterers, nor such as this publican. I fast twice in
the week: I give tithes of all that I possess.
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And the publican, standing afar off, would not so much as lift
up his eyes towards heaven; but struck his breast, saying: O
God, be merciful to me a sinner! I say to you, this man went
down to his house justified rather than the other; because
every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled: and he that
humbleth himself shall be exalted.
-------------------
Sermon CVIII.
Sympathy for Sinners.
_O God, I give thee thanks
that I am not as the rest of men,
extortioners, unjust, adulterers,
nor such as this publican._
--St. Luke xviii. 11.
Did you never notice that pride and hardness of heart go
together? That miserable Pharisee could not enjoy his
self-glorification without condemning his neighbor, a person, as
it happened, far more deserving than himself. Indeed, the worst
vices seem to love each other's company as if they were all blood
relatives. Coveting our neighbor's goods, for example, goes along
with stinginess of our own; gluttony and lust are twins. Almost
the same may be said of oppressing others and disobeying lawful
authority; and in this hateful Pharisee we behold the union of
pride in one's self and contempt for one's neighbor. The sinner
seems to be bound with a chain every link of which is double.
Now, brethren, this is a fault often found in far better souls
than this haughty Pharisee. Many of us have too little sympathy
for persons whom we know to be in mortal sin. To be sure, it is
no harm to rejoice that we are at friendship with heaven. But the
worst of it is that some of us are never really happy at the
thought of our own virtues till we are quite miserable over our
neighbor's wickedness; and when we say with our lips, How wicked
So-and-So is! our heart whispers, And how good I am!
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The spirit of correction possesses many good people--a spirit
commonly the sign of hidden pride. No sooner do we take the first
steps in amendment of life than we are divided between rejoicing
in our own goodness and lamenting over other folk's vice. I know
not what we good people should do for something to talk about
were it not for our neighbor's shortcomings.
Brethren, this vanity is very foolish and very dangerous. Who
dare say that he has nothing to fear from the judgments of God?
Who can count himself safe so much as one day from his own
natural feebleness, or from the wiles of Satan, or from human
respect? And if we do rightly trust in God's favor, how can we
forget that progress in virtue is a necessary condition of our
remaining virtuous at all? Now this progress means simply a right
knowledge of our remaining defects and a solid purpose to
overcome them; something with which the vice of the Pharisee is
quite incompatible. Nothing so blinds us to our own little faults
as too much regard for our neighbor's big ones. Doubtless it
would have been just as difficult for the Pharisee to correct his
harshness of voice, or his lofty bearing, or his patronizing airs
as to overcome his great sin of pride itself; and such is the
case with many of us. The beam in our neighbor's eye looks so
shocking that we quite forget that we have quite a squint in our
own eye from various little motes in it.
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Be certain, therefore, brethren, that, if you find hard feelings
in your heart toward sinners, you have no long journey to make
before you discover the capital sin of pride in your own. Why can
we not leave judgment to God, and treat poor sinners after our
Lord's example, praying and suffering for them? I do not mean to
say that we should forget to mention to them the awful
chastisements of God; indeed, a truer friend does not exist than
one who warns us of our future destruction, and some, such as
parents, are in duty bound to give such admonition. But in the
treatment of moral maladies we should bear in mind that bitter
words and harsh looks spoil good medicine. And especially should
we bear in mind that we have had our own wicked days.
Let us, therefore, regard sinners with much tenderness, dropping
out of our view while we deal with them our own darling selves.
Let us realize that we ourselves are poor souls, quite capable,
but for God's singular favor, of falling into the worst state of
sinfulness.
-------------------
Sermon CIX.
Morning Prayers.
_Two men went up into the temple to pray._
--From the Gospel of the Sunday.
The lesson of this day's Gospel, my brethren, is prayer; its
necessity and its humility. Our short sermon must be contented
with a little corner of this great field--that is to say, morning
prayers.
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Suppose that your child is sick, what is your first word in the
morning? It is, How is the baby this morning? Then follows much
more: I think it is a little better to-day; it seems easier; or
it passed a bad night; I hope the day will be cool, for it
suffers from heat. So, anxiety for your poor little child
consecrates your first thoughts and words to its welfare. And do
you not know that your poor soul is either sick or runs the risk
of catching a deadly sickness every day you live? There are bad
sights on the streets that tend to sicken it; there are snares of
the devil, such as cursing and foul-talking companions, bad
reading and saloons; there is a spiritual cancer within--I mean
the temptation of the flesh--which can only be kept from
destroying the soul's life by constant and severe treatment. Now,
thoughts and words do your sick child little good; but they are
the very best things for the soul, especially early in the
morning. The man or woman who kneels down and says the morning
prayer guards against temptation, heads off the noon-day demon,
and provides that happiest of evenings, that is to say, the one
which follows an innocent day.
There's a saying against braggarts and promise-breakers that
"fine words butter no parsnips." It is not true of words said in
charity to our neighbor or in prayer to God. Sincere words
addressed to God as the day begins sweeten every morsel of food
the livelong day, lighten every burden and weaken every
temptation. Why, then, are you so careless about morning prayers?
It can only be because you do not appreciate your spiritual
weakness or you do not care what becomes of your soul before
bedtime. But somebody might say: Father, can't you tell us
something to make the morning prayers easy? It is very hard to
remember them, and then it is so pleasant to get even five
minutes more sleep, especially in the winter time; and, again, I
am always in a hurry to get off to work, etc.
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Now you might as well ask me to tell you something to make you
relish a good wash and a clean shirt. If a man does not hate
dirt, it is preaching up the chimney to try to make him love to
be clean. Prayer cleans the heart. Prayer clothes the soul with
the grace of God. Prayer brings down God. Prayer drives away the
devil. Or, I might rather say, that for a clean heart, and in
order to get the grace of God, and in order to vanquish
temptation, prayer is simply and indispensably necessary.
Once a man came to me and said: Father, for years I was addicted
to habitual vice of the worst kind (and here he named a fearful
sin), but I began some time ago to say the Litany of the Blessed
Virgin every morning and the Litany of Jesus every night, and
this practice has entirely cured me of that dreadful habit. Some
such story as that, my brethren, every man must tell before he
can say that he is delivered from sin.
For my own part, I look upon regular morning prayers as a plain
mark of predestination to eternal life. "Ask and you shall
receive; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to
you," is our Lord's promise to those that pray; and the best
prayer is the morning prayer. Be ready, therefore, to correct
yourself for omitting it. The day you forget it go without
something you like to eat, put a nickel in the poor-box, double
up your night prayers, make a special request to your guardian
angel to get you up in good time for morning prayer the following
morning. For the "Our Father," "Hail Mary," "Apostles Creed,"
"Confiteor," and Acts of Faith, Hope, Sorrow, and Charity, that
you say in the morning will in the end give you a happy death and
the kingdom of heaven.
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Sermon CX.
Feast Of St. Mary Magdalen.
_Many sins are forgiven her,
because she loved much._
--Gospel of the Day.
My dear brethren, no one who has faith can fail to be more or
less anxious as to whether he will in the end save his soul. We
all know that our faith alone will not save us; that faith, as
St. James tells us, without works is dead. And we know that
everything depends on the last moment; that as the tree falls, so
will it lie for all eternity. So we tremble to think that perhaps
that last moment will find us with our sins unforgiven, and all
unprepared to meet our Judge; and that, in spite of our having
borne the name of Christ, we may be then cast away from his
presence into the outer darkness for ever.
Some people, I know, have a very simple way of reassuring
themselves about this all-important matter. They think that, of
course, when they come to die they will send for the priest;
then, if he gets there in time, of course there can be no
question about their salvation. And even if he does not, perhaps
they would not altogether despair; certainly their friends will
not despair of them. God, they think, will not utterly cast off
those who have always believed in him; their prayers and those of
their friends will certainly obtain them a place in purgatory,
and at last they will save their souls, at least by fire.
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But, after all, do not even the most confident of us sometimes
have a fear that even the last sacraments may not make our
salvation absolutely sure? The last sacraments are not so very
different from the others we have received before; and do we
always feel fully prepared to die after every Communion which we
make? No, there is a haunting fear that something is not right
which pursues us even at the altar-rail; we would give much if we
could only do something which would take it away altogether.
Let us not be troubled because we have this fear; it is better
not to be entirely free from it; above all, let us not stay away
from the sacraments because we have it. If we stay away in any
case except that of known and certain mortal sin which is not
forgiven, we shall only make matters worse. But still this fear
is generally a sign of something wrong; it does not altogether
come from humility, or from the desire of salvation. It comes
from a want of something which we ought to have; from a want of
the greatest of all virtues, of that which includes all others,
and brings all others with it--from a want of the love of God.
Not an entire want of it, but a want of strength in it, a want of
affection; a want of that feeling which we have for our friends,
and which, above all, we should have for the greatest and best of
all.
Yes, perfect love, as St. John tells us, casts out fear. It is
the short cut out of all these worries, difficulties, and
anxieties which all who are not hardened sinners must have
without it. It was the direct and simple road which St. Mary
Magdalen took in escaping from sin.
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She followed the Friend of sinners as he went on his mission of
mercy; she saw the miracles of his power and goodness; she saw
the love for men which shone in his face and inspired his every
word and action, and her heart was touched and melted. She took
it away at once and for ever from all those vain things to which
it had been attached and gave it truly and entirely to him who
had made it, and who had come in sorrow and suffering to win back
his own. And her many sins were forgiven because she loved much;
because all the powers of earth and of hell cannot put an
obstacle between God and the soul that loves him as he should be
loved.
If we would only do as she did; if we would put away all these
bargainings about just how much we are bound to give to God, and
how much we can safely keep for ourselves; if we would love him
as she did, not with a mere passing sentiment, but with that
devotion and self-sacrificing affection which it is so easy
sometimes to give to a mere creature; if we would let him, as he
wishes, into our hearts as our dearest and best, and make
everything else give place, then fear would pass away, and we
should say, "Let God take me when he will; let me suffer what my
sins deserve, but surely he will not keep me from loving him."
Yes, my brethren, to love God is the one thing necessary; to love
him is to save our souls.
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_Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost._
Epistle.
1 _Corinthians xv._ 1-10.