Produced by Don Kostuch
[Transcriber's notes: This production is based on
https://archive.org/details/sermonsofstpaul06unknuoft/page/n6
Many footnotes have additional citations indicated by "USCCB",
based on the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops Bible
found at http://usccb.org/bible/books-of-the-bible. Most
differences appear to be typographical errors not detected in
proofreading or minor changes in verse numbering. Quotes from
the book of Sirach were attributed to Ecclesiasticus.
Double underscores are used to indicate text that is both
bolded and italicized, e.g. __bolded italics__.
End of Transcriber's notes.]
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Sermons By The
Fathers Of The Congregation Of
St. Paul The Apostle,
__New York__
Volume VI.
New York:
The Catholic Publication House,
9 Warren Street.
Boston: Patrick Donahoe.
Baltimore: John Murphy & Co.
1871.
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Entered, according to Act of Congress,
in the year 1871, by
Rev. I. T. Hecker,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress,
at Washington, D. C.
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Preface.
The publication of another volume of Sermons by the Fathers of
the Congregation of St. Paul the Apostle, is due to the
encouragement already given by the extensive sale of the former
ones; and to the frequent solicitations for the continuance of
their publication kindly made by many of the Reverend Clergy, at
home and abroad.
St. Paul's, Fifty-ninth Street, New York,
__Feast of St. John of the Cross,__ 1871.
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Contents.
Sermon I.
Remembrance Of Mercies.
__Isaiah__ lxiii. 7.
"__I will remember the tender mercies of the Lord,
the praise of the Lord for all the things
that the Lord hath bestowed upon us__."
Page 15
Sermon II.
The Three Gifts Of The Magi.
__St. Matt.__ ii. 11.
"__And going into the house,
they found the child with Mary His mother:
and falling down, they adored Him:
and opening their treasures,
they offered to Him gifts;
gold, frankincense, and myrrh__."
Page 32
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Sermon III.
How To Pass A Good Lent.
2 __Cor__. vi. 2.
"__Behold, now is the acceptable time;
behold, now is the day of salvation__,"
Page 42
Sermon IV.
Pretended And Real Christians.
2 __Cor__. vi. 1.
"__And we do exhort you that you receive
not the grace of God in vain__,"
Page 56
Sermon V.
The Sins And Miseries Of The Dram-seller.
__Habacuc__ ii. 15.
"__Woe to him that giveth drink to his friend,
and presenteth his gall, and maketh him drunk__."
Page 69
Sermon VI.
Communion With Jesus.
__St. John__ vi. 57.
[USCCB: John vi. 56.]
"__He that eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood
abideth in Me, and I in him__."
Page 89
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Sermon VII.
The Holy Ghost, The Comforter.
__St. John__ XIV. 16.
"__I will ask the Father,
and He will give you another Comforter,
that He may abide with you for ever__."
Page 104
Sermon VIII.
The Duty Of Upholding
The Pope's Temporal Sovereignty.
__Zach__. vi. 13.
"__He shall bear the glory,
and shall sit and rule upon his throne;
and he shall be a Priest upon his throne__,"
Page 122
Sermon IX.
The Living God.
__Jer__. x. 10.
"__The Lord is the true God:
He is the living God__."
Page 141
Sermon X.
The Real Presence.
__St. Matt__. i. 23.
"__They shall call His name Emmanuel,
which, being interpreted, is God with us__."
Page 155
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Sermon XI.
St. Paul, The Divine Orator.
2 __Cor__. xii. 9.
"__Gladly, therefore, will I glory in my infirmities,
that the power of Christ may dwell in me__."
Page 169
Sermon XII.
The Value Of Faith.
I __Cor__. xvi. 13.
"__Watch ye; stand fast in the faith;
do manfully, and be strengthened__."
Page 183
Sermon XIII
The Supremacy Of St. Peter.
__St. Matt__. xvi. 18.
"__And I say to thee: That thou art Peter;
and upon this Rock I will build My Church__."
Page 195
Sermon XIV.
The Roman Pontiffs
The Successors Of St. Peter.
__St. Matt.__ xvi. 18.
"__And I say to thee: That thou art Peter;
and upon this Rock I will build My Church__,"
Page 214
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Sermon XV
The Thought Of Heaven.
__Heb__. iv. 9.
"__There remaineth therefore
a rest for the people of God__."
Page 230
Sermon XVI.
The Clergy
The Teachers Of The People.
__St. Matt.__ vii. 15.
"__Beware of false prophets,
who come to you in sheep's clothing,
but inwardly they are ravening wolves__."
Page 244
Sermon XVII.
Humility In Prayer.
__St. Luke__ xviii. 13.
"__O God, be merciful to me, a sinner__,"
Page 255
Sermon XVIII.
Preparation For A Good Death.
__Isaiah__ xxxviii. 1.
"__Put thy house in order,
for thou shalt die, and not live__."
Page 269
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Sermon XIX.
The King's Marriage Feast.
__St. Matt__. xxii. 14.
"__For many are called,
but few are chosen__."
Page 283
Sermon XX.
Good Use Of Sickness.
__Ecclesiasticus__ xxxviii. 9.
[USCCB: Sirach xxxviii. 9.]
"My son, in thy sickness neglect not thy self,
but pray to the Lord, and He shall heal thee."
Page 292
Sermon XXI.
Thoughts For Advent.
__Philippians__ iv. 8.
"__For the rest, brethren,
whatsoever things are true,
whatsoever things are modest,
whatsoever things are just,
whatsoever things are holy,
whatsoever things are amiable,
whatsoever things are of good repute;
if there be any virtue,
if there be any praise of discipline,
think on these things__."
Page 306
Sermon XXII.
Fraternal Charity.
I __Epistle St. John__ ii. 10.
"__He that loveth his brother
abideth in the light,
and there is no scandal in him.__"
Page 322
-----------------------------
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Sermon I.
Remembrance Of Mercies.
(For New Year's Day.)
Isaiah lxiii. 7.
"I will remember the tender mercies of the Lord,
the praise of the Lord for all the things that
the Lord hath bestowed upon us."
In the midst of our mutual congratulations at a time like this,
whilst we are wishing a happy future year to those we love, we
cannot wholly forget the year that is past, and all that it
brought to us for good or evil. I would not, my dear brethren,
cast a shadow upon the bright pathway of our hopes; I would not
dampen in the least the ardor with which we joyfully set out upon
another year's journey of life. May it be as happy in its
realization as we could wish it to be! But I fear for the future
happiness of him who forgets the happiness of the past. The
anticipated joy of life yet to be lived is linked with those
other joys that are past--joys over blessings whose richest fruit
should be the lessons of experience they have taught us.
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Would we like to enter upon a new year wholly ignorant of the
past one? I think not. We have learned many things while it has
been passing--lessons of wisdom upon which we rely to make the
future better and happier. Much there may have been to regret.
Alas! how much for some of us; but the remembrance of even that
shall be good for us. There are many of the same stones lying in
the roadway ahead of us that we stumbled upon last year. Now we
shall not come upon them unawares. There are many of the same
beautiful but poisonous flowers growing in the valleys of repose
where we shall stop to linger for a while, as we did in days gone
by. We shall recognize them, and the beauty that deceived us
before shall not deceive us again.
Blessed is the man who remembers. But there is so much good to
remember! And in that remembrance so much to make the heart
thoughtful, cheerful, and hopeful. It is this thought which I
wish you, my brethren, this morning to reflect upon: the duty and
pleasure of remembering the mercies of God--His __tender__
mercies, as the prophet so aptly calls them.
It has always been a wonder to me how soon we forget benefits
conferred upon us. It is too true. The joy we had when the gifts
were new wasted itself away as quickly as music melts upon the
air.
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The keen sense of grateful love toward the giver grows dull, and
passes into indifference, before the treasure is spent or the
beauty of the gem is tarnished. Drink to the health of your
friend and praise his bounty, if you will, but have a care--
ingratitude and forgetfulness are the last drops which lie at the
bottom of the cup. And we treat God no better, if as well as we
treat men. His gifts are such as man could never give, and given
with a depth of love as unfathomable as the mystery of His own
being and divine life. And yet we can forget! Oh! why is it? Did
He who made the human heart make it ungrateful? Did He who so
loves us make those He loves selfish? Did He who has said, "Son,
give me thy heart," ask for a corrupt and treacherous heart? Such
a thought may become that gloomy religion which thinks to exalt
God by debasing His creatures; but it is not so that we have
learned Him. No, this cannot be. It cannot be that the heart of
man is naturally ungrateful, or is unmindful of good for which it
is debtor; that by virtue of its very nature it is selfish toward
man, and treacherous to God. He who made us has not made us to be
of necessity the very opposite of what He wishes us to be. What
explains this cold forgetfulness, this heartless indifference,
that steals over us so soon? There is but one explanation. Love
and gratitude must have a test.
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The words of thankfulness, the pressure of the hand, the look of
the eyes and the aspirations of the heart which are forced from
us in the first flush of happiness when the gifts are showered at
our feet, are all good and just testimonies--but they are not
enough. Gratitude and love must have the true test of merit, and
that is endurance. There must be freedom to forget, that the
false be distinguished from the true. That we claim this enduring
memory at the hands of others, and are disappointed if it is
otherwise, is a proof not only that such a test is naturally
called for, but that we at the same time deem it possible. How
many gifts pass from hand to hand during this season of
rejoicing, with the words--Remember me! God Himself bestows His
most Precious Gift to man with the same request, "Do this in
remembrance of Me." Yes, now we understand it. The true heart
will remember; the false one will forget. The faithful soul
delights in cherishing a lively remembrance of benefits received;
and the further back in the past the moment lies that saw our
brows crowned with the tokens of love, the sweeter and more
tender become the memories of them. Judge by this test, my
brethren, if you have a true heart to God. Oh! the deep meaning
of the prophet's words, "I will remember the __tender__
mercies of the Lord." Time is a refiner of the thoughts.
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The love of the gift itself, the mere sensual complacency in its
enjoyment is mixed up in the beginning with the thankfulness we
feel for its bestowal. But time will wear off that dross, and
only the pure gold of the heart's gratitude will be left. It is
not the love of the gift that need last. We do not care for that,
neither does God. But we and God want the love of the giver to
remain, and the giving of our gift, that act by which we tried to
prove our love, not to be forgotten.
Look back, my brethren, look back. What does your memory tell you
of His gifts whose mercy has followed you all the days of your
life, whose hands have been stretched forth full of new blessings
every morning? Here it might become me to enumerate some of these
gifts, but where would I begin, or where could I end? Besides, it
is you who ought to remember, and remember well. You must have a
cold heart if you can forget.
You see, my brethren, what I desire by these words. I wish you to
know whether you are grateful to God or not, to that God who has
so loved us and crowned us with mercy and loving kindness. At a
time like this, when you are asking others to remember you, and
when you are thinking of all the dear old friends you have had in
bygone years, and of the sweet mementos that came from their
hands or were spoken by their lips, I would compel you to see if
you have remembered the oldest, the best Friend of all.
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Alas! if you must say--He has been the last and the least in my
thoughts. That would be sad to hear, and, above all, from the
lips of those who, by their very faith, with all its blessed
consolations, live so near to God.
If there be any by whom God wishes to be remembered, and His
mercies brought to mind, it is by us who are His chosen people. I
know God loves all men, and more than we can imagine; but there
can be little doubt that those whom He has so honored as to make
them the brethren of His Only Son, Jesus Christ, upon whom He has
bestowed the inestimable gift of the Catholic faith, are the
objects of His special affection.
Oh! it is a great thing to be one of the household of faith! That
is one of those tender mercies the very thought of which should
make our heart bound in our bosom. Sweet and ever present, dear
Catholic brethren, should be the memory of the day of your
baptism, the day when you crossed the threshold of God's own
home, the Church, and there became His child. You know well what
light has beamed upon your pathway in life ever since. You know
what fountains of refreshment have sprung up to satisfy your
thirsty soul. When you contrast your own knowledge of religion,
and peace in it, with the ignorance and restless distrust of the
blinded world without, then you know how truly wise God has made
you.
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It is true for all who own the Catholic name, but what a
__tender__ mercy is that to be ever cherished in the heart of
a convert!
O day of joy to remember!--proud, loving, humble joy like that
which stirred the heart of Mary when the words broke forth in
tumultuous rapture from her sacred lips, "My soul doth magnify
the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God, my Saviour. For He
that is mighty hath done great things unto me, and holy is His
name." O day of peace to remember!--peace like that which fills
the soul of the wanderer upon whose longing sight breaks the
vision of his native shore, when, with hands outstretched, as if
to embrace the dear land, and in a voice choked with emotion, he
murmurs--Home at last! O day of freedom to remember! Freed is the
caged bird that beat its wings against bars more cruel than
iron--freedom that says to the soul, Fly, for between thee and
God no hand shall be found to stop thee. Cleave the skies with
thy wings, and go sing at the gates of Paradise, and thou shalt
hear the voices of angels responding to thy notes of happiness
from within. And who has done all this? O kind God! it is Thou.
It is Thou who hast regarded the humility of Thy servant. Let all
generations call me too blessed from henceforth; for Thou, even
Thou, hast also blessed me. Te Deum Laudamus!
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But it behooves us to ask ourselves the questions--What it is to
remember God's mercies, and who are they that do it.
He who does not prize the Christmas or the New Year's gift
(however humble may be the offering) for the sake of the giver,
has already forgotten it. Here is something that God has too good
reason to complain of us. We do not make much of His gifts, as we
ought. We receive them, perhaps after many prayers. Prosperity
smiles upon us, temptations lose their power, our sins are
forgiven, the impending calamity is averted, death departs from
our doors, our wishes are granted a thousand times beyond our
expectations, and now that the blessing has come, does it look
much in our eyes? Does it seem to us, as it is, a great thing--a
precious gift? We are proud to display the gifts of friends. Oh!
who is proud of the gifts of God? We plume ourselves upon our
success, and glorify creatures for their aid, but too often God
complains of us, as He complained of His ungrateful people of
old, "They were filled, and were made full; and they lifted up
their heart, and have forgotten me." [Footnote 1]
[Footnote 1: Osec xiii. 6.]
[USCCB: Hosea xiii. 6.]
{23}
But He has not to complain of all. There are some who recognize
the source of their blessings, who wonder, in their humble,
grateful hearts, that One so high could stoop to one so low. "My
friends tell me," said a recent convert, "that I never looked so
bright and happy in my life. They think it is on account of a
piece of good news I have heard; but it is not that. I am all the
time thinking how good our dear Lord has been to me. After so
many years, to be permitted to come to Him, seems almost too
great happiness for __me__." There is a soul remembering the
tender mercies of the Lord. "Too great happiness for __me__."
Such ought to be the expression of all our hearts at the thought
of the very least of God's gracious gifts. A bunch of withered
flowers stood upon a table near the foot of the bed of a poor,
dying woman. The flowers were many days faded and scentless, yet
every morning fresh water was brought to fill the old cracked
china vase (the best in the cottage) that held them. "I love to
have them there," she would say, "where I can see them, for they
were brought to me by __him__, and they shall be laid upon my
breast when I am gone to God." "By __him!__" No need to tell
the name. It was like the supplication of Mary Magdalen, "If thou
hast taken Him away, tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will
go and take Him away."
{24}
He who brought those flowers in his hand brought her also the
holy sacraments of the dying, and was often at her bedside during
her long illness. She loved him with that tender, holy, and
trusting love which so enchains the hearts of the Catholic poor
to their "dear priest." And the gift had come from him. That, was
enough. To her the dry, withered stems were daily strengthened by
the freshly brought water, the shrivelled flowers looked bright,
and shed their fragrance still around the poor chamber. Not to
her senses. No; but to her soul. Why should they not? Other
flowers might not: but these--"these were brought by
__him__." Oh! when the heart remembers, how priceless becomes
the gift, what shining beauty adorns it, what magic charms does
it not possess!
Thus, beloved brethren, let our hearts remember God for His
manifold mercies. They come from Him. They come from the Best,
the Holiest, the Truest, the Everlasting Friend. But I speak in
vain if you do not understand me. If the Giver is not all that
and more to you, never will His gifts be in your eyes as precious
and as dear as they should be, and not long will you remember
them. It is the question of the Psalmist, "Who is wise, and will
keep these things in mind, and will understand the mercies of the
Lord?" [Footnote 2]
[Footnote 2: Ps. cvi. 43.]
[USCCB: Psalms cvii. 43.]
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To remember the mercies of God is to make good use of them. To
what end has he blessed us with the gift of faith? That it should
simply distinguish us from those who do not possess it, and to
lie idle and fruitless in our soul? Vain ornament, indeed, that
honors neither the giver nor him who receives it. You are a
Catholic in name, and you do not forget it. Is it enough to
remember that? Oh! answer God to-day. Do you remember when Sunday
morning comes, and the priest is ascending the altar, that you
are a Catholic, and where a Catholic should be found then? Do you
remember when the Church is calling her children to the
confession of their sins, and to the Holy Communion at the joyful
Easter time, that you are a Catholic, and what it behooves a
Catholic to do then? Do you remember when obscene and blasphemous
language is used in your presence that you are a Catholic, and
think what part a Catholic should take in that? Tell me, can you
lift your heart to Him to-day, and say in truth--My God, Thou
knowest that I have not forgotten Thee? "I have chosen the way of
truth: Thy judgments I have not forgotten." [Footnote 3]
[Footnote 3: Ps. cxviii. 30.]
[USCCB: Ps. cxix. 30; "The way of loyalty I have chosen;
I have set your edicts before me."]
{26}
You got over that illness. I know that you said, "If God spares
my life, I will be a changed man--I will be an altered woman. No
more will I be seen staggering in drunkenness. No longer will I
keep a grog-shop, and stain my hands with the hard-earned and
wickedly-squandered money of my neighbor--blood-money, cursed by
the cries of the brutally treated wife and the moans of the
naked, starved children. No longer will I be a nominal Catholic,
a standing scandal to unbelievers, and damning my own soul by my
criminal neglect of God and contempt of His Holy Church. I will
give up all that spite and malice in my heart, and go and be
reconciled with those who have injured me for the sake of Him who
said, 'Forgive, and you shall be forgiven.'" Do you remember all
that? Yes; but what avails such a heartless remembrance as yours
has been? Even He has reminded you of your promise and of His
mercy from time to time, as He now again reminds you by my mouth.
Oh! mock Him not. Better, far better, would it be had you wholly
forgotten both promise and mercy. It would not be generous, I
allow; but now you are false and treacherous, for the mercy was
granted, but the promise remains unfulfilled.
In the sorrow of your stricken spirit, and with the grievous
burden of sin lying heavy upon you, your guardian angel took you
one day, trembling, anxious, fearful, harassed by the stings of
remorse, to the confessional.
{27}
There you poured out your griefs, and told all the shameful
guilt--griefs that seemed eternal, and guilt that no oceans might
wash away. And yet, O tender mercy of God! down falls the veil of
darkness, and your soul is bathed in light. You, who a moment ago
were stumbling in despair at the portals of hell, are now
standing before the gates of heaven. You, who had that in your
soul which almost drove you to madness, now are in such peace
that words fail you, and you weep for very joy. Yes, of a truth
God has been very merciful, tenderly merciful to you. Ah! what
would you not then do for God--what sacrifices would you not
make--what life long resolutions were you not ready to form! Do
you not remember? Ah, yes! now I remind you of it. But how long
did you remember it to any profit to yourself or praise to God?
And tell me, how now? What of your present remembrance? An East
Indian having been shown all about the beautiful city of Paris,
through its royal palaces, its galleries of art, its
manufactories of wondrous scientific and mechanical instruments,
manifested, it was observed, but little enthusiasm. The Indian
was too proud to show any emotion at sight of the works of
strangers. One day he was taken to the Jardin des Plantes, where
are cultivated trees, shrubs, and flowers of every clime.
{28}
Suddenly he stopped short before a tropical tree, fell upon his
knees, clasped it lovingly and kissed it, and, as the tears
flowed fast down his swarthy cheek, cried out, in his own
language, "O tree of my own land! O tree of my own native land,
so far away! Let us go back home again."
There are some of you, my brethren, to whom I have shown the
picture of a mercy you cannot but remember well. How does the
sight of it affect you? Are you moved with that deep emotion such
a memory should awaken? Do you hug the memory of that hour of
peace to your bosom, and does your heart cry out, "O tender mercy
of my God! O sweet hour of peace now so far away! Let me go back
to thee again!" Blessed remembrance, as happy for yourself as it
is dear to God. You are wise because you keep these things in
mind, and have understood the mercies of the Lord, and the praise
of the Lord for all the things He hath bestowed upon you.
But can you look at it with indifference, seeing there nothing to
stir the depths of your soul, nothing to call forth a grateful
aspiration from your breast? Then I think of that uncivilized
Indian, and must say: He loved his country better than you love
God. He was quick to remember __that__; you have been quick to
forget __Him__.
{29}
I am not asking too much, my brethren, am I? I am not forcing
upon your notice a subject out of place at this joyous season, am
I? When the absent one returns to the old homestead to spend the
Christmas holidays, you who have been the kindest to him, the
most lavish in your gifts--you who have been sending him time and
again sweet tokens of __your__ remembrance--you do not look
for him to think the last about __you__. Oh! no. You are
tempted to hide yourself in sport before he has seen you, that
you may enjoy listening to his anxious and hurried questions
about __you__, and his wondering where __you__ are, and a
thousand eager expressions, which show that he has been thinking
about the pleasant meeting he would have with __you__ all the
way home, and that his joy is not full till he can run into your
embrace. Oh! his every question almost drags you out from your
hiding-place. But suppose you listen in vain for the mention of
your name; that in the midst of his joyous congratulations and
happy wishes he does not ask where __you__ are, and evinces by
no sign that in your absence anything is wanting to him. Oh! the
ugly pain at your heart as you steal away to your chamber,
unwilling now to be seen, hurt by his forgetfulness, and stung to
the very quick by his silent ingratitude.
{30}
Brethren, I am speaking for God; for the best Friend, who of all
must be the nearest and dearest, and the first in your thoughts.
Looking down from His throne in heaven, he watches, to see who
have been making preparations to meet Him; who are renewing at
this time their grateful remembrances of Him. Ah! there are some
who remember, and they have already gathered about His holy
Table, and feasted at His heavenly banquet. Though no earthly
friends may have been kind or thoughtful enough to send them a
holiday present, they have still had a Merry Christmas and a
Happy New Year's for all that. They have met the Friend of all
friends with the kiss of peace and the embrace of welcome, and
that has been more than enough.
But there are some who never said a word about Him, never thought
of Him, never remembered all He had done for them. Nay, there are
some who never came at all. Not that __He__ forgot to invite
them, not that He neglected to prepare His Christmas feast. No.
He is the Friend who never forgets. What shall I say? Does God
not feel that heartless coldness and neglect of theirs? Oh! the
sad, tender, complaining reproaches of Good Friday are heard in
heaven at Christmas. "My people, what have I done unto thee, or
in what have I grieved thee? Answer me." "Put me in remembrance,"
as he said to his people of old, "and let us plead together. Tell
me if thou hast anything to justify thyself."
{31}
Yes, answer Him, you of whom He is speaking. Answer to that God
who has never wearied of heaping blessing after blessing and
mercy after mercy upon your head. Tell Him what He has done to
you that you have forgotten Him. Too well you know, however, that
in Him you shall find nothing to accuse.
So, then, let us rather turn to the exciting in our hearts a
lively remembrance of His manifold mercies, and to make that
memory to good purpose. Let us seek to know, if possible, why God
has so blessed us; what object He had in view; what He expected
of us; what promises we made when we received them, and now
resolve that He shall be no longer disappointed in the fruits He
looked for from them. It will help us to acquire that spirit of
humble gratitude which so enlarges the heart, and helps us to do
great and generous things for God. With the Psalmist, then, let
us say, "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and never forget all that He
hath done for thee. Who forgiveth all thine iniquities: who
healeth all thy diseases. Who redeemeth thy life from
destruction, and crowneth thee with mercy and compassion."
[Footnote 4] So shall the New Year begin with praise and
thanksgiving, to end with blessings new and better than the last.
[Footnote 4: Ps. cii. 2-4.]
[USCCB: Ps. ciii. 2-4.]
-------------------
{32}
Sermon II.
The Three Gifts Of The Magi.
(For The Feast of The Epiphany.)
St. Matthew ii. 11.
"__And going into the house, they found
the child with Mary his mother: and
falling down, they adored him: and
opening their treasures, they offered
to him gifts; gold, frankincense, and myrrh__."
These wise men, who are supposed by many to have been kings, were
led by the appearance of the miraculous star in the heavens, and
the secret inspirations of the Holy Ghost, to Bethlehem, in order
to find out and adore the Child who was born king of the Jews.
After a long search, they found Him, lying in a manger, and, in
spite of the poverty and the straw, they recognized in Him the
King of souls, the Creator of heaven and earth. With a deep faith
they adored Him, and, opening their treasures, offered to Him
gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
{33}
And we are all, in like manner, drawn to do the same thing. The
light of faith directs us to the poor stable of Bethlehem, where
we behold the Lord of Glory disguised in the form of an infant,
and it becomes us also to offer Him our treasures of gold,
frankincense, and myrrh.
And, first, what is the pure gold which is acceptable to our God
and Creator? By gold is understood charity or the love of our
God. And by this charity is understood the pure intention of
pleasing God by which we should be governed in all our works. The
love of God does not essentially consist in a tender feeling of
affection or in a sensible devotion of tears, which we are not
always able to elicit, much as we might desire it, but in a good
and pure intention. That this is so should be a great consolation
and encouragement to us. We have no right to say, as many do, "I
cannot love God," for this is an untruth. It lies in every one's
power to love Him, if he only desires sincerely to do so. We
might say with truth--My heart is cold, and I am grieved because
I cannot experience that warm love of God which I desire so much;
but I would reply to all such--Set your fears at rest; make a
good intention to please and love God to the best of your
ability, and you have, at once, the real, true, and solid love of
Him which will bring you by the shortest route to the kingdom of
heaven.
{34}
It is related that one of the old heathen kings had an avarice so
great that he desired that all he touched might be turned into
gold. His request being granted, he perished of hunger. Avarice
for spiritual treasures has no such evil effect. On the contrary,
our Lord says, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after
justice, for they shall be filled." Now I wish that, in like
manner, what ever you touch with your hearts--that is, what ever
you long for or desire--might, by a good intention, be turned
into the gold of the purest charity. Our Saviour has said, You
cannot so much as give a cup of cold water in My Name--that is,
with a good intention--without receiving a reward for it. The
treasures of grace and merit lie in immense heaps all around us,
and we can help ourselves. Whatever we do, then, let us do it in
the name of the Lord, following out the injunction of St. Paul,
"Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatsoever else you do,
do all things for the glory of God." [Footnote 5] I hope, then,
you will all, on this blessed festival, determine to direct all
your thoughts, words, and actions to the glory of God to the very
best of your ability, and thus open your treasures, and offer to
the Infant Jesus lying on the straw a great heap of pure, bright
gold.
[Footnote 5: I Cor. x. 31.]
{35}
The wise men of the East offered not gold only, but also
frankincense. What does this signify? It means devotion. You have
often seen incense put into the censer at High Mass or Vespers,
and the smoke from it immediately arise straight upwards. It is a
figure of the prayers and burning wishes of the soul ascending up
to heaven. The Scripture says: "And another angel came, and stood
before the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given to
him much incense, that he should offer of the prayers of all
saints upon the golden altar, which is before the throne of God:
and the smoke of the incense of the prayers of the saints
ascended up before God, from the hand of the angel." [Footnote 6]
[Footnote 6: Apoc. viii. 3, 4.]
[USCCB: Revelation viii. 3, 4.]
The act of true prayer or adoration by which we acknowledge, with
our whole heart the infinite mystery of God and His complete
dominion over us, our own entire nothingness of ourselves without
Him, and by which we declare and protest that we desire nothing
else but that He should govern us and dispose of us and all our
affairs as He pleases--this is the highest and noblest act of
our own reason. For what could we do so real and true as this?
How could we realize in a better way the simplest and at the same
time the most sublime of all truths? Our prayers ought to go up
from our hearts as from a censer which contains a fire that no
created thing is able to put out. The smoke of it should
continually arise, and all we do should be done in the way of a
prayer and supplication to our Last End and Chief Good.
{36}
Alas! we have incense enough to offer to idols. We swing the
censer to wealth, honors, and pleasures; we bow the knee, and
worship houses, and lands, and cattle, and fine clothes, and
sumptuous fare, and sell our very souls for a few pieces of gold;
but we have but little incense for God--no pure and sincere
homage for Him, the eternal, uncreated Source of all our good.
And when you offer the incense of your adoration to God, offer
pure and clear incense. Do not mix with the frankincense resin or
other foul-smelling drugs. And what are they? Those desires of
the heart by which you cling to the creatures of earth with a
passionate eagerness. Clear your heart of such desires, so that
you may say, "My God and my all." "My God, if I possess Thee and
lack all else, I am rich in deed." "If I have the whole world,
and all it contains, and have not Thee, I am poor, and blind, and
miserable, and naked." Then will your prayer arise as a sweet
odor from the golden altar before the throne of God, and in
numerable blessings descend upon you, not only for eternity, but
even in this present life.
{37}
Offer frankincense, or you will have no gold to offer. When you
open your treasures, if there is not plenty of incense--that is,
prayer--you will find the chest, in which you thought there was
much gold, to be empty. For without prayer there is no charity or
love of God. Prayer is the food by which you nourish and keep
charity alive and on the increase. Prayer is the capital in trade
by which you are to make your fortune in the charity of God to
enrich you for eternity.
And having offered your gold and frankincense, do not forget the
myrrh. And what is signified by myrrh? It means self-denial, or,
as it is more commonly called, mortification. I wish we all
understood the value of self-denial better than we do, because
nearly all the miseries which afflict the soul come from the fact
that we do not deny ourselves as much as we ought. We give the
reins to our natural desires and inclinations, and they run away
with us. Just as if we were driving a span of spirited horses,
and instead of putting a curb-bit upon them and holding them in,
we should throw the reins down upon their necks and let them go
without restraint. When they once begin to go fast, they break
into a headlong race, and never stop until they have dashed
everything in pieces. Thus we let our desires for amusement and
pleasure run away with us, until we find our pious resolutions
and the spirit of devotion entirely gone, and drowned in the sea
of forgetfulness.
{38}
How can we love God if we be absorbed in a love of good eating
and drinking? Can God come and take up His abode in a soul which
occupies itself and is taken up with the satisfaction of
sumptuous fare, rich meats, and choice wines or liquors. Such
souls are vividly described in Holy Scripture: "For many walk, of
whom I have told you often (and now tell you weeping) that they
are enemies of the cross of Christ; whose end is destruction;
whose God is their belly; and whose glory is in their shame; who
mind earthly things." [Footnote 7]
[Footnote 7: Philip., iii. 18, 19.]
How can God give Himself to the man who is absorbed in
money-making and heaping up possessions? It is impossible for
such a soul to enjoy the presence of God. Neither can He divide
the empire of the soul with worldly honors, nor even with a
passionate human love of wife or children. He is God, and they
are creatures, the mere work of His hand. They shall pass away
and be gone, and He shall remain. Such inordinate love is like
disgusting vermin in the mansion of the soul, and all such vermin
must be swept out. What ever we love must be loved on account of
God, and in subordination to His love, or God will not come and
take up His abode with us. This is the plain dictate of our
reason.
{39}
We must deny ourselves, and that not merely in forbidden things,
but in those which are lawful. If we go to the limit of what is
lawful in self-indulgence, depend upon it we shall soon pass the
limit. We shall fall into sin, and very likely into mortal sin.
Many a one has fallen in this way. He has said to himself, I can
do this thing, for it is not forbidden. Again, I can do that; it
is not certain it comes within the letter of the law. I can
indulge myself in this respect, for, even if sinful, it is a
matter of small consequence. Thus he goes on in a downhill
progress, until he becomes utterly selfish, and virtue has died
out in his soul. Our Saviour has laid down the rule for a
Christian; "He that will be My disciple, let him deny him self
daily, and take up his cross and follow Me." Again, "He that
loveth father or mother, wife or child, houses or lands, more
than Me, is not worthy to be My disciple."
We must deny ourselves, and, if we would be great friends of God,
we must deny ourselves a great deal. The fact is, in order to
become possessed of God, we must deny ourselves in all things, at
all times, and in all places. We must repress and bring into
subjection our desires, so that they may not occupy and fill our
hearts. The Scripture says, "Think not for the morrow what ye
shall eat, or what ye shall drink, or wherewith ye shall be
clothed; but think of the kingdom of God and his justice."
{40}
Now, reflect on this: we cannot be thinking on both these things
at the same time; one thought will crowd the other out; therefore
you must drive out of your hearts those eager desires of the
world, and temporal things, and anxiety about the future; you
must deny yourselves these earthly desires, or you will never
become spiritually-minded. Could we only banish all care and
solicitude for these things, and discharge our duties and our
business in life without anxiety, for God, and for the ends God
has appointed them, we should be recompensed a thousandfold in
this life, and we should be filled with gratitude to God for
inspiring us with such sentiments. Offer myrrh, offer plenty of
myrrh to God. Offer it with gold and frankincense--that is, with
the intention of cleaning and sweeping out from your hearts all
vain and useless love, that they may be ready and prepared for
the Divine Love, and with many prayers and good wishes; and God
will accept it. It will be most pleasing to Him. Without this,
your self-denial will be in vain. Self-denial, without the right
intention, is superstitious, and nourishes an empty pride; with
it, the least act of self-denial renders you like to God, and
more fit to receive the impressions of the Holy Ghost within your
souls.
{41}
Begin, then, to offer myrrh with the gold and frankincense. Deny
your eyes what they like to look upon, that the eyes of your
souls may look on God more steadily. Deny your ears what they
like to hear; news and gossip, not to speak of detraction and
evil talk, that you may more readily hear the still, small voice
of the Holy Ghost gently speaking within your hearts. Deny your
sense of smell; the gratifications of perfumes and sweet odors.
Deny your palates delicate and luxurious food, that you may
relish better the plain and solid meat of the Gospel. Deny
yourselves all around, whenever you can bring yourselves to do it
cheerfully, for the sake of God, for He loves not the unwilling,
but the cheerful, giver.
This is what the saints did, and it is what made them saints.
Impelled by the strong desire to love God more, I dare to say
that self-denial was the sweetest pleasure to them in this life.
Having food and raiment, and wherewith to be clothed, they were
content therewith; the superfluous and the unnecessary they
abominated, for they knew they would only lead them away from
Jesus Christ.
Present these gifts not only now, but every day of your lives.
God will give them to you, and then you must give them back
faithfully to Him, and in a short time He will give you a present
which excels anything you ever thought of. He will give you
Himself, and inundate your happy soul in an ocean of
inconceivable joy and unspeakable happiness, never to be lost for
all the ages of eternity.
------------------------
{42}
Sermon III.
How To Pass A Good Lent.
(For Ash Wednesday.)
2 Cor. vi. 2.
"__Behold, now is the acceptable time;
behold, now is the day of salvation__."
This morning, my brethren, we knelt before this altar, and
received from the Holy Church the ashes from which this day takes
its name. Why did we do so? Was it merely because we had done so
in past years? because it is a Catholic custom? because others
did so, and we were expected to do the same? To receive them for
such reasons would be better than not to receive them at all; but
better still would it be to feel the meaning, and enter into the
spirit of this sacred rite.
In the early ages of the Church, those whose sins were such as to
require (in the severer judgment of those days) a public penance,
received the ashes on this day from the bishop, and were then,
after some other ceremonies, expelled from the Church, and not
allowed to assist at Mass till Holy Thursday.
{43}
As they were being driven out, the words. __Memento, homo, quia
pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris__--"Remember, man, that
thou art dust, and into dust thou shalt return"--which were
repeated to each one of us as we received the ashes this morning,
were said to them. Their exclusion from the Church, often during
a much longer time than the few weeks of Lent, was by no means
the only penance to which many of them were subjected, besides
those which they voluntarily undertook; but it is enough to
mention so much, that we may understand what are the feelings
which we, who are to-day in the place of these public penitents,
should have.
Receiving the ashes was for them a sign of the most profound
humiliation and repentance. They were in disgrace, separated from
the rest of the faithful as unworthy to partake with them in the
sacred mysteries; and they expressed by their submission a firm
purpose to amend their lives, and repair the scandal they had
given. Now it is to us no disgrace to receive the ashes, but even
the contrary; and we are not, perhaps, understood as expressing
sorrow for our sins by the act, but humiliation and penance are
really meant by it, and it is in this spirit that the Church
wishes us to perform it.
{44}
This meaning is also contained in the very ashes themselves. For
what can more completely express humiliation than ashes, which
are the mere remains of their former substance, without beauty,
strength, or any of its qualities? And what can better represent
repentance than the fine dust of which they are composed? For
this reducing to dust or powder is the real meaning of
contrition: the contrite heart is that which is not only broken,
but even ground to dust with sorrow. The ashes, also, as we are
reminded in receiving them, represent the dust of death to which
we must sooner or later come, and in which all the distinctions
upon which we pride ourselves so much now will be confounded,
nothing being left of us in this world after a short time but a
few handfuls of dust, and our souls having gone to another, where
their claims to consideration will have been judged according to
a very different standard from that which prevails in this life.
The thought of death, then, which they suggest, ought to fill us
with humiliation on account of the vanity of our worldly
distinctions, and with repentance now while we have time, because
after death repentance will be impossible.
But Ash Wednesday is not a day by itself. It is the beginning of
a season in which the sentiments which it suggests are to be
continued and even strengthened. It is of the right way of
passing this penitential season of Lent that I wish to speak to
you to-night.
{45}
And, in the first place, let us try to have a firm purpose to
pass it in the right way. With a good resolution, the battle is
half won. It is well worth our while to spend a good Lent; heaven
is, as it were, nearer now, and grace is more abundant. "Now is
the acceptable time, now is the day of salvation." Yes, my
brethren, the Church does not give us Lent merely as a penance,
but to help us in saving our souls.
What, then, shall we do to spend Lent well?
The first thing to do is to cease from sin, and obey those
commandments of God which are binding at all times as well as
now. To one who will not resolve to quit mortal sin, nothing else
that he can do will be of any use except so far as it helps him
to make such a resolution. All who have lost grace know well
enough what sins are ruining their souls; and these they must
give up, or their Lent will have been of little or no use--
perhaps even worse than useless, being another of those graces of
the good God which they have thrown away and trampled under foot,
and which He will reproach them with at the last day. Though He
is always entreating us to give up sin, yet it is now specially
that He urges us, as we are about to commemorate the bitter
sufferings which He endured to redeem us from its power.
{46}
And though we are always bound to give it up, yet are we
specially now so bound, because everything reminds us so strongly
how hateful it is to God. Leave off sin, then; that is the great
thing. I do not say that nothing else must be done till this is;
but this must be done sooner or later, and the sooner the better,
for it is very dangerous to wait. This night, this very hour, may
be the last that we shall have.
This naturally suggests a special precept that comes to us at
this time. Whether we have sinned or not, we must make our Easter
duty. At other times, our Lord invites us to come to Him; now, He
commands us to come, under pain of a new and great sin if we
refuse. Obey, then, this loving command as soon as possible; do
not delay, especially if guilty of mortal sin; for, besides
running a great risk, you will lose the merit of all you may do
in this holy season as long as you remain unforgiven. It is not
so hard as it seems; and the moment of absolution will be the
happiest one of life.
Another positive precept at this time is, of course, the fast, as
prescribed by the rules of the diocese. This we must keep as well
as we can, not considering that we are exempted from it merely
because it is difficult; but only allowing such reasons against
it as make a strict observance really imprudent--remembering, of
course, the exemptions given in the regulations, but trusting to
the judgment of a confessor or physician, rather than our own, if
there be any doubt about the matter.
{47}
And let us not make the sacrifice unwillingly, merely because we
are obliged to, but as cheerfully as we can, so that we may
please God, as well as avoid offending Him. In this way we may
gain more merit, perhaps, than by anything else we can do in the
course of the year, on account of the difficulty of the work, and
because at other times we should hardly be justified in imposing
such a penance on ourselves. Besides, obedience is better than
sacrifice; and fasting in Lent is an act of obedience. So, if we
cannot fast, we lose the opportunity of doing something a little
difficult, and which we know will please God; which should make
us sorry rather than glad.
Now, to come to things not absolutely required, but which
nevertheless ought to be attended to in Lent, and which must be
done, if we wish really to pass it well. They may be classed
under the three eminent good works, as they are called;
namely--fasting, prayer, and alms.
It may seem as if the subject of fasting had been already
disposed of. And so it has, perhaps, in the usual sense of the
word; we are not required, nor would it probably be advisable, to
keep a more rigorous fast than the Church prescribes, at least in
point of quantity; but we may give up some things in the way of
food, which are not forbidden, practising some voluntary
mortification or self-denial, as far as the strength of our souls
and bodies will allow.
{48}
It rarely does us much harm to deny our taste something; to give
up or limit ourselves in something which we like particularly, if
we do not really need it, and there be plenty besides. And though
abstaining from the sin of drunkenness is not probably a
mortification, but a most severe obligation at all times, yet, as
in this penitential season this vice seems to acquire new
malignity, still greater precautions ought to be taken in those
occasions which might lead to it.