obligations to our neighbor. Scarcely a day of our life passes in
which we do not find that our neighbor has had somewhat against
us. Debts accumulate, disputes arise, the incautious word is
spoken, the scandal is given, the character of our neighbor
suffers from our folly or our spite, reconciliation is not made,
forgiveness is neither asked nor given, friends are alienated,
the sun goes down upon our wrath, and on the morrow we must die.
Who is there who is able to say, when he comes to die--I owe no
man anything; my debts are all paid; I never wronged any one to
whom I did not make full restitution; I never lost a friend but I
found him again; I have not an enemy on the face of the earth?
{276}
Happy is that man, for he will die a happy death. But how many
there are who find themselves at the hour of death as they have
always been, both unwilling and unable to pay their just debts!
How many leave behind them an unsettled inheritance to their
relatives, which becomes an inheritance of discord, law-suits,
enmities, and deadly feuds! How often men die, and show no fear
to go to God with unclean hands--hands stained by the contact of
ill-gotten goods and stolen money! How many die unreconciled with
their neighbor, and with no earnest wish to be so! How lightly
the wrongs of a lifetime weigh upon their conscience! How many
die and make no restitution of all the detraction and the calumny
of which they have been guilty, and go to their grave amid the
secret jeers and curses of their neighbors! "Blessed is he that
is defended from a wicked tongue," says the Holy Scripture, "that
hath not passed into the wrath thereof, and that hath not drawn
the yoke thereof, and hath not been bound in its bands. For its
yoke is a yoke of iron: and its bands are bands of brass. The
death thereof is a most evil death: and hell is preferable to
it." [Footnote 105]
[Footnote 105: Ecclus. xxviii. 23, 24.]
[USCCB: Sirach xxviii. 19-21.]
{277}
Do you wish to escape such a lamentable end? Would you die the
death of the just, leaving your name in benediction, your loss
sincerely mourned, and your soul defended with prayers at the bar
of judgment? Deal with thy neighbor now whilst thou art in the
way with him. "Put thy house in order," and especially when you
come to die. Let no worldly consideration, no thought of pride,
hinder you from a perfect reconciliation with all men--a full
payment of every debt--a free forgiveness for every wrong you
have suffered. The few moments that remain to you, you will need
to pray for God's forgiveness for your own sins. Remember the
Lord's words: "For with what judgment you have judged, you shall
be judged; and with what measure you have measured, it shall be
measured to you again." [Footnote 106]
[Footnote 106: St. Matt. vii. 2.]
Lastly, to die well, we must fulfil the obligations we owe to
ourselves. We are Christians, and should meet death like
Christians. That is, we owe it to ourselves to show at that
supreme moment some evidence that we are not being forced out of
life as if there were no existence beyond it, but that we are
ready to answer the call that God makes to us to come home; not
that we are setting out upon a journey of darkness and lonely
misery, but that we are following Jesus, who has overcome the
sting of death and robbed the grave of its terrors.
{278}
That we may be encouraged in this, we should bring to mind the
examples which the holy martyrs and the other saints of God have
left us in their deaths. Death, in its very nature, is
humiliating and degrading to human nature. It conquers us; it
leaves us not a trace of our beauty nor a vestige of our power.
No wonder that the flesh is weak and trembles before it; but the
spirit, ennobled with Christian faith and hope, and strengthened
with Christian charily, is willing and courageous. The
Christian's death is then no longer an ignominious defeat, but a
glorious sacrifice. The flesh goes, indeed, to the prison of the
grave; but the spirit, set free from its mortal bonds, mounts to
the skies to be crowned with power and immortality.
One thought alone should occupy our minds in our last hours--the
thought of uniting our souls to God, whom we are so soon to meet.
It is painful to see a dying person thinking of nothing but how
to give some momentary relief to his body, each instant calling
for some new comfort, as anxious and careful as if he were
preparing for a long life, instead of employing the precious
moments in prayer, in acts of contrition for the sins of his past
life, and in acts of love to God. I know that many persons think
it useless to try to pray at such a time, when the strength is
failing and the senses are growing dull; but it is not so.
{279}
They can "pray in their soul," as a saintly woman told me on her
death-bed. Seeing that I noticed the beads in her hands, she said
to me: "I am not able to __say__ my beads, father; but, when I
feel lonesome, I take them out to keep me company, and I pray in
my soul." We may make all our acts acts of prayer, if we will.
Our acceptance of sickness and death in the spirit of penance is
prayer. Our resignation to the will of God--our patience in
suffering--our gentleness and mildness with those who are tending
and watching us--all these things are prayer, if we practise them
with the thought that they are pleasing to God.
Then, there are the holy sacraments of the dying, full of grace,
comfort, and strength to our souls. I know few Catholics wilfully
neglect these, but it is a source of grief to the priest to be
called, so often as he is, to administer the last sacraments to
those who ought long ago have received the first ones they need.
I think it is one of the most discouraging events in the ministry
to go to a dying man and find that it is years since he confessed
or received the Holy Communion. Confession! I tell you that it is
very seldom that one on his sick-bed makes as good a confession
as he would if he were well. He cannot do it. His mind is not as
clear; his memory fails him; and, worst of all, he makes little
or no effort to prepare himself for it. What is the consequence?
{280}
His contrition is as vague and indifferent as is his confession.
With how much devotion does he receive the Holy Viaticum and the
Extreme Unction? Alas! this man did not begin to pray or to think
about either till an hour ago, when the doctor told him he had to
die. The priest absolves him, and he and his friends are content.
But did God absolve him? Tell me if he made a good confession, or
was sincerely sorry for his sins, and then I will tell you
whether God absolved him. Woe be to him if he did not, for it is
the last chance he has to confess, and but too frequently it is
the last appeal he makes to God for forgiveness. The priest gives
him the Holy Communion. Does he receive it worthily? Not, of
course, because he is going to die, or because this is his last
Communion. Does he receive it in as good dispositions as would
make it a worthy Communion if he were well, and had received it
in the church at the altar? If not, he makes an unworthy
Communion, and eats and drinks damnation to himself. The priest
anoints him. Is he signed and consecrated to God, and are his
senses purified, and his soul strengthened? Yes, if he be in the
grace of God. If not, he is signed and delivered over to Satan by
it, and his soul is prepared for hell. Oh! if one wishes to be
able to fulfil these obligations well at the hour of death, he
must not neglect the preparation for them in life.
{281}
Beautiful is the happy death of a Christian! Death! He does not
die. He enters into life; he rests from his labors; he falls
asleep in the Lord. Not long ago, I received an invitation to
attend the funeral of a priest. It was couched in these words:
"You are invited to attend the funeral of the Very Rev. Patrick
Moran, who entered into his rest at half-past eight on Wednesday
morning last." Fitting sentence, indeed, to describe the death of
that venerable and holy old man! Through a long life he lived and
labored only for God. Full of years and of merit, ripe for
heaven, and ready to begin his eternal life, he ceased from work
at the call of his divine Master, and entered into his rest. Thus
should every Christian die. It is what the Holy Church wishes for
us all. When the solemn dirges are chanted over us, again and
again she prays: "__Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine."
"Requiescant in pace.__" "Eternal rest grant unto them, O
Lord!" "May they rest in peace!"
My brethren, I have tried to-day to lay before you the duties of
the dying Christian. Soon will some of you be called upon to put
them in practice. Are you all ready for the last preparations? Is
your life to-day such as you would like it to be, if to-morrow
you are to die? Is your confession made for this year? Have you
received the Easter Communion? Are you at peace with God and men?
{282}
These are questions which you will wish to be able to answer in
the affirmative when you call upon the priest for your holy rites
and his parting blessing. Prepare now, that you may be prepared
then. Begin to-day, for the hour may come sooner than you imagine
in which you shall hear this awful message from the Lord: "Put
thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live."
------------------------
{283}
Sermon XIX.
The King's Marriage Feast.
(For The Nineteenth Sunday After Pentecost.)
St. Matt. xxii. 14.
"__For many are called,
but few are chosen.__"
There are some Catholics who, with the smallest quantity of the
spirit of the Catholic religion, are very boastful of the name.
They look down upon those who are out of the fold of the Church
with scorn and contempt. Their whole demeanor indicates that they
consider themselves immensely superior to these unfortunate
creatures, who are all doomed necessarily to eternal destruction.
As to themselves, they deem it impossible that they should incur
the same doom, because they are Catholics. They are not members
of the Church so much by a special divine favor, but rather they
have conferred a favor on God by belonging to it. The Church
belongs to them by the right of birth, and the fact of their
parents having been Catholics gives them the privilege of
sneering at all not born under similar circumstances.
{284}
I have even heard such persons call converts to the faith by the
sweet and charitable epithet of "turncoats," and say they should
have remained where they were, and that it is a disgraceful thing
to abandon the religion of one's forefathers. Catholicity with
such is a thing of descent and of family pride; not a thing of
the heart and of the will.
The Holy Ghost understood this spirit, and, by the mouth of St.
John the Baptist, rebuked it severely: "Bring forth fruits worthy
of penance, and do not begin to say, We have Abraham for our
father." [Footnote 107] These words, applied to the Jews of old,
might well be translated for the benefit of many Catholics
nowadays--Do not begin to say, We are born of Catholic parents,
our forefathers have been Catholics for many generations, if you
are living like the heathen; but bring forth fruits worthy of
that holy and sacred name of Catholic; otherwise you will never
come to enjoy the presence of God, but be everlastingly cast out.
[Footnote 107: St. Luke iii. 8.]
The parable of to-day gives us the most useful instruction on
this very subject. A certain king made a marriage feast for his
son. This king is the God of heaven and earth. The marriage feast
He makes is the participation of the creature in His own glory; a
boundless and inconceivable happiness, which shall never have end
or diminution; a realization of more than we have dreamed of, or
could possibly imagine.
{285}
This is the marriage feast of His Eternal Son, our Lord Jesus
Christ, because He, by taking our flesh upon Himself and becoming
man, by suffering and dying upon the cross, has redeemed us from
sin, elevated us far above the capacity of nature, and enabled us
to aspire to this magnificent destiny. It is His marriage feast,
because it is the celebration of the eternal nuptials of Himself
with the soul. It is the marriage feast in which the Omnipotence
of the Eternal Beauty is exercised to render the guests eternally
and supremely happy, filling them with an ocean of unbounded joy
and contentment.
The king sent out his servants into the highways and public
streets, with directions to call or invite to his feast all they
should meet, and urge them to come in.
This is what God does now every day. He calls, indiscriminately,
the rich and the poor, the noble and the lowly, into the fold of
His Church. It is no merit on their part which brings them the
invitation. They are all ragged and dirty in the sight of God.
Not one of them but would be a disgrace to the King's feast; but
God does not look at that. He is moved only by His desire to do
them a great favor, and confer upon them great happiness.
{286}
When He invites them, He intends to make them fit; to wash off
the dirt, and put suitable clothing upon them, so that they may
be made fit to enter His banqueting-hall. He has them brought to
an outer room, where are baths and precious ointments, and
splendid garments, and servants in abundance to put them on. They
need not trouble themselves with the expense of providing
anything, for the King provides all.
A child is brought to the priest for baptism. That child is of
Catholic parents, and they bring it. The child knows nothing at
all of what is done for it. It had no choice in the matter. It
might have been born of another race and of another religion, but
God, and not itself, has caused it to be born of Catholic
parents, and to be brought by them to baptism. It is, as it were,
met on the highway and called in, all stained by original sin, to
be washed in baptism, endowed with the right to the sacraments,
and invested with an immortal inheritance. So likewise Jesus
Christ has commanded His ministers to go and preach the Gospel to
every creature; to go and invite everybody who hears their voice
to come in and enjoy the same privileges. Those who accept the
invitation have as much right as those who are invited in the
other way, by the accident of their birth; for no one has any
other right than what comes from the pure bounty and goodness of
the King.
{287}
Those who are born of Catholic parents, and those who are
Catholics by their own free choice in later life, stand on the
same footing. We are all a crowd of beggars, who were in the
broad highway, and have heard the invitation of the King of
kings, and have come in in obedience to it. We are now all
standing in the outer hall of the eternal banquet, or rather in
the banqueting-room itself, waiting for the King to come in, when
the music will begin, and all its grandeur be lighted up by His
presence.
It is a most solemn reflection, my friends. You and I have
received this invitation. The King's messengers have met us on
the highway, and they have forced us to come in. We have been
compelled to come in, for ruin and death were the alternative of
staying out. We have no longer the liberty of ranging the
highways. We are no longer in the position of the
heathen--without the knowledge of the true religion, and without
baptism. The indelible mark, or character as it is termed, of
baptism has been imprinted on our souls; all the ages of eternity
will not suffice to wipe it out. Poor as this privilege was to be
hungry and ragged and miserable, it is ours no longer, but we are
in the banqueting-hall of the marriage feast.
{288}
There we are, and we cannot go out into the highway again. Once
in, the door is shut behind us, and there is no key to unlock it.
Once removed out of the state of our birth and made heirs of the
kingdom of heaven by baptism, it is impossible to put us back
again in our former relations. The mark of baptism, stamped upon
our souls, will remain with us either in heaven or in hell.
Elevated by God's goodness far above the condition of our nature,
if we fall, it must be down, deeper far than the condition from
which we were first taken.
A man may neglect his duty to God, and try to persuade himself
that the end and object of his existence is to get money, or
fame, or power, or pleasure, but he will find to his cost that it
was no such thing. The end and object of his existence was to
learn to love and serve God in this world, in order to be happy
with Him in the next; to prepare to be a worthy guest at the
marriage feast of the Lamb, the Son of God, our Lord Jesus
Christ.
And now we are all in at the feast, and the King comes around to
see the guests. He discovers one without a suitable garment on;
one who has had the brazen-faced shamelessness to intrude himself
into the company all ragged and dirty, without the least pains to
make himself look decent, and pay respect to the King and his
guests. Could there be a more outrageous insult?
{289}
Could anything be more wanton and impudent than such conduct? The
King had provided everything; all they needed was at hand; He had
warned them to make themselves fit before going in: and here is
this man, in spite of all this, deliberately walking into this
splendid entertainment, with old tattered clothes and unwashed
face and hands. The King is justly indignant, and commands him to
be bound hand and foot, and cast into a dismal prison.
Is it not so? Has not God provided the Holy Sacrament of Penance,
where, with little trouble, the soul can be washed and cleansed
from all its defilements? The Holy Sacrament of the altar, where
the soul is nourished, and strengthened, and adorned by feeding
on the body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ? Are not
innumerable graces and virtues waiting for us, ready to be given,
if we will only take the trouble to ask for them?
Yes, the King of Glory will come around to see the guests at the
eternal feast. He will inspect each one of us. When will He come
around? When we die. Then it is the Judge of the whole human race
will come around to see if we are in the banqueting-hall of the
eternal feast with the marriage garment on.
{290}
We came up to the door of the church, and we received a ticket of
admission. All right so far. We entered the door, and we remained
within among the rest. Still all is right, and no doubt we felt
pleased to be in such good company, and no one turned us out. But
what good will all this do if we have not the wedding garment on?
What good will it do us to have gone to the church and heard the
sermons, if we have not on the wedding garment? What good to have
had the sacraments in life, or even at the hour of death, if we
have not on the wedding garment?
What is this wedding garment? The grace of God. If we are in
mortal sin, we have not the wedding garment on. We pulled it off
when we committed sin, and rendered ourselves utterly unfit for
the company of heaven. If we are in mortal sin at this moment, we
are now in the marriage feast of the King's Son without the
wedding garment, and woe be to us if the King should happen to
come around. At any moment His eye may fall upon us, and we may
hear the words, "Friend, why camest thou in hither with out
having on a wedding garment?" You will be struck dumb with
confusion and have nothing to reply; and then will go forth the
irrevocable sentence, "Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into
the outer darkness; there shall be weeping and gnashing of
teeth."
{291}
Oh! who can comprehend the folly of the human race--a race of
beings so feeble and miserable, and limited by its nature, and
yet so unlimited and unbounded in its cravings for happiness--
who can make so little of that offer which lifts them out of all
this misery and exceeds their highest expectations? One would
think this offer would fill them with delight and a noble
enthusiasm to avail themselves of it. And yet, what do we see?
God's offer is despised. An immortal destiny is thrown away. Man,
created to the image and likeness of God, makes himself like the
beasts that perish. He boasts and prides himself on the fact that
he lives for the body, and despises eternity and God.
Many are called. Many are placed in the way of salvation. Many
have an abundance of means in their hands to attain to it. With a
little attention, with light exertion, many would be saved who
are lost. What inexcusable folly! Let us not be guilty of it. Let
us live for our immortal souls. Let us put on the wedding garment
of truth, and sincerity, and justice--that white garment that we
received at baptism--and see that we keep it unspotted until the
end.
-----------------------------
{292}
Sermon XX.
Good Use Of Sickness.
(For The Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost.)
Ecclesiasticus xxxviii. 9.
[USCCB: Sirach xxxviii. 9.]
"__My son, in thy sickness neglect not thyself,
but pray to the Lord, and he shall heal thee.__"
The Gospel of the day relates the miracle of the healing of the
ruler's son. That this man had the right kind of faith which
pleases God, and obtains extraordinary favors from His hand, is
shown by the promptitude of his belief in what our Lord said to
him. Although he had urged and insisted upon our Lord's going
down to Capharnaum with him, yet, no sooner did he hear the
words, "Go thy way, thy son liveth," than he immediately returned
home alone without further doubt or remonstrance.
I do not think, my brethren, that we exercise enough of this
faith in God in our sicknesses; not, understand me, that we are
to look for miraculous cures of our ailments and diseases, or
that we are to condemn ourselves for want of faith if our prayers
for relief are not answered on a sudden; but what I mean is, that
we too often misapprehend the cause of our sicknesses, and do not
make the good use of them we might. Let me say a few words which
may be for our instruction and edification on these points.
{293}
In any event, whatever may be the direct cause of our sickness,
it is, after all, the will of God. If we fall sick through our
own culpable neglect or criminal excesses, it is still the will
of God. We have, in this, disturbed the good order of His
Providence, and suffer the natural consequences of it. There are,
besides, those countless forms of disease and phases of ill
health which afflict us, and which we are not able to trace to
any fault of ours. We fall sick, and cannot tell how or why. An
invisible hand has touched us at a moment we knew not, and our
strength is gone, the light has fled from our eyes, and the color
from our cheek. A secret poison has insinuated itself into our
blood, and dried up the fountains of health and vigor. Fierce and
rapid in its destruction, a week, a day, or even a few hours
suffice to bring us to the point of death, and shatter the
boasted glory of our strength. Then, if the danger passes and the
prospect of returning health smiles upon us, we have yet to pass
through the long and tedious days and nights of convalescence,
gathering but slowly, and with great labor and suffering, that
which we lost so quickly and so easily.
{294}
The first and most necessary truth for a Christian to reflect
upon in the time of sickness is that, in some way or other, God's
hand is in it, and that the stroke falls either in chastisement,
in mercy, or as a special favor and blessing. We must never
forget that life is given to us with all its vicissitudes of joy
and sorrow, of prosperity and adversity, of pains and pleasures,
more because of eternity than on its own account. Sickness comes
in its proper turn at fitting times as a part of the life that we
are to lead here below; and when it is good for us, then God
sends it. He has ends in view that we may be wholly ignorant of.
He knows our souls well and watches over them, and a Christian
ought to believe that he is never sick in body but for the sake
of the health of his soul.
But some one may say that is bringing sickness, health, and the
like within the pale of religion. "O ye sons of men! how long
will ye be dull of heart? Why do you love vanity, and seek after
lying?" We are cunning enough in the ways of the world, but why
so slow to understand the ways of God? Is there anything that we
are, or have, or can be that is not of God? Why forever trying to
lie to ourselves, and leave Him out of account? Are we sick or
well, rich or poor, learned or ignorant, honored or despised,
that God does not know it, has not so appointed it, and has not
good reasons for it? And is not the referring of any or all of
the states of our being to Him an act of religion?
{295}
The truth is, my brethren, that the manner in which one receives
and bears an attack of illness is a good test of one's religion.
You will see some giving away to inordinate fear and anxiety upon
the approach of the first symptoms of disease. They are not in
the habit of referring even their health to God, or of thanking
Him for it. They imagine they live of themselves. So, when they
feel their own strength leaving them, and are forced to say--I
can hold up myself no longer, then terror seizes upon them, as if
all aid, human or divine, was wanting, because they can no longer
help themselves.
See, too, how the positively irreligious and wicked man generally
acts in the commencement of sickness. He talks about his fate,
his ill-luck, and curses it. He utters incoherent cries of
impatience, and is full of anxiety to discover the act of
indiscretion on his own part, or the fault of others, through
which he has fallen ill.
But the true Christian, whose soul is prepared for tribulation,
with whom God is no stranger in the time of health, recognizes
instantly the hand of God when that health is threatened. With
holy Job, he exclaims: "If we have received good things at the
hand of God, why should we not receive evil?" [Footnote 108]
[Footnote 108: Job ii. 10.]
{296}
He may be surprised, as all are, at the unlooked-for blow, but
there is no sign of angry complaint or of envious repining. It is
all right, he says, God knows best. This one thought satisfies
his heart, God knows about it. He knows why He sends it. He knows
how long it will last; how much I shall suffer, and how it will
end. May His holy will be done!