MY SERMON ON THE VIRGIN MARY—COMPLIMENTS OF BISHOP PRINCE—STORMY
NIGHT—MY FIRST SERIOUS DOUBTS ABOUT THE CHURCH OF ROME—PAINFUL
DISCUSSION WITH THE BISHOP—THE HOLY FATHERS OPPOSED TO THE MODERN
WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN—THE BRANCHES OF THE VINE.
The 15th of August, 1850, I preached in the Cathedral of Montreal, on
the blessed Virgin Mary’s power in heaven, when interceding for sinners.
I was sincerely devoted to the Virgin Mary. Nothing seemed to me more
natural than to pray to her, and rely on her protection. The object of
my sermon was to show that Jesus Christ cannot refuse any of the
petitions presented to him by his mother; that she has always obtained
the favors she asked her Son, Jesus, to grant to her devotees. Of
course, my address was more sentimental than scriptural, as it is the
style among the priests of Rome. But I was honest; and I sincerely
believed what I said.
“Who among you, my dear brethren,” I said to the people, “will refuse
any of the reasonable requests of a beloved mother? Who will break and
sadden her loving heart when, with supplicating voice and tears, she
presents to you a petition which it is in your power, nay, to your
interests, to grant? For my own part, were my beloved mother still
living, I would prefer to have my right hand crushed and burned into
cinders, to have my tongue cut, than to say, No! to my mother, asking me
any favor which it was in my power to bestow.
“These are the sentiments which the God of Sinai wanted to engrave in
the very hearts of humanity, when giving his laws to Moses, in the midst
of lightning and thunders, and these are the sentiments which the God of
the Gospel wanted to impress on our souls by the shedding of his blood
on Calvary. These sentiments of filial respect and obedience to our
mothers, Christ Jesus, the Son of God and Son of Mary, practiced to
perfection. Although God and man, he was still in perfect submission to
the will of his mother, of which he makes a law to each of us.
“The Gospel says, in reference to his parents, Joseph and Mary, ‘He was
subject unto them.’ (Luke 2:51.) What a grand and shining revelation we
have in these few short words: ‘Jesus was subject unto Mary!’ Is it not
written in the same Gospel, that ‘Jesus is the same to-day, as he was
yesterday, and will be forever?’ He has not changed. He is still the Son
of Mary, as he was when only twelve years old.
“This is why our holy Church, which is the pillar and foundation of
Truth, invites you and me, to-day, to put an unbounded confidence in her
intercession. Remembering that Jesus has always granted the petitions
presented to him by his divine mother, let us put our petitions in her
hands, if we want to receive the favors we are in need of.
“The second reason why we must all go to Mary, for the favors we want
from heaven, is that we are sinners—rebels in the sight of God. Jesus
Christ is our Saviour. Yes! but he is also our God, infinitely just,
infinitely holy. He hates our sins with an infinite hatred. He abhors
our rebellions with an infinite, a godly hatred. If we had loved and
served him faithfully we might go to him, not only with the hope, but
with the assurance of being welcomed. But we have forgotten and offended
Him; we have trampled His laws under our feet; we have joined with those
who nailed Him on the cross, pierced his heart with the lance, and shed
His blood to the last drop. We belong to the crowd which mocked at His
tortures, and insulted Him at His death. How can we dare to look at Him
and meet His eyes? Must we not tremble in his presence? Must we not fear
before that Lion of the tribe of Judah whom we have wounded and nailed
to the cross?
“Where is the rebel who does not shiver, when he is dragged to the feet
of the mighty Prince against whom he has drawn the sword? What will he
do if he wants to obtain pardon? Will he go himself and speak to that
offended Majesty? No! But he looks around the throne to see if he can
find some one of the great officers and friends, or some powerful and
influential person, through whose intercession he can obtain pardon. If
he finds any such, he goes immediately to him, puts his petitions into
their hands, and they go to the foot of the throne to plead for the
rebel, and the favor which would have been indignantly refused to the
guilty subject, had he dared to speak himself, is granted, when it is
asked by a faithful officer, a kind friend, a dear sister or a beloved
mother.
“This is why our holy church, speaking through her infallible supreme
pontiff, the Vicar of Christ, Gregory XVI., has told us, in the most
solemn manner, that ‘Mary is the only hope of sinners.’
Winding up my arguments, I added: “We are those insolent, ungrateful
rebels. Jesus is the King of Kings against whom we have, a thousand
times, risen in rebellion. He has a thousand good reasons to refuse our
petitions, if we are impudent enough to speak to Him ourselves. But look
at the right hand of the offended King, and behold his dear and divine
mother. She is your mother also. For it is to every one of us, as well
as to John, that Christ said on the cross, speaking of Mary, ‘Behold
your Mother.’
“Jesus has never refused any favor asked by that Queen of Heaven. He
cannot rebuke His Mother. Let us go to her; let us ask her to be our
advocate and plead our cause, and she will do it. Let us suppliantly
request her to ask for our pardon, and she will get it.”
I then sincerely took these glittering sophisms for the true religion of
Christ, as all the priests and people of Rome are bound to take them
to-day, and presented them with all the earnestness of an honest though
deluded mind.
My sermon had made a visible and deep impression. Bishop Prince,
coadjutor of my Lord Bourget, who was among my hearers, thanked and
congratulated me for the good effect it would have on the people, and I
sincerely thought I had said what was true and right before God.
But when night came, before going to bed, I took my Bible as usual,
knelt down before God, in the neat little room I occupied in the
bishop’s palace, and read the twelfth chapter of Matthew, with a praying
heart and a sincere desire to understand it, and be benefitted thereby.
Strange to say! when I reached the 40th verse, I felt a mysterious awe,
as if I had entered for the first time, into a new and most holy land.
Though I had read that verse, and the following, many times, they came
to my mind with a freshness and newness as if I had never seen them
before. There was a lull in my mind for a few moments. Slowly, and with
breathless attention, supreme veneration and respect, I read the history
of that visit of Mary to the sacred spot where Jesus, my Saviour, was
standing in the midst of the crowd, feeding his happy hearers with the
bread of life.
When I contemplated that blessed Mary, whom I loved, as so tenderly
approaching the house where she was to meet her divine Son, who had been
so long absent from her, my heart suddenly throbbed in sympathy with
hers. I felt as if sharing her unspeakable joy at every step which
brought her nearer to her adorable and beloved son. What tears had she
not shed when Jesus had left her alone, in her poor, now, and cheerless
home, that He might preach the gospel in the distant places, where his
Father had sent Him! With Jesus in her humble home, was she not more
happy than the greatest queen on her throne! Did she not possess a
treasure more precious than all the world! How sweet to her ears were
the words she had heard from His lips!
How lovely the face of the most beautiful among the sons of men! How
happy she must have felt when she heard that he was, now, near enough to
allow her to go and see Him! How quick were her steps! How cheerful and
interesting the meeting! How the beloved Saviour will repay by His
respectful and divine love to his mother, the trouble and the fatigue of
her long journey! My heart beat with joy at the privilege of witnessing
that interview, and of hearing the respectful words Jesus would address
to His mother!
With heart and soul throbbing with these feelings, I slowly read,
“While he talked to the people, behold His mother and His brethren,
stood without desiring to speak with Him.
“Then one said unto Him: Behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand
without desiring to speak with thee.
“But he answered, and said unto him that told Him: Who is my mother? Who
=are= my brethren?
“And he stretched forth His hands towards His disciples, and said:
Behold my mother and brethren!
“For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in Heaven, the
same is my brother, sister and mother.”
I had hardly finished reading the last verse, when big drops of sweat
began to flow from my face, my heart beat with a tremendous speed, and I
came near fainting; I sat in my large armchair, expecting every minute
to fall on the floor. Those alone who have stood several hours at the
fall of the marvellous Niagara, heard the thundering noise of its
waters, and felt the shaking of the rocks under their feet, can have any
idea of what I felt in that hour of agony.
A voice, the voice of my conscience, whose thunders were like the voice
of a thousand Niagaras, was telling me: “Do you not see that you have
preached a sacrilegious lie, this morning, when, from the pulpit, you
said to your ignorant and deluded people, that Jesus always granted the
petitions of His mother, Mary? Are you not ashamed to deceive yourself,
and deceive your poor countrymen with such silly falsehoods?”
Reader, read again these words! and understand that, far from granting
all the petitions of Mary, Jesus has always, except when a child, said
“No!” to her requests. He has always rebuked her, when she asked him
anything in public! Here she comes to ask Him a favor before the whole
people. It is the easiest, the most natural favor that a mother ever
asked of her son. It is a favor that a son has never refused to a
mother. He answers by a rebuke, a public and solemn rebuke! Is it
through want of love and respect for Mary that He gave her that rebuke?
No! Never a son loved and respected a mother as He did. But it was a
solemn protest against the blasphemous worship of Mary, as practiced in
the Church of Rome.
I felt, at once, so bewildered and confounded, by the voice, which was
shaking my very bones, that I thought it was the devil’s voice; and, for
a moment, I feared less I was possessed of a demon.
“My God,” I cried, “have mercy on me! Come to my help! Save me from my
enemy’s hands!”
As quick as lightning, the answer came: “It is not Satan’s voice you
hear. It is I, thy Saviour and thy God, who speaks to thee. Read what
Mark, Luke, and John tell you about the way I received =her= petitions,
from the very day I began to work, and speak publicly as the Son of God,
and the Saviour of the world.”
These cries of my awakening intelligence were sounding in my ears for
more than one hour, before I consented to obey them. At last, with a
trembling hand, and a distressed mind, I took my Bible and read in St.
Mark, chapter iii: verses 31, 32, 33, 34 and 35: “There came then his
brethren and his mother, and standing without, sent unto him, and
calling him. And the multitude sat about him and they said unto him:
Behold thy mother and thy brethren without, sending for thee. And he
answered them, saying: who is my mother and my brethren?
“And he looked round about on them which sat about him, and said: Behold
my mother and my brethren. For whosoever shall do the will of God, the
same is my brother, my sister, and my mother.”
The reading of these words acted upon me as the shock of a sword going
through and through the body of one who had already been mortally
wounded. I felt absolutely confounded. The voice continued to sound in
my ears: “Do you not see you have presented a blasphemous lie, every
time you said that Jesus always granted the petitions of his mother?”
I remained again, a considerable time, bewildered, not knowing how to
fight down thoughts which were so mercilessly shaking my faith, and
demolishing the respect I had kept, till then, for my church. After more
than half an hour of vain struggle to silence these thoughts, it came to
my mind that St. Luke had narrated this interview of Mary and Jesus in a
very different way. I opened the holy book again to read the eighth
chapter. But how shall I find words to express my distress when I saw
that the rebuke of Jesus Christ was expressed in a still sterner way by
St. Luke than by the two other evangelists!
“Then came to him his mother and brethren, and could not come at him for
the press.
“And it was told him: Thy mother and thy brethren stand without,
desiring to see thee.
“And he answered, and said unto them: my mother and brethren are those
who will hear the word of God and do it.” (Luke viii: 19, 20, 21.)
It then seemed to me as if those three Evangelists said to me: “How dare
you preach, with your apostate and lying church, that Jesus has always
granted all the petitions of Mary, when we were ordered by God to write
and proclaim that all the public petitions she had presented to him,
when working as the Son of God, and the Saviour of the world, had been
answered by a public rebuke?”
What could I answer? How could I stand the rebuke of these three
Evangelists? Trembling from head to foot, I fell upon my knees, crying
to the Virgin Mary to come to my help and pray that I might not succumb
to this temptation, and lose my faith and confidence in her. But the
more I prayed, the louder the voice seemed to say: “How dare you preach
that Jesus has always granted the petitions of Mary, when we tell you
the contrary by the order of God himself?”
My desolation became such, that a cold sweat covered my whole frame
again; my head was aching, and I think I would have fainted had I not
been released by a torrent of tears. In my distress, I cried: “Oh! my
God! my God! look down upon me in thy mercy; strengthen my faith in thy
Holy Church! Grant me to follow her voice and obey her commands with
more and more fidelity; she is thy beloved church. She cannot err. She
cannot be an apostate church.” But in vain I wept and cried for help. My
whole being was filled with dismay and terror from the voices of the
three witnesses, who were crying louder and louder.
“How dare you preach that Christ has always granted the petitions of
Mary, when the gospels, written under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost,
tell you so clearly the contrary?”
When I had, in vain, wept, prayed, cried, and struggled from ten at
night till three in the morning; the miraculous change of water into
wine, by Christ, at the request of his mother, suddenly came to my mind.
I felt a momentary relief from my terrible distress, by the hope that I
could prove to myself that, in this case the Saviour had obeyed the
demands of his holy mother. I eagerly opened my Bible again and read:
“And the third day there was a marriage in Cana, of Galilee, and the
mother of Jesus was there.
“And both Jesus was called, and his disciples, to the marriage. And when
they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus said unto him, they have no wine.
Jesus saith unto her: Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is
not yet come.
“His mother saith unto the servants: whatsoever he saith unto you, do
it.” (John ii: 2.)
Till that hour, I had always accepted that text in the sense given in
the Church of Rome, as proving that the very first miracle of Jesus
Christ was wrought at the request of his mother. And I was preparing
myself to answer the three mysterious witnesses: “Here is the proof that
you are three devils, and not three evangelists, when you tell me that
Jesus has never granted the petitions of his mother, except when a
child. Here is the glorious title of Mary to my confidence in her
intercession; here is the seal of her irresistible superhuman power over
her divine son; here is the undeniable evidence that Jesus cannot refuse
anything asked by his divine mother!” But when, armed with these
explanations of the church, I was preparing to meet what Matthew, St.
Mark, and St. Luke had just told me, a sudden distressing thought came
to my mind; and this thought was as if I heard the three witnesses
saying: “How can you be so blind as not to see that instead of being a
favor granted to Mary, this first miracle is the first opportunity
chosen by Christ to protest against her intercession. It is a solemn
warning to Mary never to ask anything from him, and to us, never to put
any confidence in her requests. Here, Mary, evidently full of compassion
for those poor people, who had not the means to provide the wine for the
guests who had come with Jesus, wants her Son to give them the wine they
wanted. How does Christ answer her requests? He answers it by a rebuke,
a most solemn rebuke. Instead of saying: “Yes, mother, I will do as you
wish,” he says, “Woman, what have I to do with thee?” which clearly
means “Woman, thou hast nothing to do in this matter. I do not want you
to speak to me of the bridegroom’s distress. It was my desire to come to
their help and show my divine power. I do not want you to put yourself
between the wants of humanity and me. I do not want the world to believe
that you had any right, any power or influence over me, or more
compassion on the miseries of man than I have. Is it not to me, and me
alone, the lost children of Adam must look to be saved? Woman, what have
I to do with thee in my great work of saving this perishing world?
Nothing, absolutely nothing. I know what I have to do to fulfill, not
your will, but my Father’s will!”
This is what Jesus meant by the solemn rebuke given to Mary. He wanted
to banish all idea of her ever becoming an intercessor between man and
Christ. He wanted to protest against the doctrine of the Church of Rome,
that it is through Mary that He will bestow His favor, to His disciples,
and Mary understood it well when she said, “Whatsoever He saith unto
you, do it.” Never come to me, but go to Him. “For there is no other
name given among men, whereby we must be saved.”
Every one of these thoughts passed over my distressed soul like a
hurricane. Every sentence was like a flash of lightning in a dark night.
I was like the poor dismantled ship suddenly overtaken by the tempest in
the midst of the ocean.
Till the dawn of day, I felt powerless against the efforts of God to
pull down and demolish the huge fortress of sophisms, falsehoods,
idolatries, which Rome had built around my soul. What a fearful thing it
is to fight against the Lord!
During the long hours of that night, my God was contending with me, and
I was struggling against Him. But though brought down to the dust; I was
not conquered. My understanding was very nearly convinced; but my
rebellious and proud will was not yet ready to yield.
The chains by which I was tied to the feet of the idols of Rome, though
rudely shaken, were not yet broken. However, to say the truth, my views
about the worship of Mary had received a severe shock, and were much
modified. That night had been sleepless; and in the morning my eyes were
red, and my face swollen with my tears.
When, at breakfast, Bishop Prince, who was sitting by me, asked: “Are
you sick? Your eyes are as if you had wept all night?”
“Your lordship is not mistaken, I have wept the whole night!” I
answered.
“Wept all the night!” replied the bishop. “Might I know the cause of
your sorrow?”
“Yes, my lord. You can, you must know it. But please come to your room.
What I have to say is of such a private and delicate nature, that I want
to be alone with your lordship, when opening my mind to the cause of my
tears.”
Bishop Prince, then coadjutor of Bishop Bourget and late bishop of St.
Hyacinthe, where he became insane in 1858 and died in 1860, had been my
personal friend from the time I entered the college at Nicolet, where he
was professor of Rhetoric. He very often came to confession to me, and
had taken a lively interest in my labors on temperance.
When alone with him, I said: “My lord, I thank you for your kindness in
allowing me to unburden my heart to you. I have passed the most horrible
night of my life. Temptations against our holy religion such as I never
had before, have assailed me all night. Your lordship remembers the kind
words you addressed to me, yesterday, about the sermon I preached. But,
last night, very different things came to my mind, which have changed
the joys of yesterday into the most unspeakable desolation. You
congratulated me, yesterday, on the manner I had proved that Jesus had
always granted the request of His mother, and that He cannot refuse any
of her petitions. The whole night it has been told to me that this was a
blasphemous lie, and from the Holy Scriptures themselves, I have been
nearly convinced that you and I, nay, that our holy church, are
preaching a blasphemous falsehood every time we proclaim the doctrines
of the worship of Mary as the gospel truth.”
The poor bishop, thunderstruck by this simple and honest declaration,
quickly answered: “I hope you have not yielded to these temptations, and
that you will not become a Protestant as so many of your enemies whisper
to each other.”
“It is my hope, my lord, that our merciful God will keep me, to the end
of my life, a dutiful and faithful priest of our holy church. However, I
cannot conceal from your lordship that my faith was terribly shaken,
last night.
“As a bishop, your portion of light and wisdom must be greater than
mine. I hope you will grant me some of the lights which still brightly
shine before your eyes: I have never been so much in need of the
counsels of your piety and the help of your spiritual knowledge as
to-day. Please help me to come out from the intellectual slough in which
I spent the night.
“Your lordship has congratulated me for having said that Jesus Christ
has always granted the petitions of Mary. Please tell me how you
reconcile that proposition with this text,” and I handed him the gospel
of Matthew: pointing to the last five verses of the twelfth chapter, I
requested him to read them aloud.”
He read them and said: “Now what do you want from me?”
“My lord, I want respectfully to ask you how can we say that Jesus has
always granted the requests of His mother, when this evangelist tells us
that He never granted her petitions, when acting in His capacity of
Saviour of the world.
“Must we not fear that we proclaim a blasphemous falsehood when we
support a proposition directly opposed to the gospel?”
The poor bishop seemed absolutely confounded by this simple and honest
question. I also felt confused and sorry for his humiliation. Beginning
a phrase, he would give it up; trying arguments, he could not push to
their conclusion. It seemed to me that he had never read that text, or
if he had read it, he, like myself and the rest of the priests of Rome,
had never noted that they entirely demolish the stupendous impostures of
the church in reference to the worship of Mary.
In order to help him out of the inextricable difficulties into which I
had once pushed him, I said: “My lord, will you allow me to put a few
more questions to you?”
“With pleasure,” he answered.
“Well! my lord, who came to this world to save you and me? Is it Jesus
or Mary?”
“It is Jesus,” answered the bishop.
“Who was called, and is, in reality, the sinner’s best friend? Was it
Jesus or Mary?”
The bishop answered: “It was Jesus.”
“Now please allow me a few more questions.”
“When Jesus and Mary were on earth, whose heart was most devoted to
sinners? Who loved them with a more efficacious and saving love; was it
Jesus or Mary?”
“Jesus, being God, His love was evidently more efficacious and saving
than Mary’s,” answered the bishop.
“In the days of Jesus and Mary, to whom did Jesus invite sinners to go
for their salvation; was it to himself or Mary?” I asked again.
The bishop answered: “Jesus has said to all sinners, ‘Come unto me.’ He
never said come or go to Mary.”
“Have we any examples, in the Scriptures, of sinners, who, fearing to be
rebuked by Jesus, have gone to Mary and obtained access to him through
her, and been saved through her intercessions?”
“I do not remember of any such cases,” replied the bishop.
I then asked: “To whom did the penitent thief, on the cross, address
himself to be saved; was it to Jesus or to Mary?”
“It was to Jesus,” replied the bishop.
“Did that penitent thief do well to address himself to Jesus on the
cross, rather than to Mary who was at His feet?” said I.
“Surely he did better,” answered the bishop.
“Now, my lord, allow me only one question more. You told me that Jesus
loved sinners, when on earth, infinitely more than Mary; that he was
infinitely more their true friend than she was; that he infinitely took
more interest in their salvation, than Mary; that it was infinitely
better for sinners to go to Jesus than to Mary, to be saved; will you
please tell me if you think that Jesus has lost, in heaven, since he is
sitting at the right hand of his Father, any of his divine and infinite
superiority of love and mercy over Mary for sinners: and can you show me
that what Jesus has lost has been gained by Mary?”
“I do not think that Christ has lost any of his love, and power to save
us, now that he is in heaven,” answered the bishop.
“Now, my lord, if Jesus is still my best friend; my most powerful,
merciful and loving friend, why should I not go directly to him? Why
should we, for a moment, go to any one who is infinitely inferior, in
power, love and mercy, for our salvation?”
The bishop was stunned by my questions.
He stammered some unintelligible answer, excused himself for not being
able to remain any longer, on account of some pressing business; and
extending his hand to me before leaving he said: “You will find an
answer to your questions and difficulties in the Holy Fathers.”
“Can you lend me the Holy Fathers, my lord?”
He replied: “No sir, I have them not.”
This last answer from my bishop, shook my faith to its foundation, and
left my mind in a state of great distress. With the sincere hope of
finding in the Holy Fathers, some explanations which would dispel my
painful doubts, I immediately went to Mr. Fabre, the great bookseller of
Montreal, who got me, from France, the splendid edition of the Holy
Fathers, by Migne. I studied with the utmost attention, every page where
I might find what they taught of the worship of Mary, and the doctrines
that Jesus had never refused any of her prayers.
What was my desolation, my shame and my surprise, to find that the Holy
Fathers of the first six centuries had never advocated the worship of
Mary, and that the many eloquent pages on the power of Mary in heaven,
and her love for sinners, found in every page of my theologians; and
other ascetic books I had read till then, were but impudent lies;
additions interpolated in their works a hundred years after their death.
When discovering these forgeries, under the name of the Holy Fathers, of
which my church was guilty, how many times, in the silence of my long
nights of study and prayerful meditations, did I hear a voice telling
me: “Come out of Babylon.”
But where could I go? Out of the Church of Rome, where could I find that
salvation which was to be found only within her walls? I said to myself,
“Surely there are some errors in my dear church.”
“The dust of ages may have fallen on the precious gold of her treasures,
but will I not find still more damnable errors among those hundreds of
Protestant churches, which, under the name of Episcopalians,
Presbyterians, Baptists, Methodists, &c., &c., are divided and
sub-divided into scores of contemptible sects anathematizing and
denouncing each other before the world?”
My ideas of the great family of evangelical churches, comprised under
the broad name of Protestantism, were so exaggerated then, that it was
absolutely impossible for me to find in them that unity which I
considered the essentials of the church of Christ.
The hour was not yet come, but it was coming fast, when my dear Saviour
would make me understand his sublime words: “I am the vine and ye are
the branches.”
It was some time later, when under the beautiful vine I had planted in
my own garden, and which I had cultivated with mine own hands, I saw
that there was not a single branch like another in that prolific vine.
Some branches were very big, some very thin, some very long, some very
short, some going up, some going down, some straight as an arrow, some
crooked as a flash of lightning, some turning to the west, some to the
east, some to the north, and others to the south.
But, although the branches were so different from each other in so many
things, they all gave me excellent fruit, so long as they remained
united to the vine.