[Transcriber's note: I dedicate this transcription to the Very
Reverend Richard Trout of Corpus Christi Parish, Celebration,
Florida. His gentle and moving homilies are perfect examples of
the style and content recommended by this author. As the
preface observes, the many references to nineteenth century
France may not all apply to our times, but people and cultures
are remarkably similar over time and distance.]
{3}
The Clergy And The Pulpit
In Their Relations To The People.
By M. L'Abbé Isidore Mullois,
Chaplain To The Emperor Napoleon III.,
And Missionary Apostolic.
Translated By
George Percy Badger,
Late Chaplain In The Diocese Of Bombay,
Author Of "The Nestorians and Their Rituals," Etc.
First American Edition.
New-York:
The Catholic Publication Society,
Lawrence Kehoe, General Agent,
126 Nassau Street.
1867.
{4}
John A. Gray & Green, Printers,
16 and 18 Jacob Street, New-York.
{5}
Preface To The American Edition.
This excellent translation of the now celebrated work of the Abbé
Mullois is presented to the American public with every assurance
that it will meet with a most cordial welcome.
It is a live book; full of earnest words, fresh from the heart no
less than from the head of the devout and zealous author. It has
gained an unwonted popularity in France, where it has already
passed through many editions. No less than twenty thousand copies
are said to be in the hands of as many ecclesiastics.
We judge it to be one of the most timely books that could be
offered to our own clergy, who will find much in these pages to
encourage and stimulate them in their arduous pastoral duties.
{6}
The sceptical spirit which pervades a large mass of the French
people, hardly yet recovered from the fearful shock which their
faith received in the Revolution, is one which, happily, we in
America have not to contend with; and the suggestions of the
author in reference to this are, of course, of no practical
moment to us: but the principle that underlies every subject of
which the author treats is a universal one, applicable at all
times and to every nation: "To address men well, they must be
loved much." This is the title of the first chapter, and the key
to the whole work.
It is written in a pleasing, familiar style, with an unction that
endues every sentence with an irresistible power of conviction
and persuasion. Its perusal cannot fail of exerting a most
healthful influence upon the character and tone of the discourses
which the reader may be called upon by virtue of his office to
deliver for the instruction and edification of the people
committed to his spiritual care.
------
{7}
Author's Preface.
It is surprising that whereas, during the last three centuries,
many books have been published on the mode of preaching to the
higher classes, scarcely any thing has been written on the same
subject with reference to the people, or lower orders. It seems
to have been thought that the latter ought to be satisfied with
the crumbs which might fall from the table provided for the
educated portion of society.
Nevertheless, nothing could be more opposed to the spirit of the
Gospel; which is specially addressed to the poor and humble--"He
hath anointed Me to preach to the poor." The Fathers of the early
Church did not consider it beneath their genius to write
treatises on the manner of communicating religious instruction to
the people. The people form nearly the whole of the population.
{8}
In France, they number twenty-three out of a total of twenty-five
millions; yet, strange to say, they are quite overlooked. The
educated two millions appear to have assumed that they constitute
France, and that France has so willed it. But if a few men were
to arise capable of laying hold of the instincts of the
multitude, were it only of one of the emotions which stir them,
they would soon undeceive those who fancy that the people are
under their guidance. We know something by experience on that
score.
There is a prevailing conviction among the well-disposed that
nothing but religion can save us; that France must either once
more become Christian or perish. But in order that religion may
exercise a beneficial influence over the masses, it must be
brought into contact with them; and that can only be done by the
preaching of the Word, agreeably with the inspired
declaration:--"Faith cometh by hearing."
{9}
It is much more difficult than is imagined to preach to the
common people, because they are so little conversant with
spiritual things, and so much absorbed in what is material. It is
more difficult to address them than the wealthier classes; for,
in addressing the latter, one has only to fall in with the
current of their ideas; whereas in preaching to the former, we
have to bring high and sublime thoughts within the grasp of
feeble intelligences. Besides, there exists among the masses a
certain amount of knowledge more or less superficial, and none is
more difficult to direct than a half-taught man.
The foregoing considerations have led us to indite this little
treatise; wherein our object has been not to lay down any
specific rules, but simply to set forth the teachings of
experience. What we most need nowadays is a popular religious
literature to meet the temper and wants of the people. Such a
literature does not exist. It should be based entirely on the
national character and on the precepts of the Gospel. Invested
with those two qualities, it would become an irresistible agency
for good, and would act as powerfully on the educated few as on
the unlettered many.
{10}
It might inaugurate the regeneration of our literature by
restoring to it vitality, naturalness, and dignity. The time has
come for taking up the cause of the people in earnest. The
community generally is impressed with that conviction, and
manifests a praiseworthy desire to encourage every effort for
ameliorating their moral condition. Upward of one hundred
thousand volumes specially designed for them are sold every year.
Worldly-minded men, too, are anxious to foster the movement;
finding that those who show a disposition to benefit the masses
are sure to meet with countenance, sympathy, and even veneration.
Moreover, we are at present in the enjoyment of profound calm.
Heretofore, the apology for delay was:--"Let us wait to see the
upshot of passing events; for who knows what may become of us;
who knows but that we may be driven from our own homes?" The
evil-disposed have had their day; let us see what honest folk may
and can do.
Let us mutually co-operate, piously and charitably, to become
once more a united people and country--a France with one heart
and one soul. 'Twill be the beginning of blessedness.
{11}
Contents.
Page
Preface To The American Edition, 5
Preface By The Author, 7
Chapter I. 15
To Address Men Well, They Must Be Loved Much.
The Gospel enjoins universal Benevolence.
The Men of the present Age have a special Claim to our Love.
The success of Preaching depends upon our loving them.
Wherein true Apostolical Eloquence consists.
Chapter II. 40
The People.
The actual State of the People.
Their good and bad Qualities.
The People in large Cities.
The People in small Towns.
The People in rural Districts.
How to benefit these Three Classes of the People.
One powerful Means is to act upon the People through the upper
Classes, and upon the latter through the former.
Chapter III. 118
The Order Of A Sermon.
The Exordium.
Divisions.
Proofs.
Are there many Unbelievers in France?
Manner of refuting Objections.
{12}
Chapter IV. 136
The Sermon Should Be Popular.
What constitutes true Popularity?
Popularity in Words, in Thought, in Sentiment.
One of the most popular Sentiments in France is Patriotism.
Means to utilize that Sentiment.
The Relationship between Popularity and Genius.
Demosthenes.
Saint John Chrysostom.
Daniel O'Connell.
Chapter V. 160
The Sermon Should Be Plain.
An obscure Sermon is neither Christian nor French.
Abuse of philosophical Terms.
Philosophical Speculations not popular amongst us.
The French mind is clear and logical.
Plainness of Speech.
Plainness of Thought.
Starting from the Known to the Unknown.
Metaphors.
Similes.
Parables.
Facts.
Père Lejeune.
M. l'Abbé Ledreuil.
Chapter VI. 183
The Sermon Should Be Short.
The Discourses of the Fathers were short.
The French Mind is quick to apprehend.
Sermons are generally too long.
Sermons of Ten, Seven, and of Five Minutes.
Chapter VII. 197
Tact And Kindliness.
We should assume that our Hearers are what we wish them to be.
Reproaches to be avoided.
How to address Unbelievers.
Special Precautions to be taken in small Towns and Rural Districts.
How to treat Men during times of public Commotion.
Forbearance due to the Church for being obliged.
to receive Money from the Faithful.
{13}
Chapter VIII. 222
Interest. Emotion, and Animation.
We should endeavor to excite Interest by Thoughts, by Sallies or
Epigrams, by Studies of Men and Manners.
The Truth should be animated.
The Père Ravignan.
The Père Lacordaire.
The Heart is too often absent.
Chapter IX. 243
The Power And Accent Of Conviction.
The Divine Word has always been the first Power in the World.
The Gospel still the first of Books.
There can be no Christian Eloquence
without the Accent of personal Conviction.
Chapter X. 254
Action.
Action should be:
first, true and natural;
secondly, concentrated;
thirdly, edifying.
It should be cultivated.
How cultivated by the Society of Jesus Suggestions.
Chapter XI. 275
Study.
Study a Duty.
The State of the World calls for
Knowledge on the part of the Clergy.
Knowledge has always been one of the Glories of Religion.
All the eminent Men in the Church were Men of Study.
Reasons adduced for not studying, answered:
Want of Leisure,
Natural Aptitude,
The Plea of having already studied sufficiently;
That one is fully equal to the Requirements
of the People committed to his Charge.
{14}
Chapter XII. 287
Zeal.
The Excellency of Zeal.
Love for the Body should be coupled with Love for the Soul.
The Zeal of the Wicked.
How Zeal should be exercised.
Associations:
of Apprentices,
of Operatives,
Conferences of Saint Vincent de Paul,
of Domestics,
of Clerks,
of the Young.
Circulation of good Books.
Happy Results of the same.
The Advantages and Difficulties of Opposition.
Great Occasions.
------
{15}
The Clergy And The Pulpit
In Their Relations To The People.
----
Chapter I.
To Address Men Well, They Must Be Loved Much.
The Gospel enjoins universal Benevolence.
The Men of the present Age have a special Claim to our Love.
The Success of Preaching depends upon our loving them.
Wherein true Apostolical Eloquence consists.
Many rules of eloquence have been set forth, but, strange to say,
the first and most essential of all has been overlooked, namely,
Charity. ... To address men well, they must be loved much.
Whatever they may be, be they ever so guilty, or indifferent, or
ungrateful, or however deeply sunk in crime, before all and above
all, they must be loved. Love is the sap of the Gospel, the
secret of lively and effectual preaching, the magic power of
eloquence. ... The end of preaching is to reclaim the hearts of
men to God, and nothing but love can find out the mysterious
avenues which lead to the heart.
{16}
We are always eloquent when we wish to save one whom we love; we
are always listened to when we are loved. But when a hearer is
not moved by love, instead of listening to the truth, he ransacks
his mind for some thing wherewith to repel it: and in so doing
human depravity is seldom at fault.
If, then, you do not feel a fervent love and profound pity for
humanity--if in beholding its miseries and errors you do not
experience the throbbings, the holy thrillings of Charity--be
assured that the gift of Christian eloquence has been denied you.
You will not win souls, neither will you ever gain influence over
them, and you will never acquire that most excellent of earthly
sovereignties--sovereignty over the hearts of men.
I may be mistaken, but it seems to me that the tradition of this
great evangelical charity has declined among us. I hasten to add,
however, that this is the fault of the age, of its injustices and
sarcasms. It has dealt so hardly with Christianity, and has been
so ungrateful toward it, that our souls have become embittered,
and our words have been sometimes cold and dry: like the mere
words of a man and nothing more. But that bitterness is passing
away.
{17}
Religion in France, at the present day, is in the condition of a
mother who meets with indifference and abuse from her son. The
first outburst of her heart is one of pain and repugnance; but
soon the better part of her nature gains the ascendency, and she
says within herself: "After all, it is true that he is wicked; it
is also true that he fills me with grief, and is killing me with
anguish; nevertheless, he is still my child, and I am still his
mother. ... I cannot help loving him, so great is his power over
me. Let them say what they will, I still love him. ... Would to
God that he had a desire to return! Would that he might change!
How readily would I pardon every thing and forget all! ... How,
then, can I enjoy a moment's happiness whilst knowing that he is
wicked or wretched?" ... This is what Religion and those who
represent it have felt. We have been wounded; we have been made
to suffer cruelly. Yes, men have been unjust and ungrateful: but
these same are our brethren still, still our children. And can we
be happy while we see them wicked and miserable? Have they not
already suffered enough? .... The question is not to ascertain
what they are worth, but to save them such as they are. Our age
is a great prodigal son; let us help it to return to the paternal
home. Now is the time to recall the admirable words of
Fenelon:--"O ye pastors, put away from you all narrowness of
heart. Enlarge, enlarge your compassion. You know nothing if you
know merely how to command, to reprove, to correct, to expound
the letter of the law. Be fathers, ... yet that is not enough; be
as mothers."
{18}
This large love for men, alike for the good and the evil, is the
pervading spirit of the Gospel. It is the true spirit of
Christianity. Its power was felt by our fathers in the sacred
ministry, and it governed their lives.
Look at Saint Paul, that great missionary of the Catholic Church.
A stream of love flows from his apostolic soul. He did not suffer
himself to be disconcerted by the failings, the vices, or the
crimes of men. His heart uplifts him above such considerations,
and he overcomes human prejudices and errors by the power of his
charity. Let us hear him:--"O ye Corinthians, our mouth is open
unto you, our heart is enlarged. Ye are not straitened in us, but
ye are straitened in your own bowels. ... Be ye also enlarged.
For though ye have ten thousand instructors in Christ, yet have
ye not many fathers: for in Christ Jesus I have begotten you. I
seek not yours, but you, ... and I will very gladly spend and be
spent for you; though the more abundantly I love you, the less I
be loved." And, again:--"Would to God ye could bear with me a
little in my folly: and, indeed, bear with me. For I am jealous
over you with godly jealousy. Wherefore? because I love you not?
God knoweth." [Footnote 1]
[Footnote 1: 2 Cor. vi. 13. I Cor. iv. 15.
2 Cor. xii. 14, 15; xi. i, 2, 11.]
{19}
"I say the truth in Christ that I lie not," saith he to the
Romans; "I have great heaviness, and continual sorrow in my
heart. For I could wish that myself were accursed from Christ for
my brethren." [Footnote 2]
[Footnote 2: Rom. ix. 2, 3.]
And addressing the Galatians, he says:--"Brethren, be as I am;
for I am as ye are. Ye know how through infirmity of the flesh I
preached the Gospel to you at first. And my temptation, which was
in my flesh, ye despised not, nor rejected. Where is, then, the
blessedness ye spake of? For I bear you record, that, if it had
been possible, ye would have plucked out your own eyes, and have
given them to me. Am I therefore become your enemy because I tell
you the truth? ... My little children, of whom I travail in birth
again until Christ be formed in you." [Footnote 3]
[Footnote 3: Gal. iv. 12-16, 19.]
... And, again, writing to the Philippians:--"It is meet for me
to think this of you all, because I have you in my heart. For God
is my record, how greatly I long after you all in the bowels of
Jesus Christ. ... Yea, and if I be offered upon the sacrifice and
service of your faith, I joy, and rejoice with you all."
[Footnote 4]
[Footnote 4: Philip, i. 7, 8; ii. 17.]
Alas! in this our day we see around us the same men, the same
frailties, the same passions. Let us aim at possessing the same
apostolical heart.
{20}
In like manner Saint Chrysostom. ... what love, what charity,
what devotedness dwelt in the heart of that Christian orator! And
as regards the people with whom he had to deal; what laxity, what
vices, what baseness had he not to contend against! Nevertheless,
his heart is inflamed with charity, his yearnings are kindled.
Exclamations of pain, the plaintive accents of pity escape from
him; and even when he grows angry, he entreats, he sues for
pardon.
"I beseech you," said he to the faithful, "to receive me with
affection when I come here; for I have the purest love for you. I
feel that I love you with the tenderness of a father. If
occasionally I reprove you rather sharply, it arises from the
earnest desire which I have for your salvation. ... If you reject
my words, I shall not shake off the dust of my feet against you.
Not that herein I would disobey the Saviour, but because the love
which He has given me for you prevents my doing so. ... But, and
if you refuse to love us, at least love yourselves by renouncing
that sad listlessness which possesses you. It will suffice for
our consolation that we see you becoming better, and progressing
in the ways of God. Hereby, also, will my affection appear still
greater, that while having so much to youward, you shall have so
little toward me. ... We give you what we have received, and, in
giving it, ask nothing but your love in return. If we are
unworthy of it, love us notwithstanding, and perchance your
charity may render us deserving."
{21}
"You love me and I love you," said he, addressing the believers,
"and I would willingly give you my life, and not merely that
small service which I render by preaching the Gospel unto you."
In consequence of sickness he had been obliged to go into the
country. On his return he thus addressed his audience:--"You
thought of me, then, during my absence. For my part, it was
impossible for me to forget you. ... Even when sleep closed my
bodily eyes, the strength of your affection for me opened the
eyes of my mind insomuch that while sleeping I often fancied that
I was addressing you. ... I have preferred to return with the
remains of my ailment rather than by staying longer away to do
any injury to your charity; for while I was in the country you
were unremitting in the expression of your grief and condolence.
This was the subject of all your letters; and I am not less
grateful for your grief than for your praise, since one must be
capable of loving in order to grieve as you have done. ... Hence,
as I am no longer ill, let us satisfy one an other; if, indeed,
it be possible that we should be satisfied; for love is
insatiable, and the continual enjoyment of it by those whom it
endears only inflames it still more. This is what was felt by
Saint Paul, that foster-child of Charity, when he said: 'Owe no
man any thing but to love one another;' for that debt is always
being paid, yet is never discharged." [Footnote 5]
[Footnote 5: Second Homily on Repentance.]
{22}
Also the following passage, which is quite to the purpose here:
"You are to me in the place of father, mother, brothers and
children. You are every thing to me, and no joy or sorrow can
affect me in comparison with that which concerns you. Even though
I may not have to answer for your souls, I should not be the less
inconsolable were you to perish; just as a father is not consoled
for the loss of his son, although he may have done all in his
power to save him. That I may some day be found guilty, or that I
may be justified before the awful tribunal, is not the most
pressing object of my solicitude and of my fear; but that you may
all, without exception, be saved, all made happy forever, that is
enough: that is also necessary to my personal happiness, even if
the divine justice should have to reprove me for not having
discharged my ministry as I ought; although, in that respect, my
conscience does not upbraid me. But what matters it by whom you
are saved, provided that you are saved? And if any one is
surprised to hear me speak in this manner, it is because he knows
not what it is to be a father." [Footnote 6]
[Footnote 6: Homily iii. on the Acts.]
{23}
On the other hand, if men ever ought to be loved, if, above all,
the heart of the Christian priest ought to be touched, moved even
to tears with deep compassion for humanity, this is preëminently
the time. Doubtless, humanity is deserving of blame, but it is
also most worthy of pity. Who, indeed, can be bold enough to hate
it? Let us rather grieve for it: grieve for the men of the world
who are truly miserable. ... What truths can they lay hold of to
resist themselves, to fill the void in their souls, to control
themselves under the trials of life? All have been assailed,
shaken, denied, overturned. What are they to do in the midst of
this conflict of affirmations and negations? Hardly has a
powerful and divine truth been presented to them, than one of
those so-called talented men has come forward to sully it by his
gainsaying or scornful derision.
Above all, the rising generation calls for our pity, because it
has so long been famished. The half of its sustenance has been
withheld from it by the cruelty of the age.
But let us do it justice: youth appreciates sincerity and candor
above every thing. It is straightforward, and hates nothing so
much as duplicity and hypocrisy. Well, when a young man awakens
into life, what does he see around him? Contradiction and
inconsistency, a very Babel of tongues: a discordant, a hellish
concert. One bawls out to him, "Reason!" another "Faith!" here
some bid him "Suffer!" there others tell him to "Rejoice!" but
soon all join in the chorus, "Money, my son, money!" What, we
ask, is a youth of eighteen, with all his besetting passions, to
do in the midst of confusion like this?
{24}
It were well if even the domestic hearth afforded an asylum from
this turmoil; but, unhappily, it assumes there its most flagrant
form in father and mother. There we find one building up, and the
other destroying. The mother prays, the father is prayerless; the
mother is a communicant, the father is not; the mother confesses,
the father does not; the mother speaks well of religion, the
father derides it. ... What, we ask again, is a youth to do with
his affections under circumstances like these? Reason tells him
that if there is a truth, it must be the same for all; if there
is a rule of morals, it should apply to all; that if there is a
religion, it should be the religion of all. Next, he is tempted
to believe that he is being made sport of, and that the words
_vice_, _truth_, and _virtue_ are nothing but bare words after
all. Such is the aspect of things presented to the rising
generation; and were it not that there is something naturally
good and generous in the hearts of the young, how much would they
despise their predecessors in life! ...
They are told of the existence of duties, laws, and other
subjects of vast importance, and yet they see men who ought to be
serious spending their time in material pursuits, in hoarding
money, or in sensual gratifications.
{25}
Is there not in all this enough to distress a sensitive mind, and
to lead it to utter the complaint, "O God! wherefore hast Thou
placed me in the midst of such contradictions? What am I to do?
My father, the man whom I am bound to resemble most on earth, can
I condemn him? Can I any the more blame my mother, or charge her
with weakness--my mother, whose influence over me is so strong?
What, then, am I to do? What must I become? Is life a desert
wherein I am lost? Is there no one to guide me? Those who should
direct are the first to mislead me. My father says: Do as I do;
follow my example. My mother, with all the power of maternal
affection, says: 'No, no, my son; do not follow your father, for
if you do you will perish'." What shame should we take to
ourselves for a state of things like this, and how much should we
pity those who are its victims!
And then the lower classes--the people,--who do penance under our
eyes in toil and suffering, how can we help loving, how avoid
compassionating, them? Undoubtedly, they have their faults, their
frailties, and their vices; but are we not more blameworthy than
they? The people are always what they are made. Is it their fault
if the pernicious doctrines and scandals of the higher orders
have stained the lower classes of society? Moreover, they have
been treated without pity and without mercy.
{26}
They have been despoiled of all: even that last resource, hope,
has been taken from them. They have been forbidden to dream of
happiness. Heartless men have interposed between them and heaven,
and have said to them, "Listen; your toil, your trials, your
rags, your hunger, the hunger of your wives and children--such is
your lot. You have nothing else to hope for; except, perchance,
the pleasures of revelry." They have been deprived of every
thing: they had hopes of a better future, which have been taken
from them; they had God above, who has been robbed from them, and
they have been told that heaven consisted in the enjoyments of
earth. Meanwhile, they are miserable; and being miserable are, as
it were, doomed already: yet, what have they done to merit this?
Yes, there has been no pity shown to the people; for has not the
present age regarded Christianity as a delusion? Christianity
ought to have been respected among the people, because it
benefited them, because it alleviated their wretchedness. But no,
a cruel age has had the fell courage to snatch it from them. A
tale is told of a prisoner who became deeply attached to a
spider, which served to while away the tedium of his captivity.
He fed it with his own food, and it was his delight to see it
scamper about his cell; but the jailer, noticing this innocent
gratification, crushed the insect. ...
{27}
The spider was undoubtedly an insignificant thing; but the
jailer's conduct was harsh, and all would denounce it as a
gratuitously brutal act. Well, then, if religion among the people
had been regarded merely as the spider of this poor prisoner, it
ought to have been respected, because it might have done them
good. On the contrary, the laborer has been denied the hope that
there will be a time of rest; the sufferer, that some day there
will be consolation; the wronged has not been allowed to
anticipate that hereafter justice will be meted out; the mother
who deplores the loss of her child has been denied the hope that
some day she shall behold him again. Every thing has been taken
from the people, and nothing has been left them but material
pleasures to be enjoyed at rare intervals.
What a field is here opened out for the exercise of love, of
compassion, and of pity! O ye poor people whom Christ loved! is
it that all your struggles and trials are merely a foretaste of
eternal misery? If you are to suffer here, and to suffer also
after death, then you must needs suffer forever! But that we
cannot allow, and after the example of Christ, we should say to
ourselves:--"I have pity upon the multitude, for if I send them
away fasting they will faint by the way."
Lastly, on this Charity depends the success of evangelical
preaching.
{28}
To be co-workers with Christ in regenerating and saving mankind,
we must love it as He loved. He first did men good, then He
addressed them. Hence it was that the people, unmindful of their
most urgent wants, followed Him exclaiming: "Never man spake like
this man."
Let us never forget that the object of preaching is to turn men
from wrong-doing, and to lead them to that which is good. This is
the great aim of the Christian orator. But where is the seat of
good and evil, and where are both elaborated? According to the
divine word, "_out of the heart_ proceed evil thoughts, murders,
adulteries, fornications, thefts, false witness, blasphemy."
The heart, then, must be touched, moved, laid hold of. It is the
heart which receives or rejects the truth; which says to it:
"Come, I welcome you;" or, "Begone, you annoy me;" and it is love
alone that can reach the heart and change it. An Arab proverb
runs thus:--"The neck is bent by the sword; but heart is only
bent by heart." If you love, you yourself will be loved; the
truth from you will be loved; even self-sacrifice will be an act
of love. ... What we most want nowadays is not additional
knowledge, for nearly all of us know full well what we ought to
do. What we really want is the courage to act, the energy to do
what is right.
{29}
Truth has sadly diminished amongst us, and its characteristics
also. What we need, then, is a style of preaching which
enlightens and sustains, which threatens and encourages, which
humbles and exalts, and which throughout speaks to individuals,
saying, "I love thee."
It is not by essays of reasoning, any more than by the sword,
that the moral world is to be swayed. A little knowledge, much
sound sense, and much more heart--that is what is requisite to
raise the great mass, the people, and to cleanse and purify them.
To be able to reason is human, very human, and one who is a man
and nothing more may possess that ability as well as you, perhaps
in a higher degree. But to love, to devote one's self, to
sacrifice self, is something unearthly, divine, possessing a
magic power. Self-devotion, moreover, is the only argument
against which human malevolence can find no answer. ...
You may employ the most splendid reasonings, clothed in the
grandest phraseology, and yet the mind of man will readily find
wherewith to elude them. Who knows but that French wit, by one
malicious word, may not upset all at once your elaborate
structure of arguments? What is required in sacred eloquence is
something new, something unexpected. Ask you what it is? It is
love; for loving, you will surprise, captivate: you will be
irresistible.
{30}
For it is useless to disguise the fact that in France nowadays
there is scarcely any belief in disinterestedness. Even the
people are beginning to think that no one acts without a motive
of self-interest; and their thought is aptly expressed in the
frank and original reply of a poor devil who was brought before
the correctional police for having inscribed some Legitimist
sentences on a wall. The president, observing his tattered
garments, and his any thing but aristocratic appearance, asked
him if he was really a Legitimist. "By no means, Monsieur le
President," was the answer; "I merely do as others, as you do, as
all do nowadays--_I work for those who feed me_."
But when the people meet with real affection, a thorough
devotedness, then they are overcome at once and yield heartily.
You visit a poor family, or one of the working-classes in a large
town, where the people are generally frank, and hardly know how
to conceal their thoughts. Do not be surprised, then, if
something like the following dialogue should take place:
"Well, sir, but who pays you for visiting us?"
"Nobody."
"What interest, then, have you in coming?"
"None whatever, beyond that of wishing to benefit you and your
little ones, whom I love."
"I can scarcely believe it. There must be something underhand in
this."
{31}
But when such persons are convinced that you entertain a sincere
affection for them--that there is nothing _underhand_ in what you
do--you become all-powerful. The disclosure breaks in upon them
like a divine revelation, and they may be said to love the truth
even before knowing it. Then you may speak, entreat, or command;
you will be listened to, you will be believed, obeyed. What else,
indeed, could any do who love you, and also inspire love on your
part?
It is quite right to reason and to appeal to the intellect, but
it is not enough. Human malice will never be at a loss for a
reply to your arguments. You may be acute, logical, endowed with
learning and talent, the right may be most clearly on your side,
and yet your efforts will be unproductive; nay, you will often be
defeated, insomuch that it may be affirmed that he who uses
reason only shall perish by reason. On the contrary, love causes
things to be regarded from a different point of view, removes
difficulties, and imparts light and courage simultaneously.
You say to a worldly woman:--"If you were to occupy yourself a
little in good works, such as visiting the poor." ... Forthwith
she starts a thousand objections against the suggestion:--"What,
I, in my position! ... I really have no leisure. I have my house,
my children, my servants, and so many other things to attend to.
Then, my health is so wretched, and my husband cares for nothing.
... Besides, it is a woman's first duty to look after her
domestic concerns."
{32}
In a word, she instantly bristles up with good reasons. You
encounter a pointed defence everywhere, and no gap to admit your
arguments. Beware, therefore, of reasoning with her. Go straight
to her heart, beget charity within her, make her to feel, to
love, and soon you will hardly recognize her as the same
individual, for the change will be almost instantaneous, and
every subsidiary stumbling-block will disappear. Then she will go
and come, suffer, be humble, self-denying, examplary.
Woman is called the feeble sex. True, when she does not love; but
when love takes possession of her soul, she becomes the strong,
the able, the devoted sex. She then looks difficulties in the
face which would make men tremble.
An orator of high intellectual powers occupies a pulpit, and
leaves scarcely any results behind him. He is succeeded by one of
ordinary attainments, who draws wondering crowds and converts
many. The local sceptics are amazed. "This man's logic and
style," say they, "are weak; how comes it that he is so
attractive?" It comes from this, that he has a heart; that he
loves and is loved in return. So when a venerable superior of
missionaries [Footnote 7] wished to learn what success a priest
had met with on his tour, he generally asked, "Did you really
love your congregations?" If the answer was in the affirmative,
the pious man remarked--"Then your mission has been a good one."
[Footnote 7: This clearly refers to Home Missionaries. ED.]
{33}
Have a heart, then, in dealing with the people; have charity;
love, and cause others to love, to feel, to thrill, to weep, if
you wish to be listened to, and to escape the criticisms of the
learned as well as the ignorant. Then let them say what they
like, let them criticise and inveigh as they please, you will
possess an invincible power. What a grand mission, what a
glorious heritage is that of loving our fellow-men! Let others
seek to lord it over them, and to win their applause; for my
part, I prefer holding-out a hand to them, to bless and to pity
them, convinced by a secret instinct that it is the best way to
save them.
I have already remarked that our language has not always breathed
this broad and tender charity. The injustice and unreason which
we have had to encounter have made us somewhat querulous, and we
have become champions when we should have remained fathers and
pastors. We have followed the world too much into the arena of
discussion. We have fancied that it was enough to prove a truth
in order to secure its adoption into the habits of life. We have
forgotten that Saint François de Sales converted 70,000
Protestants by the sweetness of his charity, and not one by
argument.
{34}
Nevertheless, strange enough, much is urged on the young
clergyman as regards the necessity and mode of proving a truth
and of constructing a sermon, but scarcely any thing on the
necessity and manner of loving his audience.
Just look at the young priest on his entrance upon the sacred
ministry. He is armed cap-à-pie with arguments, he speaks only by
syllogisms. His discourse bristles with _now, therefore,
consequently_. He is dogmatic, peremptory. One might fancy him a
nephew of one of those old bearded doctors of the middle ages,
such as Petit Jean or Courte-Cuisse. He is disposed to transfix
by his words every opponent, and to give quarter to none. He
thrusts, cuts, overturns relentlessly. My friend, lay aside a
part of your heavy artillery. Take your young man's, your young
priest's heart, and place it in the van before your audience, and
after that you may resort to your batteries if they are needed.
Make yourself beloved,--be a father. Preach affectionately, and
your speech, instead of gliding over hearts hardened by pride,
will pierce _even to the dividing of the joints and marrow_; and
then that may come to be remarked of you which was said of
another priest by a man of genius who had recently been reclaimed
to a Christian life:--"I almost regret my restoration, so much
would it have gratified me to have been converted by so
affectionate a preacher."
{35}
I do not mean to say that the truth should not be set forth with
power and energy. God forbid! but it should be seasoned
throughout with abundant charity. It is only those, indeed, who
love much and are themselves beloved, who possess the prerogative
of delivering severe truths in an effectual manner. The people
pardon every thing in those to whom they are attached, and
receive home, without recoiling, the sternest truths and reproofs
addressed to them by a beloved preacher.
Let your preaching, then, be the effusion of a heart full of love
and truth. Skilfully disconnect vices and errors from
individuals. Place the latter apart, and then assail the former:
be merciless, close up all loop-holes, allow no scope for the
resistance of bad passions; tread the evil under foot. But raise
up the vicious and erring, stretch out a hand to them, pour
confidence and good-will into their souls, address them in
language such as will make them hail their own
defeat:--"Brethren, I speak to you as I love you, from the bottom
of my heart." "Permit us to declare unto you the whole truth;
suffer us to be apostles; suffer us to address you in words
enlivened by charity; suffer us to save you. ..."
Thus have we endeavored to describe the nature, the power, and
the triumphs of apostolical preaching; which should be the same
now as it was in olden time.
{36}
But apostolical eloquence is no longer well understood. It is now
made to consist of I hardly know what: the utterance of truths
without any order, in a happy-go-lucky fashion, extravagant
self-excitement, bawling, and thumping on the pulpit. There is a
tendency in this respect to follow the injunctions of an old
divine of the sixteenth century to a young bachelor of
arts:--"_Percute cathedram fortiter; respice Crucifixum torvis
oculis; nil diu ad propositnm, et bene prcedicabis_."
It is evident that any thing so congenial to indolence cannot be
apostolical eloquence, which consists of an admixture of truth,
frankness, and charity. To be an apostle one must love, suffer,
and be devoted.
For, what is an apostle? To use the language of one who was
worthy to define the meaning of the word, and who exemplified the
definition in his own life: [Footnote 8] "An apostle is fervent
charity personified. ... The apostle is eager for work, eager to
endure. He yearns to wean his brethren from error, to enlighten,
console, sustain, and to make them partakers of the happiness of
Christianity. The apostle is a hero; he is a martyr; he is a
divine, a father; he, is indomitable, yet humble; austere, yet
pure; he is sympathizing, tender. ... The apostle is grand,
eloquent, sublime, holy. He entertains large views, and is
assiduous in carrying them out for the regeneration and salvation
of mankind."
[Footnote 8: Père Ravignan.]
{37}
We must return, then, to this broad and tender benevolence. Let
our congregations feel it, read it; see it in our persons, in our
features, in our words, in our minutest actions. Let them
understand that the priest is, before all others, their best,
their most faithful friend. Nothing must disconcert our charity.
Our heart must be enlarged, and soar above the frail ties, the
prejudices, and the vices of humanity. Did not Saint Paul say: "I
could wish that myself were accursed from Christ," for the sake
of his erring brethren? And did not Moses elect to be blotted out
from the book of life rather than see his cowardly, ungrateful,
fickle countrymen stricken by the hand of the Almighty? The
weaker men are, the more need have they to be loved.
Such love does good to all. It cheers the heart of the preacher.
It also creates sympathy, and those electric currents which go
from the speaker to the hearts of the faithful, and from the
hearts of the faithful back to the speaker. It reveals what
should be said, and, above all, supplies the appropriate accent
wherein to express it. Saint Augustine writes: "Love first, and
then you may do what you choose." We may subjoin: "Love first,
and then you may say what you please;" for affectionate speech
fortifies the mind, removes obstacles, disposes to
self-sacrifice, makes the unwilling willing, and elevates the
character as well as the mind.
{38}
Charity is the great desideratum of the present time. It is
constantly being remarked that the age in which we live requires
this and that. What the age really wants is this:--It needs to be
loved. ... It needs to be drawn out of that egotism which frets
and consumes it. It needs a little esteem and kindly treatment to
make good all its deficiencies. How silly we are, then, to go so
far in search of the desired object, overlooking the fact that
_the kingdom of God is within us_--in our hearts.
Be it ours, therefore, to love the people. ... Is it not to that
end that we have no family ties? ... Let us prevent their hate,
which is so harmful to them. Let love be present with us always,
according to the saying of Saint Augustine:--"Let us love in
speaking, and speak in love. Let there be love in our
remonstrances ... love also in our reproofs. Let the mouth speak,
but let the heart love." Yes, let us learn to love, to endure, to
be devoted. What! do we not belong to the same family as those
excellent and self-denying men who leave country and home to seek
and to save souls beyond the ocean? Were we not brought up at the
same school? They love infidels, they love pagans and savages
sufficiently well to sacrifice every thing for them. ... Are not
our pagans in France worth as much as the pagans of Oceania? Are
not our French little ones as deserving of compassion as Chinese
children?
{39}
True, their parents do not expose them on the highways; but they
abandon them to shame, to vice, to the education of the streets.
... It is right that we should commiserate the heathen, that
devotion should be manifested on their behalf; but let us have
compassion on our own children also, on our brothers in France,
that they be not suffered to perish before our eyes. ... Yes, I
invoke pity for this people; pity for their sufferings, their
miseries, their prejudices, their deplorable subjection to
popular opinion, their ignorance, their errors. Let us, at least,
try to do them good, to save them. Therein lies bur happiness; we
shall never have any other. All other sources are closed to us;
there is the well-spring of the most delectable joys. Apart from
charity, what remains? Vanity, unprofitableness, bitterness,
misery, nothingness.
{40}