Here we have, in great part at least, an explanation why conversions to the Catholic Church are not more frequent than they are. Surely the Catholic Church is prominent enough in the eyes of men. From her church towers she cries aloud. In the streets, at the opening of her gates, she utters her word, saying: "O children of men, how long will you love folly, and the unwise hate knowledge? Turn ye at my reproof." Her antiquity, her unity, her universality, the sanctity of so many of her children, are enough to arrest the attention of every thoughtful man. But how few heed her voice! True, here and there, there are souls who recognise in her the true teacher sent by Christ, the guide of their souls, and submit themselves to her safe and holy keeping. Altogether, they make a goodly company; but how small in proportion to those who are left behind! It reminds us of the words of the prophet: "I will take one of a city, and two of a family and bring you into Sion." [Footnote 40]
[Footnote 40: Jer. iii. 14.]
They come by ones and twos, and the mass remains behind. And what does that mass think of the Catholic Church? Some are entirely ignorant of her, almost as though she did not exist. Some have wrong ideas about her, and hate her. Some know a good deal about her doctrines, and are conversant with the proofs of them, and argue about them, and criticise them. Some are favorably inclined to her. Some patronise her. It was just so with Christ. To some He was simply unknown, though He was in their midst. To some He was an impostor and a blasphemer. To many He was an occasion of dispute, some affirming Him to be a "good man," others saying, "Nay, He deceiveth the people." To some He was an innovator on the established religion, the religion of the respectable and educated. To others, His mysteries were an offence, and the severity of His doctrine a stumbling-block. Why is this? Why is it always thus? Why are men so slow to be wise, and to be happy? I do not wish, my brethren, to give too sweeping an answer. I know there is such a thing as inculpable ignorance. I believe there are many on their way to the Church who are not suspected of it, and who, perhaps, do not suspect it themselves. I know that God has His seasons of grace and providence. I know that each human mind is different from every other, and has its own law of working, its own way of arriving at conviction. But after all such deductions, are there not very many of whom it is a plain matter of fact to say that they will not give their attention to this subject? They may even have conscious doubts on their minds, and live and die with these unattended to, unresolved. It is a want of religious earnestness. Men do not ask: "What shall I do to be saved?" Or at least, they do not give to that question their supreme attention. They do not grapple with their destiny. They are indifferent to it, or hopeless about its solution. They let themselves float on, leaving the questions of the future to decide themselves as they may, and live in the pleasures and interests of the present.
Oh, fatal supineness! unworthy a rational being, defeating the end of our creation, and entailing countless miseries here and hereafter. Nothing can be hoped for from the world, till it awakes from its lethargy of indifference. Men must be men before you can make them Christians—serious, thoughtful earnest men, before you have any reason for expecting them to become Catholics. There is more hope of a conscientious bigot, than for a man indifferent to his salvation. He, at least, is in earnest. If his mind should become enlightened, if he should recognise the Catholic Church as the divinely-appointed guide to that heaven which he is seeking, there is reason to hope that he will avail himself of her blessings. He will not make frivolous objections; he will not stumble at the Sacrament of Confession, or catch at every scandalous story of immorality on the part of a Catholic, or quarrel with every minute ritual arrangement; but in a better, higher, nobler spirit, in that spirit of obedience which so well becomes a man, in that spirit of faith, in which man's reason asserts most clearly its high character, by uniting itself to and embracing the Reason of God, when he finds that the Church is the guide to his immortal destiny, he "will come bending to her, and will worship the steps of her feet, and will call her the City of the Lord, the Sion of the Holy One of Israel."
And now, to turn our eyes within the Church, we can in the same way account for those dreadful apostasies from the Catholic faith which are here and there recorded in history. Mahometanism, which in numbers is a rival to Catholicity, possesses some of the fairest lands once owned by Christ. In modern times, one of the most refined and enlightened nations of Christendom, in a moment of frenzy, threw off the faith with which her history had been so adorned, and professed Atheism. Now, how did these things happen? Not of a sudden, or all at once. Men are not changed from Christians into Turks or Infidels in an hour. There must have been some secret moral history, which accounts for this wonderful change. And so there was. Men became lax in their conduct. The Catholicity they practised was not the Catholicity of Christ and the Apostles. Public morals were conformed to the standard of heathenism rather than that of the gospel—nay, sometimes outraged as much the decencies of heathenism as the precepts of Christ. It was the old story. St. John the Baptist imprisoned by an adulterous king; St. John the Baptist, conspired against and murdered by an ambitious queen; the head of St. John the Baptist, eloquent and reproachful even in death, brought in to point the jest and stimulate the revelry of a lascivious feast—this is but a figure of the treatment which conscience has received in Christian courts, and at the hands of Christian princes. Morality and decency grew out of date, and were cast aside like old-fashioned garments, and the restraints of the Law of God were as feeble as cobwebs before the power of passion. Now, what else could be the result of all this, but a disesteem of Christianity itself? True, it might retain some hold upon men's minds for a time. The fact that it was the religion of their ancestors, the fact that they were baptized in it, the beauty of its ceremonies and architecture, the soothing influence of its ordinances, the services it has rendered to civilisation, might keep it standing in its place for a time; but these considerations are not strong enough to withstand the power of hell, when it is exerted in the way of persecution, or a general apostasy. "Every plant that my Heavenly Father hath not planted, shall be rooted up," said Christ. [Footnote 41] It must be a supernatural motive that binds us to our faith. Christ and the Law cannot long remain divorced. A people without conscience will soon be a people without faith; and a nation of triflers only waits the occasion, to become a nation of apostates.
[Footnote 41: St. Matt. xv. 13.]
It is not, then, without a special providence of God, that in these later days the missionary orders of the Church have been multiplied. In the sixteenth century the intellectual defence of the faith was the Church's greatest need, and that was most successfully accomplished. But there is needed something more to uphold the falling fabric of modern society. Men need to be reminded of the first principles of morality. And, therefore, a St. Alphonsus appears in Naples, a St. Vincent of Paul in France; missionary orders in every land go about teaching the people, before it is too late, the very first and fundamental truths—the doctrine of repentance and good works. Here, in every age, and every country, is the real danger to faith. We speak often of the dangers to faith in this country; and unquestionably we have our special trials here. Some of our children are lost by neglect. Some grow cold in the unfriendly atmosphere that surrounds them. But the real danger to be dreaded is, that the love of the Church herself should grow cold; that a wide-spread demoralisation should take place among ourselves; that we should forget the keeping of the Ten Commandments. This, indeed, would be the prelude to our destruction. Practical morality makes a strong Church; but let morality be forgotten, and the Church, while it has a name to live, is dead. And as a corpse long decomposed sometimes retains the human form until it is exposed to the air, when it crumbles into dust; so a dead Church will be blown to atoms and swept away, the first strong blast that hell breathes against it.
And, in fine, by the light of the thought which I have been endeavoring to present to you this morning, we see the means by which we ought to make sure our personal union with Christ. Christ is coming. He is coming at Christmas to unite Himself with those whom He shall find prepared. He is coming again, and the mountains shall melt before Him; for He is coming to judge the world. "Who shall stand to see Him? For He shall be as a Refining Fire, and shall try the Sons of Levi as gold and silver." [Footnote 42]
[Footnote 42: St. Matt. iii. 2, 3.]
How shall we abide His coming, my brethren I how shall we prepare to meet Him? I know no other way than that which St. John the Baptist recommended to the Jews—a true and solid conversion. Whether a man has committed mortal sin or not, whether he is born a Catholic or not, there comes upon him, if he is a true Christian, some time in his life, a change which Catholic writers call conversion. It may not be sudden. It may be all but imperceptible. It may be more than once. But at least once, there comes a time when religion becomes a matter of personal conviction with him. He is different from what he was before. A change has passed over him. He has awakened to his moral accountability. His manhood is developed. His conscience is aroused. And until that happens, you cannot count on him. He may seem innocent and pious, but you cannot tell whether it will not be "like the dew that passeth away in the morning." You cannot say how he will act in temptation. You cannot reckon on what he will be next year. Perhaps then he will draw sin "as with a cart-rope." The trouble with such men is not that they sin sometimes. Alas! such is human frailty that a single fall would not dishearten us; but the real misery is, that they have no principle of not sinning. They are not preparing for Christ's judgement. Their contrition, such as it is, is intended to prepare them for confession, not for eternity. See, then, what we want!
And this is what I understand by the penance which St. John the Baptist preached. He practised it himself. It is thought that in St. John's case the use of reason was granted before birth; and when as a babe he leaped in his mother's womb, it was for conscious joy at the presence of his Lord and Saviour. And since the Blessed Virgin and St. Elizabeth were cousins, doubtless St. John and our Blessed Saviour knew each other as children. It is more than probable that they used to play together when they were boys, as the painters loved to represent them. And oh! what an effect did the knowledge of Christ have on St. John! It took the color out of earthly beauty, and the music out of earthly joy. There was with him afterward one overpowering desire—the desire of sanctity. He had seen a vision of heaven. Not because he despised the world, but because a higher beauty was opened to his soul, he went into the desert, and his meat was locusts and wild honey. One aim he had: to purify his heart. One thought: to prepare for heaven, and to help others also to prepare.
Oh, let us heed his words and example. Let us follow him, if not in the rigor of his fastings, at least in the sincerity of his penance. Be converted, and turn to the Lord your God. There is no other way of preparing for judgment. Remember what the Church says to you at the Font: "If thou wilt enter into life, keep the commandments." Listen to what God Himself counsels, when prophesying the terrors of the last day: "Remember the law of Moses, My servant, which I commanded him in Horeb for all Israel, the precepts and judgments." [Footnote 43]
[Footnote 43: St. Matt. iv. 4.]
The law commanded in Horeb—that eternal law of right, and justice, and purity, and truth—examine yourself by this standard; forsake every evil way and live a Christian life. Happy are they who do so! Happy and secure shall they be in the evil time. When the earth and heaven shall be shaken, and sea and land give up their dead, and the Son of Man appear in the heavens, and the Throne shall be set for judgment, then look up and lift up your head, for your redemption draweth nigh. You have been true to your conscience; you have believed in Christ; you have kept His law; now to you belongs the promise, "Then they that feared the Lord spoke every man with his neighbor, and the Lord gave ear, and heard it: and a book of remembrance was written before the Lord for them that fear the Lord, and think on His Name. And they shall be My special possession, saith the Lord of Hosts, in the day that I do judgment: and I will spare them as a man spareth his own son that serveth him." [Footnote 44]
[Footnote 44: St. Matt. iii. 16, 17.]
Sermon VII.
God's Desire To Be Loved.
(Christmas Day.)
"Thou art beautiful above the sons of men:
grace is poured abroad in Thy lips;
therefore hath God blessed Thee forever.
Gird Thy sword upon Thy thigh, O Thou most mighty.
With Thy comeliness and Thy beauty,
set out, proceed prosperously and reign."
—Ps. xliv. 3-5.
The Church calls on us to-day to rejoice and be glad for the Incarnation of the Son of God. With a celebration peculiar to this Feast, she breaks the dead silence of the night with her first Mass of joy. She repeats it again as the east reddens with the dawn. And still again, when the sun is shining in full day, she offers anew a Mass of thanksgiving for a blessing which can never be sufficiently praised and magnified. I have thought that I could not better attune your hearts to all this gladness and gratitude than by reminding you of one of the motives of the Incarnation. Why did our Lord become man? and why did He become Man in the way He did? I answer, out of His desire to be loved by us. There is a love of benevolence, which is content simply with doing good without asking a return. God has this love for us. Nature and reason tell us so. "He maketh His sun to rise on the good and the bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust." [Footnote 45]
[Footnote 45: St. Matt. v. 45.]
And there is another love, the love of friendship, which seeks to be united to the object of its love. And the Incarnation shows us that God has this kind of love for man. His love makes us lovable in His eyes, and this again makes Him vehemently desire our love. This will be my subject this morning—the Incarnation, an evidence of God's desire to be loved by us.
And, first, observe, that there is no other reason given for the Incarnation which sufficiently accounts for it in all its circumstances. There are several reasons for the Incarnation. It is the doctrine of many Catholic theologians that God would have become man even if man had never sinned; that it was part of His original plan in forming the creature thus to unite it to Himself. Again, it is said that our Lord became Man in order to make satisfaction for sin. And a third reason alleged for His becoming man, is, that He might give us a perfect example. Now all these reasons are true: but neither of them alone, nor all of them together, entirely account for the Incarnation with all its circumstances. Not the first, for even if God had predetermined that His Son should become Man, irrespective of man's transgression, certainly in that case He would not have come poor and sorrowful, as He did. The necessity of a satisfaction for sin accounts indeed for our Lord's sufferings in part, but not altogether; for He suffered far more than was necessary. Besides, it was not necessary for a Divine Person to have suffered for us unless it had pleased God to require a perfect satisfaction, which He was free to demand or dispense with. The desire to give a good example may be suggested as the explanation of our Lord's humiliation; but when we consider a moment, we will see that though a good man really does give a good example, he does very few, if any of his actions, for the mere sake of giving it. There are many things, then, in our Lord's becoming Man, and His life as Man, that need some further reason. What is that reason? It is His great desire to be loved by us. Suppose this, and every thing is clear. I do not mean to say that this account of our Lord's Incarnation makes it any less wonderful—it makes it more so—but it gives a motive for it all. Suppose Him influenced by an intense desire to gain our love, and then we see why He stooped so low, why He did so much more than was necessary, why he was so lavish in condescension—in a word, this is the explanation of what would otherwise seem to be the excess of His love.
Then, again, let us consider how our Lord's Incarnation is adapted to win our love. When we see means perfectly adapted to an end, we are apt to conclude that they were chosen in view of that end. Now, our Lord's humiliation is in all its parts wonderfully calculated to attract love.
His taking our nature is especially so. There is a wonderful power in blood. To be of kin is a tie that survives all changes and all times. Now, here our Lord makes Himself of kin to us, of the same blood. He is no stranger, before whom we need feel at a great distance, but our relation, of our flesh and blood.
And then as Man, He has clothed Himself with every thing that can make Him attractive in the eyes of man. He makes His first appearance in the world as an Infant, a beautiful Babe. How attractive is a beautiful child! Men even of rugged natures are softened by looking at it. A little child brings a flood of grace and light into a house. Now, to-day, the Son of God is a Babe at Bethlehem. He has the beauty of infancy, but there is also a superadded beauty, a light playing on His features that is not of earth, the light of Infinite Wisdom and Eternal Love. See, He looks around and smiles, and stretches out His hands, as if inviting us to caress Him.
In many children this beauty of infancy is evanescent, but in our Lord it was the earnest of a grace and loveliness that followed Him through life. It is evident that there was something most attractive about our Lord to those who approached Him. As He grew in stature He increased in favor, not only with God but with men. When He had attained to manhood, He was such a one that children willingly gathered around Him in the streets, and people stopped to look at Him as He passed, and men's minds were strangely stirred in them as He spoke, and the thought came into women's hearts, "How happy to be the mother of such a Son!" Who but He knew how perfectly to mingle dignity with familiarity, zeal with serenity, and austerity with compassion? Even at the distance of time that we are from His earthly life, His words reach us like the sweetest music. What other preacher can say the same words again and again, and never make us weary? Whose tones are there that linger in our ears like His, and come like a spell to our hearts in times of temptation and sorrow? Why, even scoffers have acknowledged this. The beauty and excellence of our Saviour's character have wrung a eulogium from a celebrated opponent of Christianity, and at least a momentary confession that its author was Divine.
Then, to the attractions of His character, our Lord has added the destitution of His circumstances, in order to gain our love. It is natural for us to love any thing that is dependent on us. The sick child that needs to be nursed, the helpless and depressed, the poor that appeal to us, even the bird and the dog that look to us for their food, come to have a place in our hearts. Now, our Lord, at least even in this way to win us, has placed Himself in a state of complete dependence on us. From the cradle to the grave, and even beyond the grave, He appeals to man for the supply of every want.
Think what it might have been. Think of the twelve legions of angels that are impatient to come and minister to Him. But no! He restrains them. For his swathing-bands, He will be a debtor to Mary's care. For a habitation, He will put up with the stall of the ox and the ass. The manger from which the cattle are fed shall be His cradle. St. Joseph shall bear the expenses of his early years; and when St. Joseph is gone, and He has begun His ministry of preaching, Joanna and the other holy women shall minister to Him of their substance. And at last, Magdalene shall anoint His body for burial, and Joseph of Arimathea shall give Him a winding-sheet and a grave.
I said He carried His poverty beyond the grave. And so He does. For His churches, for the glory of His altars, for His priests, for His sacraments, even for the bread and wine which shall serve as veils for His presence, He depends on us, that out of love we may minister to Him, and by ministering may love Him better.
And, further: while on the one hand our Lord thus appeals to our affections by the poverty of His condition, on the other He compels our love by the greatness of His sacrifices for us. In His Sermon on the Mount, He bids us, "If any man force us to go with him a mile, to go with him other two;" [Footnote 46] and certainly it has been by this rule that He has acted toward us.
[Footnote 46: St. Matt. v. 41.]
I have already said our Lord has done far more than was necessary to redeem us. Why, in strictness of justice, He had ransomed us before He was born. The very first act of love He made to His Father, after His conception, was enough to redeem countless worlds. But He did not then go back to His Father. He staid on earth to do more for us. He would not leave any thing undone that could be done. He would not leave a single member of His body, a single power of His soul, that was not turned into a sacrifice for us.
No doubt, if, at the birth of any child, we could foresee all it would have to suffer during its life, there would be enough to mingle sadness with our joy. But this child was preeminently a child of sorrow; and Simeon, when he took Him up in his arms, foresaw that the sad future would break His mother's heart. Yes, that little Child is the willing victim of our sins. On that little head the crown of thorns shall be placed. Those tiny hands shall be pierced with nails. Those eyes shall weep. Those ears shall be filled with reproach and blasphemy. That smooth cheek be spit upon. That mouth be filled with vinegar and gall. And why was all this? He Himself has told us: "And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all things to Myself:" [Footnote 47] That was the hope that urged Him on. That was the key to His whole life. It was all an effort, a struggle, to gain our love.
[Footnote 47: St. John xii. 32.]
And, once more: the effect of the Incarnation has been love. We read God's purposes in their fulfilment. We see what our Lord intended in His humiliation, by looking at what it has produced. There is no doubt that the love of God has been far more general among men, and far more tender, since the Incarnation. Only compare St. Antony of Padua, fondling the Infant Jesus, with Elias, covering his face with his mantle before the Lord in the cave at Horeb. Compare the book of Job with the epistles of St. Paul or St. John. God is in both books; but the Prophet sees Him through a glass darkly: the Apostles "have seen and handled the Word of Life." One of the most beautiful passages in the Old Testament, and one which approaches the nearest to the New, is the history of the martyrdom of the seven sons with their Mother in the time of Judas Machabæus. But how this story pales before the Acts of the Christian Martyrs! In these Jewish heroes we see, indeed, faith in God, and remembrance of His promises, and hope in the Resurrection; but how different is this from the glowing language of an Ignatius, who claimed to carry Christ within him; or of an Agnes, who claimed to be the Spouse of Christ, whom He had betrothed with a ring, and adorned with bridal jewels!
Nor is it only in highly spiritual people, or highly gifted people of any kind, that we see this Christian, personal love of God. The poor, the dull, the ignorant cannot understand the abstract arguments about God, but they can understand a crucifix, they know the meaning of Bethlehem and Calvary. And many an old woman, who knows little more, has learned enough to make her happy, in the thought that "God so loved the world as to give His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him may not perish, but may have life everlasting." [Footnote 48]
[Footnote 48: St. John iii. 16.]
Then there are children; some people complain that they find it very hard to interest them in religion. I will tell you how to succeed. Tell them the story of Joseph and Mary, and the Babe lying in a manger. Tell them about the shepherds that were watching their flocks by night, and the angels that came and talked to them. Tell them about the garden in which Jesus was betrayed, and the cross on which he died, and you will see their little eyes open wide with interest. I knew a boy who, when he read the story of Peter's denial of our Lord, got up from his seat, and, with tears in his eyes, exclaimed, "Oh, mother, what made Peter do that!" And I have heard of a little boy who, when he was dying, called his mother to his side, and told her that he had kept all the money she had given him, in a little box, and when he was dead he wanted her to take it and buy a coat for the Infant Jesus. I know it was a strange, childish conceit; but it showed that our Saviour had found His way to that little boy's heart; and sure I am that when, in Paradise, he stood before the bright throne of Christ, and heard from those divine lips the praise of his short life, that legacy was not forgotten.
Yes; our Lord has found out the way to win hearts. He has succeeded. The issue proves the wisdom of his plan. As heaven fills up with saints flaming with love, He says, "Whence are these? and who hath begotten them?" Then He remembers that they are the fruit of the travail of His soul, that they were born to Him at Bethlehem and Calvary, and He "is satisfied."
The truth is, we are not so sensible of this effect of the Incarnation, because we are so familiar with it. We hardly realize how meagre men's notions about God naturally are. Of course, we know by reason the existence of God, and many of His attributes; but without revelation, these are very indistinct. We know that He is great and good and beautiful; but still there is a gulf between us and Him. Partly, no doubt, this arises from our sense of guilt. We fear God, because we have offended Him. But there is a dread of God, and a sense of distance from Him, that does not come from guilt. The most innocent feel it the keenest. I know not why, but we dread Him because He is so spiritual. He is so strange and mysterious. We cannot think what He is like. We lose ourselves when we try to think of Him. There are so many things in the world that frighten us. We do not know how God feels toward us. We have a diffidence in approaching Him which we cannot shake off. Now, all the while, God is full of the most wonderful love to man. Heaven is not enough for Him. Even with the angels, it is a wilderness because man is absent. At last He resolves what He will do. He will lay aside altogether that majesty which affrights man so much. "The distance is too great," He says, "between Me and My creatures. I Myself will become a creature. Man flies from Me. I will become Man. Every thing loves its kind. I will make Myself like him. 'I will draw him with the cords of Adam, with the bands of love.' [Footnote 49]
[Footnote 49: Osee xi. 4.]
I will tell him how the case stands—that I love him and desire his love. I will tell him to love Me, not for his sake, but Mine; and when I have made him understand this—when I have gained his love; when I have healed his wound and made him happy—then I will come back, and call on all the angels of heaven, and say, 'Rejoice with Me, for I have found the sheep that I had lost.'"
Such is the enterprise that our Lord enters on to-day. He comes to tell you how He loves you, and how He desires your love. "Behold, I bring to you glad tidings of great joy, and this shall be the sign to you: you shall find the Infant wrapped in swaddling-clothes, and laid in a manger." It is a sign of Humanity. It is a sign of Beauty. It is a sign of Humility. It is a sign of Love. He speaks to you, not in words, but in actions. The cold wind whistles in His cavern, but He will not have it otherwise. David said: "I will not enter into the tabernacle of my home: I will not go up into my bed. I will not give sleep to my eyes, or slumber to my eyelids, or rest to my temples, until I find out a place for the Lord, a tabernacle for the God of Jacob." [Footnote 50]
[Footnote 50: Isai. cxxxi. 3-5.]
So the new-born Saviour will not take any comfort till He has got your love. He is waiting in the manger, and until you come and take Him home, He will accept no other. The palaces of the world, and all the jewels and the gold are His, but He will have none of them. He wants to abide in your lowly house, and in your poor heart. His head is full of dew, and His locks of the drops of the night, and He knocks for you to open to Him. Oh, to-day, I do not envy those who will not receive Him. I do not envy those who are wandering about in error, and know not the true Bethlehem, the House of Bread, the Holy Church of God. I do not envy the disobedient Christian. I do not envy the indifferent man, for whom Christ is born in vain. But I praise those who make it their first care to keep themselves united to Jesus Christ. And most of all, I praise those who strive to maintain a holy familiarity with Jesus Christ; who by prayer, by communion, by self-denial, by generous obedience, return their Saviour love for love.
O my brethren, why do we grovel on earth, when we might have our conversation in heaven? Why do we set our hearts on creatures, when we might have the Creator for our friend? Why do we follow the Evil One, when He that is beautiful above the sons of men is our Master and our Lord? Why are we so weak in temptation, so despairing in trial, when we might have the peace and joy of the children of God? What more can we want? God has given us the Only-begotten Son, the Mighty God, the Wonderful Counsellor, the Prince of Peace; and how shall He not with Him freely give us all things? All we want is to recognize our happiness. When Jacob woke from sleep, he said: "The Lord is in this place, and I knew it not." So we do not realize how near God is to us. What is the sound that reaches us to-day? It is the voice of the Beloved, calling to us: "My love, My spouse, My undefiled!" Yes, my Lord, I answer to Thy call. I enter to-day into the school of Thy Holy Love. I make now the resolution that "henceforth neither life nor death, nor height nor depth, nor any other creature shall be able to separate me from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." [Footnote 51]
[Footnote 51: Romans viii. 39.]
Sermon VIII.
The Failure And Success Of The Gospel.
(Sexagesima.)
"Saying these things he cried out:
He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."
St. Luke VIII. 8.
There is one measure by which, if our Lord's work were tried, it might be pronounced a failure; and that is by the measure of great immediate, visible results. The thought might come into our mind, that it is strange our Lord was not more successful than He was. He was the Son of God, no one ever spake as He did. He conversed with a great number of men—in Jerusalem, in Judea, in Galilee. He was always going about from place to place. He died in the sight of a whole city. Yet what was the result of all? On the Day of Pentecost, His disciples were gathered together in the upper chamber, and they numbered, all told, one hundred and twenty. So it is, likewise, with the Church. After all, what has she done? Put her numbers at the highest. Say she has two hundred millions of souls in her communion. What are they to the eight hundred millions that inhabit the globe. [Footnote 52]
[Footnote 52: Recent estimates of the population of the globe vary from 840,000,000, to 1,300,000,000, and of the number of Catholics from 160,000,000 to 208,000,000. Other Christians are about 130,000,000.]
And how many of her members are there who can be called Catholics or Christians, only in a broad, external sense! Has Christianity, then, accomplished the results that might have been looked for? Is it not a failure?
I will attempt this morning to give some reasons showing that Christianity is not a failure, although it has accomplished only partial results. And the first remark I make is this: that partial results belong to every thing human. Although Christianity is a divine religion, by coming into the world it became subject in many respects to the laws that govern human things. To specify one, Christianity demands attention. "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." Without attention, Christianity will never produce its impression on our conduct. Now, attention is a thing hard to get from men. It is one of the greatest wants in the world, the want of attention. "With desolation is all the land made desolate," says the Holy Scripture, "because there is none that considereth in the heart." [Footnote 53]
[Footnote 53: Jer. xii. 11.]
We see examples of this on every side. Take the instance of young men at college. After passing several years there, at a considerable expense to their parents, professedly for the sake of acquiring an education, a certain number of them know nothing but the names of the things they have been studying. This is the entire result of all they have heard or read, an acquisition of some of the terms made use of in science. Others have gained some confused and partial knowledge, which for practical purposes is all but useless; while those who have acquired precise, accurate, useful information, that is, who have gained any real science, are few indeed. It is the same in business. Every trade and profession is crowded with bunglers who do not know their own business, because they have been too lazy to learn it, and who grumble at the success of others who have not spared the pains necessary to become masters.
So also it is in politics. We hear a great deal about the general diffusion of intelligence in this country, and are told how the sovereign people watch the actions of public men and call them to account. Now, I suppose there is more wide-spread information on public matters in this country than in any other in the world, but what does it amount to after all? A great many read the newspapers without passing any independent judgment on their statements, while those who really shape political opinions and action are but a small clique in each locality.
This being so, it ought not to surprise us that men give but little attention to religion. If learning, business, politics, things that touch our present interests so closely, can only to a superficial extent engage the thoughts of men, will religion, which relates chiefly to man's future welfare, be more successful? In one sense, Christianity is as old as the world; for there has been a continuous testimony to the truth from the first, but it has never yet had a full hearing. How do men act about religion? Some listen to its teaching only with their ears, as a busy man in his office listens to a jew's-harp or a band-organ on the street. So Gallio listened, who "cared for none of these things." Some listen with their hearts, that is, with attention enough to awaken a passing emotion or sentiment. So Felix listened, when he trembled at St. Paul's preaching, and promised to hear him again at a more convenient season. Only a few listen with attentive ears and hearts and hands, the only true way of listening, the way St. Paul listened, when he said, "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" [Footnote 54]
[Footnote 54: Acts ix. 6.]
When you say, then, that Christianity has produced but partial results, you are but saying that men are frivolous and thoughtless, that there are many who do not listen to religion, or do not listen to it with earnestness and lay to heart its practical lessons. "Wisdom preacheth abroad; she uttereth her voice in the streets; at the head of multitudes she crieth out;" but it is of no avail to the greater number, "because they have hated instruction, and received not the fear if the Lord." [Footnote 55]
[Footnote 55: Proverbs i. 20, 21, 29]
Moreover, our Lord foresaw that the success of His gospel would be but partial. We see this in the very passage from which the text is taken. There is something melancholy in the way the evangelist introduces the parable of the sower: "And when a very great multitude was gathered together and hastened out of the cities to Him, He spoke by a similitude: A sower went out to sow his seed," etc. This was the thought which the sight of a very great multitude pressing around Him awoke in the mind of our Lord: how small a part would really give heed to His words, or really appreciate them: how in some hearts the word would be trodden down, in others be choked or wither away; and this is the secret of the energy with which He cried out at the end of the parable, "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear." The same thought comes out in the conversation which he had afterward with His disciples, when they asked an explanation of the parable: "The heart of this people is grown gross; and with their ears they have been dull of hearing, and their eyes they have shut: lest at any time they should see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted, and I should heal them. But blessed are your eyes because they see, and your ears because they hear." [Footnote 56]
[Footnote 56: St. Matt. xiii. 15, 16.]
Our Lord was as far as possible, then, from expecting that the course of things would stand still, and all men comply instantly with his preaching. Nor were His predictions respecting His Church such as to warrant more sanguine expectations of her success. In His charge to His disciples, He let them know what they were to expect: "When you come into a house salute it, saying: Peace be to this house. And if that house be worthy, your peace shall come upon it; but if it be not worthy, your peace shall return to you. And when they shall persecute you in this city, flee into another." [Footnote 57]
[Footnote 57: St. Matt. x. 12, 13, 23.]
Nor were their trials to be altogether external. "And then shall many be scandalised, and shall betray one another, and shall hate one another. And because iniquity hath abounded, the charity of many shall wax cold." [Footnote 58]
[Footnote 58: Ib. xxiv. 10, 12.]
When, then, you say, See! in that country the Church has all but died out; in that country faith is weak, and the most active minds in it are estranged from religion; in that country scandals abound; in that country there was a great apostasy; that other was fruitful in heresies:—I reply, you are only verifying our Lord's predictions; you are only saying what He said before the event. If religion has not accomplished all that could be desired, it has at least done what it promised.
Nor is this all. Not only did our Lord foresee that many would reject His grace, but He acquiesced in it. His work is not a failure, because He does not account it so. What though many refuse to listen? They that will be saved, those of good will and honest hearts, they will be saved, and that is enough. He saw of the travail of His soul, and was satisfied. Our Lord shed His blood for all men; He willed seriously the salvation of all men; but since all will not be saved, He is content to give it for those who will. He "is the Saviour of all men, especially of the faithful." [Footnote 59]
[Footnote 59: 1 Tim. iv. 10.]
When He came to Jerusalem to die, looking at the city, He wept to think how many were there who knew not the time of their visitation; but that did not deter Him from marching on to Mount Calvary. When He foretold to St. Peter, before His passion, all He was about to suffer, St. Peter, with mistaken affection, begged Him to spare Himself. "Far be this from Thee." How much more would he have dissuaded our Lord, if he could have foreseen in how many cases these labors and sufferings would have been fruitless. Would he not have said to Him, "O Lord! do not suffer so much, turn away thy face from the smiter, and thy mouth from gall. Do not crush Thy heart with cruel grief, or bathe Thy body in a sweat of agony. The very men for whom Thou diest will disbelieve Thee, or, believing, will disobey Thee.
Can we doubt to what effect our Saviour would have answered? "If I be lifted up I will draw all men to Me, and all will not resist Me. I shall see of the travail of My soul, and shall be satisfied."
Or I can imagine that at the Last Supper, as our Lord was about to institute the Blessed Sacrament of His body and blood, the same warm-hearted disciple laying his hand on his Master's arm, might have said, "Do not do it! Thou thinkest they cannot withstand this proof of love. But, alas! they will pass by unheeding. Thou wilt remain on the altars of Thy churches night and day, but the multitude will not know Thee, or ask after Thee, and they that do know Thee will insult Thee in Thy very gifts, will treat Thee with disrespect, and receive Thee with dishonor." But our Lord gently disregards his remonstrance, and having loved His own who were in the world, loves them to the end, and for them is contented to make Himself a perpetual prisoner of love. Oh, my brethren, our statistics and our arithmetic are sadly at fault when we are dealing with divine things. When Abraham went to plead with Almighty God to spare Sodom, he began by asking as a great matter that the city might be spared if fifty just men were found in it, and the answer was prompt and free, "I will not do it for fifty's sake." Somewhat emboldened, he came down by degrees to ten, and received the same answer, but stopped there, thinking that he could make no further demand on the mercy of God. It is a thing we will never understand, how much God has the heart of a father. When news was brought to the patriarch Jacob, that Joseph, his son, was yet living, all his woes and hardships were forgotten in a moment, and he said: It is enough. Joseph, my son, is yet alive." So, all the unkindness, disobedience, unbelief of men, are compensated to the heart of Christ by the fervor of His true children, His servants whom He hath chosen, His elect in whom His soul delighteth. Weary on the cross, His fainting eye sees their fidelity and their love, and His heart revives, and He says: "It is enough." Christ accounts the fruits of His redemption great, and they are great. This is our temptation, to undervalue the good that is in the world. Evil is so obtrusive, that we are but too apt to attribute to it a larger share in the world than it really holds. How much of good, then, has been and is in the world? The Blessed Virgin, the Queen of Heaven, the perfect fruit of Christ's redemption, once walked the earth, engaged in lowly, every-day duties, like any maid or mother among us. Moses and Elias and St. John the Baptist once lived our life here on the earth; and the hundred and forty-four thousand who sing a new song before the throne of God, and the great multitude that no man can number out of all people and kindreds and tribes and tongues, clothed in white and with palms in their hands. You talk of failure! Why has not the sound of the gospel gone into all lands, and its words to the end of the world? Have not empires owned its sway, and kings come bending to seek its blessings? Have not millions of martyrs loved it better than their lives? Has not the solitary place been made glad by the hymns of its anchorites, and the desert blossomed like a rose under their toil? Is there a profession, or trade, or court, or country which has not been sanctified by moral heroes who drew in their holy inspirations from its lessons? And who can tell us the amount of goodness in every-day life, to some extent necessarily hidden, but of which we catch such unearthly glimpses, and which is the practical fruit of its principles? The virtuous families, the upright transactions, the glorious sacrifices, the noble charities, the restraint of passion, the interior purity, the patient perseverance! Listen to the description which God Himself gives of the results of the gospel:
"Who are these, that fly as clouds, and as doves to their windows? For the islands wait for me, and the ships of the sea in the beginning; that I may bring thy sons from afar; their silver and their gold with them, to the name of the Lord thy God, and to the Holy One of Israel, because He hath glorified thee. Iniquity shall no more be heard in thy land, wasting nor destruction in thy borders; and salvation shall possess thy walls, and praise thy gates. Thy sun shall go down no more, and thy moon shall not decrease: for the Lord shall be unto thee for an everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended. And thy people shall be all just; they shall inherit the land forever, the branch of my planting, the work if my hand, to glorify me. The least shall become a thousand, and a little one a most strong nation. I, the Lord, will suddenly do this thing in its time." [Footnote 60]
[Footnote 60: Isai. lx. 8, 9, 18, 20, 21. 22.]
Now, this is the Catholic Church, as God saw it in the future, and as He sees it now. These beautiful words are true in their measure, of every diocese, of every parish, in our day. To-day, as the Holy Church throughout the world flings open her doors and rings her bells, and the crowd press in, in cities, in villages, in country places, God recognizes thousands of his true worshippers, who worship Him in spirit and in truth. We see and know some of them, but only His all-seeing eye sees them all, and only His omniscience, which foreknows the number of those who shall be His by faith and good works, can measure the greatness of the harvest of souls which He will reap at the end of the world. The Lord cometh with ten thousand of His saints. The Last Judgment is the victory of Christ. Then again, surrounded by the fruit of His passion, He may repeat the words which He spoke at the close of His earthly ministry: "I have glorified thee upon the earth. I have finished the work which thou gavest me to do. Those whom thou gavest Me I have kept, and none of them hath perished except the son of perdition." [Footnote 61]
[Footnote 61: St. John xvii. 4, 12.]
These thoughts point the way to two practical lessons, one relating to our duty to others, the other relating to our duty to ourselves.
We see here the spirit in which we ought to labor for the conversion of others. There is certainly a great deal of good to be done around us. How many in this country are out of the Ark of safety, the Catholic Church of Christ! How many in her fold need our efforts and labors to make them better! Why are we not more active in laboring for them? We say it is of no use; we have tried and failed. Those whose conversion we had most at heart seem farther off from the truth than ever. It is no use hoping for the conversion of those who are not Catholics; they are too set in their ways. Many of those Catholics, too, who were doing well as we hoped, have fallen off again, and we are weary of laboring with so little success. Oh! what a mean spirit this is; how unlike the spirit of Christ! How unlike the spirit of that apostle who made himself all things to all men that he might save some. You will put up with no failures. Christ and St. Paul were content to meet with many failures for the sake of some success. How unlike the spirit of St. Francis of Sales, who labored so hard during so many discouraging years, for the conversion of his misguided Swiss. Christ was rejected and crucified by those whom He came to teach. The apostles were despised and their names cast out as evil. And you will not labor because you cannot have immediate and full success. But some success you will meet with. You may not convert the one you desire to convert, but you will convert another. You may not succeed in the way or at the time you look for, but you will succeed in some other way and at some other time. There is nothing well done and charitably done for the truth that falls to the ground. God's word does not return to Him void, but accomplishes the thing whereunto He sent it. We labor, and other men enter into our labors. But the good work is done, and the fruits are garnered in heaven. Be of great hopes, then. You, my brethren of the priesthood, dare to undertake great things for the honor of our Lord and the extension of His kingdom. Use every means that prudence and charity can suggest to gain souls to Christ. In the morning sow your seed, and in the evening withhold not your hand. Labor in season and out of season. For Sion's sake hold not your hand, and for Jerusalem's sake do not rest, until her justice come forth as a brightness, and her salvation be lighted as a lamp! And you, my brethren of the laity, labor each in your place, as far as may be given you, in the same work. Blessing must come from labor, and reward from Him who has promised that "they that instruct many to justice shall shine as stars for all eternity." [Footnote 62]
[Footnote 62: Dan. xii. 3.]
The other lesson we learn is one which teaches us how to guide ourselves in a world of sin and scandal. It is no uncommon thing for men to draw injury to their own souls from the disorders around them, by making them a pretext for neglecting their own salvation, or taking a low standard of duty. One says, there is a man who does not attend to his religious duties, and makes out of this an excuse for his own neglect. "What is that to thee? Follow thou Me," is the answer of Christ. There is another who does go to the sacraments, but whose life is disedifying. He is profane, quarrelsome, untruthful, and artful. Perhaps he is guilty of worse sins than these. "What is that to thee?" is again the answer: "Follow thou Me. My love, My life, my teaching is to be the rule of thy conduct, not the doctrines of others." Oh! how this cuts the way open to a solution of that question with which we sometimes vex ourselves. Are there few or many that will be saved? There are few if few, many if many. Few if few hear and obey, many if many hear and obey. Wisdom crieth aloud, she uttereth her voice in the streets; he that hath ears to hear, let him hear. One hears, lays up and ponders in his heart, like Mary, what he hears, and becomes a saint. Another hears as one who looks in a glass and immediately forgets what he saw reflected in it. Here is the distinction which produces election and reprobation, salvation and damnation. This is the practical question for each one of us: To which of these classes do I belong? This is the prayer which ought to be our daily petition: Give me, O Lord, an understanding heart, to know the things that belong to my peace, before they are forever hid from my eyes. How great the misery of passing through life slothful, careless, inattentive, and so losing the heavenly wisdom we might learn! How great the happiness of keeping the word in a good heart, and bringing forth fruit with patience! Those who do this not only secure their salvation, but they console Christ for all His cruel sufferings, for they constitute the fruit of His Passion, the success of His Gospel, the crown of Glory which He receives from the hand of His Father, the Royal Diadem which He will wear for all eternity.