"Jesus saith to her:
Woman why weepest thou?
Whom seekest thou?"
St. John xx. 15.
How full of tenderness are these words! They were spoken on the first Easter Day. This weeping woman was Mary Magdalene, she that had been a great sinner, and was converted, and loved our Lord so much. She had been at His Cross: she is now at His Tomb, with her spices and ointments to anoint His body. But our Lord's body was not in the grave. The stone is rolled away. The tomb is open, and He is not there. And yet He is not far away. Risen from the dead to a new and mysterious life, He hovers about the garden, and draws near to her as she approaches the sepulchre. At the outburst of her grief on finding the sepulchre empty, He breaks silence. "Woman why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?" These are the first words our Lord spoke after His Resurrection. They are the same words that were used by the angel a little before. They seem to be the antiphon, the key-note which Heaven has given us to guide our Easter thoughts. No tears on Easter Day. Nay, no tears any more of the bitter, hopeless kind, for Christ is Risen. St. Mary Magdalene at the tomb of Christ represents Humanity sitting in the region and shadow of death. Now to-day Christ comes forward, and speaks comfortable words to the human race. "Why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?" He challenges us. "I, thy risen Saviour," He seems to say, "am thy consoler. What grief is there that I have not removed?" And is it so? Are all our real sorrows removed or alleviated by the resurrection of Christ? Yes; heavenly messengers have appeared bringing good tidings. Christ is risen. "The stroke of our wound is healed. "To them that sat in the region of the shadow of death, light is sprung up." "The Day-Spring from on high hath visited us." The earth feels herself to be lightened of her darkness, and in every church in Christendom the cry is again and again repeated: "Alleluia: Praise the Lord."
It would be too long to attempt to show how every human sorrow can gather consolation from the Resurrection of Christ. All I can hope to do this morning is to show how the three heaviest troubles of our race—doubt, guilt, and bereavement—find their relief in that event.
I call doubt, guilt, and bereavement the heaviest woes of man. In regard to the first, religious doubt, many of you have had no experience. Brought up in the Catholic Church, with her teaching always sounding in your ears, you have never known what it was to have real doubts about religious truth. But there are others who have known that anguish by experience. The soul of man thirsts for truth. Deep in every man's soul is a desire for God. It may be stifled, it may be silenced for a time by passion, but there it is, that stretching forth to the Fountain of Goodness and Beauty, that longing to know Him and His will. In generous souls, in souls that are conscious of their dignity, the finding of truth is an indispensable necessity. The search for truth is an occupation that must be pursued with whatever pain and trouble, and until it be found life is really insupportable. O my brethren, I do believe that there are souls around us who hunger for truth as a famishing man hungers for food. They labor and toil harder than any day-laborer. They are like men exploring a dark and many-chambered mine. They go with stooping head, and the sweat rolls off their foreheads, and their feet stumble, and with their dim light they can see but a little way before them, and they are in danger of losing their way. No doubt they learn something; for God is everywhere; God is in our hearts, and in Nature, and in men, and in books, and in the past, and we cannot look for Him anywhere without finding His footprints; but we want more than this. We want God to speak to us. We sigh for the lost happiness of Eden, where God walked with our first parents in "the cool of the day." This is what men need. They need God to reveal Himself to them, to give them certainty in religious truth, at least on the most important points. Everywhere men have been seeking this. "Oh that God would rend the heavens and come down!" [Footnote 93]
[Footnote 93: Isaias lxiv. 1.]
This is the cry of humanity, that God would speak to us and make us hear His voice. And they have sought for this voice. They have strained their ears to listen to it. They have sought it of the moon and stars as they moved through the heavens by night; they have sought it in the whispers of the grove; they have sought it at the lips of men of science and pretended religious teachers. But they have met in such sources only with disappointment or deceit. And yet that voice has always been in the world. It spoke at first feebly and low, but louder and louder as time went on, until Jesus Christ came and "spake as never man spake." He claimed to be the Son of God, taught us clearly about God and our destiny, promised His unfailing protection to His Church in transmitting His doctrine to all generations, and confirmed the truth, both of His Teaching and Promises, by rising from the dead according to His Word. To Him, therefore, belongs the glorious title: "The Faithful and True Witness, the First-Begotten of the Dead." [Footnote 94]
[Footnote 94: Apoc. i. 5.]
Eighteen hundred years have passed away, but His Word has lost none of its authority, and now this morning we can say, as to every point of the Catholic creed, with as much certainty as on the morning of the Resurrection the Apostles felt in regard to all the words of Christ—"I believe." O glorious privilege of a Catholic! "Rejoice," says the prophet, "and be glad in the Lord, O children of Sion, because He hath given to you a Teacher of Justice." [Footnote 95]
[Footnote 95: Joel ii. 23.]
Obedient to this inspired injunction, the Church requires the Creed to be sung at her great solemnities. It is not enough to recite it. No; it must be sung, sung in full chorus, accompanied with instruments of music. And fitting it is and right. Worship would be incomplete without it. Litanies and hymns are the means by which the heart does homage to God; but CREDO, "I believe," that is the intellect's cry of joy at its emancipation from the bondage of doubt. Oh, how mistaken are those who imagine that the articles of the Creed are like fetters on the mind. On the contrary, they are to us the evidences of that liberty wherewith Christ has made us free. We reject temptations against faith, as attacks on our happiness. We feel that to doubt the doctrine of faith would be to doubt the Son of God, and to doubt Him would be to discredit our own soul. Be firm, then, my brethren in faith. Remember that faith is part of your birthright and privilege as Christians. The Sepulchre of Christ is the gate to the Palace of Truth. See, the door is open. The stone is rolled away. Oh, enter and be blest. With Thomas look at His wounded side and say, "My Lord and my God!" With Magdalene fall at His feet and call Him "Master." Listen to His words and doubt no more. "Being no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, but holding the truth in charity, in all things grow up in Him who is the Head, Christ." [Footnote 96]
[Footnote 96: Eph. iv. 14.]
Again, as doubt is the bondage of the intellect, so guilt is the burden of the conscience. Who can give peace to a soul that has sinned? The prophet Micheas well describes the anxiety of such a soul. "What shall I offer to the Lord that is worthy? Wherewith shall I kneel before the High God? Shall I offer holocausts unto Him, and calves of a year old? Will He be appeased with thousands of rams? Shall I give my first-born for my wickedness, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" [Footnote 97]
[Footnote 97: Mich. vi. 6.]
Now, must we for ever go on in this uncertainty? Shall we never, after we have sinned, have again the assurance that we are pardoned? Must we go trembling all our days, and be terror-stricken at the hour of death? Are we left to our own fancyings and feelings to decide whether we are pardoned or not? Shall we never hear that sweet consoling word: "Go in peace, thy sins are forgiven thee?" Yes, Christ is risen. He is come from the grave "with healing in His wings." He is come as a conqueror, with the trophies of victory. Hear what He says of Himself: "I am He that liveth and was dead, and behold I live forever, and have the keys of Hell and Death." [Footnote 98]
[Footnote 98: Apoc. i. 18.]
He has come back from the grave with the keys of Hell in His hand. While He was yet among men He had promised to give those keys to St. Peter and the Apostles, but it was only after His death, by which He had merited our pardon, and after His Resurrection, by which His Father had attested His acceptance of the Ransom, that He proceeded solemnly to deliver them. "Now when it was late," says St. John, "that same day" (Easter day) "Jesus came and stood in the midst and said to them: Peace be to you. As the Father hath sent Me, I also send you. When He had said this, He breathed on them: and He said to them, Receive the Holy Ghost: Whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained." [Footnote 99]
[Footnote 99: St. John xx. 19.]
Do you hear this, O sinner? He offers you pardon, and He assures you of it. All He asks of you is a true sorrow; all He asks is a fervent and true purpose to offend Him no more. Come, confessing your sins; come, forsaking them, and He has promised that His priest shall declare to you, in His name: "I absolve thee from thy sins." He has promised to ratify the sentence in heaven. Can you doubt His power? Can you doubt His truth? No: He has risen for our justification. "What shall we say then to these things? If God be for us, who shall be against us? Who shall lay anything to the charge of the elect of God? It is God that justifieth. Who is he that shall condemn? It is Christ that died, yea also Who is risen again." [Footnote 100]
[Footnote 100: Rom. viii. 33.]
Do not look on us, the ministers of His grace, weak and frail as we are. Look at the Saviour. Look at Him dying on the cross, a ransom for our sins. Look at Him, rising from the dead on the third day, having accomplished a complete victory over our spiritual enemies, and bringing to us life and pardon. See Him in His divine power, instituting sacraments by which that life and pardon might be communicated to us. Believe His word, trust His merits, have recourse to His sacraments, and thus, "being justified by faith have once more peace with God, and rejoice again in hope of the Glory of God." [Footnote 101]
[Footnote 101: Rom. v. 1.]
Come, forgiven sinner, lift up your head, for God hath cleansed you. Be happy: be a Christian: be a man once more, for you are clothed again in the garments of innocence and sanctity. It is no incomplete and grudging pardon He has given you. Though your sins "were as scarlet," they are now as "white as snow;" though they were "red like crimson," they are "as white as wool." "He hath cast your sins into the bottom of the sea." They shall never be mentioned to you again. He has even restored to you again the merits you had acquired in days of innocence, and lost again by sin. He has "restored to you the years which the locust and the caterpillar and the mildew and the palmer-worm hath eaten." [Footnote 102] Let, then, gratitude fill your heart, let joy be written on your face, and let holy resolves for the future correspond to the mercy you have received.
[Footnote 102: Joel ii. 25.]
Yes, my brethren, Christ at His Sepulchre satisfies the intellect and heals the conscience—and He also silences another cry of human woe. It is that of which the prophet spoke when he said: "A voice was heard of lamentation, of mourning and weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refused to be comforted, because they are not." [Footnote 103]
[Footnote 103: Jer. xxxi. 15.]
Oh! it is hard to see one we love die, but is it not harder to our sensitive nature to bury them? That makes us feel what we have lost. Reason tells us that the soul is immortal, but we need something more for our comfort. The heart asks, "What is to become of the body that I loved so much?" Talk of the lifeless and speechless corpse. It is not lifeless and speechless to me. Those cold lips smile the old smile on me, and whisper in my ear a thousand words of kindness. And oh, to part with that! To lose even that sad comfort! To have the body of the dead taken away from us, is not that a grief? Such was Mary Magdalene's sorrow. "They have taken away my Lord out of the Sepulchre, and I know not where they have laid Him." [Footnote 104]
[Footnote 104: St. John xx. 2.]
She could bear any thing but that. She had borne up at our Lord's death. It was a bitter thing, but then she stood at the foot of the cross on which He hung, and she could look up at Him and see Him. She had borne up on Friday evening, for then she was busy preparing her spices and ointments. She had borne up on Saturday, for she was thinking all day of her visit to the grave next morning. But on Sunday, to go and find His body gone—never again to look upon those lips that had spoken peace to her soul; never again to kiss with affection those sacred feet,—oh, this was too much. And Mary stood at the Sepulchre weeping. But lo! what voice is that which speaks: "Woman, why weepest thou?" It is the voice of Jesus himself, of Jesus whom she mourns. Himself, flesh and blood, the very Jesus whom she had known and loved. So, my brethren, as you weep at the graves of your friends, those very friends stand near you and say, "Why weepest thou?" Weep not for me. Weep not for me, childless mother! Weep not for me, my orphan child! Weep not for me, my sorrowing friend! Leave my body awhile in the grave. It is not dead but sleeps. "For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and in the last day I shall arise out of the earth. And I shall be clothed again with my skin and in my flesh I shall see my God: Whom I myself shall see, and my eyes shall behold, and not another's." [Footnote 105]
[Footnote 105: Job xix. 25.]
Touch me not yet: wait awhile, and you shall see my hands and feet, that it is I myself. "For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ all shall be made alive. But every one in his own order; the first fruits Christ, then they that are of Christ, who have believed in His coming." [Footnote 106]
[Footnote 106: I. Cor. xv. 22.]
Strange it is that our comfort and joy should come out of the grave. But so it is. By the resurrection of Christ all our woes are healed. Our new life springs from the sepulchre of Christ. Christ is risen we believe. Christ is risen; we are pardoned. Christ is risen; death loses its power to separate Christians. Mourn then no longer, my brethren, it is Easter. Believe, and rejoice. Forsake your sins, and rejoice. Bury your dead in Christ, and rejoice in hope. The former things are passed away; all things are become new. "The winter is now passed; the rain is over and gone. The flowers have appeared; the time of pruning is come; the voice of the dove is heard in our land." [Footnote 107]
[Footnote 107: Cant. ii. 11, 12.]
It is Easter. This is that day "which the Lord hath made." This is the Lord's Passover. The Red Sea is crossed: we are delivered out of Egypt, and are marching to the promised land. It is Easter. Mary has been at the sepulchre early this morning and has seen the Saviour. Jesus has appeared in the midst of the disciples, saying, "Peace be with you." Some have known Him in breaking of bread. To some He has drawn near as they walked along and discoursed together. Some that were sad He has comforted. How has it been with each of you? Has this day been a day of joy to you? Has it awakened you to new life, new hopes, new aspirations? or does it find you cold, dead to spiritual things, perhaps not even in the grace of God, and in love with your sins! Oh, at least now awake to the hopes and desires of a Christian. "The day is far spent; it draweth toward evening." Let not this glorious feast depart and leave you as you are. While angels and the Son of God are abroad on the earth, scattering grace and consolation, do not you alone remain unblest. Claim your privileges as a Christian, and, risen with Christ in baptism, seek those things that are above, where Christ sitteth at the right hand of God.
And you, faithful souls who have done your duty, who have found in this Feast a joy and comfort that passes understanding, know that the gladness of Easter is but an earnest of another day, the great day of eternity, which will open on the morning of resurrection, and which knows no evening; which has no need of the sun, for God is the light thereof; when God shall wipe away all tears; and death shall be no more; and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.
[Footnote 108]
[Footnote 108: The substance of this sermon is from St. Thomas of Villanova.]
"But He rising early the first day of the week,
appeared first to Mary Magdalene."
—St. Mark XVI. 9.
St. Mary Magdalene may be called the Saint of the Resurrection. She is intimately associated with that event in the pages of the Scriptures, and in the minds of Christians. Indeed, the Gospel account of the Resurrection embraces an almost continuous record of the actions of this holy woman from the Crucifixion until Easter day; and I have thought that in tracing that record this morning, while I am presenting to you the great mystery of to-day's celebration, I shall at the same time be pointing out to you the means of obtaining those graces which our risen Lord has come to impart. St. Mary Magdalene's history for these three days is a history of love. Every thing she does, every thing she says, is a proof of her love for our Lord. And the distinguishing favors our Lord bestowed on her are a pledge of what we may look for to-day, if we imitate her love.
First, then, we are told, that when our Lord was taken down from the cross, and laid in the new tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, she went "and saw how the body was laid." One might have thought it would have satisfied her to stand by the cross, through those fearful hours, till it was an over, and then to have returned home. No; love will see the last. She will follow on to the grave. It is true the dead bodies of our friends feel not our kindness, but still we want them treated with tenderness and care. So Mary follows the corpse to the burial, and, when it is laid in the sepulchre, she looks in to see how it is laid. Not a superficial look: no, an earnest scrutinizing gaze. She sees how the drooping head lays on its stony pillow, and how the pierced hands and feet are disposed. She makes a picture of it all in her own mind, and "then returns to the city to prepare spices and ointments." Now, there was no need at all of this. Nicodemus had come, as soon as Pilate had given the disciples possession of our Lord's body, and brought "a mixture of myrrh and aloes, a hundred pounds weight." But Mary does not care for that. Others may do what good works they choose, but she will not be cheated of hers. And what she does she will do prodigally, too. It was her way. You remember how, at the house of Simon, she brought her alabaster box of ointment, and broke it, and scattered it over the feet of Jesus, so that the whole house was filled with the perfume; and how Judas found fault with her, saying, "This ointment might have been sold for more than three hundred pence, and given to the poor." Our Lord attempted then to excuse her extravagance, saying, "She hath done this against the day of MY burial." No, she would do it then, and she would do it at His burial, too. Nicodemus and "the holy women" may bring as much as they like, but she will do her part. Precious and costly shall her offering be as she can make it, not because He needs it, but because her heart is straitened to express its love. It is her pleasure to spend and be spent for Him whom she loved; and all she can do is too little.
But while Mary's love was impulsive and generous, it was obedient. "She rested on the Sabbath day, according to the commandment." Here is a test of true love. We want to do something very much; we think the motive is good; but there comes a providential obstacle in the way. We cannot do it just now. We cannot do it just in the way we want. And too often our love is not pure enough for this test. We murmur and complain, and commit a thousand disobediences, and show how much self-love had to do with our undertakings. It was not so with this holy woman. She waited all the Sabbath day. It was God's command. The seventh day was kept by the Jews with a ceremonial strictness that forbade all work; and she would keep the commandment to the letter. So not a step would she take on the Sabbath, not even to the Saviour's grave. I am sure that Sabbath was a long one to her. Never was time's foot so heavy. Never did the hours go so slow. Never were the sacred services so tedious. A thousand times she goes to the window to see if the shadows were getting long, and each time it seems to her that the sun is standing still. O loving heart! loving in what she did not do, as well as in what she did. She will not take liberties with her conscience. She will not be officious or intrusive. She will not please herself on pretence of doing something for God. And so, though her heart is at the sepulchre all day, though she yearns to go thither, not a foot will she stir, not a hand will she lift, till she knows that the fitting time is come. Her love was that orderly charity of which the Holy Scripture speaks. [Footnote 109]
[Footnote 109: Cant. ii. 4.]
But the longest day has an end, and the end of that Sabbath at last arrived. The sun sinks beneath the horizon. The evening sacrifice is over. Darkness falls upon the temple aisles, and the last worshipper departs. By degrees the streets of Jerusalem become silent and deserted. It is night, a glorious night; for the full paschal moon pours down its floods of light upon the holy city. And now the good woman, laden with her ointments and spices, sets out for the sepulchre. Alone, or only with a feeble woman like herself, she goes out late at night, and whither? To a garden outside the city, where a band of soldiers keep watch over a grave, closed with a great stone, and sealed with the seal of state. Is she not afraid? Docs she not run a thousand risks? Even supposing she reaches the place in safety, will she be permitted to approach the grave? Who will roll the stone from the door? Who will dare to break the seal? O holy boldness of love! which, when a duty is to be done, asks no questions, and knows no difficulties. O love! stronger than death, despising torments and casting out fear! Here is the wisdom of the saints. Here is the secret of all the great things that have been done for God. There is a higher wisdom and a higher prudence than the wisdom and the prudence of this world. There is a trust in God which is ever regarded as daring and enthusiastic, but which God justifies, and men themselves are forced at last to applaud.
Such were the sentiments with which St. Mary Magdalene went to the sepulchre. But here a new circumstance demands our attention. She set out, we are told, "while it was yet dark." It was night, the dead of night, when she left her house, and she did not reach the sepulchre till "the sun was risen." How did this happen? The place in which our Lord was crucified was, as the evangelist tell us, "near the city." And, one reason why Pilate suffered the disciples to lay our Lord's body in Joseph's tomb was, because it was close to the place of crucifixion, and the body could be laid there before the Passover began. What, then, delayed St. Mary Magdalene so long? What is the meaning of this? so prompt and eager in setting out, so tardy in arriving? Love, again, my brethren, is the explanation. She had to pass through the city. Her road was what is called the "Way of Sorrows," which Jesus took when He was led to Calvary, and along which she had followed Him on Good Friday. How could she go fast? Every step brought its own memories. There was the house of Caiaphas. There the judgment-hall of Pilate. There the balcony at which Jesus had been presented to the crowd, clad in a purple robe and crowned with thorns. There stood the pillar at which He had been scourged, and there was the spot at which he had fallen under the weight of His cross, and it was given to Simon of Cyrene to carry. No, her course was a pilgrimage. Each step was a holy station, at which she stopped awhile to pray and call to mind the events of that dreadful morning. And when she came to Calvary, where the cross was still standing, and threw herself on the ground to kiss the sod still wet with the Saviour's Blood, the hours pass by unheeded, for Jesus hangs there again, and Mary, His mother, is by her side, and each tender word, each look of sorrow is again repeated. Love meditates. Love lingers in the footsteps of its beloved, and the shortest, sweetest hours it finds on earth are hours of prayer. What wonder, then, that Mary kneels, embracing the foot of the cross, in perfect forgetfulness of all else besides, until, as she raises her eyes to cast an adoring glance, she sees that the cross is gilded by the red gleam of the coming Easter sun—that it is already day. Thus recalled to herself, she kisses that sacred tree for the last time, tears herself from it, and hurries off to fulfil the work she had in hand.
And she arrived at the sepulchre just in time, or rather God was there to meet her to reward her love. For the moment she arrived, "there was a great earthquake, and an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and coming, rolled back the stone, and sat upon it. And his countenance was like lightning and his raiment as snow. And for fear of him the guards were struck with terror, and became as dead men. And the angel, answering, said to the woman: 'Fear not you, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for He is risen, as He said. Come and see the place where the Lord was laid. And go quickly, tell his disciples that He is risen, and behold, He will go before you into Galilee. And they went out quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy, running to tell his disciples.' [Footnote 110]
[Footnote 110: St. Matt. xxviii. 2-8.]
See her running from the sepulchre as fast as she had so lately run to it; for love easily changes its employment at the voice of its beloved. She had come to anoint the body of Jesus; there is no need of that now, for Jesus is alive; but still there is something to do for Jesus—to tell His disciples. Peter, James, John, and the other disciples are at home, sorrowful and fearful. He whom they loved and trusted is no more; and they, whither shall they go? Besides this, there was an additional sorrow. They had forsaken their good Master in the day of His distress; Peter had even denied with an oath that he knew Him; and they now sat depressed and anxious in that upper chamber in which so lately they had eaten the Passover with Him. But He is alive! and Mary knows it! Shall she wait to see Him? No, she must go quickly and tell His disciples. "This commandment have we from God, that He that loveth God, love his brother also." [Footnote 111]
[Footnote 111: I. St. John iv. 21.]
And Mary leaves the sepulchre, leaves Christ, to go and carry the joyful news to His afflicted brethren. With nimble feet, with eager countenance, she returns to the city, seeks out the well-known house, and appears in the midst of the sorrowing group, with the exclamation: "Jesus is alive! He is risen from the dead!"
Alas! poor Magdalene! "Her words seemed to them as an idle tale." To us, familiar with the doctrine and proofs of our Lord's Resurrection, it is wonderful how slow the apostles were to believe it. No doubt, their slowness to believe is a benefit to us, because it was the occasion of multiplying the proofs. Perhaps, too, it was not unnatural; for faith does not come all at once. There is often a period between doubt and faith, a period of inconsistency; in which one is at one moment all Christian, and at another believes nothing. Certainly it was so with the apostles on Easter Day, and Mary Magdalene seems to have shared their infirmity. The apostles, as soon as they had heard the news that Christ has risen, set out for the sepulchre. When they came to the place, they found indeed the grave open, and the linen cloths, in which the Lord's body had been wrapped, lying in it, and the guard gone; but Him they saw not. Mary Magdalene accompanied them, and when she saw neither the Lord Himself, nor the angel who had spoken to her, and when she saw the incredulous looks of the disciples, she herself began to doubt. But though her faith was weak, her love was strong; and she stood at the door of the sepulchre, weeping. At least she will not give up the idea of finding the Lord's body, and carrying out her first intention of embalming it. So she stands at the sepulchre, and looks in. She had looked in many times already; she had every corner of it by heart; but she looks in again. She will see the place where the Lord lay, if she cannot see Himself: and lo! this time she sees a new sight. There are two angels, in white, sitting, one at the head and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain. Angels again! but this time not angels of fear, with a terrible countenance, as the first had been, but angels of comfort and peace. And they spoke to her: "Woman, why weepest thou? Why dost thou seek the living among the dead?" One would have thought it was something to see an angel, and hear his voice: but this good woman makes very little of it. No angel will satisfy her now. "They have taken away my Lord," she replies, "and I know not where they have laid Him." Is not this grief enough to have lost a Lord, a Friend, a Saviour, such as Jesus was, and not even to have so much as His lifeless body left on which to lavish her endearments. O my brethren, no created thing can satisfy the soul. I say not, though we had all the treasures of earth, but though we had all the treasures of heaven; though angels and saints were ours; though we had visions and revelations; yet all would be nothing if we had not God. Heaven would be hell without Him, and at the very gate of Paradise the soul would weep and say, "They have taken away my Lord."
But at this point a new actor appears on the scene. A man approaches, and addresses Magdelene in the same words that the angels had used: "Woman, why weepest thou? Whom seekest thou?" She takes him for the gardener, and suddenly a suspicion seizing her that he might know something of the treasure she had lost, turned upon him and said: "Sir, if thou hast borne Him away, tell me where thou hast laid Him; and I will take Him away." She does not answer his question. She does not tell him whom she is seeking. For, as St. Bernard observes, "Love imagines everyone is as full of the object of its love as it is itself;" and so she says: "If thou hast borne Him away, tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will take Him away." No need to mention His Name. All things knew it. The sun publishes it. It is written on the leaves. The wind utters it. It is the Name that is above every name—the Name at which every knee must bow. "Tell me where thou hast laid Him, and I will go and carry Him away." What, you! a weak woman! Can you carry away a heavy corpse? Yes, she can; and they that doubt it do not know how strong love is, how great a weight it can carry, what hard things it can do, and how it makes a man do what is above nature, or, rather, how, with faith and grace, it brings out the power that is in these human hearts of ours, and awakens their latent energies.
And now Jesus can restrain Himself no longer; for Jesus it is who now speaks with her. She had charged Him with taking away the Sacred Body, and she was right. He it was who had taken it from the grave. "I have power to lay it down," said He, "and I have power to take it up again. [Footnote 112]
[Footnote 112: St. John x. 18.]
Yes, it was Jesus. He had seen her tears, listened to her complaint, watched her efforts, and now the time had come when He would disclose Himself to her. He said to her: "Mary!" Oh! what voice is that? What sweet and tender memories it wakes up! The home of Bethany, the banqueting-hall of Simon, Mount Calvary, all are brought before her. She turns and looks keenly at the speaker, and one look is enough. It is He, the same—the very same who spoke pardon and peace to her soul, when first, a guilty woman, she had washed His feet with her tears. It is Jesus. He lives again. And, with her accustomed salutation, she kneels before Him, and says: "Rabboni!" which is to say, Master!
How much is expressed in this brief interview. "Mary!" It is a word of gentle reproach. Mary, dost thou not remember My words—My promise—that I would rise again? Mary,—dost thou not believe My angels, bearing testimony to My Resurrection? Mary, whose brother Lazarus I have raised from the grave, dost thou not think that I am as powerful to rise from the dead as to restore life to others? "Mary!" It is a term of affection. As much as to say: I am risen; but I am still thy friend. I do not forget the past, and now, on this glorious morning of My Resurrection, I tell thee that I know thee by thy name, and love thee with the same love with which I loved thee in the days of My sorrow'. And, "Master!" is her fitting reply. "Master of my heart, whom only I have loved!" "Master of my faith, whom now' I acknowledge as indeed risen from the dead!" "Master, whose Truth and Power I have been so slow to understand!" "Master, whom all my future life shall honor and obey!" O happy Magdalene! Her search is ended. Her tears are dried. O joy beyond all thought! She has seen Him, and talked with Him!
O my brethren, need I say more? Has not St. Magdalene preached an Easter sermon? Love is the way to keep this feast. Love is the way to faith and joy. It is the way to faith, for our Lord says: "If any man shall do the will of God he shall know of the doctrine, whether it is of God." [Footnote 113]
[Footnote 113: St. John vii. 17.]
It is said of Magdalene that she loved much because she was pardoned much; I say she believed much because she loved much. And love is the way to joy. Who are they that are truly happy on this day? They who with Magdalene have sought Jesus; they who by a true confession and a devout communion have united themselves to the risen Saviour, and conversed with him in sweet familiarity. For to them our Lord speaks and says: "Fear not, I have called thee by thy name, thou art mine. I am the Lord, thy Saviour, thy Redeemer, the mighty One of Jacob. Behold My hands and feet, that it is I Myself! Fear not, Israel my chosen, and Jacob mine elect, for I am He that liveth and was dead, and have the keys of hell and death. And behold! I am alive for ever more!"
"When He the Spirit of Truth shall come,
He will lead you into all truth."
St. John XVI. 13.
I need hardly say that the words "all truth" in this promise mean all truth relating to our salvation. It is no part of our Lord's plan to teach us the truths of natural science. He leaves us to discover these by our own intelligence. He comes to teach us faith and morals—what we are to believe, and what we are to do, in order to be saved. He did this while He was on earth by His conversations with His disciples, and by His public sermons to the Jews; but He promised that this work should be carried on after His death more extensively and systematically. Thus, in the words of the text: "When He the Spirit of Truth shall come He will lead you into all truth." [Footnote 114] And again: "The Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, Whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things and will bring all things to your mind whatsoever I shall have said to you."[Footnote 115] It cannot but be a matter of interest to inquire in what manner this promise has been fulfilled.
[Footnote 114: St. John xvi. 13.]
[Footnote 115: St. John xiv. 26.]
I answer, the Holy Ghost leads us into all truth necessary to our salvation by the public preaching of the Word of God. If we examine our Lord's words attentively, we shall be led to the conclusion that the ministry of the Holy Ghost to which He alludes is a public ministry. His own ministry was a public one, and in promising that the Holy Ghost should carry it on and complete it, He leads us to anticipate that the ministry of the Holy Ghost would also be public. And His own subsequent language shows that this is really so, and acquaints us with the way in which this ministry is to be exercised. Just before our Lord's Ascension He met the Apostles on a mountain in Galilee, and said to them: "All power is given to Me in heaven and in earth. Go ye, therefore, and teach all nations; baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost; teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you; and behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world." [Footnote 116] August and extensive as this commission was, it did not by itself qualify the Apostles for their great work. They were to wait in Jerusalem "till they were endued with power from on high." This "power" was the Holy Ghost which actually did descend on them at the feast of Pentecost. Here we find a company of men commissioned by Christ to teach the world in His name, and empowered by the Holy Ghost for that purpose. We find these men afterward everywhere claiming to be the organs of the Holy Ghost. Thus, at the council of Jerusalem, they did not hesitate to publish their decrees with this preface: "It hath seemed good to the Holy Ghost and to us." [Footnote 117] And St. Paul tells the bishops of Ephesus, that they were placed over the Church "by the Holy Ghost." [Footnote 118]
[Footnote 116: St. Matt. xxviii. 18-20.]
[Footnote 117: Acts xv. 28.]
[Footnote 118: Acts xx. 28.]
Now, who does not see here the realization and fulfilment of the great promise of Christ which I have quoted as my text? That teaching of the Holy Ghost which was to follow His, which was to bring all things to remembrance which He had said, which was to abide forever, and which was to make known all necessary truth, was the teaching of the Apostles and their successors. It is the teaching of the Holy Ghost, because the Holy Ghost moves them to preach, furnishes them with the rule of their doctrine, and gives them their warrant and authority. In this sense it is that our Lord's promise is to be understood. It is a promise that reaches to all time. It concerns us here and now. It assures us that at this day, far removed as we are from the times of Christ, across so many centuries, the Holy Ghost through the agency of the Church still brings to us the echoes of His words. He does this in the most solemn and authoritative way by those great decisions of the Church to which He sets the seal of His Infallibility; but he does it in less solemnity, less authoritatively, but more frequently, by the preaching of each individual priest. It is for this end that the priest is ordained. He is consecrated and set apart, not merely to say Mass, not merely to receive the confessions of penitent sinners and absolve them, but to publish the Word of God; and He is empowered by the Holy Ghost for this very purpose. The Christian preacher is no mere lecturer, but an authorized agent and messenger of God, to deliver to the people the will of God. It is chiefly by the ordinance of preaching, in its various forms, that the Holy Ghost carries on the work of instructing men's faith, and regulating their morals.
And here, I think, is to be found the real answer to a misconception of our principles so common among Protestants. It is very commonly said and believed that the Catholic Church wishes to keep the people in ignorance of the Scriptures. Now, this is not true. The Church does not wish to keep the Scriptures from the people. On the contrary, in all cases in which they are likely to prove beneficial she approves and encourages their use; but she does not regard the reading of the Scriptures as the necessary, or even as the ordinary mode of familiarizing the people with the Word of God. Thousands have gone to heaven who never read one page of the Bible. St. Irenæus instances whole nations who professed and practised Christianity in entire ignorance of the Divine Records. How many people in every generation are unable to read. Now, God has not made a twofold system of salvation; one for the ignorant and one for the educated. No: according to the Catholic idea, for rich and poor, for learned and unlearned alike, there is one way of truth—the living voice of the preacher. This is God's way. This is the Voice of the Holy Ghost. This is the publication of the Word of God. This is the sword of the Spirit. The decree has never been revoked: "The priest's lips shall keep knowledge; and the people shall seek the law at his mouth; because he is the messenger of the Lord of Hosts." [Footnote 119]
[Footnote 119: Mal. ii. 7.]
But an objection may be drawn against this high view of the ordinance of preaching, from the infirmities of the preacher himself. It may be said: You tell us that the Holy Ghost speaks by the voice of the preacher, yet the preacher is but a fallible man, ignorant of many things, liable to be deceived himself, not free from passions which may affect his judgment. May he not falsify his message? May He not dishonor it? I do not deny the fact on which this objection is founded. Undoubtedly, the preacher may be unfaithful in the delivery of his message. In the Catholic Church, however, the watchfulness of discipline, and the general acquaintance on the part of the people with the standards of faith and practice, will prevent any very serious error finding its way into the public teaching of the priest. Who supposes, for instance, that any Catholic congregation would tolerate from the pulpit a denial of Transubstantiation, or the true Divinity of our Lord, or the necessity of good works? But within a certain limit, no doubt, there may be much imperfection in the preacher, much that detracts from the purity, the majesty, and the dignity of the Word of God. What then? I affirm, nevertheless, that preaching is the great instrument of the Holy Ghost for the conversion of souls. Strange, that we should start back at every new manifestation of a law that goes all through Christianity, and even through all the arrangements of the natural world. In every department of human life, God makes man His representative—man fallible and weak. The judge on the bench represents God's Wisdom and Equity, though his decisions are often far enough from that Divine pattern. The magistrate represents God's authority, though in his hands that authority is sometimes made the warrant for tyranny and oppression. So, in like manner, the preacher represents the Holy Ghost, though he does not always represent Him worthily either in manner or matter.
It is part of a plan. He who chooses man, sinful like ourselves, and encompassed with infirmities, to convey His pardon to the guilty, chooses as the organ of the Eternal Wisdom, "holy, one, manifold, subtle, eloquent, undefiled, having all power, overseeing all things, the Brightness of Eternal Light, the unspotted mirror of God's Majesty [Footnote 120] —man, with stammering lips, with a feeble intellect and an impure heart.
[Footnote 120: Wisd. vii. 22-26.]
And there is a reason in this plan. When the Church goes out to evangelize a new and strange people, she seeks, as soon as possible, to secure some of the natives to aid her in her work, who know the speech, and the manners, and the habits of thought, of those with whom they have to deal. No doubt her old, tried missionaries could furnish an instruction which would be more complete in itself, but the words of the neophyte will be better understood and received. So God, when He speaks to man, chooses as His instrument one who understands the dialect of earth. An angel would be a messenger answering better to His dignity, but less to our necessities; so He considers our welfare alone, and passes by Raphael, "who is one of the daily angels," and Michael, "who is one of the chief princes," and Gabriel, who is the strength of God, and chooses Moses, who was "slow of speech," and Jeremias, who was diffident as a child, and Amos, who was but a herdsman, following the flock—to utter His will to man. The human alloy in the Divine Word, no doubt, makes it less accurate, but it makes it more easily understood. Oh! it is a mercy of God thus to disguise Himself and dilute His word. The children of Israel said to Moses: "Speak thou to us, and we will hear. Let not the Lord speak any more to us, lest we die." [Footnote 121] Who could look upon the Lord and live? Who could listen to His voice in its untempered majesty and not be afraid? "The word of God is more penetrating than any two-edged sword, reaching unto the division of the soul and the spirit, of the joints also, and the marrow." [Footnote 122]
[Footnote 121: Exod. xx. 19.]
[Footnote 122: Heb. iv. 12.]
Do not be displeased, then, because God has sent to thee a messenger like thyself, one who speaks thy language, who shares thy ignorance and thy frailties; pardon him, forgive him his defects, strain your ear to detect in his lowly language some notes of that great message of Eternal Truth and Infinite Love, the story so old yet ever new—the love of Christ, the will of God, the end of man, grace, holiness, and eternity, those things on which depend our happiness here and our salvation hereafter.
But here I feel as if I ought to add a word or two of explanation. When I say that the Holy Ghost teaches by the voice of the preacher, I do not mean to assert that He teaches in no other way. A very great part of the preacher's message consists of truths which are already written by the finger of God on every man's natural conscience. A preacher is not required to make us understand that it is wrong to break the precepts of the moral law. Natural reason, the light that enlighteneth every man that comes into this world, tells us that. I could not but be struck the other day, as I passed two young men in the street, at hearing the honest protest with which one of them met the sophistry in which his companion was evidently trying to indoctrinate him: "What!" said he, "you don't mean to say it isn't a sin to get drunk!" Indeed, it is seldom that men justify themselves for actions that are plainly wrong. They are still too full of the Holy Ghost for that. Passion corrupts their will, but does not always darken their understanding. They know the right while they pursue the wrong. But this circumstance does not make the office of the preacher unnecessary; by no means. On the contrary, it is from this that the preacher derives a great part of his power. What he says finds an echo in the hearts of his hearers. One of the strongest things that St. Paul said in his defence before Agrippa was the appeal: "King Agrippa, believest thou the prophets? I know that thou believest." [Footnote 123]
[Footnote 123: Acts xxvi. 27.]
And so when the preacher is speaking before a congregation, of justice, of temperance, of judgment to come, do you know what it is that gives him such boldness and daring? My brethren, I will tell you a secret. Perhaps you may sometimes have felt surprise when you have heard us, who have so many reasons for feeling diffident before you, so keen in denouncing your sins, so vehement in urging you to your duties. Are we not afraid of wounding your pride, of alienating your affections? No: it is in your hearts that we have our strength. We would not dare to speak so unless we knew that we had a powerful ally in your hearts—your better nature, your reason, your conscience, the divinity that is within you. It is the greatest mistake in the world to suppose that it is unnecessary to tell people what they know already. Half the good advice that is given in the world consists of the most commonplace and familiar truths, but will anyone say for that reason that it is useless? No: the fact is, it is a great help to hear our own convictions uttered outside of us. A man believes more, is more conscious of his belief, his belief becomes more distinct, more serviceable, when he hears it from another's lips. What a mercy of God it is, then, in a world like this, where there are so many temptations, where there are so many evil examples, so much to draw off the mind from God, where it is so easy to obscure the line between right and wrong, that there should be an authoritative voice lifted up from time to time in warning! What a mercy, in those dreadful moments when the conflict rages high between passion and principle, and the soul, weary of the strife, is on the point of surrender, to be re-enforced by God Almighty's aid—to hear His voice amid the strife, saying: "This is the way; walk ye in it!" [Footnote 124]
[Footnote 124: Isaiah xxx. 21.]
And then it must be remembered, too, that there is much of the preacher's message that is not known to man's natural reason, consisting of mysteries deep and high, which at the best can be known only in part; and it is apparent how much it must depend on the preacher's office to keep these mysteries in men's minds, and to secure for them a place in men's intelligence and affections. The Christian Faith has always, from the beginning, been surrounded by adversaries who have attacked it, now on one side, now on another. We are apt to think it our peculiar misfortune to hear continually the doctrines of our faith disputed; but in fact such has been, more or less, the trial of each generation of Christian believers. Now, amid such ceaseless controversies, what means has our Lord left to protect and defend His people from doubt and error? The ministry of preaching. Therefore, says the Holy Scripture: "Some He gave to be Apostles, and some prophets, and others evangelists, and others pastors and teachers, that we may not now be children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, in the wickedness of men, in craftiness by which they lie in wait to deceive." [Footnote 125]
[Footnote 125: Eph. xi. 11-14.]