How does he receive it? He says: "It is too hard." Too hard! And is it, then, only God for whom we are unwilling to do any thing hard? We must make sacrifices of some sort in life, and heavy ones, too. We cannot get rid of the necessity of making them, do what we will. The world requires them of us. Our families require them. Our health requires them. Our pleasure requires them. Nay, our very sins require them. And what we do willingly for the world, for our families, for our health, our pleasure, our sins, shall we refuse to do for the great and good God? for Christ our Saviour, who did not refuse the Cross to give us an example of the obedience we owe His Father?
Or take another example: A person who is not a Catholic finds much that is reasonable in Catholic doctrine, but makes a great stumbling-block of confession; or even a Catholic gets a dread of it, and stays away for years and years from the sacraments of the Church. Now, of course, in such cases it is only charitable to show that the difficulty of confession is very much magnified, and that, like many other things that frighten us, it loses its terror when we approach it; but, to say the truth, I always feel something like shame when I hear one trying to prove to such persons that confession is easy; partly because I know he cannot succeed perfectly, since confession is of its own nature arduous, and in particular cases may be very difficult; but chiefly, because I cannot help thinking if God Himself were to answer them, it would be in the few strong words He has used in the Holy Scripture: "Be still: and know that I am God." [Footnote 191] A creature must not parley with his maker, a sinner with his Judge.
[Footnote 191: Ps. xlv. 11.]
Yes: we shrink from the very mention of sacrifice, yet it is the spirit of sacrifice that makes all our duties easy. No doubt it is our privilege to reason about the commandments of God; and we shall often see, what we know is always the case, that they are full of wisdom and goodness; but we need in practice some principle that is ready at hand always to be used in every time of trial, in every difficulty, and that is the Spirit of Sacrifice, a profound reverence for God, an unquestioning conviction of His absolute right to dispose of us as He will. Abraham had this spirit, and therefore faltered not a moment when the command came to sacrifice his son Isaac. Moses had it, and therefore "when he was grown up, refused to be called the son of Pharaoh's daughter, choosing rather to suffer persecution with the people of God, than to enjoy the pleasure of sin for a time." [Footnote 192]
[Footnote 192: Heb. xi. 24.]
The Christian saints have had it, and therefore they trampled on every repugnance, every attachment, when it came in the way of their perfection. And this principle is the life of the great religious and charitable orders of the Church. These institutions are a mystery to Protestants. Soon after the "Little Sisters of the Poor" were established in London, a Protestant writer, in one of the periodicals of the day, described a visit he had made to their establishment, and after giving a most interesting account of the self-denying labors of the community, he says he was curious to trace the feelings that actuated these ladies in devoting themselves to duties so apt to be repulsive to their class. He supposed that benevolence was the impulse most concerned, but, on questioning the Sisters, found that this was not the case, but that the basis of their action was a principle of self-renunciation for Christ's sake. To him such a motive had in it something strange and unnatural; but, really, this is always the sustaining principle of all high religious action. Every thing fails sooner or later but the spirit of sacrifice. This is the spirit that does great things for God, that cuts down the mountains in our road to heaven and fills up the valleys, making straight paths for our feet.
And how pleasing is such a spirit to God! Even among men such a spirit is highly esteemed. Who does not admire a generous, self-sacrificing man? In a family, who is so much loved as the one whose thoughts are all for others? Where are such tears shed as over the fresh grave of a self-forgetful friend? What makes the character of a mother so beautiful but the trait of self-sacrifice? And so before God there is nothing so beautiful as the spirit of Sacrifice. A religion which does not centre in itself, but which centres in God, that is His delight. There is nothing abject in such a spirit. To serve God is to reign. God knows our nature, and He requires of us nothing but what gives to our whole being its highest harmony. The man who has the spirit of sacrifice is a royal man. How beautiful, my brethren, is an altar! Every thing connected in our minds with an altar is beautiful. When we think of an altar, we think of sweet flowers and burning lights, and smoking incense, and a meek victim, and worship, music, and prayer. So, in the heart where the spirit or Sacrifice reigns, there are sweet flowers of piety, and flaming zeal, and the silent victim of a heart that struggles not, and the incense of prayer, and the harmonies of joy and praise. Oh, if there is a sacred place on earth, a home of peace, a shrine, a holy of holies, a place where heaven and earth are nearest, where God descends and takes up His abode, it is in the heart of the man who is penetrated through and through with the sense of God's greatness, and who walks before Him in reverence and continual worship.
My brethren, I covet for you such a spirit. I do not always find it among Catholics. I remember, some years ago, when collecting for a charitable object, I called on a man who was engaged in a large business, and asked for a contribution. He said, Oh yes, he thought highly of the undertaking, and wished to give a generous donation, say one hundred dollars. When I called for it at the appointed time, he asked me if I did not want any goods in his line. They were articles of luxury, such as very few persons have occasion for, and I told him, no. Then he mentioned a rich gentleman with whom I happened to be acquainted, and asked me to secure for him his custom, intimating that this donation of one hundred dollars depended on my success. Now I do not know that this person was at all sensible of acting an unworthy part, but I think you must all feel that this was very far from the spirit in which one ought to give any thing to God; and yet, my brethren, inferior motives enter too much and too often into our religious actions. Selfishness mingles too much with our piety. Oh, how diluted, how paltry and feeble is our religion, compared with that of other times! David refused the site for an altar that Areuna offered him as a gift, saying: "Nay but I will buy it of thee at a price; and will not offer to the Lord my God holocausts free cost." [Footnote 193]
[Footnote 193: 2 Kings xxiv. 24.]
Magdalene took a box of spikenard ointment, because it was the most precious thing she had, and very costly, and broke the box, and poured it wastefully on the Saviour's head. [Footnote 194]
[Footnote 194: St. Matt. xxvi. 7.]
Those who have examined the cathedrals of Europe that were built in the Middle Ages, tell us that away up on the outside of the roof, there is found carving as rich, as beautiful, and as elaborate as that on the parts in full sight. A human eye would hardly see it once a year; no matter: it was done for the eye of God and the angels. Oh that you had such a spirit! I want you to think more of God. I want you to fear Him more deeply, and to love Him far, far more fervently. O my brethren, is the service you are rendering Him at all worthy of Him? Look at the earth and sky that He has made; look at the glorious Throne of Light from which He sways the universe, look at the Cross, look into your own hearts, and answer. "Holy things are for the Holy." "Great is the Lord, and greatly to be praised." [Footnote 195] "O Lord God Almighty, just and true, who shall not fear Thee and magnify Thy Name!" [Footnote 196] "As the eyes of servants are on the hands of their masters, and as the eyes of a handmaid are on the hands of her mistress, so our eyes are unto Thee, O Lord our God, Thou that dwellest in the heavens." [Footnote 197]
[Footnote 195: Psalm xlvii. 1.]
[Footnote 196: Apoc. xv. 3.]
[Footnote 197: Psalm cxxii. 2.]
"Mary hath chosen the best part,
which shall not be taken away from her."
—St. Luke x. 42.
To-day is the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. To-day she entered into the enjoyment of heaven. The trials and troubles of life are over. The time of banishment is ended. She closes her eyes on this world, and opens them to the vision of God. She is exalted to-day above the choirs of angels to the heavenly kingdom, and takes her seat at the right hand of her Son. I do not mean to attempt any description of her glory in heaven. I am sure whatever I could say would fall far short, not only of the reality, but of your own glowing thoughts about her. Who is there that needs to be told that the Blessed Virgin is splendid in sanctity, dazzling in beauty, and exalted in power? But, my brethren, it is possible to contemplate the Blessed Virgin in such a way as to put her at too great a distance from us. It is possible to conceive of her glory in heaven as flowing entirely from her dignity as Mother of God, and therefore to suppose it altogether unattainable by us; and, as a consequence of this, to regard her with feelings full of admiration indeed, but almost as deficient in sympathy as if she were of another nature from us. Now, this is to rob ourselves of so ennobling and encouraging a part of our privilege as Christians, and at the same time to take away from our devotion to the Blessed Virgin an element so useful and important, that I have determined, on this her glorious Feast, to remind you that our destiny and the destiny of Mary are substantially the same.
And the first proof I offer of this is, that the glory of the Blessed Virgin in heaven is not owing to her character as Mother of God, but to her correspondence to grace—to her good works—to her love of God—in a word, to her fidelity as a Christian. This is certain, for it is the Catholic doctrine that the Blessed Virgin, like every other saint, gained heaven only as the reward of merit. Now, she could not merit it by becoming the Mother of God. Her being the Mother of God is indeed a most august dignity, but there is no merit in it. It is a dignity conferred on her by the absolute decree of God, just as He resolved to confer angelic nature on angels, or human nature on men. It is no doubt a great happiness and glory for us to be men, and not brutes, but there is no merit in it; so there is honor but no merit in the Blessed Virgin's being the Mother of God. Now, if she did not merit heaven by becoming the Mother of God, how did she merit it? for it is of faith that heaven is the reward of merit. I answer, by her life on earth. It was not as the Mother of God that she won heaven, but as Mary, the daughter of Joachim, the wife of Joseph, the mother of Jesus. It is impossible to read the Gospels without seeing how careful our Lord was to make us understand this. He seems to have been afraid, all along, that the splendor of that character of Mother of God would eclipse the woman and the saint.
Thus once when He was preaching, a woman in the crowd, hearing his words of wisdom, and, perhaps, piercing the veil of his humanity, and thinking what a blessed thing it must be to be the mother of such a son, exclaimed: "Blessed is the womb that bare thee, and the paps that gave thee suck," [Footnote 198] but He answered immediately: "Yea rather, blessed are they who hear the word of God and keep it." No one doubts that the Blessed Virgin did hear the Word of God, and keep it. So our Lord's words are as much as to say: "You praise my mother for being my mother; what I praise her for is her sanctity." In the same way, when they came to Him on another occasion, when there was a great throng about Him and said, "Behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand without, seeking thee," He answered, "Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? And stretching forth his hand towards his disciples, he said: Behold my mother and my brethren. For whosoever shall do the will of my Father who is in heaven, he is my brother, and sister, and mother. [Footnote 199]
[Footnote 198: St. Luke xi. 27.]
[Footnote 199: St. Matt. xii. 48.]
External advantages, however great, even to be related to the Son of God, are as nothing in his sight, compared to that in which all may have a part—obedience to his Father's will. Perhaps, also, this is the explanation of his language at the marriage of Cana in Galilee. When the wine failed, and his mother came to Him and asked Him to exert his Divine power to supply the want, He said: "Woman, what hast thou to do with me? My time is not yet come." [Footnote 200]
[Footnote 200: St. John ii. 4 (Archbishop Kenrick's translation).]
He does not allow her request on the score of her maternal authority, but what He refuses on this ground He grants to her virtue and holiness, for He immediately proceeds to perform the miracle she asked for, though, as He said, his time was not yet come. So, too, on the cross He commends the Blessed Virgin to St. John's care, not under the high title of Mother, but the lowly one of woman. "Woman, behold thy Son." [Footnote 201]
[Footnote 201: St. John xix. 26.]
Now, why was this? Did not our Lord love his Mother? Was He not disposed to be obedient to her as his mother? Certainly; but it was for our sakes He spoke thus. In private, at Nazareth, we are told, he was "subject to her," but on these great public occasions, when crowds were gathered around Him to hear Him preach, when He hung on the Cross, and a world was looking on, He put out of view her maternal grandeur, in compassion to us, lest there should be too great a distance between her and us, and we should lose the force of her example. He wished us to understand that Mary, high as she was, was a woman, and in the same order of grace and providence with us. We might have said: "Oh, the Blessed Virgin obtains what she asks for on easy terms. She has but to ask and it is done. She enters heaven as the son of a nobleman comes into his father's estate, by the mere title of blood and lineage." But no: our Saviour says: "To sit on my right hand is not mine to give you, but to them for whom it is prepared by my Father." [Footnote 202]
[Footnote 202: St. Matt. xx. 23.]
It is not a matter of favor and arbitrary appointment; not even my Mother gains her glory in that way. She must comply with the terms on which my Father promises heaven to men, and therefore the Church applies to her words spoken of another Mary: "Mary hath chosen the best part; therefore it shall not be taken away from her." Oh, blessed truth! Mary is one of us. Her destiny, high as it is, is a human destiny. And she reached it in a human fashion. She built that splendid throne of hers in heaven with care and labor while she was on the earth. She laid the foundation of it in her childhood, when her feet trod the Temple aisles. She reared its pillars when with faith, purity, and obedience unequalled, she received the message of the archangel. And her daily life at Bethlehem, Egypt, and Nazareth, her holy, loving ways with Joseph and with Jesus, her perfect fulfilment of God's law, her interior fervent acts of prayer, covered it with gold and ivory.
Then, when the blind world was going on its way of folly; while one King Herod was deluging villages in blood, and another steeping his soul in the guilt of incest, and of the blood of the Son of God; while the multitude were doubting, and Scribes and Pharisees disputing about Christ, the lowly Jewish maiden, with no other secret but love and prayer, was preparing for herself that bright mansion in Heaven wherein she now dwells, rejoicing eternally with her Son. Oh, happy news! One, at least, of our race has perfectly fulfilled her destiny. Here we can gain some idea of what God created us for. Here is the destiny that awaits man when original sin does not mar it; when co-operation with grace and unswerving perseverance secure it. The Jews were proud of Judith. They said: "Thou art the glory of Jerusalem; thou art the joy of Israel; thou art the honor of our people." So we may say of Mary: "O Mary, thou art the pride of our race. In thee the design of God in our creation has been perfectly attained. In thee the redemption of Christ has had its perfect fruit. Mankind conceives new hopes from thy success." Christ, indeed, has entered into glory; but Christ was God. Mary is purely human, and Mary has succeeded. Why tarry we here in the bondage of Egypt? Mary has crossed the Red Sea, and has taken a timbrel in her hand and sings her thanksgiving unto God. True it is that she is fleet of foot, and we are all halt and weak; but even she needed the grace of God, and the same grace is offered to us, that we may run and not faint. Listen to her song of triumph. She does not set herself above us, but claims kindred with us, and bids us hope for the same grace which she has received. "My soul doth magnify the Lord, for he hath exalted the humble, and hath filled the hungry with good things. And his mercy is from generation to generation to them that fear Him."
Another proof that the destiny of the Blessed Virgin is substantially the same with ours, is the fact that the same expressions are used to describe her glory and ours. Sometimes those who are not Catholics, when they hear what high words we use of the Blessed Virgin, are scandalized; but we use almost no words of the Blessed Virgin that may not, in their measure, be applied to other saints. It is true that the Blessed Virgin has some gifts and graces in which she stands alone—as her character of Mother of God, and her Immaculate Conception—but, as I said before, these are dignities and ornaments conferred on her, and are not the source of her essential happiness in heaven. In other respects, her glory is shared by all the saints. Thus, Mary is called "Queen of Heaven;" but are not all the blessed called in Holy Scripture, "kings and priests unto God?" [Footnote 203] Is she said to sit at the "King's right hand?" and are not we too promised a place at his right hand, and to "sit on thrones?" [Footnote 204] Is she called the "Morning Star?" and does not St. Paul, speaking of all the saints, say, "star differeth from star in glory?" [Footnote 205] Is she called a "Mediatrix of Prayer" and is it not said of every just man, that his "continual prayer availeth much?" [Footnote 206] Is she called the "Spouse of God?" and does not the Almighty, addressing every faithful soul, say, "My love, my dove, my undefiled?" [Footnote 207] Is she called the "Daughter of the Most High?" and are not we too called the "Sons of God?" [Footnote 208]
[Footnote 203: Apoc. i. 6.]
[Footnote 204: Apoc. iii. 21.]
[Footnote 205: I Cor. xv. 41.]
[Footnote 206: St. James v. 16.]
[Footnote 207: Can. v. 2.]
[Footnote 208: I St. John iii. 2.]
The glory of the Blessed Virgin, then, differs from that of the other saints in degree, but not in kind. She is not separated from them, but is one of them. She goes before them. She is the most perfect of them. But she is one of them. And for this reason, the glory of the Blessed Virgin gives us the best conception of the magnificence of our destiny. When a botanist wishes to describe a flower, he selects the most perfect specimen. When an anatomist draws a model of the human frame, he makes it faultless. So we, to gain the truest idea of our destiny, must lift up our eyes to the Blessed Virgin on her heavenly throne, and say: "Oh! my soul, see for what thou art created." Think of this, my brethren, as often as you kneel before her image, or meditate on her greatness. You cannot be what she is, but you can be like her. She is a creature like you. She is a human being like you. She is a Christian like you. And her joy, her beauty, her glory, her wealth, her knowledge, her power—nay, even the mighty efficacy of her intercession—are only what, in their measure, God offers to you. "Glory, honor, and peace to EVERY ONE that worketh good; for there is no respect of persons with God." [Footnote 209]
[Footnote 209: Rom. ii. 10.]
If these things be so, what greatness it gives to human life. Perhaps, if you had lived in the times of the Blessed Virgin Mary, you would never have noticed her; or if you had known her by sight, what would she have seemed to you but a good little Jewish girl, lowly and retiring in her manners and appearance? or, later in life, a poor young woman thrust away, with her husband, from a crowded inn, or fleeing by night with an infant child or, still later, the mother of a condemned malefactor, watching his sufferings in the crowd. Herod did not know her, and the nobles of Jerusalem were ignorant of her. She was not one of the friends of the queen's dancing daughters. Even the rustics of the village of Bethlehem looked down on her. She carried no servants about with her, and had no palace to live in. But Faith tells us of angel visits, of union with God, of heavenly goodness, and an immortal crown. So, in like manner, how our life becomes grand and dignified when it is lighted up by faith! You know there are porcelain pictures, which in the hand are rough and unmeaning, but held up to the light reveal the most beautiful scenes and figures; so our common, ordinary life, rough and unmeaning as it often seems, when enlightened by faith becomes all divine. There is a little girl who learns her lessons and obeys her parents, and tells the truth, and shuns every thing that is wicked; why, as that little girl kneels down to pray, I see a bright angel drawing near to her, and he smiles on her and says: "Hail! Blessed art thou: the Lord is with thee." That young man who, by a sincere conversion, has thrown off the slavery of sin, and regained once more the grace of God—"what is his heart but another cave of Bethlehem, in which Christ is born, and around which angels sing: "Glory to God in the highest, on earth, peace to men of good will." That Christian family, where daily prayers are offered, and instruction and good example are given, and mutual fidelity is observed between the members—what is it but the Holy House of Nazareth?—the Home of Jesus? Yes, good Christian, do not be cast down because you are poor, or because you suffer, or because your opportunities of doing good are limited; live the life of a Christian, and you are living Mary's life on earth. We have not, indeed, Mary's perfect sinlessness, but we have the graces of baptism, by which we may vanquish sin. We have not, as she had, the visible presence of our Lord, but we have Him invisibly in our hearts, and sacramentally in the Holy Communion. We are not "full of grace," as she was, but we have grace without limit promised to us in answer to prayer. Let us assert the privileges of our birth-right. We belong to the new creation. Angels claim kindred with us. God is our Father. Heaven is our home. We are the children of the saints—yes, of her who is the greatest of the saints. Let us follow her footsteps, that one day we may come to our Assumption, the glory of which surpassed even the power of St. John to utter. "Dearly beloved, we are now the sons of God, and it hath not yet appeared what we shall be. We know that when He shall appear we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is." [Footnote 210]
[Footnote 210: St. John iii. 2.]
Every thing depends an our co-operating with grace. How did the Blessed Virgin arrive at such glory? By corresponding to every grace. See her at her Annunciation. The angel comes and tells her of the grace God has prepared for her. If she had not believed, if she had not assented, what would have come of it? Why, she would have lost for all eternity the glory attached to that grace. But she did not refuse. She was ready for the grace when it was offered. She said: "Fiat," "Be it done to me according to thy word." Oh, how much hung on that Fiat! an eternal glory in heaven. So it is with us. There are moments in our lives big with the issues of our future. God's purposes concerning the soul have a certain order. He gives one grace; if we correspond to that He gives another; if we do not correspond, we lose those that depended on it; sometimes, even, we lose our salvation altogether. This is the key of your destiny—fidelity to grace. You have an inspiration from God: He speaks to your soul. Oh, listen to Him, and obey Him! To one He says: "Abandon, O sinner, your evil life, and turn to Me with all your heart." "Now is the accepted time, now is the day of salvation!" To another, who is already in His grace, He sends inspirations to a more perfect life, a life of higher prayer and more uninterrupted recollection. Another, by the sweet attractions of His grace, He draws away from home and kindred to serve Him as a Sister of Charity by the bed of suffering; or as a nun, to live with Him in stillness and contemplation; or as a priest, to win souls for heaven. Oh, speak the word that Mary spoke: "Be it done to me according to thy word." Are you in sin? Convert without delay. Are you leading a tepid, imperfect life? Gird your loins to watchfulness and prayer. Do you feel in yourselves a vocation to a religious or sacerdotal life? Rise up and obey without delay. Tomorrow may be too late. The grace may be forfeited forever. Why stand we all the day idle? Heaven is filling up. Each generation sends a new company to the heavenly host. Time is going. The great business of life remains unaccomplished. By our baptism we have been made children of God and heirs of heaven. Labor we, therefore, to enter into that rest. Mary, dear Mother, lift up thy voice for us in heaven, that we, following thy footsteps, may one day share thy glory, and with thee praise forever God the Father. Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.
"And when He came nigh to the gate of the city,
behold a dead man was carried out."
—St. Luke VII. 12.
It is not at the gate of Naim only that such a procession might be met. From every city "dead men are carried out to the grave"—nay, from every house. Death knocks alike at the palace and the cabin. It is only a question of time with him. Sooner or later he comes to all. Yes, my brethren, a day will come to each home in this parish when a piece of black crape at the door will tell the world that death has been there. Within there will be stillness and sadness, and in some darkened chamber, wrapt in a winding sheet, will lie the cold and lifeless form of some beloved member of your family—a father or mother; a wife or husband; a brother or sister; a son or daughter. After a little while even that will be taken away from you. The time of the funeral will come. The mourners will go about the streets, and the dead will be buried out of your sight. I do not speak of this to make you sad. On the contrary, what I am going to say will, I know, be a source, the only real source, of comfort to you in the loss of your friends. I wish to remind you of your duties to the dead. Christianity does not permit us to bid farewell forever to our departed friends. Death, it tells us, does not sever the bond of duty and love between us and them. We still have duties toward them, and in the performance of those duties, while we are doing good to the dead, we are procuring for ourselves the best solace. What are those duties?
First: To give back the dead resignedly to God. It is not wrong to weep for the dead. It is not wrong, for we cannot help it. It is as impossible not to feel pain at such a separation as it would be not to suffer when the surgeon's knife is cutting off an arm or a leg; and, what nature demands, God does not forbid. Therefore the Holy Scripture says: "My son, shed tears over the dead; and begin to lament as if thou hadst suffered some great harm." [Footnote 211]
[Footnote 211: Eccles. xxxviii. 16.]
Do you think that poor widow of whom the Gospel speaks to-day could help weeping? She had known sorrow before, but then she had one support, a dear and only son. He was a good lad. Every body knew and loved him. But now he too is gone. It is strange that he should go and she be left behind, but so it is: there lies his body on the bier, and she is following him to the grave. See her as she goes along in her coarse black dress, bent with age and sorrow. Can you blame her for weeping, as she looks, for the last time, on that dear form? At least, Jesus did not blame her. He looked at her, and He sorrowed with her. He was moved with compassion. It is not wrong, then, to weep for the dead, but we must moderate our grief, banish every rebellious thought from our heart, and mingle resignation with our sorrow. The Office which the Church sings over the dead is made up in great part of joyful psalms and anthems. After this pattern ought to be the sorrow of a Christian family, a sorrow that is not violent and noisy, a sorrow that does not pass the bounds of decency, a sorrow, I may say, mingled with joy. How different it is in some families! You come near a house and you hear shrieks the most appalling. You go in and find a woman abandoning herself to the most noisy and violent grief. Her language is little short of blasphemy. She refuses any comfort. She is weeping over a dead husband. Perhaps in life she loved him none too well. Perhaps she made his life bitter enough to him, and often prayed that some harm might happen to him, and that she might see him dead. And now she does see him dead. She will never curse him again, and he will never anger her again. He is dead; and now she breaks out into the most frantic grief, and alarms the neighborhood. She cries; she calls upon God; she throws herself on the corpse. At the funeral her conduct is still more wild and disordered. Now, what is all this? I will not say it is hypocritical, but I say it is brutish. It is not to act as a reasonable being, much less as a Christian. This is the way with some women. The only time they ever show any love to their husbands is when they are dead. Let them be: such grief will not last long. Wait awhile; before her husband's body has well got cold in the ground she will be looking around for another match.
Do not imitate such unchristian conduct. When Death enters your house, do not forget that you are a Christian. Do not indulge your grief. Call to your aid the principles of your faith. You are sad and lonely. Well, is it not better to feel that this life is a state of exile? You have lost your protector. And has not God promised to protect the orphan? You have lost such a good friend, such a bright example. Well, ought you not, then, to rejoice at his safe departure? The early Christians used to carry flowers to the grave, and sing hymns of joy because the toils of a Christian warrior were ended, and he had entered into rest. Hear what the Church sings: "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord." Will you weep because one you love is taken away from sin, from temptation, from the trouble to come? Will you grieve because he has secured for himself the Blissful and Eternal Vision of God? But you have no confidence that he was good, that he did die in the grace of God. Suppose you are uncertain on that point, is there any thing better than to go with your doubts and fears before the Holy God, and while you offer to Him your trembling prayers for the departed, to adore His Providence and say: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away: blessed be the Name of the Lord." [Footnote 212]
[Footnote 212: Job i. 27.]
Dry up your tears, then, O bereaved Christian. "Make mourning for the dead for a day or two," [Footnote 213] says the Holy Scripture. That is, do not abandon yourself to grief. Do not think, because your friend is gone, that God is gone, and Christ is gone, and duty gone. Do not call on others more than is necessary. Resume your ordinary duties as soon as possible—and in these duties you will find the relief which God Himself has provided for our sadness, and His Grace will accompany you in the performance of them.
[Footnote 213: Ecc. xxxviii. 18.]
Another duty to the dead is to perform scrupulously, as far as possible, their last directions. When the patriarch Jacob was dying, he called his son Joseph to his side, and said to him: "Thou shalt show me this kindness and truth, not to bury me in Egypt, but I will sleep with my fathers, and thou shalt take me away out of this land, and bury me in the burying-place of my ancestors." [Footnote 214]
[Footnote 214: Gen. xlvii. 30.]
It was not of itself a very important request; it was, moreover, an inconvenient one. Yet see how promptly and carefully it was complied with. As soon as the days of mourning for Jacob were ended, Joseph went to Pharao and said: "My father made me swear to him, saying, Thou shalt bury me in my sepulchre which I have digged for myself in the land of Canaan. So I will go and bury my father and return. And Pharao said to him, Go up and bury thy father. And they buried him in the land of Canaan, in the double cave which Abraham bought for a burying-place." [Footnote 215]
[Footnote 215: Gen. 1, 4, 5, 13.]
Would that the same piety were always seen among us! A mother dies: the last wishes that she expresses to her children are that they should be true to their holy faith and earnest in seeking the salvation of their souls, and she sends a message to an absent son, which will not reach him in his distant home till long after she is gone, begging him to be faithful and regular in his duties as a Christian. A father dies, and tells his son of a debt, strictly due in justice, but of which there is no record, and where he will find the money to pay it. A poor girl dies, and confides to some one, whom she thinks her friend, the little earnings of her hard labor, asking that it may be sent to her old mother in Ireland. Are these wishes executed? Are these children faithful Catholics? Is that boy, the object of a mother's dying tears and prayers, regular at the sacraments? Has that debt been paid? Did the sad news of the daughter's death go out to the poor mother in the old country, softened with the evidence of that daughter's piety and love? or was the money retained and squandered? What! are you not afraid to add to the sin of irreligion and injustice the crime of breaking faith with the dead? Hear what God says in the Holy Scripture: "The voice of thy brother's blood crieth to Me from the earth." [Footnote 216]
[Footnote 216: Gen. iv. 10.]
The dead have got a voice, then—a voice that cries to God, that cries for vengeance against those who injure them. Pay, then, thy debts to the dead. Redeem the promise thou hast made to the dying. Fulfil thy duties as an executor or administrator with fidelity and justice. Be exact. It is a dead man thou art dealing with. Do not say, he is dead and cannot speak. Hear what the Law of God saith: "Thou shalt not speak evil of the deaf, nor put a stumbling block before the blind: but thou shalt fear the Lord thy God, because I am the Lord." [Footnote 217] Do you understand? God hears for those who cannot hear, He speaks for those who cannot speak; and if thou makest the dead thy enemy, thou hast the Living and Eternal God for a Foe.
[Footnote 217: Levit. xix. 14.]
Another part of our duty to the dead is to treat their bodies with respect, and to give them decent burial. We do this for two reasons: for what they have been, and what they are to be. Their bodies have been the casket which held their souls, and we love their bodies for what their souls have been to God and to us. We love the eye that looked upon us with affection, the mouth that spoke to us words of truth and kindness, we love the ear that listened to our sorrows, and the hand that soothed and blessed us. We love that body which was the soul's instrument here in her works of piety and Christian charity. And we love that body for what it shall be. We see it as it will be when it springs from the grave on the morning of the Resurrection, sparkling with light, beautiful and immortal. And this is why we follow the dead to the grave. We go with them as we go part of the way home with a cherished guest. We go with them in token that the love that united us is not severed by death, but that we are still joined to them in hope and charity. Oh yes, it is right. Let the body be laid out decently; the limbs composed; the eyes closed for their long sleep. And when the time of burial comes, let all the ceremonies of the Holy Church lend their aid. Walk slow; let the priest in surplice and stole go before; light the candles and hold the cross aloft; sing the sweet and solemn chant; carry the body to the church and lay it before the Altar of God; bring incense and holy water, and let there be High Mass for the repose of the soul. Fitting ceremonies! "Beautiful and touching rites! chosen with a heavenly still to comfort the mourner and to honor the dead. But alas! alas! how do we see this duty to the dead sometimes fulfilled! A Catholic is dead. It is true there are candles and holy water, but where are the pious prayers? The neighbors are gathered together, but it is not to pray. The glasses and the pipes speak of a different kind of meeting. Yes, they have come there, there to that chamber, the Court of Death and the Threshold of Eternity, to hold a drunken wake. The night wears on with stories, sometimes even obscene and filthy, and as liquor does its work, curses and blasphemies mingle with the noisy, senseless cries and yells of drunken men. Are these orgies meant to insult the dead? Do these revellers wish to make us believe that their departed friend was, body and soul, the child of Hell as much as they? So the wake is kept, and now for the funeral. The man died early in the week, but of course he must be buried on Sunday. Sunday is the worst day of the week for a funeral, because it is the day appointed for the public worship of God, and it is wrong to draw men away from the church on that day without necessity, yet a funeral must by all means be on a Sunday. And why? Because a greater crowd can be got together on that day, and the object is to have a crowd, and to make people say, such a one had a decent funeral. The family are poor, nevertheless a large number of carriages are hired, and filled with a set of people who regard the whole thing as a picnic or excursion. Some of them have already "taken a drop," and so little sense of religion have they left, that sometimes at the grave itself, sometimes in returning from it, they raise brawls and riots that bring disgrace and contempt at once on the man they have buried and the faith they profess. Do you call this a decent funeral?" I say it is a sin. A sin of pride and ostentation. A sin of scandal and excess. A sin of robbery and cruelty—of robbery and cruelty toward the poor children from whose hungry mouths and naked backs are taken the extravagant expenses of this ambitious display. How much better to have a small funeral! a funeral remarkable for nothing but its modesty and simplicity, to which only the few are called who knew the dead and loved him, who follow him to his long home with serious thoughts, like thinking men and Christians, remembering that before long they must go with him into the grave and lie down beside him, and who return home to remember his soul before God as often as they kneel down to pray.
And this brings me, in the last place, to speak of the duty of praying for the dead. It is a most consoling privilege of our holy faith. Death indeed fixes our eternal condition irrevocably. "If the tree fall to the south or to the north, in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it be." [Footnote 218]
[Footnote 218: Eccles. xi. 3.]
But the good do not always enter heaven immediately. If the sharp process by which God purifies His children on earth has not wrought its full effect, it must be carried on for a while longer in that hidden receptacle in which faithful souls await their summons to the presence of God. And during this period our prayers in their behalf are of great avail. No part of our religion has more undeniable proofs of its antiquity. As far back as the fourth century of the Christian era, St. Cyril testifies that it was the custom "to pray for those who had departed this life, believing it to be a great assistance to those souls for whom prayers are offered while the Holy and Tremendous Sacrifice is going on." [Footnote 219]
[Footnote 219: St. Cyril, Cat., lect. v., n. 9.]
The tombstones of the early Christians attest the same practice, and St. Augustine, speaking not as a doctor, but recording a chapter of his own history, lets us into the innermost feelings of the Church of his day on this subject. In his Confessions he tells us that his mother St. Monica, shortly before her death, looked at him and said: "Lay this body anywhere, be not concerned about that, only I beg of you, that wheresoever you be, you make remembrance of me at the Lord's Altar." And the saint goes on to tell how he fulfilled this request, how after her death the "Sacrifice of our Ransom" was offered for her, and how fervently he continued to pray for her. But his own words are best: "Though my mother lived in such a manner that Thy Name is much praised in her faith and manners, yet * * * I entreat Thee, O God of my heart, for her sins. Hear me, I beseech Thee, through that cure of our wounds that hung upon the Tree, and that sitting now at Thy Right Hand maketh intercession for us. I know that she did mercifully, and from her heart forgave to her debtors their trespasses; do Thou likewise forgive to her her debts, if she hath also contracted any in those many years she lived after the saving water. Forgive them, O Lord, forgive them. * * * Let no one separate her from Thy protection. Let not the lion and the dragon either by force or fraud interpose himself. Let her rest in peace, together with her husband; and do Thou inspire Thy servants that as many as shall read this may remember at Thy Altar Thy handmaid Monica, with Patricius her husband." [Footnote 220]
[Footnote 220: St. Augustine's, Confessions, book ix., c. 13.]
Are we as faithful to pray for our departed friends, and to get prayers said for them? They wait the time of their deliverance with painful longing. They cannot hasten it themselves. They cannot merit. Their hands are tied. They are at our mercy. The Church indeed prays for these in her litanies, her offices, and her Masses, but how little do we, their friends and relations, pray for them. The patriarch Joseph, when he foretold to Pharao's butler, his fellow prisoner, his speedy restoration to honor, said to him: "Only remember me when it shall be well with thee, and do me this kindness to put Pharao in mind to take me out of this prison." [Footnote 221]
[Footnote 221: Gen. xl. 14.]
But the butler, when things prospered with him, forgot his friend. So we forget our friends in the prison of Purgatory. They linger looking for help from us, and it comes not. Oh, pray for the dead. Death does not sever them from hope, from prayer, or from the power of Christ. Did not Martha say to our Lord in reference to her brother Lazarus, who was already dead: "I know that even NOW whatsoever thou wilt ask of God (in his behalf) He will give it thee!" [Footnote 222]
[Footnote 222: St. John xi. 22.]
Yes, Christ's mercy and Christ's Bounty reach even to the regions of the shadow of death. Christ has in His hands gifts even for the dead—gifts of Consolation, of Refreshment, of Quiet, and of Rest. Ask those gifts for those you love. With the widow of Naim carry your dead to the Saviour, let your tears and prayers in their behalf meet His Compassionate Ear and Eye, and He will speak to the dead: "Young man, I say to thee Arise." And the dead shall hear His voice, and shall rise up, not yet to the Resurrection of the Body, not yet to be "delivered to his Master," but to the company of the Angels, to the spirits of the Just, to the home of God, where they shall be "before the Throne of God, and serve Him day and night in His Temple, and He that sitteth on the Throne shall dwell over them. And they shall not hunger nor thirst any more; neither shall the sun fall on them, nor any heat." [Footnote 223]
[Footnote 223: Apoc. vii. 15, 16.]