Gospel.St. Luke xvii.11-19.
At that time:As Jesus was going to Jerusalem, he passed through the midst of Samaria in Galilee. And as he entered into a certain town, there met him ten men that were lepers, who stood afar off: and lifted up their voice, saying: Jesus, master, have mercy on us. And when he saw them, he said: Go, show yourselves to the priests. And it came to pass that, as they went, they were cleansed.And one of them, when he saw that he was cleansed, went back, with a loud voice glorifying God; and he fell on his face, before his feet, giving thanks: and this was a Samaritan. And Jesus answering, said; Were there not ten made clean? and where are the nine? There is no one found to return and give glory to God, but this stranger. And he said to him: Arise, go thy way, for thy faith hath made thee whole.
And as he entered into a certain town,there met him ten men that were lepers,who stood afar off.—St. Luke xvii. 12.
The leprosy is a most foul and loathsome disease which attacks the skin and sometimes spreads itself over almost the entire surface of the body. This pestilential disorder, besides the intense suffering it must cause, renders its victim an object of disgust and aversion to those around him. It seems to have been very prevalent in the East in former times, and during the middle ages it was quite common in Europe, where it was brought by the Crusaders returning from the wars carried on for the possession of the Holy Land. A man infected with leprosy was looked upon by the state as dead, and hence the disease was called civil death. The leper was cut off from all intercourse with his fellows, and compelled to live alone or in the company of other lepers. Leprosy, therefore, subjected a man to the most galling sort of exile, since it forced him to part from home and friends, and to tear asunder every tie which binds the heart of man to this earth and to his fellow-men.
The holy Fathers have always regarded leprosy as a strong figure of sin. Sin spreads itself over the soul as leprosy does over the body, tainting and corrupting it, rendering it disgusting in the sight of its Maker, and forcing him to separate it from himself and the company of his angels and saints.Sin, too, forces the soul into exile from God, its true home, and severs all those endearing attachments which cluster round the thought of home. In this sense all mortal sin is a spiritual leprosy; but the one sin which deserves the name above all others is the sin of impurity, because it defiles body and soul alike, and is more infectious even than the ancient leprosy of the East. Impurity not only reproduces its pestilential self, but has, besides, the sickening power of engendering a horde of other frightful maladies distinct from, and only less disgusting than, itself. And yet, alas! impurity is now, as it was in the days of Noe, the crying sin of the world; a sin that is foreign to no class of society, to no order of civilization; a sin that each individual has to take constant and wearisome precautions against, if he would not be infected by its virus, which seems to permeate the very air we breathe, and lurk unseen in the meat and drink we take for the support of life.
St. Clement of Alexandria calls impurity the metropolis of vices, by reason, doubtless, of the numberless other vices which are born of it and make their home around it. This leprosy of the soul, impurity, is worse than any leprosy of the body, inasmuch as the death of the soul is an infinitely greater evil than that of the body.
God has at times allowed some of his saints to experience something of the foulness which the sin of impurity inflicts on the soul of the one who commits it. So it was with St. Euthymius and St. Catherine of Siena, who discovered impure persons by the stench which emanated from their presence.It were well, perhaps, if all innocent persons possessed this rare gift of some of God's saints, for they might then easily avoid contracting from others the foul leprosy of impurity. No one, indeed, can look for a grace so extraordinary, but every one who has charge of others, especially of the young, should take every means suggested by wisdom and experience to preserve them from contact with persons already infected with this vile pestilence. A brief conversation with one badly tainted with the leprosy of impurity is oftentimes enough to implant its seeds in young and innocent hearts; and once the seeds are planted, they are hardly, if ever, entirely uprooted.
Leprosy not only attacked persons, but was found also in garments and in houses. So it is with the contagion of impurity, which not only watches its victim from the muddy eye of the libertine, but hides itself also in the folds of the lascivious dress, by which it is scattered abroad, and clings like some noxious vapor to the walls of houses where wanton deeds are done and loose language spoken. From all such persons, and things, and places keep the young and the innocent afar off. Let us remember that those only who love cleanness of heart shall have the King of heaven for their friend; and as we know from Holy Scripture that we cannot be chaste unless God gives us power to be so, let us ask him fervently and frequently for this most royal of all royal gifts, the gift of purity. Let us put aside all pride of heart, which, more than anything else, would provoke Almighty God to leave us to our own weakness and folly. Impurity is the lewd daughter of pride, while humility is the chaste mother of purity.
Finally, brethren, let us all listen to the exhortation of St. Paul, and walk in the love of Christ, and let not fornication and uncleanness be so much as named among us; nor obscenity, nor foolish talking, nor scurrility, but rather giving of thanks (Ephesians. v. 5-6).
Rev. Algernon A. Brown.
And it came to pass,as they went, they were cleansed.—St. Luke xvii. 14.
You will find people who go to the sacraments pretty regularly sometimes giving rather a strange excuse when they have been away longer than usual. They will say, "My mind was upset," or "I had a falling out with my neighbor"; and they seem to think that, of course it was out of the question to go to confession till their minds got right side up again, or till they were thoroughly at peace with themselves and all the world.
And you will find people who do not go to the sacraments regularly, who, in fact, have not been for a long time, and who make a similar excuse for staying away—that is, that they are not in good dispositions to receive absolution. These people also think that they should not go to confession till in some way or another they have got in good dispositions.
It is natural enough, perhaps, that both these kinds of people should think as they do. They want, of course, to make a really good confession. They would not like to receive absolution feeling just as they do now; so they put it off till some time when their dispositions will be improved; but they make a great mistake, and lose a great deal of time by doing so.
The mistake which they make is in not understanding that the preparation for confession which they could make with their present dispositions is the best way for getting them into better ones.
They might learn a salutary lesson from the Gospel of to-day. You will have noticed, if you have listened to it carefully, that the poor men whom our Lord cured were simply told by him to go and show themselves to the priests, and that they set off, with the defilement of the leprosy still upon them, to obey his commands. They might very well have excused themselves by saying that they were not fit to go before the priests; and it would have been very true that they wore not. For, according to the law of the Jews, it was only lepers who had already been cured who were to show themselves to the priests; just as now it is only sinners who are penitent who can ask for absolution. The priests of the Old Law could not cure the leprosy, any more than those of the New Law can absolve a sinner before he repents.
But, nevertheless, they went, though it seemed to be of no use for them to go. And what happened to them on the road? Why, it happened, as the Gospel tells us, that as they went they were made clean.
Now, this, as I have said, has a lesson and a meaning for such as now are laboring under any spiritual disease or disorder, be it small or great, which is keeping them from the sacraments. The remedy for them, as for these men of whose cure we read in this Gospel, is to set out to show themselves to the priests; that is, to prepare themselves for confession. If they do they also will be cured on the way.
I will venture to say that if those Catholics throughout the world who now feel themselves in any way indisposed for absolution would go to a church at the next opportunity, kneel down by a confessional, say a few prayers in earnest, examine their consciences, and then go in when their turn should come—and these are surely things that any one can do—far the greater part of them would be in good dispositions for absolution before it was time for the priest to give it. Some time, perhaps when they were on the way to the church, perhaps when they were kneeling and trying to prepare themselves, perhaps not till they were telling their sins or receiving the priest's advice, but some time or other the affection to sin or the temptation which now disturbs the peace of their souls would be taken away.
Why, then, not try such a simple remedy? If you really want to recover the health of your soul set out to make your confession, to show yourself to the priest, whether you feel it or not. If you will believe me, depend on it, it shall also be true for you that your faith shall make you whole.
Were not ten made clean?and where are the nine?—St. Luke xvii. 17.
How often, my brethren, has our Lord been obliged to ask this question and to make this reproach! Times there have been when your souls were suffering from the leprosy of sin, times when the sight of your defilement, the pangs of a guilty conscience, roused you to a sense of your unhappy state, and you have raised your voice and cried out, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on me."And he, who is goodness and compassion, has looked upon you, and bid you show yourself to the priest, and you have been healed. But have you followed the example of the one grateful leper—have you gone back to thank him? Have you prostrated yourself before him, mindful of the greatness of the favor, and in word and deed, by fervent prayer, by humility, by a new life, shown your gratitude? Or have you, like the nine, gone your way, thankful indeed, but with a momentary, imperfect, unspoken gratitude, because the greatness of the benefit was not dwelt upon?
This ingratitude, which is so common, this forgetfulness, cannot be put before you too strongly or too often. At the coming of Jesus, during a mission or a jubilee, many call out to him to cleanse them; they go to confession and Communion, and for a time are healed of their leprosy. But because they so quickly go their way; because in the bustle of the world they neglect to come back to thank Jesus, their Master and Healer; because they do not separate themselves from and avoid infected persons and places, their old companions, their old haunt of drinking, the occasions of sin whatever they may be, therefore it is that the old malady returns. And as Jesus looks out on the few who come to his feet, to the Holy Communion, he is forced to exclaim in sorrow: "Were not ten made clean? where are the nine?" Alas! that we should so often wound that sensitive, loving Heart, that we should be so remiss in giving a return of thanks, that we should check the divine goodness and turn its very favors into a cause of our own condemnation at the great day of reckoning!
Ingratitude has always been considered, and deservedly, the worst of vices; it touches us more keenly than any other wrong or injury, it moves us with a sense of anger, sorrow, and aversion peculiar to itself, because it is an abuse or a forgetfulness of that which is highest and best in us—our love, and the effects of our love, our kindness. Yet God's benefits are innumerable, his love is infinite, his honor unspeakable, his power almighty. Many who call themselves Christians can find no time to thank him for the blessings of each day; many, whom he has healed from sin, go their way in forgetfulness; even those who do try to make some return, who do keep themselves in his grace and frequent the church and the sacraments, are often niggardly and ungenerous in their efforts. Does his grace move them to some sacrifice of their pride, their convenience, or their means? The kind word, the charitable act come, but oh! so slowly; the poor are dismissed with a trifling alms, the church-collector is an unwelcome visitor. Yet it is by these things we show our gratitude. Let us remember, brethren, that as God is infinitely bountiful himself, so he in turn loves a generous giver, and that his benefits bear a proportion to our return of thanks in words and in actions.
Epistle.Galatians v.16-24.
Brethren:I say then, walk in the spirit, and you shall not fulfil the lusts of the flesh. For the flesh lusteth against the spirit: and the spirit against the flesh; for these are contrary one to another: so that you do not the things that you would. But if you are led by the spirit, you are not under the law. Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are, fornication, uncleanness, immodesty, luxury, idolatry, witchcraft, enmities, contentions, emulations, wrath, quarrels, dissensions, sects, envy, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like. Of the which I foretell you, as I have foretold to you, that they who do such things shall not obtain the kingdom of God. But the fruit of the spirit is charity, joy, peace, patience, benignity, goodness, longanimity, mildness, faith, modesty, continency, chastity. Against such there is no law. And they that are Christ's, have crucified their flesh with the vices and concupiscences.
Gospel.St. Matthew vi.24-33.
At that time:Jesus said to his disciples: No man can serve two masters. For either he will hate the one, and love the other: or he will hold to the one, and despise the other. You cannot serve God and Mammon. Therefore I say to you, be not solicitous for your life, what you shall eat, nor for your body, what you shall put on. Is not the life more than the food, and the body more than the raiment? Behold the fowls of the air, for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns: and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are not you of much more value than they?And which of you by thinking can add to his stature one cubit? And for raiment why are you solicitous? Consider the lilies of the field how they grow: they labor not, neither do they spin. And yet I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one of these. Now if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to-day is, and to-morrow is cast into the oven: how much more you, ye of little faith? Be not solicitous therefore, saying: What shall we eat, or what shall we drink, or wherewith shall we be clothed? For after all these things do the heathen seek. For your Father knoweth that you have need of all these things. Seek ye, therefore, first the kingdom of God and his justice, and all these things shall be added unto you.
No man can serve two masters.—St. Matthew vi. 24.
Who is your master? Perhaps you think you are your own master. You may say, "I am a free man in a free country." But think a moment. Is your soul really free? Surely not; for you cannot hinder your thoughts from running backward and forward. Sometimes you think of the past in spite of yourself; you enjoy its sinful pleasures over again in your memory, or you again suffer pain at the bare recollection of past sorrows and trials. Nor can you hinder your soul from rushing into the future. You dream of success; you enjoy in anticipation the pleasures of gratified ambition. Now, why does your soul thus cling to the dead past; why does it strive to fly to the unborn future? Because your soul is a servant. And who is its master? Pleasure. Yes, and pleasure is so powerful a master that we obey and serve even its remembrance, its shadow. Indeed, I might say that we are slaves of pleasure rather than servants.
But this master takes different shapes. Sometimes he calls himself Fashion. Very many otherwise intelligent persons are servants of Fashion. Did you ever spend an hour looking at the drives in Central Park on a pleasant afternoon? There you can see men and women whirled along in carriages fit for kings to ride in, drawn by horses worth thousands of dollars—beasts whose trappings are fastened with gold-plated buckles—and coachmen and footmen dressed in showy livery. And why is all this parade? Because those who ride out in that style are servants. The name of their master and lord is Fashion; he demands all this extravagance of them, and they obey him. Follow them home, and you will see them again at his service, spending many thousand dollars in adorning their houses with the costliest furniture and decking their bodies, for Fashion's sake, with rich silks and gold: everything offered up on the altar of Fashion, though the poor of Christ are starving all around them.
And many of the poor are servants. Who is the master of the poor? He is a devil, and his name is Drink. This devil of Drink must have a good share of a poor man's wages of a Saturday night. And as soon as a poor man loses work and loses courage this devil of Drink comes and whispers in his ear: "Be my servant and I will make you happy." And by this lie he entices the poor fellow into one of his dens, and there he makes him drunk, and from the bar-room he sends him home to be a scandal to his little children, and may be to beat his wretched wife.Others this master sends from that liquor-store to steal, and so to prison and hopeless ruin; others he sends to brothels; many a one he afflicts with frightful diseases and sudden accidents, and so brings them to hell. Sometimes, too, this demon of Drink gathers his slaves together into a mob to murder and plunder, and then to be shot down by soldiers. O brethren! is it not strange that any one should be a servant of this devil. Drink? Yet he has countless slaves, and not only among the poor but in every station in life.
But the strangest thing of all is that the foolish servants of sin and Satan fancy that they can at the same time be servants of Almighty God. They call themselves by Christ's name—Christians. They go to his church now and then: and although they have served Mammon all their days, they yet hope to enjoy God and his happiness for all eternity. Hence Jesus Christ in to-day's Gospel cries out in warning: "You cannot serve two masters." Hence in another place he says: "Amen, amen I say unto you, that whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin." So we have got to choose. We must be either servants of God or servants of Mammon; we cannot be both at once.
Therefore, brethren, instead of giving our time, and money, and health, and heart, and soul to sinful pleasures, to lust and intemperance, and fashion and avarice—all cruel tyrants—let us have the good sense to enter the service of our blessed Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord and Master who made us, and who redeemed us, and who will judge us; whose yoke is sweet and whose burden is light; whose servants are innocent and happy in this life, and who shall enter with him into everlasting dwellings in the kingdom of heaven.
Rev. Algernon A. Brown.
The works of the flesh are manifest…Of the which I foretell you,as I have foretold to you,that they who do such thingsshall not obtain the kingdom of God.—Galatians v. 19, 21.
The works of the flesh—that is, the various ways in which the desires of the flesh can be gratified—have always been the chief obstacles presented by the world to our salvation. This was specially the case in St. Paul's day, when a corrupt and sensual civilization had been attained which placed the happiness of man in bodily pleasure. And it is also specially the case now more than at any other time since then; for a similar so-called civilization is the boast of the present age, in which the desires and appetites of the body are exalted above those of the soul.
But the temptations of this modern age are more concealed than those of the former one; and on that account they are more dangerous to Christians than those of the time of St. Paul were. Satan has, we may say, learned wisdom by experience. At the present day, instead of shocking us by sins like these of the pagans, which could only repel and disgust those who had even the weakest love of God, he has learned to seduce the faithful by the gradual introduction of amusements and pleasures having the name of being innocent, making them worse and worse as the moral sense of those who engage in them, or who witness them, becomes more and more blunted.
A prominent example of such amusements is to be found in the dances which have become fashionable in the last few years. There can be no question at all that, had they been suddenly presented to our eyes not very long ago, every one, without hesitation, would have pronounced them sinful, and no one would have engaged in them who professed to have a delicate conscience; whereas now it is equally certain that very many people who are careful, and even scrupulous, profess to see no harm in these dangerous recreations.
Let me not be understood to mean that dancing is in itself condemned by the law of God. There is no other harm in it, if it be done in a proper way, than the danger of excess and waste of time to which any amusement is liable. Nor is there any more harm in two people dancing together than in eight standing up in a set; and the particular measure of the music is a matter of no consequence. The harm is in the improper positions assumed in what are called round dances, and which have been lately brought into almost all others. These mutual positions of the parties, these embraces—for that they simply are—are in themselves evidently contrary to modesty and decency. It seems as if no one would have to stop, even a moment, to see and acknowledge this. A very plain proof of it, however, should it be needed, is that every person pretending to be respectable would blush to be detected in such positions on any other occasion, unless united to the other party by very near relationship or marriage.
And let no one say that fashion justifies them. If it did it could justify every other indecency or impropriety. Neither fashion nor anything else can justify what is in itself wrong.Nor is it true that they are not noticed or cared for by those who indulge in them; that they are indulged in only because the dance happens to be so arranged. That may be true for some persons; but there is, unfortunately, very little doubt that many only dance on account of these positions, and would not care about learning or practising this amusement were it not for the opportunity offered by it for them. This is a good enough straw to show which way the wind blows.
The plain state of the case is this: To many these dances are, as one would expect, a remote, or even a proximate, occasion of sin, at least in thought, and sometimes in word and action. To many more they are a sensual excitement bordering on impurity. To many, it is true, they are simply an amusement; but this is due to the force of habit, aided by the grace of God, not to the natural state of the case. But for all they are paving the way—in fact, they have already done so—to things which are more plainly wrong; in fact, they themselves are becoming worse and worse all the time.
One of the works of the flesh of which St. Paul speaks in this Epistle is immodesty. Take away the veil of concealment which the gradual introduction of this sensuous practice has put over your eyes, and see if it does not deserve that name. Do not defend yourselves by saying that some confessors allow it. They only allow it because they are afraid of keeping you altogether away from the sacraments; and they do not wish to do that, if in any way they can satisfy themselves that you have even the most imperfect dispositions with which you can be allowed to receive them. But it is better to be on the safe side.There is no confessor who would not far rather that you should abandon this dangerous pastime, that you should cease to set this bad example. There is not one who would not be much consoled should you do so. I beg you, then, to give them that consolation. Give up these dances for God's sake, and for the sake of the salvation of your own soul and those of others. Give them up, and you will receive an abundant reward of grace in this world, and of glory in that which is to come.
No man can serve two masters.—St. Matthew vi. 24.
It is perhaps a little strange, my dear brethren, and not much of a compliment on the part of Christians to the wisdom of Him whose disciples they profess to be, that so great a part of them should spend their lives in trying to do what he so solemnly declares to be impossible. It is curious that so many, so very many, of them should never have made up their minds which shall be their master. Almighty God or the devil, but should be hopefully trying to serve both.
Some there are—nay, many, if you take their absolute number—who have truly gone over, once for all and in real dead earnest, to God's side. They keep up a constant battle with temptation; if by weakness and surprise they fall for a moment, they pick themselves up again instantly by a sincere repentance and confession, and begin the fight again. They live in the grace and friendship of their Creator, and they are willing not only to be his friends but to be known as such; they are not ashamed to be pious, but would be very much ashamed to be anything else.
On the other hand, there are not a few who were put on God's side by baptism, but have gone over entirely to the camp of his enemy; who have sold themselves body and soul to the devil. These wretched traitors have denied their faith, and now perhaps even blaspheme or ridicule it; they give free rein to their favorite vices, whatever they may be; they have abandoned prayer, and have openly and even boastingly taken the road which leads to hell. You all know of such. In these days of apostasy many of you have such among your acquaintance. They have got Satan's mark on their foreheads, and they do not care to conceal it.
But there is a very common kind of Christian who does not answer to either of these descriptions or belong to either of these parties, but is trying to get the advantages of both—to serve both masters, God and the devil, and get paid by both. He fulfils part of the divine law; he goes to Mass, sometimes at least; perhaps he does not eat meat on Friday; and now and then, it may be once a year, or on the occasion of a mission or jubilee, he puts in an appearance at a confessional and tells about the sins he has committed. He goes to Holy Communion, and seems to come over really and entirely to God's side. Well, perhaps he does come over, for a little while at least, a few days or weeks; but the chances are very great that he never really means to quit the other side for ever; or, it may be, at all. In his mind impure thoughts, words, and actions, drunkenness, and the pleasures of the devil generally, are a kind of necessity of life; he has no idea of really quitting them at once and for ever. His idea is to make a sort of a compromise with God; to do his "duty," as he calls it—that is, to keep in what he imagines to be the state of grace for a few hours or days now and then, and afterward go on as before.He wants to serve the devil during life, and yet be acknowledged as God's servant at the end; in short, he tries to be the servant of two masters.
Are there not many of you here, my friends, who have lived in this way all your lives, and mean to all the rest of the time that God spares you in this world? There are even many who have this intention on whose tongues the traces of his Body and Blood are yet fresh. How do I know? Because they are not resisting temptation; because they have not left the occasions of sin; because, instead of calling on God continually in prayer, they go on wantonly blaspheming his holy name; because the immodest jest is ready to come at any moment to their lips; because, instead of showing dislike to impiety in others, they acquiesce in it and applaud it; because, in short, they have not even begun the battle by which alone they can be saved.
Brethren, this is not the way to live; this is not the way to prepare to die. If you will not be God's servants during life, the devil will claim you at the hour of your death, and get you, too, in spite of the last sacraments which you may receive. "Ha!" he will say to you, "you tried to serve two masters, did you? What a fool you were! You were mine all along. You tried to give God a share of your heart; know now, since you would not know it before, that he will not take less than the whole."
Epistle.Galatians v.25;vi.10.
Brethren:If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not become desirous of vainglory, provoking one another, envying one another. And if a man can be overtaken in any fault, you, who are spiritual, instruct such a one in the spirit of mildness, considering thyself, lest thou also be tempted. Bear ye one another's burdens, and so shall you fulfil the law of Christ. For if any man think himself to be something, whereas he is nothing, he deceiveth himself. But let every one prove his own work, and so he shall have glory in himself only, and not in another. For every one shall bear his own burden. And let him who is instructed in the word communicate to him that instructeth him, in all good things. Be not deceived, God is not mocked. For what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap. For he that soweth in the flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption. But he that soweth in the Spirit, of the Spirit shall reap life everlasting. And in doing good, let us not fail. For in due time we shall reap, not failing. Therefore, whilst we have time, let us do good to all men, but especially to those who are of the household of the faith.
Gospel.St. Luke vii.11-16.
At that time:Jesus went into a city called Nain: and there went with him his disciples, and a great multitude. And when he came nigh to the gate of the city, behold a dead man was carried out, the only son of his mother; and she was a widow: and much people of the city was with her. And when the Lord saw her, he had compassion on her, and said to her: Weep not.And he came near and touched the bier. (And they that carried it stood still.) And he said: Young man, I say to thee, Arise. And he that was dead sat up and began to speak. And he delivered him to his mother. And there came a fear on them all: and they glorified God, saying: That a great prophet is risen up among us: and God hath visited his people.
Behold a dead man was carried out.—St. Luke vii. 12.
The sight which our Lord saw, and which is recorded in to-day's Gospel, we have often seen. We can scarcely walk a mile or two in a great city without seeing a dead man carried out. The hearse, the funeral procession, the pall, the coffin, the sabled mourners, are all familiar and every-day objects. Again, we read of death every day. We find in the newspapers, the hospital reports, and so forth, death in a thousand shapes. We see that death waits for us at every corner of the street, that it lurks in the river, hovers in the atmosphere, hides in our very bodies, is concealed even in our pleasures. Again and again we have heard the beating of its heavy wings and seen the clutch of its clammy fingers—sometimes in our own houses, sometimes in our neighbors', sometimes on the sea, sometimes on land, sometimes in the busy street, sometimes in the silent chamber.
Strange to say, however, although nothing is better known than death, nothing is more forgotten. We hear people saying every day, "How shall we live?" but seldom do they ever think of adding, "and how shall we die?"
My brethren, every one of you here this morningmustdie.
There will come an hour when your heart will cease to beat, when you will close your eyes and fold your hands in death, and when, like the dead man in the Gospel, you will "be carried out."
O brethren! how are you preparing for that supreme moment?
Are you readynow, at this moment, to die? If you are not you ought to be. Let us, then, see how we should prepare ourselves.
Above all things you should never forget death. When you see other men die, when you read of death, when you see the priest in black vestments, and hear the sweet tones of the choristers chanting the solemn requiem, then you should say to yourselves, "It may be my turn next."
Keep death always before your eyes; then when it comes you will not shrink from its touch. Again, keep your conscience clear, and make every confession and Communion as if it were to be your last. How many have come to their duties on Saturday and Sunday, and on Monday have departed for ever from this world!
The earth, dearly beloved, is a vast field, and Death with his sharp scythe toils in it every day. Blade after blade, flower after flower, tender plant and fragrant herb, fall beneath his sweeping blows every hour, every second. You may now be as the grass that is the most distant from the steel: there may be acres upon acres between you and the severing blade, but the strong, patient mower is nearing you slowly but surely. Listen! listen! and you will catch the sharp hiss of his scythe and hear the murmur of the falling grass. Oh! then be ready, with girded loins and burning lamp. Be ready, for you know not when death shall come. Be ready, with clear conscience and well-cared for soul, for the last great hour.
Lastly, pray to St. Joseph that you may obtain the grace of a happy death. Go to his altar; kneel at his feet and say, "dear spouse of our Lady and foster-father of Jesus Christ! obtain for me to die, as thou didst, in the arms of Jesus and Mary, and to remain with them and thee in the paradise of God."
Beloved, death is nearing, death is coming. Oh! then, I beseech you, neglect not these words of warning and advice. "Here we have not an abiding city, but seek one to come," even the heavenly Jerusalem, the City of God, which shines above. The gate of that city is a good and Christian death. God grant, then, that through that blessed portal we all may pass, lest we be left cold and shivering in the black night of the outer darkness!
Rev. Algernon A. Brown.
If we live in the spirit,let us also walk in the spirit.—Galatians v. 25.
There is a saying which, in Latin, runs as follows: "Dum vivimus, vivamus." Put into English, it is: "While we live let us live"; or, to bring out the idea more clearly: "While we live let us make the most of life."
It is a saying which has always been very popular with infidels. We have this life, they say—it is our own; but we do not know what is coming after it, or, indeed, if anything at all is; so, while we have it, let us use it; there is not much of it, and it will soon be gone, but it is ours now. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush; so, then, "Dum vivimus, vivamus"—while we live let us make the most of life.
Now, the Christian idea of life and the way to use it is somewhat different from that of the infidel. A Christian does know what is coming after this life; he knows that this short life is only a preparation for the next, which is eternal; he knows that pursuing the pleasure of this world, after the infidel fashion, will endanger his salvation; and if he values his salvation—that is to say, if he has common sense—he looks out for the life of his soul rather than that of his body, so that he may always be ready for death when it shall come. And he has a fear of pleasure, rather than a desire of it, on account of its danger; he crucifies the flesh, with its vices and concupiscences, as St. Paul says in the conclusion of the Epistle of last Sunday, that it may be subject to the soul, instead of subjecting the soul to itself.
He makes up his mind, in short, to live in the spirit instead of the flesh; and in that, as I have said, he shows his common sense. But when he has got as far as that his common sense seems too often to fail him. He ought then to come back to the maxim of the infidel; for it is a very sensible one in itself, the only trouble with it being that the infidel has the wrong idea of life. It would be all right for the Christian.
The Christian ought to say—you and I, my dear brethren, ought to say: "Dum vivimus, vivamus." Or, in the words of St. Paul in the beginning of today's Epistle, which immediately follows that of last Sunday, we ought to say: "If we live in the spirit, let us also walk in the spirit."That is, if we are going to live in the spirit rather than in the flesh, let us make the most of our spiritual life. Let us enjoy it, advance in it, and get all out of it that we can. We have, indeed, much more reason to say so than the man of the world; for not only shall we have more of it in the next world for all that we get out of it now, but there is much more to be got out of it even here than out of the life of the body.
And yet many, perhaps most, good Christians content themselves with simply keeping in the state of grace and avoiding sin. They just keep themselves spiritually alive, and that is all. They are like misers, who starve in the midst of their gold. There are pleasures for them, even in this world, far above what it can itself give, and they do little or nothing to obtain them.
Something has to be done to obtain them, of course. It is the same, however, with bodily pleasure, and those who seek it know that. Many a man has made a slave of himself all his life to get a few years of ease and comfort at the end of it. Why should not we do the same for the comfort of our souls?
Something has to be done, but not so much after all. A little more earnestness in prayer; a little more fidelity in meditation and spiritual reading; a little more care to uproot our evil habits; a little more charity and spirit of sacrifice for our brethren; and, last but not least, a little mortification beyond what is forced on us, or what is necessary to avoid sin, and the reward would soon come. Temptations would be lighter; the struggle would be easier; God would come nearer to us; and that dawn would rise in our hearts which is brighter than the lights which earthly hands can kindle, and which is the sure fore-runner of the eternal day.
Let us not become desirous of vainglory.—Galatians v. 26.
These words, my dear brethren, are from the Epistle of the Mass of this Sunday. I feel quite sure that the advice which St. Paul gives us in them is a very sensible one, and one which we all need to take very much to heart.
What is this vainglory of which he speaks? It is the vain and false glory which comes from the admiration of others. It is what, in the more important matters of life, the world calls glory, and does not call vain. It is what many great geniuses have spent their lives to acquire, and have even been admired for doing so. But it is what in smaller matters the world calls it vanity to seek; and the world generally laughs, at least in its sleeve, at those who do so.
The girl whose great desire it is to have her hat acknowledged to be the prettiest one in church is called vain and made fun of, perhaps, even by her rivals, who wish in their hearts that they had a nicer one, if it was only to take the conceit out of her; but the man whose ambition it is to have the brain that his hat covers acknowledged to be the smartest one in the country is not laughed at, but very much respected, if the brain be really a fine one. And yet the desire is really all the same thing in both of them.
Now, my brethren, we are all more or less vain or desirous of this vainglory; rather more, in fact, than less. It will not do for us to laugh very hard at each other for it, for we are all in the same boat. It is a passion which is almost universal. Some people who are quite proud may fancy that they do not care a straw for what others think of them; but I fancy that they do, though perhaps the reason may be that the praise of others will help them to admire themselves.
So you see that I was right in saying that St. Paul's advice was one which we all need to take very much to heart—all of us, not only girls with the new styles of hats, but young men at college or in business, eminent merchants and professional men, including those whom God has called to serve him at the altar. We have all got to look out for this snare of vainglory.
And how? By despising it? Yes, in a certain way, but not in the way of pride. By resolving to value nothing according to the opinion that men have of it, but according to that which Almighty God has of it.
He values nothing much but what is, like himself, eternal. He does not care so very much more for your cleverness than for your beauty. He could spoil either one of them in an instant, if he chose. But what he does care for, and what he himself cannot spoil, though of course he could not wish to, are the merits which he has given you this life to acquire and to bring before the throne of his judgment, to be transformed into your immortal crown. Those are the only things which are worth your caring for, because they are the only things which he cares for. And they are what all can have, however low in worldly station they may be.