Because we are living, therefore we must die. Adam in Paradise might have escaped death if he would, but since Adam's sin and our loss of integrity, the sentence of death has passed upon all. There is no reflection which a man can make more certainly true than this: I must die. The time is fixed. There shall come to me a day that knows no setting, a night that knows no dawn. The lights shall be lit in the church; the pall spread over the bier; the priest singing Mass at the altar. My body shall lie under that pall, and my name be mentioned in that Mass. From the church my body shall be carried to the grave, and my soul be happy or miserable according to the deeds it hath done on earth. I do not knowwhenI shall die. Youth is no protection against death. Health is no protection against death. I do not knowwhereI shall die. No corner of the earth can hide me from His summons. I do not knowhowI shall die, whether at home, among my friends, with the rites of the Church, with my reason, with a quiet mind—or abroad, or suddenly, or without the last sacraments, or with a heavy load of sin on my soul, or in a state of insensibility. All these things are uncertain; this only is certain, that I must die—that I must die, thatmyturn shall come; and others shall speak of me as I speak now of those already dead.
But some of you may say, why tell us this? Life is short at the best, why vex ourselves with thinking of that which we cannot prevent. We have got many projects in hand, many pleasures in prospect, and we do not want to paralyze our energies and sadden our days by meditating always on death. No, my brethren, I do not ask you to think of death in order to paralyze your energies, but to direct them aright; not to sadden your days, but to make them calm and tranquil. I know that a celebrated modern writer has made it a matter of reproach against Christianity that it sends men to learn the solemn lessons of the grave.But surely this reproach is unreasonable. It cannot be denied that men do die. The earth has already many times seen an entire generation of her inhabitants pass away. There are many more sleeping in the ground than live on its surface. Now, if this be so, if death is an inevitable fact in our history, and a fact on which much depends—if this life is not all, but after this life there is an Eternity dependent on our conduct here, it is plain that reason requires us to think of death, and he is foolish who forgets it. Besides, the thought of death is enjoined upon us by the Almighty, as a sure means of salvation: "In all thy works remember thy last end, and thou shalt never sin." [Footnote 245]
[Footnote 245: Eccles. vii. 36.]
And I will say more. The thought of death really contributes to our comfort, because it is the only way of getting rid of the fear of death. Suppose you do refuse to listen to the warnings which Death suggests, are you therefore free from anxiety? Is there no trouble in your conscience? Is there nothing frightful to you in a sleepless night, or a sickbed? would you hear with equanimity that you had a hopeless disease? No, it is the coward that will not think of death, who "all his life through fear of death is subject to slavery." Act like a man. Face this King of Terrors, and you disarm him. His countenance is stern, but his words are kind and friendly. Listen to him, and you will find that he can relax his grim features and smile upon you; and there is nothing can give you such comfort, as for death to come to you with a smiling face. The sting of death is sin: be careful to avoid sin, and then at his coming you can exclaim: "O death, where is thy victory! O death, where is thy sting!" [Footnote 246]
[Footnote 246: I. Cor. xv. 55.]
Oh, it is a shame and a disgrace that Christians think so little about death. Why, death is our best friend and our wisest counsellor. A London anatomist once placed over his dissecting-rooms this inscription: "Hic mors juvat succurrere vitæ;" "Here death helps to succor life." You see the meaning. The physician takes a dead body and studies it, spends days and nights over it, repulsive as it is, in order to learn the secrets of the living frame and how to minister to its complaints. So let the Christian look at death and learn from it how to keep his soul in health, how to secure its everlasting life. It is nothing very terrible that death has to tell us now. The time will come, if we refuse to hear him now, when his words will be terrible; but now, though solemn, though calculated to make us serious and thoughtful, they need not make us gloomy. He says, you have a great work to do, and little time to do it in—time enough, but none to spare. He says to the young: Look at me, look into my face, and see the value of beauty and of pleasure. He says to the proud: Come and see how kings and beggars lie side by side in my dominion. He says to the covetous: Come, open a grave, and see what a man carries away with him when he dies. And he says to all, you must die alone; what you are, what you have made yourself, so must you appear before God, to receive a just and final sentence. This is the sermon of Death, that he has been preaching from the beginning. It never grows old. It has converted more sinners than all missionaries and preachers by any other means. It has made more saints, induced more to embrace a religious life, sent more souls to heaven than any other sermon ever did. Oh! Death is a great preacher. There is no answer to his reasonings, no escape from his appeal. He speaks not, but his silence is eloquent. He makes no gestures, but that motionless arm of his is more expressive than the most impassioned action. There is a story told of a certain man named Guerricus, which shows how powerfully death preaches. This man was a Christian, but one who loved the world too well, and one evening he strayed into a church when the monks were singing matins.The hour, the place, all invited to reflection, and as he stood and listened, one of the monks came forth, and in a loud, clear voice sang the lesson of the day. It was as follows: "And all the time that Adam lived, came to nine hundred and thirty years, and he died. And Seth lived after he begat Enos eight hundred and seven years, and all the years of Seth were nine hundred and twelve years, and he died. And Enos begat Cainan. And all the years of Enos were nine hundred and five years, and he died. And all the days of Cainan were nine hundred and ten years, and he died." [Footnote 247]
[Footnote 247: Gen. v. 5.]
So it came at the end of every period, the same melancholy cadence,Et mortuus est, "and he died." The words rang in the ear of Guerricus. "So then," said he, "that is the end of all. The longest life ends with that record—and he died. So it will one day be said of me." And with this reflection on his mind, he went away and distributed his wealth to the poor, commenced a life of mortification and prayer, and began in good earnest to prepare to die. Happy those who after this example are led by the thought of death to enter on a really devout life! They will not be confounded in the evil day. They will not be afraid of any evil tidings. When the great prophet Elias was about to leave this world, the sons of the prophets came to tell Eliseus of it as a piece of afflicting news, saying: "Dost thou know that the Lord will take away thy master from thee to-day?" [Footnote 248] And he said: "Yes, I know it, hold your peace." So when the good Christian's last hour comes on, and sorrowing friends approach his bed to break it to him that he is dying, he can say, Yes, I know it. It is no news to me. I have long known it. I have expected it.Dying, you say. "So then," I can exclaim with St. Teresa, "the hour is come!" the hour I have so long been waiting for, the hour I have labored for, the hour that is to end my exile here, and unite me for ever to my Saviour and my God!
[Footnote 248: I. Kings ii. 3.]
I tried just now to describe to you the desolation that is now spread over the face of Nature; but a few weeks ago the scene was quite different. The fields were laden with a golden harvest, and the husbandman was gathering it in with joy. He knew that winter was coming, and he prepared for it. In the morning he sowed his seed, and in the evening he withheld not his hand. He labored in the chill, uncertain spring, and in the hot days of summer, and when autumn came, he gathered his fruits into the garner, safe from the frosts of winter. So he who thinks of death makes the most of the spring-time of life, takes care in his youth to plant in his heart the seeds of piety, and to tear up the weeds of vice, guards his soul in the storms of temptation, labors untiringly through the heat and burden of life, and, when his last hour arrives, lies down in peace, confident that he shall enter into those fruits of righteousness which, by patient continuance in well-doing, he has laid up for the time to come.
I commend these thoughts to you all, my brethren; but there are some among you to whom I commend them especially, those, namely, who are to die soon. When the captains of Israel were assembled together at Ramoth-Galaad, the messenger of Eliseus appeared in their midst and said, "I have a message to thee, O prince." And they answered, "To which one of us all?" [Footnote 249] So I feel this morning as if I had a message to some of you in particular, though I do not know who they are. The message is that which Jeremias the prophet sent to Hananias: "Thus saith the Lord, this year shalt thou die." [Footnote 250]
[Footnote 249: IV. Kings ix. 5.]
[Footnote 250: Jer. xxviii. 16.]
How many of those who were alive a year ago are now dead! How many of those who listen to me now will be dead before another year rolls round! Now, to these persons it is a question of the most pressing urgency, "Am I now as I would wish to be when I die? When Death comes, it will not wait because you are laden with sins or unprepared. It will not wait for you to send for the priest or finish your confession, or to receive absolution. At the moment that sentence is given, you must yield up your soul, in whatever state it is. Now, then, is the time to put your house in order. Perhaps you are not a Catholic. You are lingering outside the Church, with misgivings in your heart that only in her fold you can secure your salvation. Will those misgivings help you to die easily? Will those ingenious and far-fetched arguments, by which you fortify yourself against conviction now, give that peace to your soul, which the broad, strong, plain evidence of the Faith imparts to the soul of a Catholic? Would you not like, as you go out of this world, to step on the firm rock of Peter? To go hence "with the sign of faith," with the blessing of the Mother of Saints upon you, and the grace of her sacraments within your heart?
Or, you are a Catholic, but a careless one. You have the load of years of sin on your conscience. When you come to die, will you not wish to have those sins blotted out? Will you then forego as you do now those absolving words which our Lord has promised to ratify in heaven? Will you trust all to the uncertain chance of confession in that hour, or to a doubtful contrition?
Or it is a cloud of venial sins—a veil of worldliness, and selfishness, and unfaithfulness, of omissions and neglects, that darkens your soul. Do you wish to die with that veil not taken away? Do you wish to go before God as careless and as sensual as you are now? Are you spending your time as you would wish to spend the last year of your life? Oh! be diligent. The night cometh. Work while it is day. "Whatsoever thy hand is able to do, do it earnestly; for neither work, nor reason, nor wisdom, nor knowledge shall be in the land of the dead whither thou art hastening." [Footnote 251]
[Footnote 251: Eccles. ix. 10.]
Receive instruction. Be not of the number of those who have foolishly thrown away their salvation.
There are stories of men's passing through grave-yards on dark and stormy nights, and hearing dismal sounds, as of a restless and unhappy soul complaining of its torments. You say it is the wind. Suppose it is: may not the wind be speaking for the dead? Is not the earth for the elect? Does not Nature sympathize with man? Does not every creature groan and travail for our redemption? [Footnote 252] Did not the prophet call upon the fir-trees and the oaks to "howl" for the destruction of Jerusalem! [Footnote 253]
[Footnote 252: Rom. ix. 22.]
[Footnote 253: Zacb. xi. 2.]
Did not the sun hide its face at the crucifixon of our Lord, and the earth tremble under His Cross? And when He comes to judgment will not the stars fall from the sky and the heavens be parted as a scroll? Is not, then, that instinct of humanity right which has understood the fearful sounds and sights of Nature as Divine utterances—pictures and voices of a woe that is unspeakable and indescribable. There is a bird in South America with a cry so melancholy that it is calledThe Lost Soul. And Nature, that speaks there to the hearts of men by that dismal cry, tells the same story to us by the storm at sea, and the moaning and sighing and shrieking of the wind on a winter's night. What aileth thee, O sea, tossed and driven with the waves? Let the Scriptures answer. "The voice of the Lord is upon the waters, the God of majesty hath thundered, the Lord is upon many waters." [Footnote 254]
[Footnote 254: Ps. xxviii. 3:]
Why does the winter come upon us with desolation and storm? Let the Holy Scripture answer again: "The vineyard is confounded, and the fig-tree hath languished. The pomegranate-tree, and the palm-tree, and the apple-tree, and all the trees of the field shalt wither because joy is withdrawn from the children of men." [Footnote 255]
[Footnote 255: Joel i. 12.]
Yes, there are sad things in nature because there is death and reprobation among men. The days grow short out of sorrow for the lost children of God, and the wintry heavens "are black with clouds, and winds, and rain," because to many "the harvest is past, the summer is ended, and they are not saved." [Footnote 256]
[Footnote 256: Jer. viii. 20.]
Various Works By The Paulist Fathers.For Sale ByLawrence Kehoe,Nassau Street, New York
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