When you have many male hearers, you should reserve a space for them. The women will complain that thereby they are placed further away; but you must appease them with a compliment. Tell them that you know their charity, and are persuaded that they would not certainly wish to hinder the word of God from being heard by those who need it most.
When you have well cultivated your congregation, when a strong current of sympathy and charity has set in from them to you and from you to them, when a number of conversions shall have been made, then you may think of sending some of them to high Mass and to Vespers. Don't fail to felicitate such:—"You have come hither to hear me. So far well, and I am greatly rejoiced at it. Still you may do something better: you may attend high Mass," adding your reasons, and then conclude somewhat in this style:— "Now, I hope that those who are rightly disposed will attend high Mass. I only want the badly disposed, poor downright sinners, at my sermons." You will be obeyed by some, and you will thereby do much toward repopularizing religion; and when those who are not converted fall sick they will say:—"Send for the man who preaches the seven minutes sermon; I don't want any other." Thus God will be blessed and glorified. …
Here, then, you have a very simple and cheap means of restoring the people to religion. It may be put into practice everywhere: in great cities, in small towns, and even in hamlets. The subject is one for serious reflection.Even in our most religiously disposed towns, hardly a third of the inhabitants habitually hear the word of God. Elsewhere, matters are still worse; and yet all are sheep of the same Divine pastor, all have a soul to save. Moreover, according to all theologians, every parish priest of a cure is required,sub gravi, to preach at low Mass, whenever the faithful generally do not attend high Mass. Hence, by pursuing the course above indicated, we may not only save others but shall also exonerate ourselves.
We should assume that our Hearers are what we wish them to be.Reproaches to be avoided.How to address Unbelievers.Special Precautions to be taken in small Towns and rural Districts.How to treat Men during times of public Commotion.Forbearance due to the Church for being obliged to receive Money from the Faithful.
In France, it is not enough to say good things, they must also be well said. This remark applies to all, but more especially to him who speaks in behalf of the Gospel; for he is bound to follow the Divine injunction:—"Be ye wise as serpents, and harmless as doves;" which I should prefer to see carried out as commented upon by St. François de Sales:—"Ah! my dear Philothea, I would give a hundred serpents for one dove."
It is especially in this respect that we should endeavor to reduce to practice what has already been advanced on the importance of becoming thoroughly acquainted with the people, and the necessity of loving them in order to our being qualified to address them to good purpose.We must make ourselves Sisters of Charity to the souls of men; having all their pliancy and kindness, so as to be capable of conforming ourselves to those light, weak, vain, and fickle characters—to say nothing of the suspicious and malevolent—with whom we may have to deal. Our age is arrayed in prejudices from head to foot, and no sooner is one destroyed than another is ready to take its place.
For the most part, a great mistake is made as regards this necessity of exercising tact in our intercourse with the people. It is remarked:—"We have to do with little people, such circumspection is therefore uncalled for. Why should we give ourselves so much trouble on their account?" Very true; but little people are often very susceptible people everywhere; not among the laity only, but among the clergy likewise.
The people have certain formalities, courtesies, and politenesses of their own which we should learn to respect, for when once outraged, they are more difficult to be appeased than the educated and genteel classes. Complaints are often made of our congregations; but have they not sometimes cause on their part to complain of their preachers? … Are these latter always prudent and conciliatory in their mode of procedure? And yet success depends on this mixture of tact and kindliness.
In our sermons, we should start with assuming that the people are what we wish them to be; thereby raising them in their own estimation, and laying hold of them by their better part. … You will then feel yourself quite at ease, and in spite of any desire on the part of your hearers to oppose you, they will be restrained from doing so by an exquisite sentiment of respect.
Areligieuxwho was engaged on a mission in a rural district, had announced that a particular gallery, which had previously been occupied by the men, would in future be reserved for the ladies forming the choir. Now, the men were much attached to the said gallery, and were determined to keep it. Accordingly, the day after, long before the sermon, they installed themselves in it as usual.
On ascending the pulpit, the preacher noticed that his directions had not been attended to. What would he do? Command or scold? A vulgar man might have done so under the circumstances, but he got over the difficulty by a compliment.
Turning toward the occupants of the gallery, he addressed them in a kindly tone as follows:—"My dear friends, you are aware that the gallery was set apart for the ladies. Now, French politeness calls upon us always to give place to the ladies, and not to deprive them of it. From what I already know of you, I feel persuaded that you will not be behindhand in that respect." … "We have put our foot into it," whispered the men one to another; "and can hold out no longer.Ah! the crafty fellow, he has outwitted us, and we must go." The gallery was evacuated forthwith and made over to the ladies; to the satisfaction of all, even of those who had been worsted in the affair. That is the way to deal with the people. The preacher might have asserted his absolute authority on the occasion; but, like a wise man, he preferred the exercise of prudence and charity.
We repeat it: the most effectual way of communicating the truth to the people, of putting them in the right way, and of reforming them, is not to be chary of complimenting them when they have deserved it ever so little; and to show that we have confidence in them. This course tends to gladden their souls; disposes them to what is good, exalts, elates them. It should never be neglected, for it is capable of transforming the most obstinate characters.
Subsequent to the revolution of 1848, an association of unemployed operatives was formed at the church of the Carmelites; amongst whom was a number of sharpers, makers of barricades, and workmen always on the look-out for work—men clothed in rags and in a state of complete destitution. There were about twelve hundred of them. A meal was first served out to them, which was followed by a lecture.
The priests who addressed them soon acquired an irresistible ascendency over this formidable body; so much so that certain parties took umbrage at it, as a dangerous power to be wielded by the clergy, and accordingly hired a set of roughs to hiss and otherwise disturb the congregation.
The preacher, who was apprised of this on entering the pulpit, did not manifest the least discomposure. Before beginning the sermon, however, he looked round upon the sinister figures and tattered habiliments of his hearers with a benevolent countenance, and then said in a sonorous voice:—"What a pleasant meeting this is, my friends! What an excellent audience! what silence! what attention! Therein I recognize the people. … Père Lacordaire preaches at Notre-Dame to the noble and wealthy, and it is found necessary to station constables there to maintain order. … None but men of the people are here, and yet we have no constables amongst us. We do not want them, for the people are their own police; the people are discreet." …
He then delivered his sermon, which was listened to amidst the most profound silence. Never was an audience of nuns more attentive than those men; their deportment was admirable. The roughs took the hint, saw that their game was up, and that those who had engaged them would lose their money. They accordingly moved toward the door.
When the sermon was over, however, a few hisses were attempted; but fifty stalwart arms instantly seized the intruders, and administered a castigation to them which was by no means fraternal.
By laying hold of men in this manner we may lead them onward a great way on the road to improvement. …
One should be very cautious not to assume that his hearers are wicked, impious, or unbelieving. The people do not relish such imputations: they don't like reproaches; neither do you, dear reader. They rarely do any good, and often much harm.
If it is deemed desirable to censure a fault, a vice, or a scandal, such delinquencies may be treated of in a general way, and energetically denounced. In applying the lesson to your hearers, you might say in a subdued tone—"Malpractices like these are committed elsewhere. It is even stated that you are not wholly free from them; but perhaps it is only the malevolent who say this of you. However, if you have really been guilty of them, I am sure you will abandon them in future. It is always a duty to prove that the malevolent are in the wrong." You may further add:—"I will do you this justice, that whenever I have given you any advice, I have always had the satisfaction of finding that some at least have profited by it."
It shows a want of charity as well as tact—and it is, moreover, deplorably vulgar—to address a congregation in such a style as the following:—"All my preaching, and all the trouble which I take in your behalf are in vain, for you are not a whit better. Faith is departing from France. … I must abandon you to your fate. No matter how I preach, none the more come to the sermons." … I say this mode of address is as vulgar and contemptible as it is derogatory to the minister of the Gospel. Saint John Chrysostom, as already remarked, did not talk in that style:—"If you reject my words," said he, "I shall not shake off the dust of my feet against you. Not that herein I would disobey the Saviour; but because the love which He has given me for you prevents my doing so." …
If sermons are not attended, whose fault is it? It is our duty to look into that question. At all events, if only a few come it is not certainly their fault, and therefore they should be spared all reproaches; otherwise some captious hearer—and such are to be met with everywhere—may slip into a corner of the pulpit, and say:—"Take care, Mr. Preacher; you are speaking ill of the absent, and you know better than I do that such a proceeding is improper." …
If your audience is scanty, I can quite fancy that you would like to comment upon it, and also to express a little annoyance at the fact; but you may do something better. Begin by congratulating those who are present, thank them heartily for coming to listen to you, and tell them afterward, in an affectionate manner, that it would be a praiseworthy act if they could induce one or two of their comrades to accompany them to the next meeting. Instead of uttering reproaches against the erring absentees, which your hearers might report to them, charge the latter to communicate words of kindness to them:—
"Tell those dear brethren who do not attend the lectures, that we bear them no ill-will; that we love all of them; that they too are our children; and that we never cease praying for them." Thereby all will be edified, and God will be less offended. …
Further, it is highly imprudent to say to one's audience:—"I have preached to you a long time, and yet you are still the same: I see no improvement in you. On the contrary, evil increases every year. I wash my hands of you; you will be lost: you will be damned." … Now, the people do not like to be damned, or to be discouraged. Besides, such a course is highly dangerous. … Might they not say:—"As it seems that we are damned already, let us at least enjoy life while it lasts." Moreover, may there not still be a portion for the pastor, even from among the erring flock?
A pastor once recapitulated in the pulpit the results of his ministrations in this language:—"My time is thrown away upon you, for you become more and more ungodly.
"The first year of my cure there were only five persons who did not communicate at Easter.
"The second year there were eleven.
"The third year there were thirty.
"And the number has gone on increasing, so that at present there are eighty non-communicants." After Mass, a mischievous peasant approached the speaker, and said, in a low voice:—"Monsieur le Curé, take my advice, and don't make so much stir about this matter. According to your own testimony, we were in a satisfactory condition when you took charge of us, so that we must have deteriorated under yourreign."
Neither should such commonplace and infelicitous remarks as the following be made:—"Faith is departing from among men. … Hell is let loose on earth; … everybody is abandoning religion;" … for observations like these only tend to induce others to abandon it; and the people will hardly feel disposed to practise a religion which the rest of the world is alleged to be giving up. They would rather prefer being lost with the multitude.
On the contrary, you should say something to this effect,—"Go to! faith is not extinct, for there are many godly men to be found in all ranks of society.You would be convinced of this if you only knew what takes place in our large towns, where numbers of the young, the rich, and the learned belonging to the higher classes, and others occupying distinguished positions, may be seen devoutly frequenting the services of the church, partaking of the holy communion, visiting the poor, and practising confession with the docility of little children. Moreover, what exemplary women there are amongst us!" … You might then add:—"Brethren, we should strive to imitate such men, and should not allow ourselves to be outdone by them." Representations like these will induce the people to think more highly of religion, and will make it more attractive to them.
We have already discussed the most appropriate method of warning the people against the bad example and pernicious talk of those who affect infidelity; but a few additional remarks may not be out of place here. In general, we should not evince any fear of such antagonism, nor attach much importance to it. We should rather cause the impression to be produced that God having bestowed mind and talent upon mankind, is a proof that He can be in no dread of those endowments.
Above all, we should lay great stress on such reflections as these:—that those who call themselves unbelievers are, in fact, nothing of the kind, and are better than their words would imply; although, perchance, they might not be greatly disappointed if they could attain to infidelity; that they have as good reason for fearing hell as others have of being in dread of the police; and that by dint of repeating that they are unbelievers, they have been led to imagine that they are so in reality.
You might liken them to some of those old soldiers of the empire, who, from having travelled a good deal in foreign countries, are generally allowed the license of embellishing and even of inventing a little. As everybody knows, they make free use of the privilege, and concoct a number of tales wherein they themselves are made to play a prominent part. These they repeat incessantly, until at length they succeed in persuading themselves that such stories are true, and that the incidents actually occurred as they have narrated them. … It is the same with those who wish to pass themselves off as unbelievers. Hence we should not allow ourselves to be moved by their words; for at heart they are better men and nearer to God than is thought, and you should insist on the duty of praying for them. If you pursue this course, none will be hurt or offended, and the wives, daughters, or mothers of these pretended unbelievers will return home from your sermons happier at the thought that all hope for those whom they love is not wholly lost.
The sterner the truths which you have to set forth, the more should tact and kindliness be brought into play, that the souls of the hearers be not depressed. This, however, is a very common error. We are terrible in the pulpit; we thunder and storm there; whereas in the confessional we are gentle and paternal. That was all well enough in times of faith; but an entirely different course is called for nowadays, otherwise you will estrange the hearts of your people. Be paternal in the pulpit, be paternal in the confessional as well; but at the same time uncompromising in your principles. There are many things which terrify at a distance, but which, nevertheless, are readily assented to in the familiar intercourse of the confessional.
We sometimes hear such language as this, uttered in a tone of great self-conceit, after a long tirade or vehement declamation:—"I have driven them into a corner. I have now fairly crushed them." You have crushed them, have you? So much the worse, for in so doing you have altogether misapprehended your duty. God has not called you to crush men, but to raise and save them. Moreover, there is much cause to fear that those whom you have crushed will not run the less eagerly in the way of evil.
Hence all strong admonitions should be tempered with such deprecations as these:—"Brethren, why am I constrained to tell you these stern truths? You will pardon me for doing so, because it is my duty. It pains me as much as it does you to have to say them."Or, something to this effect:—"If I wished to pain you, or if it was not rather my heart's desire to spare you, or if I did not love you, I might inflict on you the chastisement of irony and defeat; I might say this or that, and speak truly and justly. But no; I leave you to your own consciences, which will tell you of your faults and failings more forcibly than I can. For my part, I prefer holding out a hand to you, I prefer to pity, to save you." …
We must become the servants of all. … That was the course pursued by Saint John Chrysostom. "A man," says he, "who is only bound to serve one master, and to submit to one opinion only, may discharge his duty without trouble; but I have an infinity of masters, being called to serve an immense people who hold many different views. Not that I bear this servitude with any sort of impatience, nor that by the present discourse I would defend myself against the authority which you exercise over me in the capacity of masters. God forbid that I should entertain such a thought! On the contrary, nothing is so glorious to me as this servitude of love."
The same feelings ought to pervade the heart of every Christian priest, who should be able to say as St. Paul did to the Corinthians:—"Out of much affliction and anguish of heart, I wrote unto you with many tears; not that ye should be grieved, but that ye might know the love which I have more abundantly unto you."
You become aware, for instance, of a prevailing disposition to ill-will, and have cause to apprehend the ridicule of certain parties. Under these circumstances, throw yourself into the hands of your audience; make them your judge, and rest assured you will be treated with indulgence. As Saint Augustine has said:—"If you fear God, cast yourself into His arms, and then His hands cannot strike you." In like manner, if you fear the wit and ridicule of the French people, throw yourself into their hearts, and then the sallies of their tongues will fail to reach you.
There are certain thoughts and expressions which have a great hold on the French mind, such as progress, liberty, enlightenment. These you should never meddle with unless absolutely obliged. We ought to respect even the illusions of our brethren, when they do nobody any harm. When we are forced to combat them, it should be done with courtesy, with gentle irony, or with profound ability. We, too, may speak of enlightenment, of progress, and of liberty, and point out that they can only be effectually attained through the instrumentality of religion. …
Matters have undoubtedly improved on this score; proving that, if we correct our own errors, the effect will not be lost upon others. We are now far removed from the time when nothing but the future was talked of, the philosophy of the future, the happiness of the future, when it used to be said that the time was big with the future, big with a new philosophy; nay, even with a new religion; whereas, in truth, it was big with nothing but misery, as the event fully proved. …
We must not assail these delusions directly, nor imitate the bold preacher who is reported to have said—"So we are supposed to be living in the era of light! If so, then it is the devil who holds the candle." On the contrary, you should enter into the current of the ideas of the age, and strive vigorously to turn it in favor of religion, by taking advantage of prevailing errors and delusions to edify your hearers.
One of the lectures of the Rev. Père Ventura supplies a fine model of this style of preaching; which but for the sacredness of the place where it was delivered, would undoubtedly have elicited roars of applause. He had been showing that the attempt to introduce German philosophy into France was a great mistake, inasmuch as it was altogether unsuited to the positive, sensible, and Christian mind of the French people. He wound up as follows:—"Frenchmen, it is your bane that you do not value yourselves as you ought, that you wish to imitate foreigners; whereas you are rich enough in resources of your own. Last century you imitated English politics and were not very successful. Why do you now wish to borrow a philosophy from Protestant Germany? Frenchmen, be yourselves. …What! are you not rich enough in mind, in your wonderful talent for comparison and for development, and in your extreme quickness at deducing consequences from the most remote premises? Not rich enough in the truth which eighteen centuries of Christianity have poured into your bosoms, and to which you owe your civilization and grandeur. Frenchmen, forbear aping others; you have only to be yourselves in order to be great." (Prolonged sensation.)
We should become all things to all men, without ever being rude; being always simple, natural, true, and upright. These are qualities admired alike by all; by the little, and especially by the great. …
The wealthy residents in towns frequently go to spend a part of the fine season in the country, where the curé, in order to exalt religion in their eyes—and the pastor a little as well—thinks himself called upon to be at the expense of some grand phrases and flights of fancy. Now, such a course is neither adroit nor apostolic. As to grand phrases, the visitors hear enough of them in the towns. Besides, they may judge that you have talked at them, and may be offended. Moreover, it is not at all unlikely that they may think you have mistaken your profession. … Instead of acting in this way, do not seem to be aware of their presence, but speak boldly to your people in your usual style.Avail yourself, nevertheless, of any fitting occasion to tell them some useful truths; to draw their attention to some striking parable, like that of the poor man with the ewe lamb and the prophet Nathan, which may afford you a good opportunity of reaching the rich over the shoulders of the peasant. Be careful, however, always to do this in a kindly manner; both rich and poor will then be more satisfied with you, and God Himself will concur in the same opinion.
Remember that you have a difficult part to play in a small town. There, you may not say all that may be said in a large city. There, the most paltry things assume huge proportions. One of our best preachers entirely failed of success through having omitted to repeat theAve Mariaafter the exordium, and for not having allowed his audience time to cough, to expectorate, and to take breath. It is a wonder that he escaped without having his orthodoxy suspected.
Moreover, the residents in small towns are excessively fond of finely-turned phrases, rhetorical displays, and pomposity. They call such rodomontade poetry, and think it sublime. You may adopt it occasionally by way of accompaniment. Nevertheless, don't be led into the delusion that any essay in that style will prevent thesturdy bourgeoisfrom slandering his neighbor, from cheating him if he can, and from doing many other things of a similar kind.
Good manners have great weight in France, and many things are excused in him who says them cleverly.
A celebrated preacher was expected to preach a charity sermon in one of the Paris churches. A crowded audience had already assembled, when, to their surprise and disappointment, they saw the parish priest enter the pulpit, and heard him announce that, owing to the sudden indisposition of the eminent preacher, he was obliged to supply his place. Thereat the congregation rose and began to leave the church. Meanwhile the priest, seeing the crowed on the move, and the anticipated collection disappearing with them, suddenly arrested them with abon mot. "My brethren," said he, "when everybody has left the church, I will begin." This so delighted the audience that they remained where they were; the priest preached an excellent sermon, and the collection was most liberal.
We should endeavor to acquire and practise all the breeding and politeness of good society, with sincerity superadded. By birth, we are for the most part children of the people; that is neither a fault nor a disgrace; it forms an additional resemblance between ourselves and the Apostles. But our primary education was neglected, and we should fill up the gap by retaking from the world those forms which it has borrowed from Christianity, and fill them up with the substance. Then we shall be powerful men.
The present age has given us a great model of this tact, kindliness, and urbanity of speech in the person of the Cardinal de Cheverus.
"He generally spoke," says M. Hamon, [Footnote 18] "with such tact and moderation, and so much to the purpose, that, far from offending any one, his audience always went away gratified. Some were convinced, others were staggered, and all disabused more or less of their prejudices. When he addressed persons of a different communion, his kind and affectionate words were the utterances of a heart overflowing with benevolence and charity. He made his audience feel by the accents of his voice and his whole deportment that it was a friend who was addressing them; not merely a sincere, but a tender and devoted friend, who wished them all possible good; and this persuasion, by disposing them to welcome his words, opened the way for him to their hearts.
[Footnote 18:Histoire du Cardinal de Cheverus.]
"His usual course was this: he first stated the question clearly, expounding carefully the true doctrine of the Church; eliminating therefrom all the erroneous interpretations, wherewith heretics have travestied it in order that they might decry it. He then adduced his proofs in a form so simple and natural, combining them with reasons so completely within the reach of ordinary intelligences, that no effort of the mind was required to feel their force.He adhered above all to those proofs which speak to the heart; setting forth all that is lovely and affecting, noble and excellent in the Catholic creed. It is almost unnecessary to add that his efforts were often crowned with deserved success."
But the exercise of tact and kindliness on our part, is specially called for in times of public commotion, when men's minds are disturbed and their passions inflamed. Under such circumstances, we should endeavor to be perfectly self-possessed ourselves, in order that we may be the better able to control others.
Before all, we should be just. The people, on their part, have an exquisite sense of justice. In depicting their faults or their excesses, abstain from all exaggeration; rather say too little than too much, and they will accuse themselves unsparingly. Outstep the limits of truth, and they will rebel, and you will forfeit all your influence over them. Further, take pains to explain to them in detail how matters stand; show them that you are not an enemy, but a sincere friend and adviser, and they will resign themselves, even to suffering.
A great orator has left on record a perfect model of this style of address. He is so little known that I cannot resist the desire of quoting him. Some time prior to the Revolution of '89, the dearness of bread had excited public indignation at Marseilles, excesses had been committed, and still greater outrages were apprehended.
Mirabeau caused a notice, containing the following passages, to be put up on all the walls of the town:—
"My good friends, I am about to tell you what I think of the occurrences which have taken place in this superb city during the last few days. Listen to me: I shall not deceive you; my only wish is to be of use to you.
"Every one of you desires what is right, for you are all honest people; but every one does not know how he ought to act. A man is often deceived, even with respect to his own interests.
"You complain chiefly of two things: of the price of bread and the price of meat.
"Let us consider the subject of the bread first; other matters will come after.
"Bread is the most indispensable article of food, and there are two requisites regarding it: first, that there should be an adequate supply; and, secondly, that it should not be too dear.
"Well, my good friends, I have some cheering news to tell you. There is no deficiency of wheat at the present moment. There are 50,000 loads in the city, which will furnish bread for three months and twelve days. But, my good friends, that is not all; your administrators and the merchants still expect a large additional supply. …
"Be calm, therefore; be perfectly calm. Thank Providence for giving you what others are deprived of.
"You have heard it reported, and you yourselves know, that the seasons generally have been bad throughout the country. The people have to suffer elsewhere much more than you do here; yet they bear it patiently.
"I trust, therefore, that you will be contented and quiet, and that your example may promote peace on all sides. Then, my good friends, it will be said everywhere: The Marseillaise are a brave people. The King will hear it—that excellent King whom we should not afflict, whom we unceasingly invoke—even he will hear of it, and will esteem and love you the more."
As might have been expected, this address produced the happiest results. The people do not, cannot resist such appeals, unless some mischievous demagogue interferes to rekindle their passions.
Lastly, I must say a few words on a subject which should be candidly explained to the people. I allude to the money taken for the use of chairs in our churches, and the difference which exists in the celebration of marriages and funerals for the rich and the poor.This is a matter which causes great estrangement from religion, and he who is not aware of the fact shows his ignorance of the feelings prevailing among the people. It is desirable that all should be set right on this point, both rich and poor; even the most pious amongst us. Faith is no longer large enough to comprehend these exigencies, and there is a wide-spread suspicion abroad that the Church is following the ruling passion of the multitude—love of money. Besides, the people entertain strong views on the subject of equality, and expect it in matters of religion, if they do not meet with it anywhere else.
Hence it is not uncommon to hear reflections such as the following among the operatives of our work shops:—"Religion nowadays is no longer the religion of the Gospel. The Gospel loves and prefers the people; but religion as practised at present prefers the rich and encourages felons.
"Take, for example, two men of humble parentage. The one remains a workman and maintains his integrity all his life; he toils on and dies poor. The other becomes rich by very questionable means, defrauds right and left, and dies wealthy. He is then placed in the centre of the church, and surrounded with burning tapers and chanting priests. … The poor devil of a workman, on the contrary, who has been upright all his life, is borne in the rear of the parish priest, accompanied by two or three assistants, with as many tapers, and is then pitched into a corner. . . . And you would have me believe that this is the religion of Christ? It is no such thing; it is the religion of the priests: it is the religion of money." ….
Arguments like these have a powerful effect on persons who are incapable of sober reflection and who scarcely ever look beyond the present state of existence. They harrow up the popular instincts; and with the people instinct is everything. The man who secures the command over their instincts may do any thing with them; he who fails in that respect cannot manage them at all. … It is most desirable, then, that the inequality complained of should be kindly and frankly explained.
In doing so, we might say something to the following effect:—
"Dear friends, this subject is quite as painful to us as it can be to you; but you are aware that there are some stern necessities in life. The Church is poor nowadays, and yet has many expenses to meet. The sacred fabrics must be maintained, the wages of employés paid, suitable furniture provided, and we ourselves, brethren, even we, the clergy, must live. … Would you like us to go begging our bread? Say, would you wish that? Certainly not; for if you knew we were in need, you would be the first to succor us, even though you had to stint yourselves.Moreover, it is our duty to visit the poor; and would you condemn us to the greatest possible misery, that of witnessing want without being able to relieve it? Say, would you inflict such torture upon us? Well, then, brethren, the money in question goes to defray these expenses, to give us bread, and to enable us to alleviate the necessities of the poor.
"Instead of complaining, therefore, be content that the weddings and burials of the wealthy should be made to provide for these requisites. Moreover, brethren, let us lift up our souls and look beyond the present life. Thank God, we are not destined to spend all our existence on earth. You know full well that this life is not all our life. There is another to follow, where all the inequalities which we see here will be perfectly adjusted, and when every one shall receive according to his works and not according to his good fortune. Why, then, attach so much importance to these matters? Surely you do not think that God troubles Himself about them; that He counts the number of tapers, or carpets, or chairs? … God looks to see whether a man has been upright and honest, faithfully discharging his duties as a citizen and a Christian. Be all that, my brethren, and He will not fail to give you a blissful abode in heaven; which will be far better than the most magnificent place in the church, either at your wedding or your funeral."
We should endeavor to excite Interest by Thoughts, by Sallies or Epigrams, by Studies of Men and Manners.The Truth should be animated.The Père Ravignan.The Père Lacordaire.The Heart is too often absent.
We remarked in a former chapter that the preaching of the Divine word, especially on Sundays, should be to the people, wearied with the toil and cares of the week, a rest, a joy; or, as the Scripture says, a refreshment. … It should be to them what a spring of water surrounded with verdure is to our soldiers worn out with marching, and scorched by the sun and burning sands of Africa.
Under its breath, the souls of men should dilate, blossom, as it were, and feel less unhappy; for is not the Gospel glad tidings? Was it not proclaimed at the Nativity of Christ:—"I bring you glad tidings of great joy?"
Christian pulpit instruction should be a sort of paternal intercourse enlivened with faith and charity—a family meeting where the different members come to talk over their labors and their trials, their fears and their hopes, and the bounty of that Father who is in Heaven, in such a way that each may go away benefited and less unhappy, saying within himself:— "I feel all the better now. The words of the preacher have cheered me. Why did he not speak a little longer? While he spoke, my soul was on fire."— "Did not our heart burn within us, while He talked with us by the way?"
Unfortunately, this is no longer the case. The sermon is looked upon as something cold, official, and tedious; or merely as a necessary accompaniment of the service. It is thought wearisome to listen to, but must needs be endured for the sake of example. Generally speaking, moreover, the greater part of the faithful are absent, and the majority of the pious souls present consists of females. These place themselves as much at their ease as possible on a couple of chairs, and resign themselves to undergo the sermon. When it is over, they remark that it was either a good or an indifferent discourse, and then depart absolutely as they came; none feeling in the least bound to practise what has been enjoined.
Preaching, indeed, is a sorry trade. The preacher studies and meditates on his subject, composes his sermon, and then commits it to memory. What a task! He then goes into the pulpit, and is grieved to perceive that the minds of his audience are abstracted—that they look like persons who are being bored; so much so, that he is glad if even by a nod of assent they do not prove that they have been doing anything else rather than listening to him. For the sermon is undoubtedly regarded in the light of an infliction; a species of forced labor. When the faithful learn that there is to be no sermon, they hail the announcement with pleasure, and seem to say with great glee: "Another sermon got over!" Hence one frequently hears the remark:—"I shall not go to such a mass because there is preaching there." Truly, all this is sad, very sad, as regards the preaching of the Divine word.
But who is to blame, ourselves or the faithful? In the first place, it is quite certain that in France there is a decided distaste for any thing serious, or that requires attention and mental effort. Nothing is cared for nowadays but what is amusing; hence the most highly remunerated people amongst us are those who cater for the amusement of others, some of whom make fabulous incomes. How to be amused is, in fact, the great question of the day, insomuch that you hear the remark on all sides:—"I will not go there again, for the entertainment did not amuse me."
The malady ofennuipervades the social atmosphere and all who move in it, while any thing serious suggests wearisomeness and disgust. This state of mind is the result of excessive selfishness. For three-fourths of their time, men are bored about themselves personally. They then feel the want of some excitement to get rid of the incubus, and generally resort to whatever is romantic in search of it.
Again, there is scarcely any prevailing love of the truth; on the contrary, it is rather dreaded, and men manifest a strange pusillanimity when confronted with it. Whenever a stern truth is addressed to others, they readily applaud, and think it quite right that this and that vice should be strongly reprehended; but when it is brought home to themselves, they frown, question the propriety of the censure, and can see no harm in their own delinquencies. Besides which, there is a universal tendency to pass judgment on every thing sacred and profane, and a sermon is criticised as if it were nothing more than an ordinary literary production. …
These are shortcomings on the part of the congregation, but are they wholly responsible for them? The blame is sometimes cast on the world, on the absorbing passion for frivolity, and on the literature of the day; but may there not be a little fault elsewhere? It is our duty to look into this subject; and as we are called upon to proclaim the truth to others, it behoves us to administer it in the first place to ourselves. This will be a real charity; the more so, because if we are not told it to our faces, we may rest assured that it will be repeated with additions behind our backs.
I hasten, then, to state it. There is a large amount of talent in Paris, and no lack of clergymen who know how to draw, to interest, and to direct an audience. In the provinces, too, how many preachers are there, who, though little known, do a vast amount of good! Christian eloquence is still one of the glories, one of the purest and most indisputable glories of France. As a witty writer has said:—"God has evidently made France His spoilt child. The misfortune is that the child does not always profit by the parent's indulgence." Unquestionably, there are still apostolic preachers amongst us, whose words are effectual in stirring up and saving the souls of men; nevertheless, is it not equally sure, that our usual style of preaching is deficient in interest and perspicuity, is too monotonous and didactic, is made up of a misuse of reasoning and rhetorical phraseology, is wanting in heart and soul, and, above all, in that tone of conviction which lends to speech its paramount power? …
In the first place, we must interest our hearers; for that is an indispensable condition of benefiting them. … People generally require to be interested. They may be rather exacting on that point: it may be a weakness on their part; but what is to be done? Must we not become all things to all men? Must we not take them as they are? It is constantly being repeated that society is unsound; then, should we not overlook some things in those who are ailing?After all, the question is not to discover whether they are right or wrong. The vital question is to save them, and how to get them to listen to us, and to cause Gospel truth to reach their ears, their minds, and their hearts to that end. Why should we take so much trouble in preparing sermons if they are not to be listened to? In that case, it becomes nothing more than a disheartening, profitless labor. As somebody once remarked:—"They teach me to compose magnificent sermons. I only wish they would also teach me how to make people come and hear them."
Our aim then should be to secure a hearing. To attain that, we must first excite interest. …
There are different ways of doing this. We may interest our hearers by well-digested studies of men and manners, conveyed in various styles of unsophisticated and sympathetic language; by spirited sallies; by metaphors drawn from the incidents of every-day life; and by heart-stirring impulses and emotions. …
In the first place, in order to interest an audience you must never lose sight of them, but keep them always in your wake. They should be made to think and feel with you, and even to anticipate or divine your train of thought; for that will gratify them. At other times, prepare a surprise for them, and that too will please them.