OBEDIENCE
THERE is no more solemn moment in the whole Ordination Service than when the newly ordained priest kneels before his Bishop, who, taking his hands between his own, asks him the question, "Promittis mihi et successoribus meis reverentiam et obedientiam?" and on receiving the requisite promise, kisses him on the cheek, saying the words, "Pax Domini sit semper tecum."
The words "reverentiam et obedientiam" may perhaps be freely rendered as "a loyal obedience," and the solemnity of the surroundings when the promise is made should not only serve to impress it, on the mind and memory, but is also an indication of the importance which the Church attaches to that virtue in the future life of the priest.
The virtue of obedience is one which we are accustomed to read about as the foundation of the religious life, and it has been practised in a high degree in the various religious orders and congregations. We have often heard of special instances to illustrate this. A Jesuit Provincial receives a letter one morning informing him that he is to relinquish his office, and to devote himself to another work, of an altogether humble description, and immediately he prepares to leave for his new sphere of labour at the earliest possible moment. A Franciscan missionary is commanded to leave one centre of work, and to proceed to another, perhaps a thousand miles away, and before the day is out, he has started on his journey. These, indeed, are special instances of an extreme nature; but the general type is common to all religious.
Moreover, obedience to command is carried into all the details of their daily lives. The bell summons them to the various duties of the day, and they aim at instant obedience, so that a perfect religious will immediately leave off anything he is saying or writing in order to give a willing and punctual compliance. The story is often quoted of the Carthusians, who speak only once a week, leaving off in the middle of a sentence at the sound of the bell to resume the thread in a week's time.
Again, no work is undertaken by them without the direct command of their superior, but whatever he directs has to be done at once, and to the best of their power, even though they may not see the reason of his command, or may even in their own mind think it unwise. In the more perfect stages of obedience they are called upon to submit their judgment and opinions to those of the superior. It is no wonder that a strict novitiate is enjoined to train them to such obedience as this.
In reading these descriptions, however, there seems to be in the case of a secular priest some unreality. He will never be called upon to practise obedience of this kind. If his Bishop moves him from one mission to another, he will not usually do so in this sudden manner. If the priest has reached a certain age or standing, his Bishop will consult his feelings before appointing him to any new work, to ascertain whether it is such that he thinks he can do, or to see whether he has any great objection to it. In a secular priest's daily life he is not called to his various duties by the sound of the bell at all in the same way as a religious. He is expected to be punctual when he has to perform pastoral duties, and his day is usually mapped out by necessary limitations caused by his work—sometimes regular, often most irregular and unforeseen,—but that is all. He is in no case expected to break off suddenly at the sound of a bell in the manner described.
Then again, religious obedience is often described as a "passive virtue." According to Rodriguez,[1]a religious who practises it in perfection makes himself like a dead body, which has no movement of its own, but is taken from place to place by the living. Surely nothing can be more unlike than this to the condition of a secular priest, who has to be all activity and energy. He has to use his own judgment in everything, and only rarely receives any definite command or guidance from his Bishop or Superior.
What then? Does a secular priest not have to practise this virtue? or is his obedience at least on a lower level than that of a religious? This is surely a pertinent question and calls for a careful answer.
A little consideration will show us that the obedience of a secular priest differs from that of a religious not in degree but in kind, and that even if we grant that for the perfection of the virtue we may have to look to the religious state, the obedience practised by a secular may be, and commonly is, in many respects harder of accomplishment. Let us examine this in detail.
The obedience of a religious may be compared with that of a private soldier. The command is given, and he has nothing to do but to obey. The strength of an army is dependent upon the unanimity and promptness of their obedience. The orders are given by the officer in command, in an absolute manner, and he bears all the responsibility: the soldier has no say as to whether the order is wise or unwise; he has only to execute it. The work of the typical religious includes much of this principle and acquires proportionate strength. The superior views the situation, and, aided by the advice of whatever form of consultation his particular rule provides, he determines what is to be done. He communicates his decision to whom it may concern, and they have at once to receive the commands and execute them.
The obedience of a secular priest, on the other hand, is more like that of an inferior officer, who while he is leading others, is also in contact with one in supreme command, helping him, advising him, and sharing in part his responsibilities. One of the earliest experiences of a priest when he first goes on the mission is to find the power and influence which he exerts over his people. This power he is free to use with little restriction. He may use it in subservience to his rector—if he is a curate—or to his Bishop, to help on their work, to make the people loyal towards them, and to endeavour that everything shall proceed in harmony with their wishes and plans; or he may criticise their ideas, speak and act against them, and take refuge in self-defence on his "rights" and the position he occupies. Undoubtedly there will be rules and regulations laid down by his superiors which will grate on him and of which he may at least profess not to see the use. When young, he may be ready to find fault with the work to which he is appointed, and be discontented; and when he grows into years, he may get the impression that he is not appreciated, that others are unjustly preferred before him, and so forth. To put it on its lowest ground, a priest of this kind is a continual trouble to his Bishop, and a source not of strength but of weakness.
Now the remedy for this evil frame of mind is by no means to become passive, or to resemble a dead body which is moved about by others. He is called upon to do something more difficult to human nature—to act positively in loyal subservience to his superior. Such obedience is less tangible than that of a religious, and in that proportion it is harder.[2]It involves a whole spirit of loyalty, and the very vagueness of its application makes it harder. We are not brought to book, so to say, by the advantage of a definite command, and yet with all our outward liberty, we are called upon to regulate our whole life on submission and obedience. Now if there is a course of action which goes against our taste and judgment, it is comparatively easy to overcome our reluctance and to perform outwardly what we are told to do; but when we have no definite command given, and are simply called upon of our own free will to act positively to forward some particular course of action, this is often far harder.
Yet this is what a secular priest is continually called upon to do. His rector runs the parish on lines which he considers old-fashioned and out of date; he seems to discourage new works which the needs of the day seem to call for. There may be some truth underlying these criticisms, though probably there is much to be urged on the other side. However this may be, a priest in the flower of his youth and activity can do much to direct the course of public feeling among the parishioners. He can either defend his rector to the best of his ability, explain that there may be many circumstances, important factors of the case, which are not publicly known; and try and carry things on in accordance with the rector's ideas and schemes; or he can fan the discontent by joining in the criticism, with alas! too great effect, for discontent easily spreads and develops. Needless to say, the priest with the spirit of obedience adopts the former course; the one without such spirit the latter. But in neither case is he or ought he to be in a passive state; he has to be all life and action.
In like manner, when a Bishop wishes to change the work of a priest, and offers him a new mission, undoubtedly one who makes difficulties about accepting this or that place, or any that does not fit in with his tastes and requirements, is not showing the spirit of obedience; and one who holds himself passive and ready to undertake whatever his Bishop suggests is doing better. Nevertheless, there may be a better stage still and a more obedient one, which is to discuss the matter with his Bishop and give him the advice he seeks. For one of the most important factors in helping him to make up his mind is to know what his priests think they are qualified to undertake. If the priest remains passive, all the onus of deciding is thrown on the Bishop; and though this is far better than opposing him or raising difficulties, it is not the most perfect course. But, granted that he has talked it over in the manner indicated, should the Bishop decide not in accordance with his wishes—which will frequently occur, in view of the many and complicated needs of the diocese—then is the time for the obedient priest to accept his Bishop's decision as the voice of God, and to set himself to the work indicated however distasteful it may be to himself. The ruling idea in his mind should ever be, how he can be of the greatest service to his Bishop and help to lighten his heavy burden. It is difficult enough to govern wisely at any time: it becomes ten times harder when it is a case of governing unwilling subjects. An obedient priest will strive to make it not harder but easier.
We can perhaps contrast our obedience with that in the army. There discipline is carried to a high pitch, as is necessary for efficiency, but interior obedience there is none. Most soldiers seem to spend the greater part of their time in finding fault, sometimes in strong language, with the orders of their commanders. There are indeed means of enforcing obedience and the commands have to be obeyed: but the thought of rendering the commander's task easier does not enter in. In the case of priestly obedience, no such material sanction exists, or at least it plays a very secondary part. The whole relation between him who commands and the subject who obeys is on a spiritual and sacred footing, and enforced almost entirely by such considerations—for the punishments at a Bishop's disposal, such as censures or the like, are very rarely available, and, even if available, only used when other motives fail. Hence the practice of obedience becomes a positive virtue.
If we wish to find out whether we ourselves are practising the proper spirit, we can do so by watching an unguarded and spontaneous conversation, for "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh."[3]If we find ourselves instinctively talking against those above us, it is a sure sign that we are not obedient men; if, on the other hand, we are truly obedient in mind, this will show itself by the whole turn of our talk about our superiors. It is hardly too much to say that it is this spirit of obedience which alone will make a priest's life happy, or even bearable.
We may ask, then, are there no circumstances in which we are justified in resisting authority without prejudice to our obedience? Is a truly obedient priest precluded from taking part in any action which has for its object the resistance of episcopal or other rulers? Surely the negative answer is indicated by the whole practice of the Church and of Canon Law which gives and regulates the right of appeal in certain cases. And we all know of instances in which saints have resisted authority. Cannot we safely follow their example?
The answer in the first place is that they were saints. A person who has such perfect control over his lower nature may venture on a course which to us would be dangerous. And indeed resistance to authority is always dangerous. The author of theImitationwarns us how many people are moved with passion and mistake it for zeal. So long as we are obeying, we are on safe ground: there is no motive possible to us but that of obedience. Once change our condition to one of resistance, and there may be hundreds of motives such as injured pride, self-will, want of charity to our superiors, and the like which may be influencing us to a far greater extent than we know.
If, then, we think it necessary at any time to resist our superiors, our first care should be to test ourselves, to see whether we are in truth actuated by unworthy motives. There are two means ready to hand. One is prayer, earnest and long continued; the other is prudent advice. If we go to a disinterested party, whether a priest or a Bishop—for laymen will not be in a position to understand the circumstances—the adviser will be better able to judge of the position than we are, from the very fact that he is disinterested. Then he will realise better than we do that there may be circumstances unknown to us, on which our superior has based his action, and in many cases charity demands that we should believe such circumstances to exist until the contrary is proved. Then let us beware of the plea which is so often put forward by the priest who is by nature disobedient, that he is not contending for himself—so far as he is concerned he would willingly put up with the injustice—but that it is his duty to defend a principle for the sake of the rights of other priests similarly situated. In most cases this is in truth a thin covering of self-will. His first statement is indeed most cogent: itisoftentimes far better to put up with supposed injustice, which after all may beonlysupposed; and a really obedient man will fall back on that whenever he possibly can. It is only when he is advised by a competent authority that he ought to act, that he will adopt a position so distasteful to him.
Granted, however, that a priest is advised that he ought not to let matters rest as they are, let him act with confidence and all charity. His first step will of course be to see his Bishop and talk the matter out. This stage, indeed is fairly often reached. Cardinal Vaughan quotes a great authority of his day on obedience, speaking to him as follows:—
"In his administrative capacity, a Bishop may err in judgment, he may be narrow, inconsiderate and at fault. This may be a trial to a priest; but his duty is perfectly clear. He should say, 'God can appoint such a one to be my superior, and the means of my sanctification. He stands to me in the place of God; I must obey.'"
Nevertheless, he continues:—
"The priest in such a case may legitimately make respectful representations to his Bishop. It may be his duty to make such representations. Let him do this once, but let him beware of morally forcing the Bishop by his importunities."[4]
If these representations are made in a proper spirit, and with due submission, they ought not to form an act of hostility: on the contrary, they may in fact be the highest form of obedience, for the priest in this manner may put before his Bishop facts of which he was unaware, or considerations which had not occurred to him. In the great majority of cases an understanding may be arrived at in this manner.
In the few instances in which the Bishop does not modify his action and the priest remains of the same opinion, it may be necessary to carry the matter further. If so, the spirit of charity becomes doubly needful. No word of "tyranny" or "injustice" or "ill-temper" applied to his superior should escape him, and a favourable interpretation should always be given to his superior's actions. Let the appellant priest fortify himself continually with prayer, so as to obtain the gift of counsel, and let this be joined to a special intercession on behalf of the superior against whom he is acting. These are ordinary means for ensuing his purity of intention; and if these means alone are taken, we may be confident as to the result. For whatever the final verdict may be, if we have taken the requisite precautions, it will be a victory, for God's will is done. When the late Cardinal Vaughan, then Bishop of Salford, had his long dispute with the Jesuits in Rome, when the letter came to him announcing the result, before he opened it, while still ignorant of its contents, he went to the tomb of St. Peter to return thanks.
Alas, that this spirit is so often wanting in the appeals of our clergy. All those who are acquainted with the Holy See will bear witness to the readiness to hear the appeal of the weak against the strong, and all such appeals have sympathetic consideration. The fact that the majority of them go in favour of the Bishops is an unfortunate testimony to the frequent insufficiency of the grounds of appeal, and indicates a want of the spirit of obedience.
Such, however, is not always the case, and one can point to instances in which the appeal has been conscientiously made, even though it proved unsuccessful, and some also in which the verdict has been in favour of the priest and against his superior. In such rare cases, it is hardly necessary to add there must be no note of triumph or of self-congratulation. A disagreeable duty has been done, and properly accomplished, and we go back ready to resume our work for God and souls.
But it is not necessary to dwell on this eventuality, considering how exceedingly rare is its occurrence. Let us end as we began by alluding to the words at our Ordination:—
"While the sacred body and blood of Christ are still within him, he gives his newly consecrated hands into the hands of the Bishop, who says: 'Promittis mihi et successoribus meis reverentiam et obedientiam?' To which he replies 'Promitto.' And as the personal fruit of obedience is peace of conscience and the peace of God, the bishop adds, 'Pax Domini sit semper tecum.'
"The formal acceptance by the Church of the solemn promise of obedience made by the priest contains an assurance and a pledge full of encouragement and consolation to the priest himself.
"He is an officer in the army of Christ: he has promised loyalty and obedience. All the works of his ministry undertaken in obedience to his Bishop, or in conformity with the discipline and canons of the service are henceforth to be accounted not as private and particular works, but as works belonging to the Christian ministry. They are of a higher order; they are the works of Christ Himself, and deserve a special reward."[5]
[1]Fifth Treatise, chapter vi.
[2]It is not intended to deny that there are cases in which a religious has to use initiative or judgment when under orders: but it can hardly be questioned that the other is the ordinary course of things; and that while a secular priest has to use his judgment and initiative far more, he has proportionately less guidance in the way of command. He has to depend on his own judgment; yet all the time his decisions must be actuated by submission and obedience.
[3]St. Matt. xii. 34.
[4]The Young Priest, p. 116.
[5]Cardinal Vaughan,The Young Priest, p. 119.
IT would seem at first sight an anomaly that if the obedience practised by a secular priest is so different from that of a religious, in the time of preparation at the Seminary the life is modelled on that of a religious congregation; for, although it is no doubt easy compared with that of any religious Order, it is, nevertheless, of much the same character, and the occasions of practising obedience in a Seminary are very similar to those in a monastery. There are fixed hours for rising, for prayers and mass, for study, recreation and meals, and there are times of silence—as after night prayers, or before the morning meditation. The students are, in fact, expected continually to obey the bell as it calls them from one duty to another in much the same way as a religious does. Why, it may be asked, if their future obedience and future life are to be so different from that of a religious are they asked to go through a daily routine at the Seminary which seems to be based on theirs, or at least to be similar to it?
This is a pertinent and natural question; but the answer is simple. The essential difference is that one is permanent and the other temporary. A Seminarist is called upon to exercise the easier forms of obedience, to train him for the harder. He leads a regular daily life, in obedience to authority made known to us by definite commands and by fixed rules, in order that he may acquire a habit of submission which may give him his tone when he shall have gone forth from the Seminary and have no such definite rules or commands to guide him.
It is this consideration which gives the true importance to the daily observance of such rules as he has. We sometimes hear the question, "Is it a sin to break a rule?" Surely this is looking at the question from an unworthy standpoint. Theologians say that it is not a sin even for a religious who has taken a special vow of obedience to break a small point of his rule; much less can it be a sin for a Seminarist, who has taken no such vow. But there is a higher way of looking at it than this. It is not a question whether this or that isolated rule binds under sin; the question is rather how the Seminarist's general attitude towards the rules is affecting his training, how far the object for which they have been imposed upon him is attained, or how far impeded, by the spirit in which he accepts them. The proper spirit should be something of this kind. He has come to the Seminary to undergo a definite training, which is administered by those set over him, through the instrumentality of the rules. It is the traditional Catholic training, which has formed holy priests and even saints. All the incidents of his daily life are part and parcel of it. To neglect or put aside any of them deliberately is to put aside part of that training, with its corresponding means of sanctification, both natural and supernatural. To put it on its lowest grounds, he cannot afford to lose it.
Indeed, one would hope that a well-behaved Seminarist would never deliberately and of set purpose break rules. Small failings through thoughtlessness, or in the weakness of the moment, are indeed excusable; but that is essentially different from open and premeditated breaches of discipline. A Seminarist who frequently fails to come down in the morning, or who evades his work when he conveniently can, who is slack and unpunctual at his various duties, is misusing his time and omitting that which the Church and his Bishop reasonably expect him to do. He may be clever enough to conceal his idleness; he may even after an ill-spent term make up time and pass his examinations by cramming up at the end—for which some have a great facility; but he will never make up the training he has lost, nor will he obtain the graces which would have been his had he used the means which God gave him to obtain them.
Moreover, the spirit of obedience or disobedience in community life is very catching. One grumbler will make many. The Seminarist owes a duty to the institution which has done and is doing so much for him, to set up a high ideal for himself which will spread itself to others and affect the whole life led within the walls of the Seminary. It is a duty which he owes to his Bishop and likewise to his fellow students.
This whole question is so vital to the life of the Seminary that we may be excused for appealing to high authority in support of what has been said. In hisLex Levitarum, the late Bishop Hedley discusses it at some length, and all that he says will repay careful reading. His first conclusion is that although single rules can in single cases be broken without sin, "It is sinful and a sin against obedience to violate them in grave matters, or with a persistence which causes grave results in the house. But," he continues, "the aspirant to the holy priesthood should take a higher view of the rules of his Seminary. They are, indeed, not fetters to bind his liberty, but steps or occasions to deepen his purity of heart, and his love of his heavenly Father. In themselves they are wise and useful, tending to the well-being of each individual. Even therefore if they carried no obligation, it would be the part of a true servant of God to observe them religiously. Obedience is the most essential virtue of a heart which aspires to imitate Jesus Christ; a real, interior obedience, not merely external, but grounded upon general humility of heart. It is obedience which most effectively clothes the spirit with the mind and temper of Christ. It is obedience which has the promise of victory over passion, and of success in the ministry of souls. To promote and to deepen in the character the spirit of obedience is certainly one of the principal purposes of the training of a priest. . . . A life of rule which is accepted and loved is the very best preparation for the priesthood because it is the very best discipline of a truly Christ-like mind, and the most effective instrument for acquiring perfection."[1]
[1]Lex Levitarum, p. 67.
THERE is a sense in which it may be said that the religious exercises of a secular priest are of more importance than those of a religious; for he has no definite rule to impose most of them upon him, while from the nature of his life they often have to give way before the pressure of work. It has been said that the sanctification of a religious is effected primarily by his religious exercises, and secondarily by his work; but that of a secular is effected primarily by his work and only secondarily by his religious exercises. Of course in those exact words we cannot accept the statement: it is something of a paradox; but a paradox usually covers a real truth, and in this case the truth is that there is always a danger of a secular priest failing to realise the necessity for such regular exercises from the fact of their having so often to be postponed or curtailed or even omitted in favour of works of charity, and from having no regular binding rule for any except the recitation of the Divine Office. There may indeed be individual days when a priest dispenses himself from all else: but as a regular practice, he well knows that other exercises are an absolute necessity if he is to lead a priestly life.
In the new Codex of Canon Law, for the first time we find an enumeration of the exercises expected of a priest[1]—not indeed binding under sin, but the norm put before us by the Church—ratione sacerdotii. They include, besides his mass and Office, daily Meditation, Rosary, visit to the Blessed Sacrament, and Examination of Conscience, and a Retreat at least every third year. It may be well to take these in order and say a few words about each.
Mass
There is no need to emphasise the power and consolation to a priest of his daily mass. It is the direct object of his priesthood and the one which he is least likely to allow to pass out of his mind. In view of his being a priest, he is bound to offer the Holy Sacrifice on Sundays and on the chief feasts of the year[2]—Christmas, Easter, etc. In practice in this country, he is usually bound,ratione officii, to celebrate much more often: in many cases daily mass is his duty; in almost all, several times a week is his minimum. One result of this is a tendency to look on his mass as a duty for the sake of the people who hear it and to lose sight in some degree of its effect on himself. In days gone by when daily mass was not usual, we have stories told of how a travelling priest or a Frenchémigrémight come in and ask to say mass, and the priest who was actually vesting for the parish mass, would let the visiting priest say it, and himself go to breakfast. Happily, however, this state of things has passed away. At the present day the vast majority of the clergy are only too pleased to celebrate daily. They may indeed like to omit a morning occasionally, while on a holiday: possibly they are sometimes over free in giving themselves a rest out of holiday time: but this is the exception. Even the practice recommended by St. Alphonsus of omitting one day in every week out of reverence, now seems to be a thing of the past: the movement of Pius X in favour of frequent or daily communion seems to have swept away the last trace of it. At any rate, most priests of necessity, and others by preference, usually celebrate daily, and no reform is called for in this respect.
When, however, we come to the circumstances of celebration, we find a good deal calling for attention. There are indeed many priests who begin the day with mental prayer, and say the Preparation for mass, so that when the time comes they are ready to celebrate with devotion: but there are many who do not act so well. Dr. Grant, the first Bishop of Southwark, used to lament the number of priests who came straight from their bedrooms to the altar, and he would quote this as one of the greatest obstacles to the spread of Catholicity in this country. It is manifest that such a practice is fatal to the devout celebration of the Holy Mysteries. The new Codex of Canon Law has drawn special attention to this by enacting that a priest should make a proper preparation and thanksgiving as of obligation.[3]
Yet there are often practical difficulties about a satisfactory reform in this matter. Those who say mass at a convent, for example, are in nearly every case expected at an early hour, and on arrival are usually shown into the sacristy as a matter of course; to get up sufficiently soon to have time to spare needs considerable stimulus. A difficulty of the opposite kind is created when a priest has to say a late mass, whether on a weekday or a Sunday. He naturally makes it the occasion of a long rest, and too often prolongs it to the very last minute, arriving in the sacristy only just in time to vest. If it is a Sunday, and he is duplicating, he makes that an excuse for sparing himself, so that he may not be over fatigued.
Neither of these difficulties are insuperable; but in practice they commonly hold the field. Without any drastic remedies, however, it is sometimes possible to suggest at least a partial way out of the difficulty. A priest who has to walk some distance to the convent, for example, may well keep up a state of recollection during his journey, and when he knows the liturgical prayers by heart, he can usually say them on the way. But after all, the proper remedy is to rise a little earlier, so as to make his preparation either in the sacristy or even on aprie-Dieuin the convent chapel,[4]which the nuns will very willingly provide if asked. And in this case he need not limit himself to the liturgical "Preparation." Still more easily can he, if only he adverts to the necessity, come down for a late mass some little time before he has to vest. And for the ordinary parish masses he can do the same, if only he is sufficiently serious-minded to do it; and he will be well rewarded in the additional fervour which he will bring to his mass.
Nor should we omit an allusion to the negative preparation, which consists in avoiding all kinds of distraction before mass. To refrain from reading one's letters, even before a very late mass, is a practice the very definiteness of which makes it easy to perform. In similar way every kind of arrangement for the work of the day, or any unnecessary speaking or intercourse with others should be strictly avoided.
With respect to thanksgiving after mass, there is less to be said, as the temptation to omit or curtail it is less. It is regularly looked for and expected wherever the priest goes. The importance of a good thanksgiving, to gather up the fruit of the mass, can hardly be overestimated. Hence when a priest has to take Communion to the sick—which he so often does after mass—it does not seem much to ask that he should allow at least a few minutes to pass for his direct thanksgiving: after which he can well continue and complete it as he carries his Lord through the streets to the house of the sick man. It is not too much to say that his fervour as a priest will be the reflection of that of his daily mass, and the manner in which he says mass will depend on his preparation and thanksgiving.
With respect to the intention for which mass is offered, in a populous mission that almost settles itself, as our parishioners have the first right to our masses, within reasonable limits. But a priest would do well to keep a certain number at his own disposal, in order to foster the spirit of his piety. And every priest should from time to time say mass for his people. This is now laid as an obligation on those rectors of missions who have by recent legislation becomeparochi, on all Sundays and holidays, including the suppressed feasts. For others it is still a matter of option; yet one would think that a priest's own interest in his work would suggest to him the propriety of doing so at least occasionally. It sounds strange to hear many priests regret the obligation and refuse to comply with it unless it can be shown to be absolutely binding. It would have appeared that if a priest has a proper spirit of zeal, the one end of his life would be the sanctification of his people, or those among whom he works. They have few enough prayers offered for them: one would have thought that an occasional mass would have been freely offered by the priest as a privilege. Unfortunately the question of income comes in, and many a priest hesitates between the two motives. Yet even in the masses which his parishioners ask him to say, some have to be without a stipendium, and this ought to be so, to prevent the danger of the mercenary spirit over-running his better instincts.
It remains to say something on the manner of saying mass. There is no necessity to labour the fact that the rubrics ought to be faithfully observed, for they are commonly considered to bind under sin. Yet consistently with observing them it is possible to be either unduly long or unduly short. Both are objectionable from different points of view. A priest who takes from half an hour to forty minutes will prevent many who could otherwise attend from hearing mass; while one who gets through in a quarter of an hour will give no small scandal. The rule sometimes given of thirty minutes "from amice to amice" means about twenty-five minutes at the altar, and it is a reasonable allowance. But, after all, the actual time consumed is of less importance than the manner of celebrating. Some people have a rapid utterance; others are quick in their movements; others again save much time by not dawdling, but proceeding from one act direct to the next. Others, however, are by nature slow, and inclined to be hesitating in their action. Due allowance must be made for difference of temperament in this regard, so that no strict limit can be laid down. Even the well-known rule of St. Alphonsus that a priest must occupy at least a quarter of an hour is not always a safe minimum; for it must be remembered that on different days masses vary considerably in length. A short ferial mass withoutGloriaorCredo, especially if there is noImperataprayer, or aMissa Quotidianafor the Dead, omitting theDies Iræ, are instances of very short masses which might take less than twenty minutes. The really important thing is that mass should be offered by the priest with dignity and recollection, as though conscious of the greatness of the act, a spirit which will show itself in every movement and gesture, and help the devotion both of him who celebrates and those who assist.
A word ought to be added about reading the Latin audibly. The late Pope tried to reintroduce the practice of the faithful following the liturgical prayers, etc. Undoubtedly this is a good method of hearing mass, though it had fallen largely into disuse. It can hardly be said that the Pope's wishes have led to any substantial result, and the reason is not far to seek. For the tradition of saying mass in an audible tone, such that even those near can follow, has almost entirely died out. In the vast majority of instances, the priest reads the Latin rapidly, and in a tone of voice that effectually precludes anyone hearing him. It seems sometimes as though his special object was to prevent anyone from following. Now there are other ways of hearing mass which do not need attending to the words, such as saying the Rosary, reciting Office, or private prayers, or using the prayers in theGarden of the Soulor other book. The first of these methods has been especially approved by being actually commanded by ecclesiastical authority for the month of October in every year. Nevertheless, it is not too much to say that those who prefer what many people consider to be the highest way of assisting at mass, have a right to do so, and it is the priest's duty to enable himself by practice to read the Latin in a tone which can be heard at least by those around him. We say deliberately "by practice," for the power to read Latin audibly and intelligibly is not so easy as many people seem to think, and requires considerable trouble to acquire.
The above of course only applies to a congregational mass: those who celebrate privately at a side altar will naturally speak in a low tone of voice, so as not to disturb their neighbours. Even they, however, should be practised in reading Latin, so as to read it intelligibly to themselves, for the liturgical prayers should be a great aid to their own devotion. The old habit of saying a black mass on every free day is now almost obsolete; and it has been replaced by the various concessions of Pope Pius X with respect to certain days, on which we may either say massde Temporeorde Sanctis; and occasionally, as in a vigil in Advent, three different masses are possible. All this helps to the appreciation of the liturgy, and should be used by the priest for that purpose.
Mental Prayer
It is admitted by all that a priest must be supereminently a man of prayer, and that the most important form of prayer, both in obtaining what we ask for and in its reaction upon ourselves, is Mental Prayer: yet, strange to say, of all the priest's duties, that of Mental Prayer is the one which is unfortunately too often put in a secondary place, or even neglected altogether. The name usually given to it—Meditation—is unattractive and misleading. It seems to put before one the idea of day-dreaming, and it is possible that all the practice of several years at least in the Seminary has not fully dispelled this idea. In point of fact, the Meditation is only one part, and that by no means the most important, of systematic Mental Prayer. It is a means to an end. Mental Prayer may be defined simply as prayer without a set form of words, and the Meditation is that which is usually—though not always—necessary to set the mind and heart in motion; but the end to be obtained consists of the aspirations of the heart and the acts of the will. It is these which make St. Alphonsus say that it cannot co-exist with sin;[5]and to promise that anyone who practises Mental Prayer for half an hour daily will certainly save his soul.
It is to be hoped that now the Church has laid it down definitely as part of a priest's daily duty, greater strictness may be observed by our clergy in practising it with regularity. Yet there are undoubted practical difficulties in the actual circumstances in which we are placed. The ideal practice is undoubtedly to make half an hour's Mental Prayer before saying mass; but in many instances, especially in the case of the junior clergy, this is hardly possible. For they frequently have to say mass either very early or very late, or sometimes one, sometimes the other; or to go out to say mass at a convent or other centre some distance away, at a comparatively early hour.
The difficulty is thus the same, only in a more acute form, as that which has been mentioned in connection with a proper preparation for mass. For if it is difficult to find time for a preparation of five or ten minutes, a priest is not likely to find the longer time necessary for a proper Meditation. If he has to celebrate early at a convent, his mass will be followed by breakfast, after which he will return to the Presbytery somewhere about eight o'clock. He may then have letters to read, and in any case will consume half an hour or more over the daily paper, accompanied with his morning cigarette. Often he cannot spare the time after that, as he may have to be in the school at nine. But even if he can, he is not well circumstanced for a Meditation: the distractions of the day are on him, and he is in the midst of his work. The conclusion forces itself upon us that the morning Meditation, whether before or after mass, should be made at least before breakfast, or it will not be made at all; and whereas the rector is usually in a position to do so without inconvenience, this is not always the case; and whereas a curate can easily do it if he really wishes on days when he says a late mass, it is not always easy when he says an early one.
Undoubtedly the duty will not be complied with without serious effort, and the first stage is a realisation of its practicability as well as its necessity. Some priests meet the case by uniting their mental prayer with their thanksgiving after mass. This is always better than nothing; and if a priest has the courage to prolong the exercise to twenty or twenty-five minutes, and can guard against interruption from having to take Communion to the sick or other causes, it may be a complete solution of the difficulty.
But should the obstacles in the morning prove too great, so that practically the exercise is frequently curtailed or elbowed out; it may be better to capitulate to circumstances and set apart a time in the evening, when it will be done less effectively, and perhaps less regularly, as a priest is sometimes out at that time; but it can usually be done. The Canon Law lays down no definite duration for the exercise; and though the traditional half-hour assigned by custom ought not to prove too long, it is better to occupy half that time or even less, than to omit the exercise altogether.
Granted now that twenty minutes or half an hour is to be spent in Mental Prayer, the next question is how to spend it. And here the present writer wishes thoroughly to endorse the view put forward by Canon Keatinge that it should be spent in the church and nowhere else. The whole passage is worth quoting:—[6]
"Let me plead for the habit of using the church as our pious lay folk do. The church is not merely the priest's workshop, where he gives the sacraments and preaches to others. It is his own home, his sanctuary, and he is the appointed guardian of this dwelling-place of God with men. Here at least his surroundings will help his prayer, not mar it, and the sacramental presence of his God will tend to warm his heart and to lift his first thoughts above the teasing distractions of his daily life."
The alternative of trying to make our Meditation in our room is to surround ourselves with difficulties and distractions of every kind, connected with our daily work. If it be argued that the Jesuits themselves always make their exercises in their rooms, the answer is simply that this is part of a complete and thoroughly worked out system of life, and it is no disrespect to them to say that to adopt one detail when we do not aim at adopting the whole will not lead to a good result.
A minor reason for urging the use of the church is that it gives great edification to the lay folk coming to mass to find the priest always there first at his prayers, while it puzzles them to find the church empty till the very hour for mass. And if it be urged that the early comers will invade the priest's time and seeing him there, will utilise the spare minutes to go to Confession or the like, the answer is that only the most inconsiderate of his parishioners would think of troubling him at such a time unless there is good reason—that they live at a distance or cannot come at another time; and in the few instances in which it may occur, the charity of his sacrifice will make up for the interruption of his exercise.
We may also plead the high authority of St. Alphonsus,[7]that the church is the best place for meditation, and although he goes on to say that those who cannot go to the church may "give themselves to prayer in any place, at home, in the country, even when walking, even when at their work," he is not speaking primarily of priests, who nearly always have the opportunity of using the church if they want to; nevertheless he describes a practice which may often be useful to a hard-worked priest, whether his morning meditation has been omitted or not.
Coming now to the method of Meditation, we find some features common to all methods. All are agreed that a short preparation should be made overnight, and the subject matter of the coming exercise be briefly reviewed, and that from that time until the Meditation is made, some sort of recollection should be observed, corresponding to the "Magnum Silentium" prescribed in the Seminary. All are agreed also that when the time comes, a short preparatory prayer should be made for light and help; and at the conclusion an act of thanksgiving. For the body of the prayer it is usual to speak of two great systems—the Jesuit and the Sulpician—but of these two the Jesuit method is far the more widespread.[8]Indeed, the general use of that method is one of the greatest proofs of the large influence exerted by the Society in the Church. It is in many ways specially suited to the restless age in which we live, for it excites and guides our activity throughout: there is no period of rest. It is so well known that there is no need to describe it in detail. At first sight, to a beginner, it appears complicated enough. We are told to begin with a prayer for light, and two preludes, one being a "Composition of Place," the other a petition for certain definite grace. Then comes the body of the subject, divided into three points; to each point is assigned a Consideration and an Application; and, finally, at the end a Colloquy, and an examination of how the Meditation has been made. Then as an alternative, we are given a method of Contemplation—to examine the Persons, Actions, Words—or Application of the Senses—touch, sight, sound, etc. All this to a beginner presents the idea of hopeless complication; Father Faber likens it to the cleric's first initiation into the Breviary with its apparent hopeless ramifications; but in practice the parts fit so well together and follow so naturally one on the other that after a short time the idea of complication to a great extent disappears.
The Sulpician method is in entire contrast to the above. The subject matter is not divided into points, but viewed as a whole; but the prayer itself is divided into three parts, of almost equal duration with each other. They are Adoration, Communion, Co-operation; said to correspond to the three petitions of the Lord's Prayer, Hallowed be Thy Name; Thy Kingdom come; Thy will be done.
In truth, however, there are as many methods of mental prayer as there are teachers thereof, for so much depends on the personality of the person who practises it. It seems almost presumptuous to speak of practising it without a method, and it opens the door to the danger of "kneeling vacantly and doing nothing, which adds the fault of irreverence to that of idleness."[9]—a danger almost indicated by the very name Meditation. Still, on the high authority of St. Alphonsus, we venture to put forward a plan which is so natural as hardly to be called a method at all, and which emphasises the quality of spontaneity in our intercourse with God which should be one of the great fruits of Mental Prayer. Let him speak for himself; the following quotations give the essence of his direction:—[10]
"For meditation, it is best . . . to use some book; pausing when the mind finds itself most affected. St. Francis of Sales says that in this we must do as the bees, who will settle on a flower until they have drawn out its honey, and then pass on to another. . . .
"Here we must observe that the spiritual profit derived from Mental Prayer does not consist so much in meditation as in making affections, petitions and resolutions: these are the fruits of meditation. And so after reflecting on some eternal maxim, and after God has spoken to the heart, we ought ourselves to speak to God with the heart, by making affections, or by acts of faith, of thanksgiving, of adoration, humility, and—most of all—of love and of contrition, which is also an act of love. For love is that golden band which unites the soul to God. . . .
"It is of great benefit to make petitions again and again, earnestly beseeching God with humility and confidence for His light; for pardon of sins, perseverance, a good death, paradise, and, above all, the gift of His holy love. . . .
"It is necessary in prayer, at least at the end of it, to make some firm resolve, not only in general to avoid all deliberate sin however light, and to give ourselves entirely to God, but also in particular, as, for instance, to keep ourselves with greater care from some fault into which we have more frequently fallen; or to practise some virtue in a better way than before. . . We ought not to cease from prayer until we have made some definite resolution."
One special advantage of the above is that its simplicity makes it suitable for beginners in the art of Mental Prayer; and in times of dryness, when devotion does not come easily, it may reduce itself ultimately to slowly reading a book. Such times are familiar to all of us, but they are especially discouraging to a beginner who is without experience to cope with them. Especially a student at college, or even at school, may find help in this manner, and a practice which from its name sounds unattractive, and the explanation of which has sometimes appeared too complicated to be practicable, may in this way be reduced to a simple exercise within the reach of all.
The choice of a book is of course an important feature. To discuss this at length, however, would take us beyond our prescribed limits. There are good books in plenty, but nearly all of them are based on the Jesuit method, and difficult to use for such people as prefer some other system. Of late an inclination has been shown to go back to Bishop Challoner—a fact which bears eloquent testimony to the solid worth of his work written a century and a half ago. His meditations are indeed each in three points, but they allow more latitude of treatment than does a strictly Jesuit book.
But, after all, it is not necessary to have a set meditation book at all. Many find all they want in theImitation of Christ. Others use the text of the Gospels—a practice which may be very fruitful to those who are sufficiently familiar with New Testament criticism, so as to be able to picture vividly in their own mind the surroundings of the scenes described. If these are sufficiently understood, then the words of our Lord, especially as given in St. John's Gospel, should provide the best possible matter for mental prayer.
Divine Office
The daily recitation of the Breviary is the one exercise of the priest which is not optional, but imposed by precept. The first result of this is that he is praying not in his own name, but in that of the Church. The most perfect way of satisfying the precept is to attend Office in choir. At one time this was in a great measure possible; and indeed until the recent reform of the Breviary under Pope Pius X, it contained no reference to private recitation at all: it was assumed throughout that the Office was recited in choir.[11]At the present day, however, it is practically only monks who have the opportunity of doing so. Even on Sundays, the singing of Vespers has become rare in our churches, and when it does take place, there is usually no priest present except the Celebrant. The only alternative left to the secular priest is to recite the Office privately. But it is well for him to bear in mind that he is one of a large choir of reciters all over the world, who though separated physically, are united in spirit, singing the praises of God in the official words of the Church. It would seem that the least a priest can be expected to do is to select a proper time and place and suitable surroundings for so solemn a duty.
Yet there is perhaps no exercise in his daily life about which he is so lax in the manner of its performance. The obligation seems to weigh on him, and he acts as though time given to Office was time wasted, and therefore the great object aimed at was to fit it in when he can do so with the least interruption possible of his daily occupations. Who has not seen a priest saying Office in circumstances of time and place ill-befitting such a solemn act—as, for example, in a crowded railway carriage or tramcar, or while walking from place to place, or while waiting for an appointment, or for dinner? This method of treating it, to say the least, shows a want of appreciation of its solemn character, and the sanctifying effect of the duty is properly discharged. Yet these same people will show a minute scrupulosity about many of the small details of the Office which they conceive to bind under sin. It might surely be better if they devoted less care to the small details and more to the general spirit with which the Office is said. It is with a view to this general result that the following few suggestions are made.
The first way to show our respect for the Divine Office is to have a fixed time and place for the recitation of the different hours. Undoubtedly the best place is the church, and many priests contrive to say the greater part of their Office every day before the Blessed Sacrament. But this is not always possible, and a certain amount must almost necessarily be said in one's house or grounds. In such case, it is important to show our respect for the exercise outwardly, which will react within. Office may be said very devoutly walking about, or sitting down even in an arm-chair; but not lounging, still less lying on a sofa, which except in case of sickness would involve grave irreverence. And one ought to have one's priestly dress on: to say Office in hot weather with one's coat or collar off is quite irreverent.
Sometimes a priest has to say part of his Office away from home. In such case, the same principles apply. He should say it in surroundings suitable for such an exercise. One cannot say Office properly in a crowd, whether walking or in an omnibus or tramcar. If our compartment is fairly empty, and no regular conversation in progress, a railway carriage may be a suitable place: but if it is full of people it certainly is not; and if it occurs that this is the only opportunity we have of completing our obligation, it might in an extreme case be almost better to let the obligation go than fulfil it so irreverently. Stories are told of a priest finishing his Office under a street lamp before midnight, when it might certainly have been better to omit it. A due respect for the Office urges us to say it with devotion or not at all. But in the majority of cases, the question of omitting it does not enter in; the alternative is not to omit it, but to have to say it at an inconvenient time after returning home. Surely such slight inconvenience should not be put in the balance against the need of reciting it "digne, attente ac devote."
With respect to the time of day, each priest must judge for himself how to accommodate it to his daily routine. The liturgical rules bind onlysub levi, and therefore can be set aside for a reasonable cause, provided that the whole Office is finished by the hour of midnight. Nevertheless, a priest who wishes to show respect for his Office will set rubrics aside as rarely as possible. So far as he can, for example, he will aim at saying Prime in the morning and Vespers in the evening. He will not invert the order of the hours if he can help it; he will not break off at unauthorised points, even though the reason be theologically sufficient: he will rather anticipate any likelihood of interruption and avoid saying his Office at such times. A priest who looks on his Breviary as a convenient duty to put in at odds and ends of time, so that it shall not encroach on any valuable space of time, is laying himself out for possible interruptions and certainly not showing that respect for his Office which is necessary to make it a source of blessing to his life.
A word may be added about the privilege of anticipating Matins and Lauds the previous afternoon. It is usual to lay stress on the advantage of this practice, and in the case of a priest on the English mission, the advantage is certainly great. For his daily routine is so uncertain, and so often interfered with by unforeseen pressure of work that the occasions on which the Office has to be postponed till evening are numerous and continually occurring. On days of special stress it may and does often occur that when he finishes his work, perhaps late in the evening, he has not had time to open his Breviary all day. In such circumstances, he is little fit to beginAperi Domineand recite the whole, and there is no chance of his doing so with much devotion. If, however, he has anticipated his Matins and Lauds, he can now say the other half of the Office—and the easier half—and postpone the pressure until the following day, when by giving an extra half-hour he can recover his lost ground.