Part 15

But the most common want of humility is seen in those who pray in selfishness. Has God seen fit to send them a trial--say, a defect in their hearing or sight, or one of their children is born deformed or sickly--then they act as though the like had never been seen before, so querulous are they under the affliction. They pray--a good long string of complaints--over it. Or else the selfishness takes another shape, and, while they can look with indifference upon hundreds who suffer worse, they cannot bear to have the hand of the Lord touch __them__. They come to beg of the priest to cure them; they come humbly enough in their manner, will go down on their knees, and even kiss the ground, but they have not a particle of humility in their hearts. They are so selfish about their pains and aches that they are quite surprised and vexed if the priest does not profess himself quite ready and able to perform a miracle in their favor; as if the Almighty owed them miracles, or as if they were the only people in the world about whose ease and comfort He was concerned. And then they go away disappointed, giving no heed to the holy words with which the priest tried to teach them to profit by their affliction, and instruct them how to pray to God to be relieved of it, if it be His holy will. {264} Very probably, such people are not in the grace of God at all; and it is plain even to human wisdom that, if God heard and answered their selfish prayers, they would go away puffed up with pride, never think of returning Him any thanks, and lead a worse sinful life than they have before. For it is a proverb: "Do a proud man a favor, and he hates you for it." He dislikes the idea of being laid under an obligation; and this is just what would happen to such. They would dislike God for putting them under the obligation to serve Him the more strictly in return for His favors. God sees this, and, because they have no humility, their prayers are not heard.

It is the same with many spiritually minded persons too. They are led to look for mortifications and crosses, and, when these are sent, then they are both mortified and crossed in another sense. They are humiliated, but not humbled. Oh! how hard they pray to be delivered from these very means of their sanctification. But it is selfishness that makes them pray. They thought themselves saints, and it galls their pride to be treated as though they were yet far from perfection. They suffer, and keenly too, I know. So did our Blessed Lord in His agony, and dereliction on the Cross. But when __He__ prayed, He said to His Father, "Not My will, but Thine be done."

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The want of humility in prayer is the bane of those living in heresy. Heresy, you know, is the offspring of pride. Souls fall into it, and wilfully remain in it from an undue opinion of their own wisdom. All heresy must have "private judgment" as its basis of religion. If the true religion ever comes up before them for examination or acceptance, they are almost afraid to pray at all, lest they should pray themselves into submission to it.

They see that the road before them is the road of humility. They start back at the hard sayings. Wanting humility, they have very little conviction of sin; and, like the Pharisee who went up to the temple to recount his good deeds, you will not unfrequently hear such persons, in speaking of the confessional, say with unaffected surprise: "Why, what in the world can you have to tell? I don't think I have any sins to confess."

Oh! if they could once be brought down to pray humbly for light and guidance, how differently would they talk, and how quickly all their fancied difficulties and impossibilities would fade away!

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A celebrated master in the spiritual life used to send persons away to pray who came to him to talk controversy. If they were humbly seeking the truth, they found all their objections answered in prayer before they returned. If not, he knew their pride would be proof against both prayer and argument, however long the one or powerful the other.

My brethren, we have all got to pray for what we want, and to pray humbly too, if we expect our prayers to be heard. To pray like the Publican, "O God, be merciful to me a sinner," and not like the Pharisee, "O God, I thank thee I am not like the rest of men."

I recollect an instance, on one of our Missions, which will be a lesson for all those whom I have been addressing this morning. A young man came to me, whom I soon learned to be one of those unfortunate Catholics whose parents do nothing more towards making them Christians than to get them baptized. The first words he said to me were these: "Father, I'm a mighty hard case." I found he was quite ignorant of the principal doctrines of the faith, and sent him away for a few days to learn them. When he presented himself again, he was surprised I did not recognize him. "Why, don't you know," said he, "I'm the mighty hard case?" It was necessary not only to instruct him, but to give him some serious warnings, that he might keep out of bad company, and live thenceforward a good life. {267} Perhaps I was led to speak in a tone that appeared to him rather severe; and it went to my heart to hear the poor fellow repeat the humble judgment he had passed upon himself: "Yes, father, I told you so. I told you I was a __mighty__ hard case." The "mighty hard case" got his communion with great joy and a holy pride; and I remembered the words of the Lord: "Amen, I say to you, this man went down to his house justified ... for every one that humbleth himself shall be exalted."

Reflect upon this touching example of an humble soul, and, when you go to pray, think of the necessity of humility, and of patience and resignation to God's will in all things.

Pray! Not in proud self-conceit, for God will despise you, and resist your supplications, and withhold His grace. Without grace you will find yourself falling so repeatedly and grievously into sin that you will lose faith in prayer. When it comes to that, you are on the road to hell.

Pray! Not in fear. That is a bad sign. It looks as though you did not love God; and, it such be the case, you cannot expect Him to hearken to you, or grant you any favors.

Pray! but not in selfishness. Let God and His holy will be all in all to you. Take what He sends. Learn to trust Him in humility and patience. The Lord does not always tell us the reasons why. {268} Whether He commands us as a Master, chastises us as a Father, or teaches us to imitate Him in some hard lesson of humiliation--as when He Himself washed the Apostles feet--He very often has but the same answer to us that He gave to the astonished Peter: "What I do thou knowest not now; but them shalt know hereafter."

Pray in humility, O ye doubting, distrustful souls! God's truth is near enough and plain enough. It is you who are too high-minded to see it, too proud to pray that you may know it. Ask not with Pilate, "What is truth? what is truth?" in the presence of the Infinite Truth, and then, like him, turn away and never hear it.

Cease not to pray, though the morn is long in dawning, and the day of redemption be delayed; but cease not to pray humbly, for, says the wise man, "the prayer of him that humbleth himself shall pierce the clouds, and he shall not depart until the Most High behold." [Footnote 102]

[Footnote 102: Ecclus. xxxv. 21.] [USCCB: Sirach xxxv. 17.]

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Sermon XVIII.

Preparation For A Good Death.

(For The Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost.)

Isaiah xxxviii. 1.

"__Put thy house in order, for thou shall die, and not live__."

When I read the Gospel for to-day, which describes the raising of the widow's son to life, I ask myself the question--Did he die prepared? When his friends could no longer give him any hope of recovery--when he was forced to make that bitter acknowledgment to himself, "My time is come," then did he make ready to die? Did he put his house in order? Had he time to do it? Was he in a fit state to do it? When his soul had departed, could his widowed mother console herself with the thought--He lived a good life, and he died a good death? We can not answer for the young man, as the Gospel tells us nothing either of his life or of his death, but we can answer for many whose lives and whose deaths we know; and, knowing our own lives, we ought to be able to answer for the kind of death we would die if the word of the Lord came to us as it came to King Ezechias: "Put thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live."

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A friend, about to take a journey to Europe, remarked: "I have arranged all my affairs, so as to have a pleasant journey." He did well. We will do better when we shall have arranged all our affairs for a pleasant journey to that far-off land from which we shall never return. Let us see, brethren, what it is to arrange one's affairs that one may die a good death. This preparation may be summed up in the fulfilment of three obligations--the first, to God; the second, to our neighbor; and the last, to one's self.

To die well and happily, we must fulfil our obligations to God. Here I must confess I am somewhat troubled to answer how a man who is near death, whether he be in good health at the present moment or given up by his physician, shall satisfy this demand, if he has not already done so. The last, and usually the most useless, hours of one's life are hardly the time to give God his due. God's obligations are fulfilled in living not in dying, well. Our Lord compares the dealings of God with us to a man who hired workmen to labor in his vineyard; to another who gave certain talents to his servants which they were to improve; and, again, to a husbandman who sowed his seed expecting to reap a harvest from it in due time. {271} These are very apt figures of the duties and the fruits of life. The heavenly reward will be bestowed upon him who labored at God's work in life. He shall enter into so much of the heavenly joy of his Lord as he has fitted himself for by the improvement of the talents which God gave him. God will reap just so much of a harvest as the seed of His divine grace has been cultivated and allowed to grow in the heart. Now we are sent to begin our work, to improve our talents, and His grace is sown in our hearts when life begins. God's obligations begin when we begin to live, not when we begin to die. Oh! this is a startling truth! What a fearful thought this must be to him who has never realized it as life went on, and only now begins to think about it when the terrors of the coming judgment are casting their shadows before, and darkening the last hours of his misspent life!

I hardly know what to say to that man to whom religion has never been a reality in life, who has shirked its duties, and deafened his conscience to its appeals, who thinks of it only when life is not worth thinking of; who makes use of it only to smooth his dying pillow, to bless his grave, and pray for him when he is gone. {272} The thought that his life, the only life he has had or will have upon which God has such a heavy claim for his service, for the worship and love of his heart, upon his personal exertions and sacrifices for the cause of His holy faith--has simply been allowed to wear away, day after day and year after year, and that nothing has been done, must be a thought of misery and dismay, such as would overwhelm the mind of a merchant who, after making a long and, as he supposed, prosperous voyage across the ocean, finds, to his disappointment, that he has forgotten to bring either the money or the letters of credit wherewith to purchase his expected cargo.

I hardly know what to say to that man whose life has been little more than a mockery of the God whom he pretended to serve; whose principles and faith were indeed Christian, but whose practice and works have been heathen. He has been a Catholic--oh! yes, in name, but not in deed. It would be better to say of him that he was not a Protestant, nor a Jew, nor an infidel. That is all. That he is a Catholic seems to be a happy accident; for, to judge from the indifference he manifests in its practice, it is to be feared that, had circumstances made him anything else, the Catholic faith would be the last thing to which he would give a serious thought. When such are suddenly surprised with the message, "Put thy house in order, for thou shalt die, and not live," indeed it is hard to say how they are to prepare to answer to God for their life. {273} Their memory brings up little else than despised warnings, grace trifled with, neglected sacraments, prayerless days, and desecrated Sundays; and I know not where they are to find the fruit that God comes seeking of them.

You see, my brethren, that the first condition of being able to prepare for a happy death is to have lived well. But you ask--Is one who begins late in life to serve God, who knows that he has but a short time to do something for Him, to give up his case as hopeless, and despair of fulfilling this great obligation? Must he say I have, alas! made no life-preparation of this solemn account, and it is too late now? Far be it from me to say that; but this I know: he must begin now all the more earnestly, and do what he can with all the greater effort, as the time is the shorter. O my dear brethren! that these late workmen in God's service, and the dying, would understand this! Such an one falls sick. He is attacked with a disease which will soon run its course. He sends for a priest. He makes his confession as well as he can--he would have made a better one if he had been well, for he is not in a condition to remember the events of so many years; he is sorry for his neglect and his sins; sorry for all the comforts of religion that he has lost; but, tell me, is he sorry for what God has lost by his careless life? {274} Does he express one regret that God has not only not had His own, but that He has also been dishonored by his bad life; that the Church of the faith he professes has been a loser by him; that he, by his inconsistent conduct, has been a stumbling-block and a rock of scandal to the unbeliever and the scoffer? No, this is the last thing that troubles him. What is one to do? Plainly this: Religion ought now to be his all-absorbing thought. Every moment should be employed with a holy jealousy in prayer, lest God might be forgotten again. One, and only one, desire ought to fill his heart, and that is a desire to love God as perfectly as he may before he die. He should frequently call to mind that comforting assurance which our blessed Lord gave to the penitent Magdalen: "Many sins are forgiven her, because she hath __loved much__." It is not the time for excuses, as so many seem to think it to be, but a time of humble abandonment to the will and the mercy of God. It is a painful sight to witness the contrary; to see the sick and the dying full of complaints, resisting the will of God, and praying for a few more years of a miserable life. If it were for the purpose of living in the love of God, and repairing the bitter past, it would be well. But no, their hearts are breaking to think they are forced to part with the world that they have loved too well. {275} But oh! how sweet it is to see a soul, at the close of life, striving to detach itself from the world, and, as it were, reaching forward to throw itself into the embraces of its God. True, it may have been idle for many long years, and it may have come only at the eleventh hour, but that hour, at least, is well spent. These are they of whom the Master will say: "I will give to these last even as to the first." [Footnote 103] Such may also say, in the language of the wise man: "I awaked last of all, and as one that gathereth after the grape-gatherers. In the blessing of God I also have hoped; and as one that gathereth grapes, have I filled the wine-press." [Footnote 104]

[Footnote 103: St. Matt. xx. 14.]

[Footnote 104: Ecclesiasticus xxxiii. 16, 17.] [USCCB: Sirach xxxiii. 16, 17.]

To die well and happily, we must, in the second place, fulfil our obligations to our neighbor. Scarcely a day of our life passes in which we do not find that our neighbor has had somewhat against us. Debts accumulate, disputes arise, the incautious word is spoken, the scandal is given, the character of our neighbor suffers from our folly or our spite, reconciliation is not made, forgiveness is neither asked nor given, friends are alienated, the sun goes down upon our wrath, and on the morrow we must die. Who is there who is able to say, when he comes to die--I owe no man anything; my debts are all paid; I never wronged any one to whom I did not make full restitution; I never lost a friend but I found him again; I have not an enemy on the face of the earth? {276} Happy is that man, for he will die a happy death. But how many there are who find themselves at the hour of death as they have always been, both unwilling and unable to pay their just debts! How many leave behind them an unsettled inheritance to their relatives, which becomes an inheritance of discord, law-suits, enmities, and deadly feuds! How often men die, and show no fear to go to God with unclean hands--hands stained by the contact of ill-gotten goods and stolen money! How many die unreconciled with their neighbor, and with no earnest wish to be so! How lightly the wrongs of a lifetime weigh upon their conscience! How many die and make no restitution of all the detraction and the calumny of which they have been guilty, and go to their grave amid the secret jeers and curses of their neighbors! "Blessed is he that is defended from a wicked tongue," says the Holy Scripture, "that hath not passed into the wrath thereof, and that hath not drawn the yoke thereof, and hath not been bound in its bands. For its yoke is a yoke of iron: and its bands are bands of brass. The death thereof is a most evil death: and hell is preferable to it." [Footnote 105]

[Footnote 105: Ecclus. xxviii. 23, 24.] [USCCB: Sirach xxviii. 19-21.]

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Do you wish to escape such a lamentable end? Would you die the death of the just, leaving your name in benediction, your loss sincerely mourned, and your soul defended with prayers at the bar of judgment? Deal with thy neighbor now whilst thou art in the way with him. "Put thy house in order," and especially when you come to die. Let no worldly consideration, no thought of pride, hinder you from a perfect reconciliation with all men--a full payment of every debt--a free forgiveness for every wrong you have suffered. The few moments that remain to you, you will need to pray for God's forgiveness for your own sins. Remember the Lord's words: "For with what judgment you have judged, you shall be judged; and with what measure you have measured, it shall be measured to you again." [Footnote 106]

[Footnote 106: St. Matt. vii. 2.]

Lastly, to die well, we must fulfil the obligations we owe to ourselves. We are Christians, and should meet death like Christians. That is, we owe it to ourselves to show at that supreme moment some evidence that we are not being forced out of life as if there were no existence beyond it, but that we are ready to answer the call that God makes to us to come home; not that we are setting out upon a journey of darkness and lonely misery, but that we are following Jesus, who has overcome the sting of death and robbed the grave of its terrors. {278} That we may be encouraged in this, we should bring to mind the examples which the holy martyrs and the other saints of God have left us in their deaths. Death, in its very nature, is humiliating and degrading to human nature. It conquers us; it leaves us not a trace of our beauty nor a vestige of our power. No wonder that the flesh is weak and trembles before it; but the spirit, ennobled with Christian faith and hope, and strengthened with Christian charily, is willing and courageous. The Christian's death is then no longer an ignominious defeat, but a glorious sacrifice. The flesh goes, indeed, to the prison of the grave; but the spirit, set free from its mortal bonds, mounts to the skies to be crowned with power and immortality.

One thought alone should occupy our minds in our last hours--the thought of uniting our souls to God, whom we are so soon to meet. It is painful to see a dying person thinking of nothing but how to give some momentary relief to his body, each instant calling for some new comfort, as anxious and careful as if he were preparing for a long life, instead of employing the precious moments in prayer, in acts of contrition for the sins of his past life, and in acts of love to God. I know that many persons think it useless to try to pray at such a time, when the strength is failing and the senses are growing dull; but it is not so. {279} They can "pray in their soul," as a saintly woman told me on her death-bed. Seeing that I noticed the beads in her hands, she said to me: "I am not able to __say__ my beads, father; but, when I feel lonesome, I take them out to keep me company, and I pray in my soul." We may make all our acts acts of prayer, if we will. Our acceptance of sickness and death in the spirit of penance is prayer. Our resignation to the will of God--our patience in suffering--our gentleness and mildness with those who are tending and watching us--all these things are prayer, if we practise them with the thought that they are pleasing to God.

Then, there are the holy sacraments of the dying, full of grace, comfort, and strength to our souls. I know few Catholics wilfully neglect these, but it is a source of grief to the priest to be called, so often as he is, to administer the last sacraments to those who ought long ago have received the first ones they need. I think it is one of the most discouraging events in the ministry to go to a dying man and find that it is years since he confessed or received the Holy Communion. Confession! I tell you that it is very seldom that one on his sick-bed makes as good a confession as he would if he were well. He cannot do it. His mind is not as clear; his memory fails him; and, worst of all, he makes little or no effort to prepare himself for it. What is the consequence? {280} His contrition is as vague and indifferent as is his confession. With how much devotion does he receive the Holy Viaticum and the Extreme Unction? Alas! this man did not begin to pray or to think about either till an hour ago, when the doctor told him he had to die. The priest absolves him, and he and his friends are content. But did God absolve him? Tell me if he made a good confession, or was sincerely sorry for his sins, and then I will tell you whether God absolved him. Woe be to him if he did not, for it is the last chance he has to confess, and but too frequently it is the last appeal he makes to God for forgiveness. The priest gives him the Holy Communion. Does he receive it worthily? Not, of course, because he is going to die, or because this is his last Communion. Does he receive it in as good dispositions as would make it a worthy Communion if he were well, and had received it in the church at the altar? If not, he makes an unworthy Communion, and eats and drinks damnation to himself. The priest anoints him. Is he signed and consecrated to God, and are his senses purified, and his soul strengthened? Yes, if he be in the grace of God. If not, he is signed and delivered over to Satan by it, and his soul is prepared for hell. Oh! if one wishes to be able to fulfil these obligations well at the hour of death, he must not neglect the preparation for them in life.

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