Part 12

This is the sinner's progress in following the footsteps of Judas. Negligence, habitual sin, contempt of divine warnings, sacrilege, obduracy, abandonment of God, despair, eternal death. At every stage it becomes harder to go back. Stop, then, where you are; or better still, if it is not too late, beware of taking the first step. If you have not yet gone very far in the downward path, and are only beginning to be negligent, take warning by the example of Judas, and correct that negligence at once, or else it may lead to the most fatal consequences. "_He that despiseth small things, shall perish by little and little_." It is easier to preserve yourself from a great fall, by diligence and care, than it will be to remedy the hurts you will receive by falling, and to regain the height on which you are now standing. {232} You can never tell whither any sin will lead you. You can never calculate the consequences of yielding to any temptation. Venial sins, even, may become the principle of great and fatal disorders, which will lead you to your final ruin. Threads, fine at first as spider's webs, may be so woven together, and become so strong by being multiplied, that they will entangle you in meshes which cannot be broken through without the most violent efforts. Sweep your soul, then, diligently, of these spider-webs of negligence, or you may become, like Judas, an example of one who began well, but ended miserably, and may finish that career which you commenced in the service and friendship of Jesus, by betraying both your Master and your own soul.

But even if you have already gone far in sin, it is never too late to go back, until eternal death has actually made you its prey and closed its gate behind you. The case of Judas was not hopeless until after he had placed the halter on his own neck. The Lord never ceased to remonstrate with him until that last treacherous kiss, and though after this He spoke to him no more, and Judas never saw Him again, yet He did not close the door of mercy on him even then. {233} He closed it on himself by despairing. This was the greatest and most fatal of all his sins. Had he hoped in the mercy of Jesus Christ; had he returned to Him in sorrow and tears; had he thrown himself at the feet of his injured Master, and implored pardon, he would, no doubt, have been too late to save that Master's life, but he would have been in time to save his own soul. Even from the Cross the Saviour would have smiled upon him, and the guilt of his treason would have been effaced in that redeeming blood which his treason had made to flow. Oh! sinner, never despair! Even if you have gone to the length of an open apostasy, do not abandon hope; do not place the halter around your own neck. All is not yet lost. Retrace your steps; return to Jesus Christ; offer him the kiss, not of a traitor, but of a penitent; and you will receive from his clemency the pardon of your sins.

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Sermon XV.

The Interior Life.

"The Kingdom of Heaven is within you." St. Luke xvii. 21.

(From the Gospel for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost.)

A few years ago, and the people of California were a quiet, agricultural and trading people, by which they procured for themselves the three great wants of life; viz., shelter, clothing and food. They were content with as much as this, for they were unconscious that underneath their very feet, as they were working their farms and gardens, there lay that immense treasure of gold which has since been brought to this city. By chance a lucky spade turned over a clod of earth and stone, on which a yellowish tinge was noticed. {235} It was found to be gold. The report soon found its way next door, and then about the neighborhood, and so went rapidly through the country. The cabbages and potatoes, the peas and beans, which till now had been the pride of the cottage, were pulled up without ceremony and thrown aside, in the eager search that was everywhere being made for gold. The news came over to us, and I dare say you remember well the excitement created by it here. The great tide of commerce was turned toward San Francisco, and such was the haste of our people to get there, that a crowd was daily seen pressing around the offices of the various packet and steamship lines, eager to secure an early passage.

We, my dear brethren, are living on the surface of life, with our cabbages and beans, very much as those Californians were, and all the while within our souls there is a mine of untold riches, of which we seem to be quite unconscious. We are leading a grovelling life, when we might be living an angelic one. Our condition differs as much from what it might be as the state of the caterpillar differs from that of the butterfly. {236} They are the same creature, yet how different! The caterpillar crawls upon the ground; it feeds upon roots and leaves, and one is tempted to put his foot upon it as he passes by. The butterfly is a light airy thing on beautiful wings. It feeds upon honey which it gathers from the flower gardens, and is the admiration of every one. But before the caterpillar can become a butterfly it must build for itself a little house of silk. It must enclose itself there, and in proportion as it dies to itself, it lives again in the butterfly. My brethren, this house is your soul. There, with God, is your true life. Would that I could make you realize this. Would that I could realize it myself. Well, in order to do something toward it, I will this morning show you under what beautiful images Holy Scripture describes the beauty of a soul that is in union with God. I will name two great advantages of this union; and finally, I will tell you the conditions on which God offers it to you.

I. The beauty of a soul in union with God.

We cannot see our souls, and God has no where given us a description of them; but many things are said in Holy Scripture, from which we get the idea of their great beauty when united to him. {237} The soul is called God's "Palace." This is what our Lord says in my text: "_The kingdom of God is within you_." What is the idea that we have of a kingdom? Why, I suppose we call to mind some of the great powers of Europe, with their extensive dominions, great power and wealth. Among the cities of these Kingdoms there is usually one more populous than the rest, where the streets are laid out, and the public buildings and private houses are erected with a view to magnificence; as for example: London in England; Paris in France; Vienna in Austria; St. Petersburg in Russia. The Sovereign's palace is there. This palace is grand in its proportions outside, and it is furnished within in as costly a manner as gold and silver, polished wood, rich silks and tapestry and choice paintings can make it.

Well, then, the soul must be this, and more; for it is the palace of the King of kings. Holy Angels are there in attendance upon Him. There He entertains his faithful at his table with the Bread of Angels. It is there that He deigns to hold those conversations with the soul after communion that are so precious.

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St. Teresa has this same idea under another figure. She begins by saying that the beauty of the soul is incomprehensible. That the mind cannot conceive its real worth, as words cannot express it. Then she says that she conceives the soul to be like a magnificent diamond castle, with rooms above and below; but in the very centre there is a room more spacious and more sumptuous than all the others, where our Lord dwells with the soul.

The soul is God's "Temple." "_Ye are the temples of the Holy Ghost_," [Footnote 103] says St. Paul.

[Footnote 103: 1 Cor. vi., 19.]

We often see engravings of those grand Cathedrals and churches which are so common abroad. There is one in almost all the old towns of England. Their tall spires or massive towers stand majestically over the country, and their whole exterior is elaborately worked in stone. On the inside they are poor and cold enough, it is true, for a false worship has been set up there, which has stripped them of their fine statuary and paintings, banners and rich hangings, which formerly decorated the sanctuary and walls, and they are no longer what they once were, "the Temples of God." {239} There is no correspondence between the size and magnificence of those churches of the olden time, and the formal service that is held in them now; and so a few square yards are penned off in the middle for the handful who will assemble. But there has been a time when those walls were two narrow to enclose the thousands who came to follow their Lord as He made the circuit of his Temple, in the procession of Corpus Christi. Those floors have been covered with kneeling multitudes who waited for his benediction in the Blessed Sacrament. Then, gold and silver, lights and flowers, massive candlesticks and rich vestments adorned the altars with something approaching to regal splendor, for it was the Temple of God. Those cathedrals and churches are now standing, after the lapse of hundreds of years, as monuments of the ancient faith that inspired their erection; but the day will come when, as our Lord said of Jerusalem, "_one stone shall not be left upon another_." But our souls are everlasting Temples. How strong, then, as well as how beautiful, God must have made them!

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The soul is a "Fountain" of never-failing water. This is what our Lord told the Samaritan woman. "_The water that I will give him shall become in him a fountain of water, springing up unto everlasting life_." [Footnote 104]

[Footnote 104: John iv., 14.]

I think our blessed Saviour could not have said any thing which would have given us a more beautiful idea of the effect of his presence upon our souls. The deserts of the East are like the ocean in their great, boundless wastes of hot sand. Travellers tell us that for days there is no living object to be seen, even to a blade of grass. Occasionally, however, they come upon what appears like an island, where there are trees, grass and flowers. Invariably it is found that in the middle of these "oases," as they are called, there is an overflowing spring of the purest water. This is the cause of all that verdure in the midst of so barren a wilderness. How beautiful such places must be to the weary traveller, and how grateful to the eye, as he catches sight of them in the distance! How he must bless God as he sits under the cool shade of the rich foliage, or as he bathes his feverish brow and limbs in the cool waters!

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Well, our souls are so many "green islands" in the desert of this world, and our Lord is the fountain in their centre. His presence adorns the soul with all that fragrance and fulness which we find in the innocent and pure. St. Teresa had a great fondness for this passage of Scripture from her very childhood. Though at that time she did not know the value of this promise of our Lord as she did in after life, she says: "I very often asked the Divine Master to give to me this precious water."

The soul is God's "Image." "_Let us make man to our image and likeness_." [Footnote 105] So God said when he created the first human soul.

[Footnote 105: Gen. i., 26.]

Our souls, then, are like God. God is the perfection of all beauty. As we say, God is truth, so we say, God is beauty. There are two ways in which we are like God, for He says: "Let us make man to our image _and_ likeness." In one way, the devils and souls in mortal sin are like God. They have the gifts of intelligence and free will. This is the image of God which, when a creature once has, it can never lose. The likeness which a soul in the state of grace bears to God, is in the gift of habitual, or sanctifying grace. {242} This can be lost, and the devils and souls in mortal sin have lost it. God has made us pupils of his, as it were. Our Master has drawn the outline of Himself upon our souls, and our work is to fill up this sketch with light and shade. A Christian is therefore an artist of the highest class; for there can be no subject so inspiring as his. What a beautiful talent it is to be able to transfer to canvas some scene from nature, of which it becomes the exact copy. There are certain combinations of water and mountain, meadow and foliage, nature and art, blended and softened by a peculiar state of the atmosphere, which act like a spell upon one. All we can say, is, how very beautiful!

But, beautiful as it is, it will vanish before the winter's frost. The canvas, too, in time will moulder away. But the image of God on our souls is more beautiful than any scene in nature, and it will preserve its beauty forever.

These are some illustrations from Holy Scripture which enable us to form an idea of what is the beauty of a soul when in union with God.

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Did you ever know, my brethren, that God had been so good to you? Have you not over looked and undervalued your treasure? This life of yours hitherto, on the surface of things, has been both a great mistake and a great misfortune.

II. To make you realize this, let me tell you two great advantages of an interior life.

The first is, the great "peace" that it brings to us. Peace, did I say? Is it, then, possible to wear a constant smile in this valley of tears? Can these fretful souls of ours find rest even upon earth? We pray for the Holy Souls in Purgatory, "that they may rest in peace," as if we felt that there was no rest short of Heaven. Can we find it, then, even short of Purgatory? Yes, for it is a share, by anticipation, of the ineffable peace which those holy souls enjoy in the possession of God. Like them, we can be glad while we suffer. Joy and suffering are not irreconcilable! How was it with our blessed Lord? You know He is called the "Man of sorrows," in that his Passion is thought to have been before Him during the whole of his thirty-three years on earth. But all the while, his human soul was in the perpetual enjoyment of the Beatific Vision, and therefore in perfect peace. {244} Well, of this peace, in the midst of trouble, our Lord, as the great Head, allows us, his members, to participate. Hear what He said to his Apostles: "_Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you_." [Footnote 106]

[Footnote 106: John xiv., 27.]

What robs a man of his peace of soul, is either an inordinate desire for something which he has not, or the fear of losing some thing that he has. Now, the man who lives an interior life, is in the possession of God, who is the fulness and perfection of every good. He does not fear the loss of pleasure, for his highest pleasure is to do the will of God. He says, it is not God's will that I should have pleasure now. Nor of riches, for he fears them as a snare. He does not fear poverty--he will have less to give account of at the Last Day; nor of station, for he feels that there is no nobility like being a son of God. He is living with God and his Holy Angels, as their companion; as though God and they and he were the only beings in the world. Nor of comforts, for he has learned to bear his cross, and he is learning to love it. Nor of reputation, for he seeks the favor of God alone. {245} Man's judgment of him will neither aid nor injure him before his only true Judge. The daily round of bodily weakness, sickness, disappointment, or mortification, is turned into so many occasions of gaining merit with God. It is true of him what the Scripture says, that "_all things work together for good, to those who love God_." [Footnote 107] He is like Midas, the fabled King of Thrace, who was said to have the power to turn every thing that he touched into gold.

[Footnote 107: Rom. viii., 28.]

St. Basil was such a man. On one occasion he was called before a magistrate, who said in great anger, "Basil, I will tear out your liver." "Well," was the meek reply, "you will do me a great favor then, for it is a great trouble to me where it is." Such a man is invulnerable.

To come nearer to our own day, I can show you such a man, in our Holy Father Pope Pius IX. What is the invariable testimony, both of Protestants and of Catholics, as to the manner of his receiving them? Every one speaks of his composure, of his cheerful conversation, and of the sweetness of his smile. Now, where is the man in Europe, who has so much care and anxiety upon him as he has? {246} For whom would we be so ready to make excuse, in case we were told that he was found to be reserved, or even at times out of humor, on occasion of those "receptions," which are so numerous and indiscriminate, and which we would think must be so very tiresome to him? At this moment, while Sovereigns and statesmen are threatening him with the seizure of the ancient inheritance of the Church, which is intrusted to his care, and himself with banishment, not only is he calm, but he prophesies that, from these present trials, great glory shall result to the Church. Pius the Ninth is a man who lives in close union with God. Down in the bottom of his soul there reigns a supernatural calm.

With an interior life comes also a strength to do and to suffer, which is naturally quite beyond us.

As our Lord chose his Apostles among a class of men whose natural advantages were very few, in order that his guidance and power might be shown in them, so He has adorned the early Church with a number of young female Martyrs, whose amazing fortitude under the severest torture, clearly proves that He was also the source of their strength. {247} Let me give you an example. St. Potamiena was a Nubian slave of a Roman master. He required her consent to something which was contrary to the law of God. On her refusal, he threatened her with such torture as was exercised upon those who, like herself, had embraced the Christian faith. The magistrate before whom she was brought on the charge of being a Christian, commanded her to obey her master in all things, or she should be cast into the cauldron of boiling oil, which was seething before her. She replied: "I have but one request to make: allow my clothes to remain upon me; then, if you will, let me down by inches into this cauldron, and you will see what strength Jesus Christ, my Lord, will give me to bear its pain." This was the cruel death by which, without a murmur, she won her crown of "Virgin Martyr."

Let me give you another example of fortitude, which you can perhaps better appreciate. Some few years since, in England, there was a young lady of noble family, and of very attractive manners, who became a Religious in a convent near the town where I then resided. {248} To please her father, she had, for several years past, attended the numerous parties that were given among her circle of acquaintance. Her presence was always thought to be a great acquisition. But all the while, her heart was in religion. She longed for the time when her father would yield, and allow her to try her vocation within a convent's walls. At last, he did; but what was his grief when he found that she had chosen one of the most austere orders in the church. She wished to become a Poor Clare. Now, you may not know that a Poor Clare never leaves the walls of her convent; she never sees any one; she walks bare-footed; she uses the painful discipline, and spends many hours of the dead of the night in prayer, while the outer world is asleep. Here, then, was a young girl who had been brought up in luxury, entering at once upon a life of the greatest severity. When I last heard of her, which was a long time after she had entered this convent, she was said to be as merry as a cricket, and the life of her convent, as she had formerly been of her parties of pleasure. {249} Now, how shall we account for such fortitude as this? I will tell you. It was our Lord in her heart, where she had made Him a home, that gave her the courage and strength she needed to comply with his call to her, to be a spouse of his. That became easy to her, which her relatives and friends could not comprehend. There is no one who can do any thing great for God, without this interior life. I will say even more than this; neither she nor any other member of a religious community, can hope to persevere in any well-regulated convent, on any other ground than this. With this, any one, whether in religion or in the world, can trample underfoot the difficulties and trials peculiar to their state of life.

God offers us this interior life, on two conditions. In the first place, we must be in the state of grace. One must first be introduced to a man, before he can become his personal friend. A man in mortal sin is as though he did not know God. He needs to make his acquaintance. He is in a condition that is even worse than that of a stranger; he is God's enemy, and he must be first reconciled.

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To drive a locomotive at the rate of forty miles an hour, one must first get it upon the track, before it will move at all.

You, then, my dear brethren, who are so unfortunate as to be in mortal sin--you can take no comfort from any thing that I have said. I have been offering peace to such as lead a Christian life; but what does Holy Scripture say of you? "_There is no peace, saith my God, for the wicked_."

Again, we must be generous with God. Ah! now that I have told you the terms, I tremble for the cause I am advocating. It seems to me that I hear you answering, as some other disciples of our blessed Lord answered him: "_This saying is hard, and who can hear it_." [Footnote 108]

[Footnote 108: John vi., 61.]

[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is John vi., 60.]

What is it to be generous? It is to give from a motive of love, and because it is a pleasure to give. It is to consider the object to which we are giving, rather than the amount of what we are giving. What millions of dollars are being expended on the Central Park here just beside us? We consider the money contributed, as little in comparison with the importance of the work. It is an object of pride with us to see tins Park as ornamental as money and art can make it.

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See what generous efforts are being made, by both sides, in this unhappy conflict, which has made a battle-field of our country! Not money only, but blood and life, are as freely offered as water.

Our citizens who hurried off to California at the time of the gold excitement of which I have spoken, thought nothing of the discomfort of a close state-room on board a crowded ship, for a five months voyage. They had already sacrificed home, friends and business, and all this was on the mere chance of success.