' Dabo eis Cor, ut sciant me, et erunt mihi in populum, et ego ero eis in Deum: quia revertentur ad me in toto corde suo.'

' I will give them a Heart to know Me, and they shall be My people, and I will be their God, because they shall return to Me with their whole heart' (Jer. xxiv. 7).


THE illustration which accompanies these few lines is meant to represent an incident in the life of St. Edmund of Canterbury, which rests on the authority of. his own brother, Robert Rich. St. Edmund went to Oxford as a boy of the age of twelve years. His brother tells us that, one day "going out into the meadows in order to withdraw from the boisterous play of his companions, the Child Jesus appeared to him, and saluted him with the words, 'Hail, beloved one!' And he, wondering at the beauty of the Child, replied, 'Who are you, for to me you are certainly unknown?' Then said the Child, 'How comes it that I am unknown to thee, seeing that I sit by thy side in school, and wherever thou art, there do I accompany thee? Look in My face, and see what is there written.' Edmund looked, and saw the words, 'Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.' 'This is My name,' said the Child, 'write it on thy forehead every night, and it shall protect thee from sudden death.' Then He disappeared on Whom the angels desire to look, leaving the other with a sweetness in his heart passing that of honey." There are boys enough and young men enough in Oxford at the present time, and one of the modern developments of the place is that the softer sex, as it is called, throngs the lecture-rooms as well as the young men, and although the contemporaries of the Saint of Canterbury would probably stare at the games of cricket and lawn-tennis, and especially of the mixture of the two sexes in play, which makes the meadows and lawns about the old seat of holy learning ring with merriment, perhaps not always so boisterous as that of the schoolboys of St. Edmund's time, we fear that there are not many who think very much of the Holy Child Jesus as a possible companion. Education goes on as of old, or what passes for such, but it is not allied with devotion, but rather with that peculiarly disagreeable form of scepticism, the scepticism of the self-sufficient young, who think that they know everything. Let us hope that the English saints still watch over some at least of the students in the old haunts of religious monastic learning, and enable them to preserve that innocence which was the great characteristic of St. Edmund, and against which so many snares are set in the Oxford of modern days.

Unfortunately, it is not easy to maintain innocence in the midst of false teaching. There are, we are happy to believe, hundreds of innocent souls among the youth of our country, for the English home is still, thanks to God, a nursery of many high virtues and examples. There are still men, also, in the national Universities, who are doing their best to maintain the faith in God of the young men committed to their care. But the tide has turned, for many years back, in the direction of that laxity in opinion which it was the great object of Cardinal Newman, in the days in which he was a power in the University of Oxford, to repress and banish. But too many who took a part in the great movement which is connected by name with Oxford, turned away from the natural and lawful issue of their own principles, and refused to submit to the Church. From that day the tendency in Oxford has been towards infidelity, and there has been far too little power to stem the stream in the men who were so conspicuously inconsistent in their own maintenance of religious truth.


The Human Life of Jesus was marked throughout by the firm filial confidence with which He trusted Himself to the Eternal Father, and relied upon His love. To be then an imitator of Him, this boundless trust must become ours too, and must animate all we undertake.

In nothing perhaps do the lives of the Saints give us more attractive examples than in this quiet invincible trust in God's help. They took, it is true, more pains than we do to know the will of God, but when they were sure of that, they did not know what it was to hesitate. Difficulties only made them braver, apparent impossibilities never stopped them, a passing failure became in their eyes a pledge of coming success. Thus the great St. Teresa, whose third centenary is being celebrated now with such joy and devotion all over the Church, was preparing to found a new convent with only one Spanish "real," a single coin in her treasury; to those who represented the impossibility of such an undertaking, she replied, It is true that Teresa and one "real" are small things enough, but Teresa, one "real," and God, make a great deal! These are indeed words of a Saint, but the spirit which made her say them—a spirit of confidence founded on the conviction that God was with her—this spirit ought to animate us all.

The secret of this strong confidence is not hard to find. All that we do for the honour of Jesus Christ, all that we undertake in order to do His will, must have the sympathy, the help, and the love of His Father, must therefore in the long run succeed.

The point in which we fail, which makes us so soon fainthearted when things go wrong, is that we only see His honour by halves, and in the rest we seek our own. We can trust well enough when all is prosperous and we are happy, but that sort of trust has but small merit, gives Him but small glory; but when, as so often happens, we are kept a very long time waiting for success, and things even seem only to go from bad to worse, there are very few, and their intentions are very pure, who know how to go on trusting with a bright face an unshaken heart, but it is they who earn the secret praise which He gives to them alone: You are they who have persevered with Me in My temptations* Who will not wish and strive to be of them.

Sacred Heart of Jesus! through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer Thee the prayers, labours, and crosses of this day, in expiation of our offences, and for all Thy other intentions. I offer them especially to obtain for all our Associates a trust in Thee which no misfortunes may be able to shake. Free us, O Jesus, from all cowardice and discouragement, and from that unholy fear which makes us unworthy of Thy help.

* St. Luke xxii. 28.

For the triumph of the Church and Holy See, and the Catholic regeneration of nations.

November Intention

Year with the Saints (Nov 1 - Nov 15) Audio


As will have been seen in the List of Indulgences, given in the second part of this Guide, a very large number of Indulgences granted to the Confraternity, indeed nearly all of them, may be applied to the souls in Purgatory. When the Rosary is said for the faithful departed, either for some special person, or for all the souls of the suffering dead, instead of saying the Gloria at the end of each Decade, the Versicle and Response, "Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon them," may be substituted. Not only is this allowed, it is even recommended. In the Acta S. Sedis, which contains the official decisions and legislation of the Holy See for the Rosary Confraternity, these words occur: "In many places, when the Rosary is said for the Dead, in the place of Glory be to the Father, &c.," "Eternal rest, &c." is said (cap. vi. N. 116). Elsewhere we read that "the custom of the members keeping watch by the dead body cf a fellow-member and of saying the Rosary aloud, and substituting "Eternal Rest, &c." for "Glory be to the Father", is worthy of all praise and of every encouragement" (cap. xxi. N. 402). This practice might be followed on All Souls' Day, during the month of November, or on the death of a member of a Guild or Sodality or even of a parishioner. On the Sunday evenings of November in small parishes the Rosary for the Dead might be sung, with a verse of a hymn for the Faithful Departed, at the beginning of each Mystery. "When the Dead is at rest let his remembrance remain, and comfort him in the departure of his spirit" (Ecclus. xxxviii. 24)

Method of Saying the Holy Rosary

Ecclesiasticus 7:40, "in all thy works be mindful of thy last end and thou wilt never sin."


(Prayers for the dead.)

O vos fideles animae.

YE souls of the faithful who sleep in the Lord

But as yet are shut out from your final reward;

Oh, would I could lend you assistance to fly

From your prison below to your palace on high.

O Father of mercies, Thine anger withhold,

These works of Thy hands in Thy mercy behold:

Too oft from Thy path they have wandered aside,

But Thee, their Creator, they never denied.

O tender Redeemer, their misery see,

Deliver the souls that were ransom'd by Thee;

Behold how they love Thee despite of their pain,

Restore them, restore them to favour again.

O Spirit of Grace, O consoler divine,

See how for Thy Presence they longingly pine!

Ah, then, to enliven their sadness descend,

And fill them with peace and joy to the end.

O Mother of Mercy, dear soother of grief,

Send thou to their torments a balmy relief;

Attemper the rigour of Justice severe,

And soften their pains with a pitying tear.

Ye Patrons who watched o'er their safety below,

Oh think how they need your fidelity now;

And stir all the Angels and saints of the sky

To plead for the souls that upon you rely.

All ye too who honour the Saints and their Head,

Remember, remember to pray for the dead;

And they in return from their misery free'd,

To you will be friends in the hour of your need.

(Printed by permission of the Author.) F. CASWALL.




"It is therefore a holy and salutary thought to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins."—2 Machabees, xii. 46.

THE month of November is by a holy and excellent custom of the faithful in an especial manner sacred to the pious exercise of prayers for the dead, and the custom, of course, reposes first on the general truth conveyed in the words of the sacred Scripture above quoted: "It is a holy and salutary thought to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins;" and secondly, on the circumstance that on the second day of November, viz., on the day after the solemn celebration of the Feast of all Saints, the whole Church keeps a day of solemn commemoration of the Souls of all the Faithful departed, from whence the piety of the faithful has gradually built up the excellent practice of treating the whole month of November as in an especial manner sacred to the pious and holy exercise of prayer for the repose of the souls of the departed.

There is always a great and precious value in a good custom, and we can seldom do anything better than seek to introduce a good custom where it either does not exist or has fallen through, or endeavour to strengthen and invigorate by all means in our power what is already in existence. As returning November, then, brings round its annual memory of the departed, we cannot do better than seek to reinvigorate and refresh our minds with considering anew some of the principal reasons which render it a "holy and a salutary thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins."

This thought we must consider is holy and salutary in two different respects; first, for the reason that it is by the mercy of God that it comes to be granted to these prayers greatly to benefit the dead, by their effect in loosing them from their sins ; and secondly, because the charity of offering such prayers is very greatly blessed to ourselves.

What the particular sufferings are which those of the departed suffer who are in the condition to be benefited by our prayers, it is not granted to us to know. It is sufficient for us to know that the suffering is real, and that it is caused by their sins, for the sacred text is particular in specifying the effect of the prayer that is to be piously and charitably hoped for on behalf of the departed, namely, that they may be loosed from their sins. What the precise happy effect to the departed of being loosed from their sins may be, is not a thing placed within our ken or knowledge. These things are the secrets of the unseen world, which we are not allowed to know; but taking the world which we do see and know as a mirror of the world which is veiled from our sight, we ought to be able, without difficulty, to come at least to such an understanding of the benefit that must accrue to the departed from being loosed from their sins, as should be quite sufficient to awaken and keep alive our charity in their behalf. The sins which are taken notice of and which are attended with penalties and suffering in our world, are not by any means either fully commensurate or precisely identical with the sins that carry with them penalties and sufferings in the world that is out of our sight. We must guard ourselves from falling into any such error as this; but notwithstanding in a general way the parallel is such that there is very much to be learned from it.

Sin in our world, then, is known to bring two kinds of penalties with it. Direct penal suffering such as is visited upon proved offences against human law, of which kind are imprisonments, hard labour, floggings, and the like; and secondly, disqualification from eligible social promotion, and exclusion from desirable society with others. To be loosed, then, from sin in our world, has the effect which we can quite understand, of opening the prison doors for restoration to personal liberty and freedom, and the removal of the social bars and disqualifications which cause the exclusion of the sufferer from much that is pleasant and eligible in this world. And in this manner we may very sufficiently understand what a great gain it cannot fail to be to the departed, if the being loosed from their sins has the analogous effect in the world where they now are, of putting an end to the positive suffering that they may be enduring, as also of removing the bar and disqualification under which they lie of being admitted to the heavenly society, the joy of which they so greatly long to share.

If, therefore, God in His great mercy has been pleased to grant to the prayers of those who are still on earth the gracious efficacy that they avail to loose the dead from their sins, it needs no further insisting to make it plain, at least as regards the departed, how holy and salutary a thought it is "to pray for-the dead that they may be loosed from their sins."

But the benefit of such prayers is by no means restricted to the departed. If they bring, as we are taught to believe, a great relief and advantage to the dead for whom they are offered, they bring also at least equal blessings and benefits of another kind to the living who have the faith and charity to offer them; and the thought to pray for the dead is not holy and salutary solely with respect to the dead, but also equally holy and salutary in its way for the living.

In the first place, prayer for the dead is pre-eminently an exercise of the virtue of faith. Many other good deeds, such as visiting the sick, and relieving the pressing necessities of the poor, bring with them a present reward of their own, in our being able to see with our eyes the happy results of our charitable efforts; and there is a certain reward also in the gratitude and thankfulness which we may frequently receive in return for our assistance. But in the case of prayer for the dead, we can receive nothing whatever of this kind that we can appreciate by sight, for all rests purely on faith. It is simply from faith in the assurances of the Church that we know that our prayers occasion any relief to the sufferers, and we can as little see the sufferings themselves which are relieved as we can either see the relief which our prayers have been the means of bringing, or receive any manifestations of gratitude from those to whose relief we have been instrumental. And yet such prayer is far from being without its reward in its own kind, namely, in the way of greatly strengthening the very faith which has prompted and sustained the prayer. "Lord strengthen our faith," was a prayer of our Lord's Apostles to Him. And nothing tends more solidly to strengthen and confirm faith than the pious practice of praying for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins.

Again, praying for the dead is holy and salutary for the living, because it puts them in mind of what is impending over themselves, in a way that cannot fail to make a salutary impression. "Remember thy latter end," says the sacred text, ''and thou wilt never sin." The charity of praying for the dead is rewarded by the fixing in our minds the salutary thought that we must die ourselves. And this thought is one that is fruitful in the best results. It is not only one of the best preservatives from sin, but it is also one of the most powerful stimulants to industry and the good employment of time. As the wise man says, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with all thy might, for there is neither knowledge, nor wisdom, nor understanding, in the grave whither thou hastenest."

And again, the object for which we pray in behalf of the dead is "that they may be loosed from their sins," and in doing this we confess that that which occasions suffering and distress to them in the world where they are is their sin. It cannot, therefore, but strike every one's mind how very contradictory it must be to have the charity for the dead to pray on their behalf, that they may be loosed from their sins, and to be without charity to ourselves, to beware how we may be binding ourselves in our own world with the chains of sinful practices in which we wrongly indulge ourselves, not attending to the truth that the sinner is equally bound by his sin as well in our visible world as in the world which we cannot see. If, therefore, we were to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins, at the same time that we are binding ourselves with sins of our own, we should be having charity which we confess to be for suffering brought upon others by their sins, and no concern for the sufferings which we could not but equally know that we are bringing on ourselves by our own sins. And this seems too palpable a contradiction to be possible, except through almost inconceivable blindness and perversity. It is, therefore, a most holy and salutary thought, as far as we are ourselves concerned, to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins, for in so doing we procure for ourselves the best possible admonition to keep out of the way of sins ourselves, and the charity which we show to the dead, by prayers for them, comes back to ourselves in the form of the best possible charity for ourselves, which dictates the most scrupulous abstinence from the ways of sin, and the most watchful vigilance against contact with anything that may be an occasion of temptation to sin.

And these considerations must now suffice to commend and encourage, to the utmost of our power, the pious and holy custom of making the month of November especially sacred to the charitable practice of praying and causing masses to be offered for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins.

All Souls

Plenary Indulgence for Souls in Purgatory
from November I though November 8 inclusive

I. On All Souls’ Day (Nov. 2) a plenary indulgence, applicable only to the Poor Souls, is granted to those who visit any parish church or public oratory and there recite one Our Father and one Credo.

II. On all the days from November I though November 8 inclusive, a plenary indulgence, applicable only to the Poor Souls, is granted to those who visit a cemetery and pray even if only mentally for the departed.

Conditions for both indulgences:

1. Only one plenary indulgence can be granted per day.

2. It is necessary to be in the state of grace, at least by completion of the work.

3. Freedom from attachment to sin, even venial sin, is necessary; otherwise the indulgence is only partial. (By this is meant attachment to a particular sin, not sin in general.)

4. Holy Communion must be received each time the indulgence is sought.

5. Prayers must he recited for the intentions of the Holy Father on each day the indulgence is sought. (No particular prayers are prescribed. One Our Father and one Hail Mary suffice, or other suitable prayers.

6. A sacramental concession must he made within a week of completion of the prescribed work. (One confession made during the week, made with the intention of gaining all the indulgences, suffices.)
SSPX reference

Ictu Oculi (In the blink of an Eye)
The Brotherhood of Charity, the Caridad, as it is known, was one of Seville's major lay confraternities. It was founded in 1565 with the mission of providing a decent burial for paupers. From 1663 the charitable activities were expanded to provide care for the needy sick, and a hospital was built, simultaneously enlarging and renovating the already existing chapel.

The scheme for the decoration of the chapel is a tripartite exposition of Christian charity as the way of salvation. The first part comprises two memorable paintings by Valdés Leal, demonstrating the futility of earthly pursuits and honours. A life devoted to accumulating wealth, power, and even learning is shown to lead only to the grave. Charity, which constitutes the second part of the program, provides the way to salvation, as seen in the seven acts of mercy, six of which are depicted by Murillo; the seventh, burying the dead, the Caridad's foundation charity, is embodied in a sculptural group, the Entombment of Christ by Pedro Roldán, placed in the altarpiece. The third component consists of two paintings by Murillo for lateral altars, depicting St Elizabeth of Hungary and St John of God, both illustrating the efficacy of good works and the necessity of personal participation in charitable deeds.

Valdés Leal's relentlessly gruesome paintings are located just inside the entrance, so that visitors to the church must experience the agony of Valdés's Hell before entering the promised land of Murillo's acts of mercy. The first, entitled In Ictu Oculi (In the twinkling of an Eye), is a highly charged representation of the futility of worldly goals and pursuits. The path of glory lead but to the grave, which is unflinchingly rendered in the companion picture, Finis Gloriae Mundi (The End of Worldly Glory), where vile bugs feast on the rotting remnants of human flesh.

Of all the great painters of the school of Seville - alongside Zurbarán, Velázquez and Murillo - the distinctive style of Valdés Leal is the most difficult to place. Only these two major allegories on the transience of life and on death which he himself is said to have described as "hieroglyphs of our afterlife" have remained truly popular. His patron, Don Miguel de Mañara, was a Knight of the Order of Calatrava who became a benefactor of the brotherhood of the hospital and its church in penitence for his previous life of decadence. The epitaph on his grave succinctly describes the spirit that commissioned such a powerful vanitas still life: "Here lie the bones and ashes of the worst person who ever lived on earth". His last will and testament contains the most humble self accusation not only as a great sinner, but also as an adulterer, robber and servant of the devil.

The In Ictu Oculi (an allegory of death) presents the triumph of the grim reaper, who sweeps into the picture as an imposing figure. One skeletal foot stands on the globe, while the other stands on armaments, the trappings of office and insignia of power. Under his arm, he carries a coffin and in his hand a scythe. As his right hand snuffs out the life-light represented by the candle, he stares at the spectator from the very depths of his empty eye-sockets.


The present month of October will be a time of special rejoicing to the many devout souls who have been accustomed to honour with a peculiar love the great saint of Avila. The feast of St. Teresa this year will be the three hundredth anniversary of her holy death. Spain, the country of her birth and the scene of her glorious labours for the honour of our Lord and His blessed Mother, will naturally take the lead in the joyous celebration of this centenary, and it would be long to tell of the preparations that have been made both at Alba, where her body lies, and at Avila and elsewhere, to make the anniversary truly glorious. Although English and Irish Catholics cannot expect to rival their brethren abroad in the magnificence of their celebration of this happy time, we may hope that it will not be forgotten among us, and that the fervour with which it is celebrated may serve to add fresh power to the prayers of this holy mother of so many millions of souls, either led by her to the perfect practice of the rule of our Blessed Lady, or converted to the faith by her intercessions, and the continual self-immolation of her religious sons and daughters.

It is a matter of great joy that we have among us so many convents and monasteries of the order of Mount Carmel, but we cannot but hope and pray that the centenary, which is now about to rejoice so many hearts in the Church of God, may be the signal for an increase in the number of children of our own country who fight the good fight of faith under this special banner of St. Teresa. We hear on all sides that the frivolities of the present generation, and the many dissipations which have crept in to what is still called Christian and Catholic life, work very fatally in the way of diminishing the number of the souls, who either desire to give themselves to God in the holy Order, of which St. Teresa is in modern times the chief glory, or who, having conceived the desire, have strength and perseverance enough to carry it out. It would certainly be one of the greatest possible triumphs that could be imagined for the enemy of mankind, if he could succeed in depriving our Lord of the glory and the delight which He receives from the devoted lives of the cloistered children of St. Teresa, and the Church the powerful aid which she draws from their prayers. We do not think that such a triumph will ever be granted to the author of all evil in this country. There is much in the English character which fits the true children of our country for the solid, sober, and most enduring, though most happy life of the Teresian religious, and it would show that all true spiritual courage and manliness had died out among us, if there were wanting a constant supply of recruits for this holy warfare from among ourselves. We hope, indeed, for more than this—we hope for an increase in the number of inmates of these holy homes and of these holy homes themselves; for at present we do not, in all the new freedom and expansion of which we boast, and for which we owe God such deep gratitude, furnish to the Order of St. Teresa more subjects than were furnished to it in the dark days when the Church was persecuted, when it was impossible for Englishmen or women to live at peace in their own country under the habit and rule of Mount Carmel. There must be some lamentable influence at work, if we cannot supply, to so noble a vocation, more than we could supply when those who followed it had to cross the seas in order to be unmolested in their service to our Lord and His Blessed Mother.

The illustration to which these remarks are appended speaks for itself to all those who are acquainted with the life of the glorious Mother of the Reform of Mount Carmel. It relates to the famous incident in her childhood, when she set out with her little brother, four years older than herself, on a journey which the two children fondly hoped might lead them to the land of the Moors, when they might have the blessed privilege of laying down their lives as martyrs for the faith of our Lord. "The two children set out," says the latest English biographer of the Saint, "thinking, perhaps, that the land of the Moors, of whom they had heard so much as the deadly enemies of their faith and nation, could not be far off. They put up a little stock of food, and then went stealthily out of the Adaja Gate towards Salamanca, and crossed the bridge, but they were soon met by a brother of their father's, Francis Alvarez de Cepeda, who took them home to their mother. They had already been missed, and Dona Beatriz was in fear that they might have fallen into a well, as all her search for them had proved fruitless. There was a little scene when the two culprits were questioned by their young mother as to their escape, and the historian relates the tradition that Rodrigo, who was four years the elder of the two, laid the blame on the 'little one,' who, as he said, wished to see God, and to die as soon as possible in order that she might do so."

We fear that if young children of the age -of Teresa and her brother would probably, in our days, know their geography a little better than they did, they are not likely to be brought up in such a way as to conceive the desire of seeing God as soon as possible, and of setting out on a journey for the sake of gaining the crown of martyrdom. What a modern fine lady would say to her little girl, who attempted anything of the sort, it is not so easy to imagine. But many English Catholic mothers have not hesitated to send their "little ones"—somewhat older than Teresa, certainly—to the lands where alone they conld serve God after the example of this Saint.



At first sight it may seem, no doubt, to most altogether incongruous to attribute such a quality as ambition to the Sacred Heart—that Heart which our Lord Himself tells us is meek and humble; and this arises from a natural habit of regarding ambition only as a human vice. Most of us, alas, know only one ambition—that infatuated thirst for the things of the world, which makes its blind children debase themselves in all sorts of ways to obtain a little vain honour or esteem, to throw away the peace of their conscience to gain the applause of fools.

Those who love God, in their fear of this bad passion, oppose it too commonly by one virtue, by modesty, and consider that in humbling themselves they fulfil all justice, and while they penetrate their own hearts with the sense of their own unworthiness, they contentedly see all others lift themselves above their heads.

Let us, however, see that our Lord has taught us another lesson than this. Humility assuredly He loves and praises, nor can we love it too much, but He would have us no less recognize our supernatural dignity, and by virtue of it despise as worthless the poor greatness which perishes so soon.

And, moreover, even this generous disdain of human honour ought to be nothing but a first step, but a sweeping away of the foolish delusions which might blind our eyes to that true greatness which is ours, and which He has done so much, and now longs so much, to invest us with. A crown, a throne is promised "to him who shall overcome" (Apoc. iii. 21). It is the ambition of the Heart of Jesus that we should win it. Surely that ambition should fill our hearts also.

And what is the immensity of that Divine ambition for us, Who but Himself can know? The proofs of it are in the Blood He has shed so prodigally, in the close and intimate union He has deigned to contract with us, making us in veriest truth members of His body, and our glory inseparable from His own. "And the glory which Thou has given to Me, I have given to them" (St. John xvii. 22).

Our share in this glory will be great in proportion to the greatness and strength of our ambition, and we never shall ambition for ourselves as greatly as the Heart which loves us desires. If then we reflect that each and every act of our heart with the intention, whether actual or habitual, of giving God glory, corresponds with a degree of glory gained in Heaven for all eternity, it becomes easy to understand how greatly this Divine ambition once fired in our hearts, will make those acts grow both in number and intensity. Jesus Christ has strewn the path we tread with eternal riches, but, alas, too often we are so indifferent to them that we will not take the trouble to stoop and make them our own. Those who have thought how the Heart of Jesus desires their glory, will, both for His sake and their own, aspire to respond with a nobler answer to His love.


Sacred Heart of Jesus! through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer Thee the prayers, labours, and crosses of this day, in expiation of our offences, and for all Thy other intentions.

I offer them especially to obtain for Thy servants an ardent desire of eternal glory. Inspire us, O Jesus, with the determination not to lose the least of the infinite riches Thou hast purchased for us by Thy Precious Blood. Amen.

For the triumph of the Church and Holy See, and the Catholic regeneration of nations.

Apostolate of Prayer - October

Sermon in honor of Columbus Day

Year with the Saints (Oct 16 - Oct 31) Audio

Sanctuary in Zaragosa, Spain
Our Lady of the Pillar.*

" Regina Apostolorum." " Queen of Apostles."

IN incontestable tradition, resting upon the testimony of St. Jerome, St. Isidore, the ancient liturgies of Spain, and supported by a host of authorities and monuments, which treat it as a matter of history, tells us that St. James the Greater carried the Gospel to Spain. According to the best authorities, he undertook this mission soon after the martyrdom of St. Stephen. Thus, in the year following the ascension of our Lord, Spain had the Gospel preached to her.

But a more extraordinary legend is attached to this apostolic visit, which attributes to St. James himself the foundation of the church of our Lady del Pilar, venerated from time immemorial at Saragossa. Let us examine the foundation of this legend.

So many contradictions had arisen concerning the miraculous origin of the church, that Spain addressed herself to the Holy See, the guide of faith, to settle the controversy. Innocent XIII. then sat in St. Peter's chair. After a minute, exact, and careful investigation, the twelve car- dinals, in whose hands the affair rested, adopted the following account, which was approved by the * Notre Dame del Pilar.

Sacred Congregation of Rites on the 7th of August, 1723, and since inserted in the lessons of the office of the feast of our Lady del Pilar, celebrated on the 12th of October.

" Of all places which Spain offers to the veneration of the devout, the most illustrious is doubtless the sanctuary consecrated to God under the invocation of the Blessed Virgin, under the title of our Lady del Pilar, at Saragossa. " According to ancient and pious tradition, St. James the Greater, led by Providence into Spain, spent some time at Saragossa.* He there received a signal favour from the Blessed Virgin. As he was praying with his disciples one night, upon the banks of the Ebro, as the same tradition informs us, the Mother of God, who still lived, appeared to him, and commanded him to erect an oratory in that place.

" The apostle delayed not to obey this injunction, and with the assistance of his disciples soon constructed a small chapel. In the course of time a larger church was built and dedicated, which, with the dedication of St. Saviour's, is kept as a festival in the city and diocese of Saragossa on the 4th of October

Before the publication of this statement, Pope Calixtus III., in a bull dated 1456, had encouraged pilgrimages to our Lady del Pilar, acknowledged the miracles performed at her shrine, and the prodigy of its foundation. The popular legends, however, are much fuller than the one we have just given. They add that St. James, having visited Oviedo and other places, stopped for some time at Saragossa, where he increased the number of his disciples to such an extent that he assembled * Then called Caesar-Augusta. them every evening in a quiet spot on the banks of the Ebro, where he instructed them in the faith, and told them of the mysteries of the kingdom of God. When one evening, near midnight, the faithful who surrounded the holy apostle heard choirs of angels chanting Ave Maria gratia plena ; and at the same time they beheld, in the midst of the heavenly troop, the figure of a lady, of exquisite beauty, seated on a marble pillar. St. James, recognising the Mother of God, fell on his knees before her.

She* told him to erect a church on the spot where she appeared; and the marble pillar was allowed to remain as a testimony of the truth of the apparition. The apostle obeyed. A chapel was erected, and an image of the Blessed Virgin placed on the miraculous pillar, which still attracts the notice of pious pilgrims. Such is the tradition. The Blessed Virgin is represented erect with her Divine Son in her arms, who holds a dove in his hand.

The piety of the Spaniards afterwards erected a handsome church on this spot ; the ancient chapel now forms a crypt under the chancel. It is 36 feet long by 25 feet broad. Many believe it to be the original chapel ; but this is scarcely probable. It is splendidly decorated ; and though the wars in the early part of this century have despoiled it of a great portion of its wealth, it still remains a splendid sanctuary.*

* St. James returned from Spain to Jerusalem, where he was the first of the apostles to suffer martyrdom. It is said that he took with him some disciples from Spain who returned with his body to their native country. St. been a famous resort of pilgrims ; and there is no one who has not heard of Compostelo. The name of this city itself James is reverenced as the apostle of Spain, and has on many occasions specially protected that great Catholic country. The place where his relics are kept has long is a corruption of St. James the apostle. It was first called in Spanish Giacomo Apostolo, then Como Postolo, and finally Compostelo.

Among the many miracles which have been obtained by the intercession of the Blessed Virgin in her chapel at Saragossa, the following is perhaps the most remarkable and the most astonishing. We also are guided in our selection by the many proofs and testimonies which are attached to it, and to its being given by the Bollandists, whose learning and critical acumen we suppose no one will deny.

" The miracle we are about to record happened in our own time. It occurred to a young man who recovered the use of a leg through the intercession of our Lady of the Pillar.

" His name was Michael Pellicer. His parents were poor people of Calanda, in Arragon ; but he worked with one of his uncles in Valencia. At the age of nineteen, he fell from a cart, heavily laden with corn ; and the wheel passed over his right leg, which was broken. This happened in the year 1638. " The uncle and nephew being both poor, the wounded man was taken to the hospital at Valencia. Several remedies were applied to the broken limb without success. As he grew worse, they yielded to his entreaties to be taken to the great hospital at Saragossa, where his devotion to our Lady of the Pillar led him to hope for succour.

" Before entering the ward, he begged to be laid in the subterranean chapel before our Lady's venerated image. Suffering as he was, he made his confession, heard mass, and received the holy communion. He then, with perfect resignation, was conveyed to the hospital, and placed under the care of Dr. John D'Estranga, a surgeon of great eminence at that time.

" This surgeon was alarmed at the sight of his patient's leg, and instantly declared there was no hope, save in amputation. The leg was accordingly cut off a little below the knee, and the dead limb buried.

"Michael Pellicer thought that it had not pleased our Lady to heal him, and that he merited his sufferings, which he endured with the greatest patience and submission to the will of God. During the painful operation, the only exclamations heard to escape his lips were fervent aspirations to his dear Patroness — our Blessed Lady, whom he most tenderly loved. When the amputation was over, and the part bound up, he went on crutches to our Lady's shrine, and returned thanks for the strength given him to undergo the operation. While engaged in prayer, feeling his wound sore, he thought of rubbing it with some of the oil of the lamp which hung before the image, but was told it would do him harm, unless a miracle changed its nature. He, however, still persisted in applying the oil to his leg. The wound healed, and he lived for two years in Saragossa, well known for his devotion to our Blessed Lady, at the entrance to whose chapel he received the alms of the people.

" In the beginning of the year 1640, a good canon, hearing that the poor cripple greatly desired to visit his parents, gave him a little mule. Michael Pellicer mounted it, and returned to Calanda. As he passed through the neighbouring villages, he received alms from the people, and visited the different churches.

" One evening after his return (it was the 29th of March), feeling very fatigued, he placed his crutches by the fireside, where his parents sat, and went to bed. At eleven o' clock, before re- tiring to her room, the mother went to see whether her son was asleep, or whether his fatigues had made him unwell. She rubbed her eyes with astonishment at the sight of two feet at the end of the bed, having left her son three hours ago with but one leg. She thought that it might be one of the soldiers, then quartered in the town, who had taken possession of her son's bed, and ran to call her husband.

" He uncovered the face, and instantly recognised his son in the sleeping man. The noise of their movements awoke Michael, who exclaimed :

" ' Oh, why did you awaken me from so sweet a dream, and so beautiful a sight ? I was in the holy chapel of our Lady of the Pillar, and there, in the presence of my dear Protectress, two angels restored to me my lost leg in recompense for my persevering confidence in the Mother of my Lord.’

" ' Give thanks to God and our Lady, my dear son,’ cried both parents; 'you have not had a vain dream, for your leg is indeed restored to you.’

"Michael Pellicer was yet ignorant of the miracle which had been wrought upon him ; but he sprang out of bed, and the neighbours, hearing the cries of joy, ran in, and joining the good parents in their wish to render thanks for the miracle, conducted the young man in triumph to the church. " A singular circumstance was attached to this miraculous cure, and which it would seem to baffle the reasoning of the incredulous — the restored leg was reversed. Was it to afford another trial of the young man's faith? Was it a sign that certain extraordinary favours are only completed in the sanctuary? Was it to make the miracle more manifest? However we may judge, so it was. As soon as Michael Pellicer had prostrated him- self at the foot of our Lady's altar, and poured forth, in company with the rector, a fervent prayer, and while the people sung the Salve Regina, the leg turned to its proper position; and he rose and stood firm on both legs, who the day before could not move six steps without the aid of his crutches.

" Many of his friends accompanied him to Saragossa, where he went to return thanks in the chapel of our Lady of the Pillar. The miracle was juridically examined, and all the facts connected with it were attested by many witnesses, and authenticated by notaries, professors, and surgeons. A bright red line appeared round the leg, and remained there during the life of Pellicer. The miracle was authentically published on the 27th of April, 1641, by the Archbishop of Saragossa."

Our Lady of the Pillar


It is curious that the necessity of magnanimity should be so little understood by Christians, seeing that it is an essential characteristic of the true spirit of our Divine Lord. While we are all more or less conscious of the obligation we lie under to practise humility, there are few among us who recognize, or at all events realize, the culpability of allowing the heart to be contracted by pusillanimity, a vice which is, nevertheless, as widely spread as pride itself, and is perhaps scarcely less prejudicial to the soul. So closely, indeed, is pusillanimity allied to pride, that there could hardly be a greater mistake than the common one of confounding pusillanimity with Christian humility, which is in fact its direct contradictory; for in the heart of the Christian, as in the Heart of our Lord Himself, magnanimity is the inseparable companion of true humility.

To be convinced of this truth, it is only necessary to place before our minds a true idea of the humility of the Heart of Jesus. It is a limitless humility. Never has any creature so sensibly felt, so clearly understood, and been so deeply convinced of its nothingness, as was the Sacred Humanity of our Lord. Enlightened in the first moment of its existence with the full splendour of Divine light, His human intellect compassed at once the abyss of nothingness from which it had been drawn by a purely gratuitous choice of Divine love, and the immensity of the glory to which it had been raised by an equally gratuitous choice. Hence there are in the Heart of Jesus two distinct yet inseparable feelings, springing from the luminous convictions of His intellect: the recognition of what He was in Himself as man, and the recognition of what He has become by the good pleasure of His Heavenly Father. Experiencing ineffable joy in comparing the two infinitely distant extremes united in His Divine Person, the Heart of our Lord contemplates with loving complacency the nothingness from which it was drawn to be raised to the dignity of the Hypostatic Union; and, as He understands this nothingness incomparably more perfectly than could be done by any mere creature, His humility is incomparably more profound than that of the humblest saints. And thus, as the Great Master of humility, He may well come to us with the words: Discite a me, quia mitis sum et humilis corde.(Learn of me for I am meek and humble of heart.)

II. But, let it be well understood, the sincerity of our Lord's humility in no sense detracts from the strength of His recognition of His own Divine dignity. On the contrary, knowing exactly, as He does, the infinite depth of the abyss from which His Human Nature was drawn, He understands all the more clearly the infinite height to which it is raised by union with the Word of God. He gives their exact value to His Divine prerogatives; He knows that, in uniting it to the Person of His Word, God the Father has extended to the Sacred Humanity that infinite complacency with which from all eternity He is Himself united to His only Son: that He "hath made Him heir of all things,"* and "commanded all His angels to adore Him."+ With all creation at His feet, vested in the absolute power given Him by the Eternal Father, our Divine Master sees moreover each act in the great drama of the world's history tend infallibly to His unfailing triumph and never-ending glory. Could He then have been on earth under the dominion of fears and desires that exercise so baneful an influence over other human hearts? Could temporal evils and temporal pleasures have had any weight with Him, Who is "yesterday, to-day, and the same for ever”?

* Heb. i. 2. t Heb. i. 6.

II. This perfect alliance of the most profound humility with Divine magnanimity, so obviously discernible in the Sacred Heart of our Lord, should be reproduced in its measure in the heart of every Christian. There is no need whatever to prove that we have all abundant motives for humbling and utterly abasing ourselves before God. Not only have we been drawn from nothingness by the purely gratuitous choice of Divine love, as was the Sacred Humanity of our Saviour; we have moreover, by our own free choice, plunged ourselves into an abyss deeper beyond measure than that from which our Creator called forth our being; and this second abyss—the abyss of sin—furnishes us with matter for confusion far more intense than that elicited by the contemplation of the nothingness essential to our nature. But as our finite intellect can never perfectly understand the foulness and injustice of sin, as it can never gauge the proportion that exists between a direct sinful act and our own personal degradation in its commission, it is clear that we can never adequately despise ourselves, and hence that our humility can never be sufficiently deep.

All this is quite true; and yet it would not be true Christian humility if it in any way lessened our appreciation of the gifts God has so lavishly bestowed upon us. On the contrary, the better we understand the depth of our degradation by sin, the more highly shall we value the supernatural dignity to which we have been raised by grace, the "great and precious promises " by which we are made "partakers of the Divine Nature" and "sons of God." Sharing then, though in a widely different proportion, the Divine Nature of our Lord Himself, how is it possible that we should be so slow to catch the magnanimity of His Spirit—like Him to despise temporal fears, to rise above earthly desires, and, in the unchanging calm of our fellowship with Him, to see in all transitory things creatures to help us to our own sanctification, and so to His greater glory and eternal triumph?

III. Such a thought as this carried into the practical working of our every-day lives, would infallibly help us to rise, and to rise rapidly, above the pusillanimity which is the too fruitful though unacknowledged cause of so many evils. It would help us to fight effectually against the mental and moral enervation that shows itself in every conceivable phase of rationalism and sensuality. It would prove at last that magnanimity is the source of our strength, the condition of our influence, and the necessary instrument of our Apostolate. This, then, is why the Church says to us in each day's Mass: Sursum corda. Children of God, remember your high dignity; Sursum corda (Lift up your hearts) to Him Who is your Last End, the "Lord high above all;" Sursum corda, that you may lead many, many more hearts to Him Who, "being lifted up, drew all things to Himself.”


Sacred Heart of Jesus! through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer Thee the prayers, labours, and crosses of this day, in expiation of our offences, and for all Thy other intentions.

I offer them in particular that all Thy servants may understand the Divine dignity with which Thou hast invested them. O Jesus, Who hast made us Thy brethren and members of Thy Body, implant in our hearts sentiments conformable to this sublime vocation.

For the triumph of the Church and Holy See, and the Catholic regeneration of nations.

September Aposolate of Prayer

Little Flowers (Chapter IX)

How St. Francis taught Friar Leo to make answer ; and how he was never able to speak save the contrary to that which St. Francis desired

ON a time in the beginning of the Order, St. Francis being with Friar Leo in a Place where they had not books for the saying of the divine office, when the hour of matins came, St. Francis said to Friar Leo : “ Most dear companion, we have no breviary where-with we can say matins ; but to the end that we may spend the time to the praise of God, I will speak and thou shalt answer as I will teach thee : and look to it that thou changest not the words otherwise than I shall teach thee. I will say thus : ‘ O Friar Francis, thou hast done so many evils and so many sins in the world that thou art worthy of hell' ; and thou shalt make answer : ' It - is a true thing that thou meritest the lowest hell ' ” And Friar Leo with dove-like simplicity replied : “ Willingly, father. Begin in the name of God.” Then St. Francis began to say: “O Friar Francis, thou hast done so many evils and so many sins in the world, that thou art worthy of hell”. And Friar Leo answered: “God shall do through thee so much good that by reason thereof thou shalt go to paradise”. Said St. Francis : “ Say not so, Friar Leo, but when I shall say, ‘ Friar Francis, thou hast done so many wicked things against God, that thou art worthy to be accursed from God,' answer thou thus: * Verily thou art worthy to be set among the accursed ' ”. And Friar Leo answered : “Willingly father”. Then St. Francis, with many tears and sighs and beatings of the breast, said with a loud voice : “ O my Lord of heaven and earth, I have committed so many wickednesses and so many sins against Thee that I am altogether worthy to be ac- cursed from Thee”; and Friar Leo answered: “O Friar Francis, God will make thee such an one that among the blessed thou shalt be singularly blessed ”. And St. Francis, marvelling that Friar Leo answered contrary to that which he had bidden him, rebuked him saying : “ Wherefore dost thou not answer as I teach thee ! I command thee by holy obedience to answer as I shall teach thee. I will speak thus : ‘ O Friar Francis, miserable sinner, thinkest thou that God will have mercy upon thee, seeing that thou hast committed so many sins against the Father of mercy and God of every consolation that thou art not worthy to find mercy ? ' And thou, Friar Leo, little sheep, shalt answer : ‘ On no wise art thou worthy to find mercy ' " But afterward when St. Francis said : “ O Friar Francis, miserable sinner,” etc., Friar Leo answered : " God the Father, whose mercy is infinitely greater than thy sin, will show thee great mercy, and thereabove will add unto thee much grace ”. At this reply, St. Francis, sweetly angered and patiently disquieted, said to Friar Leo : “ And wherefore hast thou had the presumption to do against obedience, and already so many times hast replied contrary to that which I have commanded thee?” Friar Leo answered very humbly and reverently : “ God knoweth, my father, that every time I have resolved in my heart to answer as thou hast bidden me ; but God maketh me to speak as it pleaseth Him, and not according to that which pleaseth me”. Thereat St. Francis marvelled and said to Friar Leo: “I beseech thee very lovingly that this time thou answer me as I have told thee ”. Friar Leo answered : “ Speak in the name of God, because of a surety this time I will answer as thou wouldst have me ”. And St. Francis weeping said: “O Friar Francis, miserable sinner, thinkest thou that God will have mercy upon thee?” Friar Leo answered: “ Yea, and not only so, but great grace shalt thou receive from God, and He shall exalt thee and glorify thee for ever, because whosoever humbleth himself shall be exalted , and I cannot speak otherwise in that God speaketh through my mouth ”. And on this wise, in that humble strife, with many tears and much spiritual consolation, they watched even until day.
Little flowers of St Francis


The illustration on the opposite page represents one of the most touching scenes in the annals of the early persecutions. It was at Rome in the reign of the Emperor Valerian. The aged Pope, St. Xystus, had been dragged to the Temple of Mars, and, on his refusal to offer sacrifice, was led out to execution. On his way he met his holy Deacon, St. Laurence, the Almoner of the Roman Church. St. Laurence knelt for his blessing, and tenderly reproached him for going to death alone. "Holy Priest, whither art thou hastening without thy deacon? It was never thy wont to celebrate the Sacrifice without a minister!" The aged Pontiff knew the true solid gold of the heart of St. Laurence, and he promised him that in a short time they should be together. "I leave thee not, nor desert thee, my son. Greater conflicts for Christ await thee. The Levite shall follow the Priest after three days. Meanwhile, if thou hast in the treasury anything, distribute it to the poor." The feast of St. Xystus is kept on August 6th, the feast of the glorious martyr St. Laurence on August 10th.


An alarming feature of Catholic faith is the indifference, the indulgence with which error is regarded so commonly amongst us. If faith is the most essential of all the elements of all the soul's life, then indifference to that which kills faith—and such is error-—is a mortal malady.

The hatred of error and the love of truth are not two things but one, two forms of the same passion, and they are inseparable. They will inevitably have the same degree of intensity, they grow and diminish together; and as the vigour of the will and character depend wholly upon the energy of the convictions, unless error is hated, the moral life must languish, souls grow weak, wills become irresolute, characters degraded, and either delusive ambitions, or sordid objects, take the place of noble aspirations and high thoughts. This is not nearly understood, not nearly enough thought of by us. We live in the midst of a people who in the very riot of a false toleration realize to the letter what St. Leo once said of Pagan Rome: "But this city, forgetful of Him who had made her great, while surpassing all others in power, made herself subject to all others in error, and she conceived herself to have embraced all that is true, because she repudiated nothing that is false."* There is no god so filthy as to find here no worshippers, no creed so revolting or so noxious as to fail to find amongst both a preacher and a shrine. And we Catholics grow used to this, and with custom grows a certain spirit of toleration of which we do not see the harm—but the harm is great for all that. It is not, perhaps, the grosser forms of folly which more commonly bewitch us (though spiritism has worked sad havoc in many a Catholic conscience)—but errors more subtle and less repulsive in appearance, of which the name is legion—are these hated? How many are there who put away the journals and magazines in which they are advocated, with disgust? How many are there who prefer to feed their minds with pure Catholic teaching to the enjoyment of a lively sophism, a brilliant lie? How entirely, how systematically, is not daily journalism subordinated to the support of what is not only false, but often caluminous and cruel, to the bolstering of an error which is loved, and only half unconsciously—yet see how we sit at the feet of such apostles as these! Oh, certainly, if old Mathathias + came to die in London now, his last words of exhortation would not be less burning, his reproaches less severe.

No, it is a sad truth that there is but little hatred of error, and, as a necessary consequence, but little fervour in our love of truth. We keep our faith indeed, but it is, and it is often, but cold, lethargic, and unfruitful; and the reason is that error is not hated as God hates it. One of the sins against the Holy Ghost, one of the most monstrous and diabolic, is to impugn the known truth. It is done every day on thousands of pages read by Catholics in England, done for hire, done in obedience to a mot d’ordre, (the theme) as well as from prejudice and from malice. Does it inspire the hatred of the error and the sin which St. Paul would have us feel? Alas, how rarely! Want of serious thought, want of interest, want of zeal for truth, is the only explanation, and a sad explanation it is. If - such lassitude had existed in Catholic Germany ten years ago, where would Catholic Germany be now? Let us reflect that we, who alone possess truth with absolute certainty, have the right and the power to oppose to error an effective resistance; amidst all around us there is not a principle so fundamental as to escape bold attack, even contemptuous denial, and this even from those whose names are great. Respectability is the English barrier against a thousand ideas which threaten to devour and engulf the very decencies of a social life no more sincerely Christian—how long shall that barrier stand?

Our duty, then, if we love Catholic truth, is to abominate that which is against Catholic truth, and the energy of our abomination will be the measure of the Catholicity of our lives. Error is odious to God, and we are not like God unless we hate it. There is no room to-day amongst us for those whose bland tolerance is a more pregnant source of mischief than an apostacy. The truth which claims our homage is no cold abstraction, it is the living truth of the Word, and to dally with it is to dishonour Him from whom it comes, and who gave His life that we might have it.
* Serm. i. In nat. SS. Pet. et Pauli.
+ I Mach. ii. 49.

Our associates will see that they have much to pray for, much which, if the interests of the Sacred Heart are dear to them, will make them pray well.

Sacred Heart of Jesus! through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer Thee the prayers, labours, and crosses of this day, in expiation of our offences, and for all Thy other intentions.

I offer them in particular to obtain for Catholic hearts that vigorous hatred of error, without which they cannot love Thy truth. Heal them, O Jesus, of that deadly indifference, which is a greater harm to souls than open wickedness. Amen.

For the triumph of the Church and Holy See, and the Catholic regeneration of nations.

Hatred of Error

Confraternity of Bona Mors



There is no pulpit more solemn than the death-bed. Every word spoken from it is a text from which many useful sermons might be preached. The dying Christian is to us as a prophet, an apostle, and martyr. In his pangs are our own foretold, in his faith we are taught how to preach Christ, in his submission an example is set us how to lay down our lives for the Lord. He who is passing away then has no need as other preachers have to conciliate his hearers, for the circumstance of his being are of themselves enough to arrest attention without the help of any of the tricks of art.
The faltering voice struggling to bid its last farewell, or to breathe a word of comfort, or to give a last advice, appeals to our hearts with an eloquence all its own. It is you know as the sun is setting that it throws its richest and most mellow tints upon the surrounding landscape, and it is as man is sinking into his grave that he utters his sweetest and most tender words to those who are met around him. And hence, brethren, it is that we cross the threshold of the dimly lighted room, to bend in stillness over the bed of him whose limbs are straightening for the grave, we strain to read in the thin white face every secret it has to tell, and, as we wipe away the dampness on his brow, we gaze intently upon the quivering lips, so only we may interpret what messages they fain would breathe, what prayer they struggle to pray.

If such be our attitude for the most part in the presence of any one whose life is passing away, more particularly is it so when he who is struggling with death is some dear friend or relative, a wife, a child, our father or mother. Then no distance is thought too long to travel, provided only we may be by in the hour of their extremity, and lend them our loving aid.

To-day, brethren, we have left our homes and occupation to meet around the death-bed of One Who is no mere kinsman, neighbour, or friend to us, but Who is nearer and dearer far to our hearts than wife or child, father or mother, for is not Jesus Christ moreover our Redeemer and our Life, our God our All? Into whose sweet face but His can we look up and say, "What have I in Heaven, and, besides Thee, what do I desire upon earth?" In less than three hours that adored face will be shrouded with the mantle of death.

And was there ever such a death-bed scene as this which we are witnessing? Instead of the comforts of home, see, He is exposed to the rude, rough blasts of curly Cavalry's hill-top; instead of a comfortable bed, He is forced to lie on the roughhewn cross; for a pillow, there is a crown of thorns, and through His sacred hands, in which we would place an image of His Blessed Mother, they have driven iron nails, transfixing them like His feet to the hard cold wood of the Cross.

Well may we wonder why the birds of the air do not hover round to make a canopy over His Head, why the beasts do not rush forth from the forests to lend their warm furs to cover His Body, stripped of its clothing, and defiled with wounds and blood and spittle.

Abandoned by His Father, betrayed by one disciple, left by the rest, yelled at by the rabble, with Priest and Scribe, and Jew and Gentile, vying with one another in their jeers and taunts at Him, Jesus is hanging between earth and Heaven with no one to comfort Him in His hour of shame. "I looked for one who would comfort Me, and I found none."

His Blessed Mother, yes, she of course is here, but her sorrow does but serve to add to His. Where then are they to whom He restored their sight, why are they not by to offer Him their tears of sympathy? And they to whom He miraculously gave the use of speech, why are not they at hand to proclaim His innocence? And the five thousand whom He fed in the desert, why have not they come with balm to stanch His wounds, and draughts to slake His thirst? Where is the Ruler and Nicodemus, Lazarus and Zacchaeus? Of all these thousands to whom He lovingly ministered in life, can only a few women, with the ardent John, be found to accompany the broken-hearted Mother to His deathbed?

Oh, my brethren, it is the same old story all the world over. Men will follow Jesus when there are loaves and fishes to be had, but not when He calls them to share His shame and to lend Him the comfort of their sympathy and love. We at least will keep by Him to the very last, and as we fix our eyes upon His bleeding face, and drink in with reverence and with love every word He has to say, we will apply them, each of them, as if they were spoken, as they will be, for our own individual hearts. For, remember this, brethren, if Jesus is our model in life, still more so is He our model in death. If each of us must learn a lesson from Him in His crib at Bethlehem, in His home at Nazareth, in the Temple at Jerusalem, under temptation in the desert, in His prayer in the garden, most of all must we learn from Him in His death on Calvary. For we all have to die, and without the example of His death, Who sanctified by the pains of His Body and the anguish of His mind which He then endured, all the trouble which will gather round our souls in the hour of our extremity, I know not how we can hope to promise ourselves a happy death.

You all want your lives to be crowned by a happy death; your very presence here to-day is itself a proof of it. Let me then ask you to put away from your hearts all distracting thoughts during these precious hours, and at the foot of the Cross now ask through the Angel of the Agony, through the sorrows of the Mother, by the merit of the five wounds, and the seven words, that we may every one of us learn from our Lord's death-bed, how to live our lives so as to die our deaths in union with Christ upon the Cross.


The first hour of the three begins. The noise of the nailing is over, the Cross has been raised and let down with a jolt into the place prepared for it. Between earth and heaven Jesus is hanging on the Cross, pierced in His hands and feet by iron nails. Around Him, and rending the air with their yells, stand the rabble mob, the soldiers, the scribes, and the priests. By His side His Mother takes her place, and there she will remain till the work of death is done. She has glanced up at the Bleeding Face, and thought it more beautiful and precious to her now than ever it looked as it reposed in sleep in years gone by upon her bosom, and she longs to hear the accents of His sweet familiar voice once more before He dies.

But Jesus is holding ineffable communion with the Father. He is pleading with Him for these very murderers from whom He is suffering most of all, but that Father has asked what excuse can be found for the sin of crucifixion. The Sacred Heart has invented an excuse, and now Jesus breaks the silence—not to breathe a word of comfort to the Mother, not to thank the virgin John that he at least is loyal to His Master, no not to assuage the sorrow of Magdalen sobbing at His feet. Oh, no! His prayer all along has been for those who needed most His mediation. He from the first has forgiven every sin and sinner, and now that His Sacred Heart has found an excuse which with the Father must have weight, He looks up and prays aloud, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Look up at your Elder Brother, does He not seem to say, Father, though now I cannot bend my knees before you, nor lift my outstretched arms, now bow my Head in prostrate adoration, yet here on my hard bed of the Cross I ask you, if you love your Son, to hear my dying prayer. I am He of whom it is written, " He shall call upon Me, and I will hear Him." It is not for myself I now am pleading, I will drink the chalice to the very dregs, I will stay upon My bed of pain till My work of life is done. Spare not Me, for I am laden with the sins of all, but pity those for whom I am offering up My death. No longer do I ask you if it is possible, but I claim as My right as your only Son that you will ratify in Heaven the pardon I now extend to every sinner on the earth. Oh, pardon every sin and sinner ere I breathe My last.

Oh, notice, brethren, the loving tenderness of the excuse accompanying this—"They know not what they do."

Jesus has clearly before His failing sight the hearts of each one of us, He has looked it through and through if perchance some spark of love Divine might therein be found, and He has found so little, that He has been forced to frame an excuse for our sins which none but His love could dare to offer to the outraged majesty of His Father. It is the only excuse left.

Oh, beautiful unending prayer, true of every sinner! No one knows what he does when he gives way to sin. Oh, eloquent appeal, pleading with force as strong upon the love of our poor wayward hearts, as it does efficaciously upon the mercy of His Father.

But, brethren, can it really be said that we know not what we do when we sin? Has God condemned the rebel host, and opened up the deep pit, and visited upon His the chastisement our sins deserve, and yet can it be said we know not what we do? Did not Cain know what he did when he murdered his elder brother? Did not Solomon know what he did when he abandoned himself to his vices? Did not Peter, and Judas, and Pilate, and Herod, and Priests and Scribes, and Jews and Gentiles, know what they did in the hour of the power of darkness? Do not you know what you do when you deliberately sit down to sin —plan your sins—rush into the occasions of sin, and are greedy to find out new methods of sinning? Can young men feel their life wasting away under the ravages brought on by their long continued habits of sin, and it be said they know not what they do?

No, my brethren, truely none of us know what we do. Surely if it were given us to understand the frightful enormity, the hideous malice of a single mortal sin, if we could see but for one moment what a revolting object a soul is that is steeped in one mortal sin, no power in the world would be ever strong enough to induce us to give way again. But now we have heard the loving excuse made for us from the dying lips of our agonizing Brother, we ought to be persuaded that this very knowledge, that the malice of sin is past our comprehension, will make up a great part of the enormity of our sin if ever we come to fall again. But for you, brethren, it is enough to look upon the work of sin as you see it in the condition to which it has brought the Son of sinless Mary, to fill your souls with a horror of the past and resolutions of amendment for the future. This, then, remember. The day is not far distant when you too will be face to face with death. It will then be all-important for you to bear in your hearts no malice, grudge, or bitterness towards friend or foe. For what at that hour would profit you, your protests of love for God, if you will not forgive those He forgives and loves, if you will not find some excuse for what may have been their cruelty towards you. In the measure we forgive those that trespass against us, we ourselves will be forgiven our trespasses against our Father.

But some of you may say, How can I forgive such an one who has robbed me of my good name, injured my reputation, or kept from me what was my due? If there be any one here present so minded, any one who still bears rancour in his heart, let him argue with himself as he might with some dear friend whom he knew to be about to appear before his Judge in these dispositions. Take up your crucifix, and fixing your eyes upon the mangled Body of your Saviour, ask yourself what was the first word of the seven uttered by those dying lips upon the Cross. And then turn to your own black heart. Say, Have my enemies treated me as cruelly, as savagely, as I myself have treated Jesus my Saviour? Where are the nails piercing my hands, digging my feet? Does a thorny crown press upon my head? Where are the wounds and scars upon my body, inflicted by the thongs and the scourge?—and you will exclaim, Not a hair of my head have they touched, not one drop of my blood have they shed. No, but they have spoken evil against me. And was it before impious judges in open court that they bore false witness? Have they dragged me through the streets, to be hissed and hooted at by the rabble? Was it on my death-bed that they gathered round in throngs to assail me with their foul-mouthed villainies.

Oh, dear brethren, if instead of hugging our grievances, of pondering over our real and imaginary wrongs till we magnify them beyond all measurement, we would but learn quietly and patiently to compare them with what our dear Lord has had to put up with from our own selves, they would dwindle into insignificance, and we should rejoice that we had something to suffer which made us more Christ-like.

Besides, we may always ask ourselves, What good have I done to men that they should treat me better than our Lord was treated? Have I spent my life in setting good example, in being a model of every virtue? On the contrary, have I not gone about spreading discord, doing evil myself, and setting others an example of sin?

For if men could read on our foreheads the true story of our life, as Jesus Christ reads it written in our hearts, how many friends should we have remaining to us? Would there be one besides Him and His Mother?

Oh, make your dying Brother this promise, before we pass on to consider the second word, that never will you lie down to rest at night with rancour gnawing at your heart, that if you can find no excuse for the evil done you, you will offer up His first word, and say it in His dispositions: "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Then, brethren, when your turn shall come to lie down to rise no more, this same disposition will reign in your heart. And then in your extremity Jesus Christ will offer up this same kind prayer for you, and all your sins will be wiped away, and you will die with Christ upon the Cross.


On Calvary there are three crosses. On the middle one hangs the mangled body of the King of the Jews, on the other two are writhing two thieves, one on the right hand of Jesus, and one on the left. These two men are known to us by the names of the good thief and the bad thief. As we look upon this strange and awful sight of Jesus on His Cross between these two outcasts of society, we are natality led to think of another day when the Son of Man will appear with this same sign of the Cross in the clouds of heaven, and shall summon to His right hand and on His left all those who to-day are represented by the good and by the wicked thief. Then Jesus will appear on His throne of justice as now on His throne of mercy. Now His one long-continued prayer is for mercy upon His enemies, and if we could enter into the hearts of these two culprits who are undergoing their deserved chastisement, we might then learn how Divine Pity is busy at its work. Grace, like flights of angels, has come down from the mercy-seat, and now hovers over these two human hearts, wooing them to repent and apply the merits of Christ's prayer to their sin-stained souls. Even grace may do no more than this. Though with its ineffable beauty it may lure men to repent, though by the whisperings of its sweet voice it may plead with strangely beautiful eloquence, it may put no constraint upon the freedom of man's will, it may not catch us by main force from the bondage of sin into love's pure liberty. Though God made us without our cooperation, He will not save us unless we will it. What new triumph of grace can the angels record this day? Will these two criminals, whose singular privilege it is to die in the very presence of Jesus and His Blessed Mother, accept the grace offered to them, sweetly urged upon them by the words of the Son and the tears of the Mother? Listen, brethren, for from the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh. What say the robbers? He who is on the left of the Holy One of Israel speaks first. And oh, must I say it—to utter blasphemies against his Lord. "If Thou be Christ, save Thyself and us "—is the only answer he has to make to grace. But, blessed be God, he on the right rebukes his fellow-criminal, saying to him, " Neither dost thou fear God, seeing that thou art under the same condemnation, and we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds, but this Man hath done no evil" Thus speaks, in his last agony, a robber, one who by profession is a highwayman, a man with seared conscience, without instruction, now delivered over by Divine Justice into the hands of human justice. In a moment, quicker than I can tell you, his mind is given to see that to revile our Lord in His shame is to be void of the fear of God, that to bear his own in union with Christ is to atone for his past sins. He confesses his own guilt, preaches the Divine innocence of Jesus, and of an unbeliever becomes a confessor of the faith, of a criminal becomes a glorious martyr. Oh, the unction of his contrition, the wonders of his confidence!

"Lord, remember me when Thou shalt come into Thy Kingdom." And Jesus lifts His drooping head, and turning His gracious eyes upon His own repentant sinner, says to him with melting tenderness, " This day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise." If the humble request of the contrite Dymas is full of confidence, the promise made by his dying Lord is the answer of One Who had come to call not the just but sinners. Poor Dymas, the picture of his past sinful life stood out before him in all its frightful hideousness, and he saw no means of making reparation. He had but a few more hours of life, and then he must appear before another tribunal more searching far than any judgment-seat on earth, and even were his sins to be blotted out in the Blood of his Saviour, he felt his past life had been barren of all good, and he therefore throws himself on his Lord's goodness, pleading " Lord, remember me." Repentant, stricken sinner ! never, Dymas, didst thou know before how loving is that Heart thou hadst pierced so often, or surely thou wouldst have offended less. The three hours' companionship of Christ upon the Cross taught thee more theology than we learn in our lives.

Brethren, the whole Gospel narrative bristles with the wondrous deeds wrought by Jesus Christ, but this sweet incident told of the triumph of Jesus in His death over a criminal undergoing the sentence of death is without its parallel. So long as there is life there is hope for the worst of us.

But if this beautiful death-bed conversion teaches us never to despair, the equally dreadful obstinacy in sin of the other thief may well make us tremble with fear. Oh, the frightful evil consequences of resistance to the voice of grace, of putting off repentance till the hour of death; for we are not likely to have such wondrous supernatural helps then as the wicked thief had offered him. We shall not have the example of Dymas; not the presence of Jesus seen with our bodily eyes; not the audible accents of His sweet voice urging us to repent; not the quick-falling tears of His gentle disconsolate Mother.

Remember this every day of your lives: grace is waiting to find admittance into your heart. If you resist it in life, what reason have you to believe you will cooperate with it in death? Let me beg of you, as you love your souls, never to lie down to rest with grace still knocking at your heart; let in the angel messenger and chase away the evil one before you fall to sleep, lest some night you wake up as others have, to find yourself hopelessly lost and for ever. Do not flatter yourselves that you may live without Jesus and then find His mercy in death. May we all remember we too are thieves; we have robbed God of His glory; we have stolen from Him and given to others the praise, the reverence, and the service which He alone had the right to claim. And death is already upon our track. And as the detective will lay hold of the thief when he thinks himself most secure, so death will find us out when we least expect, and there is no time to put ourselves right with the outraged justice of God. Let us then, one and all, like the repentant thief, confess our sins before our crucified Lord, and ask Him to remember us; to remember us now, and each hour of our lives, not in justice but in mercy, and give us grace so to live, that when we too come at last to be stretched upon our cross—for to whom is not his death-bed a cross—we may look to hear on our severance from the body the blessed words, "Thou shalt be with me in Paradise!”


Twice has Jesus raised His drooping Head to speak. He lias prayed for His enemies, His persecutors, His murderers, and He has absolved poor Dymas dying by His side. And now He is about to break the stillness of the air to do a further kindness to prove the love He bears to His Holy Church and all its children.

It is to her whose eyes never wander from His sacred face that this word of grace is spoken. She stands a little way aside from the Cross, in her obedience to the Divine decree surpassing the holy Patriarch Abraham, for while he was prepared to sacrifice by God's command His son Isaac, Mary has offered up her only Son to appease the wrath of the Father. In union with the great High Priest, in union with the Church which He represented, she stood at the Altar of the Cross, assisting there and offering the Victim of sin, even as she assists at every Mass that is being offered up day and night in all parts of the earth.

Mary's place beside the Cross is rather that of the second Eve than of Mother. As Mother she can offer her Son no relief, She may not reach His sacred face to wipe away the tears and blood that are blinding His aching eyes. She may not untie the cruel crown which penetrates His throbbing brow. No word of sweet comfort may she utter, but in silence ponder in her heart all the wonders that are wrought, that so she may hereafter relate them to His Spouse the Church. As Eve beneath the tree of the forbidden fruit became the mother of the dead, and Adam brought sin into the world and with sin death, so Jesus the second Adam on the tree brought grace into the world and with grace life; and Mary the second Eve beneath the tree upon which the fruit of her womb is hanging becomes Mother of all the living. She stands before the world now fulfilling the prophecy of her that she should crush the serpent's head. Jesus looks upon her, that woman who was more to Him than ever woman has been to any other son, the woman who alone of all His creatures was singled out to be His Mother, and now He was going to install her in her office of second Eve. The beloved disciple was by her side, and Jesus speaks to her, "Woman, behold thy Son: Son, behold thy Mother."

Mary heard the word, effectual and more piercing than any two-edged sword, reaching unto the division of her soul and of her spirit, and it was given her to understand the meaning of the mystery. She knew by that word she was made the Mother of all those represented by the newly-ordained disciple. It was a creative word creating in the heart of Mary a passionate love for the children brought forth in sorrow. Her thoughts went forth to that other Annunciation when, in her silent chamber at midnight, the angel broke in upon her extatic (ecstatic) prayer to proclaim her Mother of God. And now, in the dim light of the eclipse, her silent prayer is interrupted by the very Angel of the Lord making her Mother of all mankind. Oh! the thrill of joy that went with the first Motherhood, and what a pang of grief with the second; John instead of Jesus, the servant instead of her Lord, the disciple instead of the Master, the son of Zebedee for the Son of God!

Children of her sorrow are to replace the Child of her joy. But the supreme calm of Mary's soul remains unruffled, and her whole nature rises up to meet the word, her lips still murmuring low, "Be it done unto me according to thy word." From that moment Mary entered upon her great, anxious charge, the charge of the Mother of all the brethren of Jesus. And the disciple took her as his own.

Oh, wondrous mystery of surpassing love, that Jesus should have made over to us, should have trusted to our poor keeping her, the only one who always loved Him with all the vehemence of her soul, and the only one for whom He had the love of a son for a mother.

But Jesus knew His Church would be no real home for his children, unless they too were nurtured and nursed and taught by the tender love and care of a Mother. What is it, brethren, to have a mother? Ask those who have lost a mother—for they best can tell. It is to have one whose love nobody can replace in our heart. It is to have one who can never do enough for us, one of whose sympathy we always may be sure, into whose ear we may pour the story of all our woes, our wrongs, our sins, and who will support and bear us up no matter how dark our life may look, no matter what evils may befall us, and who will be our sure comfort in the evil hour. This it is what Mary is to us. If she is not all this to each one of us the fault is our own, for we are her children, the children of her sorrow, filling her heart, for a little sorrow fills the heart even if it takes a joy that is infinite to replenish it Brethren, honour your Mother, for she is the Mother of Jesus; pity your Mother, for she is the Mother of the seven-fold sorrows; love your Mother, for she is always proving hers for you; cling to your Mother, for then you will cling to Jesus; leave her not lest you leave your Elder Brother. Take warning from Peter and the other disciples. Had they been by their Mother like blessed John, they would have been nearer Jesus.

Young men, behold your Mother, look on her when the Evil One would lead you off into sin. Behold her beauty and grow disenchanted with the charms of the sinner Behold her spotless virginity, and refrain from your deeds of shame. Let none be afraid of loving her too much, the more you love her the more she will make you love her Son. Look into the lives of those who have loved her most and be satisfied.

And now Jesus is stretched on his death-bed to teach us how to die. How does He die? With His Mother by His side. His last bequest to us is the gift of her that she may be by our side too when our hour shall come.

We are always asking her to pray for us now and at the hour of our death. May we not hope and pray that no matter when or how death may come she at last may be near to help us in the evil hour? Whether visibly or invisibly let that be as God wills. Whether we hear the accents of her sweet voice, or only feel its effects, at least she must promise this, not to let us die without her. Fear not, brethren, she will surely be by the death of every one of us if only we are devout to her. Bear her image about you, recite her Litany and her Rosary, often tell her you love her, and prove it to her by greater purity of life, deeper reverence for the Divine commands, by more frequent confessions and communions. Then when we fall asleep it will be in her arms, and we shall wake to behold our Mother enthroned in glory beside her own sweet son Jesus.


Many touching lessons we have already learnt from the dying lips of our crucified Brother, wonderful examples He has set us how rightly we are to die. Every word uttered from the Tree of Shame midst pains indescribable has sunk deep into our sorrowing hearts, and we have been taught that the first disposition for a happy death is to be at peace with all the world, and like Him to find out some loving excuse for the wanton malice of our foes, no matter what cruel wrongs they have done us, perchance—let us forgive: "They knew not what they did,"' that so our own transgressions may be forgiven without the need of cleansing fires to keep us back a day from Paradise. Our souls thus reconciled with God and all mankind, holy Mary will minister to us, be sure, through all that agony to which the mind and body falls a prey when the soul is struggling to free itself from the ligaments of the flesh. For such is our nature, brethren, such the penalty of its first revolt, that death is usually the hour of the powers of darkness, of darkness not such as Christ our Elder Brother went through, but yet of darkness worse than any of Egypt—a darkness of the mind. Oh, the terrible dereliction which Christ endured that we might be strengthened in the valley of the shadow of death!

The pain of loss is pain in its most searching form. It is the keenest torture of the damned, and it is the most poignant known on earth. Ask the young wife if words can tell the anguish of her mind when news had reached her from the field of battle that he for whom she lived has fallen—is no more. Ask the mother what grief shot through her soul like a flame when her little one has died before its time. Ask the Queen of Martyrs what the seventh sword of sorrow did in her heart when He who drew His Blood from her was laid in her lap with all His beauty faded, silent and lifeless. But what are all these forms of unutterable woe to compare with that to which our Elder Brother willed to yield Himself when in the supreme moment of His mental anguish He cried out upon the Cross, "My God, My God, why hast Thou abandoned Me?" 0, my Mother, how the words transfixed thee to the Cross! Was He then abandoned on His bed of death by His Heavenly Father at the very moment when the gathering horror of His loneliness seemed to ask more aid? Was it possible that He who is very God of very God should have been left without succour of His own Divine personality, left by His Father, abandoned by the Spirit of Comfort? No, though His sinless soul might part from His adorable Body, the Divinity remained unseparable from each. That awful cry breaking like thunder through the preternatural darkness on Calvary is to tell to all the world that the tide of suffering possible for human nature to endure has reached its fullest height. It was the human cry of the Sacred Heart choosing for our sake to endure anguish of soul with no Divine support sensibly lent from on high. Jesus will not use His Divine power to screen Himself, He puts away the defences of His Divine Nature that as man He might experience what depth of woe the human mind may sound.

Till He looked up into the darkness of the heavens and the cry of bitterest anguish vibrated through the air, no word had He spoken of His own keen torments. But now He willed to prove to all the redeemed what price the redemption cost Him, what were the pangs and woes which filled His Soul in death that their passage might be through smooth waters to the haven of rest . What lesson, then, are we to take home to our hearts from the fourth word spoken from the Cross? It must be this, to remember that the keenest form of suffering—dereliction by God—is spared us on our death-bed by the merit which our Elder Brother reaped for us by His dereliction on the death-bed of the Cross; and not to forget that if only we live our life hidden with Christ in God, God our Father too will despatch Divine succours to uphold us at its close. Then Mary's care will cherish us and our heavenly Father's smile will bathe our souls in light and peace and love, as the shades of evil are chased and fade away for ever.

Jesus cried from the Cross to merit for us the grace and strength to bear through life whatever loss we may sustain in the absence of those in whom we trust, in whose love we live, who are our comfort and support; to merit for us the grace to bear God's will from day to day, in aridity in prayer, in the sense of loneliness, and want of Divine help. Brethren, never abandon God in life,"and He will not abandon you in death. Cling to Him in joy and in sorrow, and in trial, by day and by night, in the sacraments of the Church, in the word of His command. Whatever you lose, lose not Him, or if you lose, seek Him straight, knock till He opens, and then hold Him fast and never let Him go, till in death you fall asleep on His breast, where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are at rest.


We have dwelt upon the fourth word spoken by our Lord when the agony of His soul had reached its highest point. We will now pause to meditate on that fifth word, "I thirst," which reveals us the pangs brought on by the physical pains of His Body. He had cause for thirst. Since He had drunk the chalice with His disciples the night before nothing had moistened His fever-scorched lips but the wine mingled with gall. He had passed three terrible hours in the garden which had well nigh drained Him of His Precious Blood as well as strength. Then add to this the frightful strain undergone during those long hours of the night when He was delivered up to be the sport of soldiers whose brutality need fear no blame. And the morning brought with it no relief. From early dawn till the sun was full in the heavens he was dragged from one tribunal to another, jostled by the mob, flouted by the priests, hooted and hissed at by the very children whom He had greeted with blessings and a smile. Next followed the scourging which stripped Him of His flesh so that His bones could be numbered. They had not spared even His Sacred Head. He must be made to wear a crown of thorns piercing to the very bone till the whole Head throbs with fierce fever. Then forget not the burden of the Cross under whose weight He staggered and fell almost to swoon away. The nails were burning in His hands and feet, and unutterable pain is searching out every part of that most sensitive Body. Surely He hath borne our infirmities and carried our sorrows. He was wounded for our iniquities, He was bruised for our sins. Surely he has reserved for Himself a death in which is summed up every crudest form of physical pain and sleeplessness, long continuance of torments, publicity of shame, exposure to the chilling blasts, all intensified to the point in which endurance was possible, and stopping short just of that point which brings the relief of unconsciousness. Oh, cast an eye of pity on Him as He hangs between earth and Heaven, His most sensitive and delicate Body supported entirely on four gaping wounds, so that it is not possible for Him even to move His Sacred Head to look upon His Mother without increasing their thrilling pain. And yet how can He long be still, stretched on such a rack as this, a fierce thirst parching all the juices of life, His lacerated veins and crushed tendons throbbing with burning fever. The arteries are swollen and surcharged with blood, His whole frame craving for water, but one drop must not moisten His lips; He must bear the torment as He best can, till He suffers death to bring Him release from His pain.

Oh, the agony of the thirst brought on by physical pain which broke the silence of our Brother on the Cross by the piteous cry, "I thirst."

Was there ever thirst like His? Did ever shipwrecked mariner burn with more agonizing thirst? Was wounded soldier on the field of battle ever tormented with such intolerable agony? Did Dives himself plead for one drop of water to cool his parched tongue with more piteous cry than Christ upon the Cross? Yet we know this pain has been enough in the case of strong men to sweep reason from its throne, so that there is no departure from life we can imagine more horrible than death from thirst.

Oh, poor forlorn Mother, to have to stand by and be unable to allay the agony of thy Son!

And now, brethren, ask yourselves why has the sinless Son of Man endured all this?

Was it not to prove in deed that He has loved us to the end? Was it not that the martyrs on racks, under the fangs of wild beasts, that confessors laden in prison with their chains, might be able to look up to the Cross and say, "Thy love, sweet Jesus, is deeper than mine?" Was it not that we might live to endure our small pains in union with Him? That instead of shirking our little troubles and ridding ourselves of the pangs and ills that flesh is heir to, we might press them to our hearts and wear them as a precious relic of the Saviour's Cross; that we might press the chalice to our lips to taste what He has drank to the very dregs for us; that we might prove that while we love Him at the table, most of all we love Him on the Cross? And so when death comes we will thirst to suffer all its pangs for Him and thirst for more, and He will come to pour the balm of holy oils, and not great nails into our wounded hands and feet, and upon our tongues place the Bread of the strong, and from the tree of the Cross press the juice, not of gall, but of his Precious Blood, into our lips, and turn all our thirst into craving for the strong living God, to see His beauty and His glory, to slake our thirst at the gushing streams of His love. Then shall be heard the accents of His voice whispering, "Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow. Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here, and I will come and wake thee on the morrow."


Most of us, I dare say, can recall that strangely awful feeling of relief, mingled with regret, that has come over us when we were told by the death-bed of one, over whom we had lovingly watched during a lingering painful illness, " It is all over: it is finished."

We drew a sigh of relief to think at last the suffering was ended, the crown deserved and won, and then like summer tempest came our tears; we sobbed because the loved one was gone and we were lonely and desolate. From what our feelings have been we imagine something of our Blessed Mother's feelings as she heard this sixth word from her agonizing Son, "It is finished." She will help us, if only we ask her, to penetrate the meaning of this wondrous word, " It is finished." What is finished? all is finished. All the prophecies are fulfilled, atonement for every sin is made. The cup of suffering which our sins had filled to overflowing has been drank to the dregs. Sinners have done their worst, and Jesus has loved us to the end, to the end of love, to the end of life. He may now die and we can live, live His life over again, for He has taught us how to do it, and made ready the means. By his birth at Bethlehem Jesus has sanctified the beginning of life, by His thirty years at Nazareth he has taught us how to live in domestic peace, by His public ministry how to deal with men doing good, by His prayer in the garden how to pray even in sadness unto death, by His Passion how to bear calumny, reproach and pain, by His death upon the Cross how to die and be obedient unto death. His life of example then is finished. But more than this, He has provided for the wants of each of us. He has set up His Church, the treasure-house in which each one of us may find the graces necessary to live His life, and die His death over again. He had each one of us before Him in all the actions of His life, and He lived His thirty-three years for each separate soul as though there had been no other for whom to live and die, so that each one of us may say, In His life He had my life before Him, in His agony my agony, in His death my death. And because He knew so well that in the sorrows of death it would be difficult for me to possess my soul in that patience, resignation, and contrition which I could wish, He has anticipated all this for me in His own patience, resignation, and contrition for all sin, so that all I shall have to do in that dread moment will be to unite myself with Him upon the Cross, and if I be in grace all His Divinely holy acts my Father will take as mine. What more could our Elder Brother have done for those He loved to the end?

Let us now draw closer round His bed of death to receive His blessing ere His eyes are closed in death, and we will ask Him to grant us this one grace, that when we come to die we too may be able to say, "It is finished "—not only our term of life in this world of woe, but the work set us to do. For we each of us, like Him, are sent into this world to do a definite and distinct work, and till it, or expiation for its incompleteness, be done, we cannot be admitted to see our Father's face at home. This then is the advice I give you met around the Cross. Bear and do God's will from day to day. The past is gone, the future is not yet, the present day alone is ours. What can be worse than for us to be harping on the past? You will say to me, "but the past is laden with sin!" repair it then by the wellspent present, by acts of sorrow for the past, not that past sins are not already forgiven, but because we can never be too sorry for having offended God. Live in the present, the future is not yet, and how do you know that you will ever see the rising of tomorrow's sun? Leave the future to the future; what God wants of us is to live from hour to hour, bearing His holy will, bearing the trials, the sorrows, and the troubles which are fitted to the graces and the blessings of the hour. This we all can do, and this is all He asks us when doing His holy will from day to day, doing it perfectly, doing finished work, so that at the end of our prayer we may be able to say, "It is finished;" at the end of our domestic duties to say, "It is finished; at the end of our hours of business and of work to say, "It is finished;" at the end of confession, and of pious reading, and holy Mass, and Benediction, and examination of conscience, to be able to say, "It is finished." And at the end of the day as we lie down to rest with out beads around our necks, kissing the crucifix, and image of our Mother in our hands, we may be able to offer up the whole day to God, and take our rest in peaceful consciousness that the day is past and finished, finished perfectly, for it has all been for God, offered through the hands of Jesus and Of Mary.

Is there any one here present who can dare to look up into the dying face of Christ and say he cannot do this? If there is, let him know with that word he is gainsaying the word of Christ. He is saying Christ is dying before His time, that His work is not finished. For His work was this, to provide us graces to live our lives from day to day, bearing and doing the will of God. Oh, my brethren, you know our Elder Brother has done His work, and done it perfectly.

Make then the resolution of living thus from day to day, that so at whatever hour your summons may come you may be ready, like children glad to show your work, in good hope that to you will be granted the high reward which shall never fail—your Father's priceless smile all the days of eternity.


The grandest life and the simplest, the noblest life and the lowliest, the holiest and the humblest, that ever was led upon earth was the life of thirty-three years led by Jesus of Nazareth. And of all the actions which went to make up that life the most pleasing to His Father and the most meritorious for us was the sacrifice He made of it upon the Cross. It was the act to which all the others converged and led up, the act which has the motive of all the rest. The shadow of the Cross flung itself over all His life, the Cross was always before Him. At Bethlehem that sacrifice commenced which terminated only when He bowed His Sacred Head and gave up the ghost. From Bethlehem to Calvary we may trace the Via Crucis, for all His life long that Cross pressed upon His sacred shoulder, and His life was a life of sacrifice. He came into the world in the double character of High Priest and Victim, and He—always exercising His priestly office and offering in atonement for sin the sacrifice of praise, of mortification, of self-denial, of self-abnegation, self-abasement— pressed forward day by day nearer to the final goal.

And now, brethren, we are about to witness the consummation of the life-long sacrifice, for the High Priest will bow His Sacred Head and permit death to separate the Soul from the Body of the Victim of sin. Then will be fully restored to God the honour robbed from Him by man's offences, and due thanksgiving will be made for all His heaped benefits to us, and pardon will be extended to every sin, and graces and blessings will flow in upon our souls instead of condemnation and anger. Over Calvary hangs a mantle of thick darkness lifted by no gusts of wind. The thunder is rolling, fitful flashes of lightning have split the rocks, and men are stealthily moving to and fro as though they feared at every step the earth would open beneath their feet. Even the reckless Roman soldiers are struck with alarm. Then all is silent, and Jesus, with a loud voice, calls out, "Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit." Then, bowing down His Head, He gives up the ghost. The life of sacrifice is past, the life of suffering is over. The Soul has fled down to Limbo's dungeon, and to Mary is left that tenantless Body which was bone of her bone, flesh of her flesh. Under her direction the adorable Relic will be placed in a snow-white tomb, whence, like the sunbeam piercing through a crystal casket, It will issue forth once again radiant and beautiful, never to suffer change more.

Who, after such a death of atonement as this, will be afraid to die? Is there any one here who would escape death even if he could? To be deprived of the privilege of dying would be to be deprived of the grandest, the humblest, the holiest, the most meritorious act of our lives. For by uniting the last act of our lives with Jesus Christ we become both priest and victim, offering to our Father a sacrifice which we alone can then make, a sacrifice which sums up all the merit and crowns all the acts of our whole lives. "O death, where is thy victory, where is thy sting!" Thou art shorn of thy strength, robbed of thy bitterness in the very hour of thy seeming triumph. For it is then that the veil of this temple of the Holy Ghost is rent in twain, and the Holy of Holies is given to our sight. Over the sombre gates of death, see, there rises a triumphal arch, through which the soul is borne on wings of angels to its home.

Oh, my brethren, learn from the death we have been witnessing to take a Christian view of life and death. And remember that if to those we leave behind it looks sad and full of bitterness, and the tears come, and friends weep as Jesus did over His friend, as Mary did over her Child, as Augustine did over his mother, as Bernard mourned his brother, Elizabeth her sister, and all of us over dear departed ones, yet for him who dies in the grace of God it is gain, for he goes from exile to home, from earth to Heaven, from conflict to triumph, from a very sea of trouble to the haven of rest. So should death be for each of us, and so will it be if only now we die every day we live, if we will now begin the sacrifice which must be consummated on our death-bed. Now we must begin to take up our cross and follow Christ, that we may be near Him when we come to die. We must now begin the sacrifice which He will then claim from us.

Begin it by sacrificing now your own wills, by sacrificing for His sake the dangerous occasions of sin, those objects upon which you would feast your eyes, those cruel words which rise to your lips, that forbidden fruit which you fain would handle, that poisonous drink which you are thirsting to taste. Oh, my brethren, how can we ever hope to lay down our life for our Friend, our Brother, our God, in rightly-felt dispositions if now we are ever fanning into flame those fires which are enkindled with our birth? How can we be so foolish as to expect that we shall see but Jesus, Mary, and Joseph by our death-beds, if during life there are floating before our imaginations nothing but objects whose very names are incitements to sin? Oh, no. Believe the word of your Elder Brother; we must now take up our cross, we must now renounce all we possess, if on our death-bed we would deny ourselves, sacrifice our lives for Him Who sacrificed His for us.

May God our Father grant to each one here present through the merits of the five wounds and the riven Heart, through the sorrows and the compassion of the Mother, this great grace that our lives may be so pleasing in His holy sight that when we cry to Him, "Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit," He will receive it into everlasting dwellings.

Seven Words (Part I)
Seven Words (Part II)
Confraternity of Bona Mors

Crypt of Saint Louis de Monfort
in the Basilica of Saint-Laurent-sur-Sèvre
April 28
Miraculous Medal Prayer
O MARIA sine labe concepta, ora pro nobis, qui confugimus ad te; O Refugium peccatorum, Mater agonizantium, noli nos derelinquere in hora exitus nostri, sed impetra nobis dolorem perfectum, sinceram contritionem, remissionem peccatorum nostrorum, sanctissimi Viatici dignam receptionem, Extremae Unctionis Sacramenti corroborationem, ut magis securi praesentari valeamus ante thronum iusti sed et misericordis Iudicis, Dei et Redemptoris nostri. Amen. O MARY, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee; O refuge of sinners, Mother of the dying; forsake us not at the hour of our death; obtain for us the grace of perfect sorrow, sincere contrition, the pardon and remission of our sins, a worthy receiving of the holy Viaticum, and the comfort of the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, in order that we may appear with greater security before the throne of the just but merciful Judge, our God and Redeemer. Amen.

From the Raccolta #643, (Secretariat of Briefs, March 11, 1856; S. P. Ap., March 7, 1932).

Acts of Spiritual Communion
By St. Alphonsus Maria de' Ligouri
MY Jesus, I believe that Thou art present in the Blessed Sacrament. I love Thee above all things and I desire Thee in my soul. Since I cannot now receive Thee sacramentally, come at least spiritually into my heart. As though Thou wert already there, I embrace Thee and unite myself wholly to Thee; permit not that I should ever be separated from Thee. Amen.
By Raphael Cardinal Merry del Val.
AT Thy feet, O my Jesus, I prostrate myself and I offer Thee repentance of my contrite heart, which is humbled in its nothingness and in Thy holy presence. I adore Thee in the Sacrament of Thy love, the ineffable Eucharist. I desire to receive Thee into the poor dwelling that my heart offers Thee. While waiting for the happiness of sacramental communion, I wish to possess Thee in spirit. Come to me, O my Jesus, since I, for my part, am coming to Thee! May Thy love embrace my whole being in life and in death. I believe in Thee, I hope in Thee, I love Thee. Amen.

" Let us run by patience to the fight proposed to us ; looking on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith " (Heb. xii. i, 2).

IT was the will of our Heavenly Father that the laws imposed upon Christians should in the first place be written in Jesus Christ. We must indeed be formed according to the model set forth in the Gospel, but then that Gospel itself was formed upon Jesus Christ. He began (says Holy Scripture) to do before He began to teach (Acts i. i) ; He practised first what He prescribed, so much so that though His teaching is indeed our law, yet the primal law is His most holy life. He is truly our Master and our Teacher, but before all things He is our Model.

In order thoroughly and effectively to comprehend this fundamental truth, we must keep our minds firmly fixed upon the one supremely important fact that the great mystery of Christianity is that a God willed to take upon Himself the likeness of man, so that He might impose upon man the law of conforming himself more and more to the Divine likeness. He willed to imitate us truly and actually in our human nature, in order that we might imitate Him in the sanctity of His conduct ; He took our flesh, that we might take His spirit ; in the mystery of the Incarnation He deigned to take our poor humanity for His model, that He might be ours in all the succeeding details of His earthly life : Let us, says St. Gregory of Nazianzen, be like Jesus Christ, because of His own will He became like us ; let us for the love of Him become gods, because He for love of us willed to become man. Ah ! here indeed a wonderful light, clear as noonday, is thrown upon the great truth which I am preaching to you, that of the necessity of suffering ! Yet let me warn you that we must assure ourselves of the firm, the unshakeable foundations of this so brightly illuminated truth, and those foundations are only to be found in the Sacred Scriptures.

The truth that in the mystery of the Incarnation the Son of God considered us as His model, we learn from St. Paul's inspired teaching in his Epistle to the Hebrews : It behoved Him, says the Apostle of the Gentiles, in all things to be made like unto His brethren (Heb. ii. 17) ; and again, in still more explicit language, he says to us : Because the children were partakers of flesh and blood, He also Himself in like manner hath been partaker of the same (Heb. ii. 14).

It is then very plainly shown that the Son of God at His coming into the world desired in His most holy Incarnation to regard us as His model. But why ? unless that He might, on His part, become our Pattern and Example. For as it is natural for men to receive some impression from what they behold, so, having found in the midst of us a God Who willed to resemble us, we from henceforth were firmly persuaded that there was no need to look any further afield in choosing a model for ourselves. He did not take hold of the Angels (Heb. ii.), because He had no desire to give a Model to the Angels ; but He took hold of the seed of Abraham, because He willed to serve as a Pattern to the race of that Patriarch ; not to his seed according to the flesh, but to that spiritual seed which was to follow in the footprints of His Faith, that is, to the children of the New Covenant.

Thus we have in Jesus Christ a living Law, an inspired Rule of life and conduct. He who does not desire to live as Jesus Christ lived does not desire to be a Christian. This is why the Holy Scriptures with one unvarying voice preach to us that His life and actions are our example ; so that we are not even permitted to imitate the Saints except in as far as they imitated their Divine Master ; and St. Paul would never have dared to say with all the boldness and liberty of an Apostle, Be ye followers of me, had he not immediately added, as I also am of Christ (i Cor. xi. i). And again, the same Apostle, writing to the Thessalonians, says : You became followers of us, and, he adds, of the Lord (i Thess. i. 6) ; in order to make us understand that however great an example may be offered to us by the Christian life, it is not worthy of the name unless it be formed upon Jesus Christ Himself.

And yet, accepting this truth, do not for one moment imagine that I am setting before you an undertaking of impossible magnitude. Let me prove the contrary by a very simple illustration. In a painting, any famous work of a great master which we are wishing and preparing to copy, two points have to be considered: the perfection and the details of the original. The copy, if it is to be a faithful one, must reproduce all the details of the great master's work ; but as to attaining to its perfection, that would be more than one could dare to hope. So too it is with the perfection of our Divine Master. I do not tell you that you can ever reach it, ever arrive at that supreme height of excellence which is always reserved for the great original, but I do tell you that you ought to copy Him in the minutest details of His most holy life, following out as far as is possible His own guiding rule and principle, striving to grow like Him, because He deigned to become like us. He took, says the Apostle, all our weaknesses, sin only excepted (Heb. iv. 15) ; therefore we ought to take to ourselves all His virtues. He clothed Himself really and truly and wholly with our flesh ; and we ought also really and truly and wholly, as far as is permitted to man, to clothe ourselves with the fulness of His spirit ; because, as the Apostle tells us, if any man has not the Spirit of Jesus Christ he is none of His (Rom. viii. 9).

And now it remains for us to consider what is this spirit of Jesus, what we really mean by it. Well, even the most superficial study of Holy Scripture will suffice to convince us that it is a vigorous spirit, nourished by suffering, delighting in pains and afflictions. This is why the Prophet calls Him the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with infirmity (Isa. liii. 3). Does not this very phrase seem to tell us that the Eternal Wisdom from the first moment of His entrance into the world resolved to know nothing but affliction ? To me it speaks of that knowledge which the Schools call experimental ; and if we rightly understand its meaning, we shall realize that Jesus Christ, in the midst of those varied objects which on all sides appeal to our senses, never Himself tasted of any sweetness ; that He never desired to know by experience anything but what was bitter and painful, nothing but sorrows and sufferings : truly and actually a Man of Sorrows and acquainted with infirmities. Not a single portion of His being failed to pass through the crucible of some keen and exquisite agony, because He desired to know by fullest experience every detail of that wonderful science which He came into the world to teach the mystery of pain, the science of suffering.

And most certain it is that our Divine Lord was so absolutely born only to endure, and that to do this was so truly His sole employment, His daily practice, that when He saw the end of His sufferings at hand He no longer desired to prolong His life on earth. This fact we know from an incident recorded by St. John, himself an eye-witness of the Saviour s death upon the Cross. Hanging there, exhausted, dying, the Man of Sorrows, knowing that He has endured all that had been foretold by prophecy, excepting the tasting of that bitter drink which was to be brought to Him in His agonizing thirst, calls aloud for this with a piercing cry, not willing to lose one single drop in the chalice of His Passion : / thirst. And when His parched tongue has been touched by that unquenching bitter drink, when this last outrage has satisfied the undying hatred of His enemies, then the Crucified Redeemer, seeing that in the Eternal Decrees nothing more remained for Him to suffer, speaks again from the Cross : It is consummated (John xix. 30) ; there is nothing more for Me to do in this world. Nothing more, O Man of Sorrows, Thou Who hast come among us to learn what are our infirmities ; there are now no further sufferings left for Thee to experience ; Thy knowledge is perfected, its measure is filled up to the brim, the whole catalogue of human woes and agonies has been run through, now death may come as soon as it pleases Thee ; yes, death may come to close Thy mortal life.

And indeed so it was : Bowing His head, He gave up the ghost (John xix. 30).

This picture stirs your emotions, but we must add to it yet another detail, to make you understand the full extent of our Divine Lord s thirst for suffering. He willed to endure much more than the redemption of our nature demanded ; and for this reason. If He had confined Himself to the endurance of those sufferings only which the necessity of expiating our sins required, we should not have formed a just estimate of His attitude towards suffering ; we might have been inclined to suspect that He regarded it rather as a necessary evil than as a desirable good. Therefore it was that it was not sufficient for Him to die for us, thus paying back to His Eternal Father by the sacrifice of Himself what the just vengeance of that Father demanded of the public Victim of all sinners. No, this was not enough. Beyond and above this mere discharge of debt, His mind projected itself into that region of strange mystic delight which we call suffer ing. In the words of Tertullian : He desires, before dying, to satiate Himself with the pleasures of enduring Following out the idea of this great writer, may we not say that the life of the Saviour was a banquet, at which the Divine Guest drank only of the waters of affliction, and ate only of the bitter herbs of sorrow and suffering ? Truly a strange banquet as the world reckons these things ! Yet Jesus found it sweet to His taste. His Death would have availed for our salvation, but would not have appeased His eager, ardent thirst for suffering ; therefore we see not only the Cross as it was reared aloft on Mount Calvary, but also grouped around it all the instruments of the Passion : the scourge, the lance, the nails, the crown of thorns terrible indeed to look upon, but chosen by Himself to satisfy that fervent, that unmeasurable longing.

Well, do you now understand a little better what I am trying to bring home to you as regards this law of suffering ? Can you see it written in sufficiently plain characters upon our Model ? Look upon Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our Faith ; look upon Him in His Passion, in the throes of this supremest agony ; they are the birth-pangs of your own new life ; the grace which sanctifies you, the spirit which regenerates you flows down upon you, with His Precious Blood, from those torn and lacerated veins. Children of sorrow and anguish, do you think to save your souls in the midst of luxury and softness ? It is the fashion nowadays to make a sort of study of refinement, to affect perhaps even more fastidiousness than we actually feel. It is considered the right thing to draw the line of separation between ourselves and the vulgar crowd by avoiding the very smallest discomfort and inconvenience ; this (we think) proves that we have been brought up in an atmosphere of refinement and grandeur. Ah, what a miserable falling off in the standard of a Christian s life ! Is it possible that you think you can save your souls without bearing upon those souls the impress of the Saviour's character ? Do you not hear St. Peter telling you that Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in His steps (i Peter ii. 21) ; and St. Paul preaching to us that we must be conformed to His death, that we may be sharers in His glorious Resurrection (Phil, iii. 10-11) ? Nay, do you not hear Jesus Christ Himself telling you that if you would march under His banner, you must make up your minds to carry your cross as He carried His (Luke xiv. 27) ? This bearing of the cross is the badge and token of our membership, our fellowship with Jesus Christ. His thirst for suffeing cannot be quenched unless He suffers in His whole Body and in all its members. Now we, says St. Paul, are members of His Body, of His Flesh and of His Bone (Ephes. v. 31). This is why the same Apostle even ventures to say that something is wanting in the Passion of Jesus Christ if He does not suffer in all the members of His Mystical Body, as by His own will He did in those of His natural Body (Col. i. 24). x

Ah ! how great a mystery this is ! Only by contemplation of Jesus in the Garden of the Agony and on the Hill of Crucifixion can we penetrate its depths. For as the Precious Blood then flowed so freely that every member, every part of the Sacred Body, was dyed with it, so, we learn, must the Church, His Mystical Body, and the faithful who are His members, be plunged into that crimson sea and marked with the impression of His Cross and Passion.

What then, you say ; if we are to give our blood to Jesus, must the Neros and Domitians and all the other persecutors of the Christian faith be revived ? and their cruel edicts be once again promulgated, delivering up innocent believers to public vengeance ? No, no, God forbid that the world to-day should be so hostile to the truth as it was in the days of our forefathers. There is another way in which we can give our very heart's blood to the Saviour ; and that is by suffering humbly all the afflictions that God may send us ; our cheerful resignation takes the place of martyrdom. And never fear lest material for the exercising of our patience should be wanting. Nature can supply us with infirmities enough to do the work of the racks and gyves of our forefathers. When God lays His hand upon us, trying us, either by sickness or bereavement or any other keen affliction, if we offer to Him in humble submission a heart wounded and bleeding, we are giving our blood to our Saviour ; and since we are told in the holy Epistles that the love of earth's perishable delights is as much a part of us as our very flesh and blood, then the curbing and restraining of that love which can only be rooted out by sheer force is the giving of our blood to Jesus.

Again, it is certain that all the work done truly for our Lord is a giving of our blood to Him. Let us work then for His glory ; not half-heartedly, but with great zeal, with a pure intention, with one aim only, with unwearying diligence. Again, what can be more pleasing to Jesus than our penitence ? The bitter tears which we shed for our sins, St. Augustine calls " the blood of our souls " ; and when we pour them forth before God, bewailing our ingratitude, are we not indeed giving Him blood ? I said too that nature never failed to supply us with food for patience. The perplexities of business, the injustice of the world, the inconstancy of friends, the unfair judgment of our neighbours, their contradicting tempers, our own infirmities of mind and body ah ! it is not the Gospel only, but the world and nature which will always impose upon us the law of suffering. It only remains for us to draw from that suffering the fruits which must be expected from every good Christian. Let us consider what those fruits are.

1 See the late Mgr. R. H. Benson s book Christ in the Church Part IV) for a development of this consideration.


Think for one moment of the Resurrection, of Jesus Christ coming forth from the Tomb crowned with glory and honour. Think of the dazzling radiance, the light of immortality shining from His Sacred Wounds and clothing His Divine Body in a robe brighter than the sun at noonday. Think of this ; it would be enough to convince you of the marvellous result produced by the right use of suffering. Yet our Divine Lord did not wait for that first Easter morning to teach us this. Without leaving His Cross, He taught us by a great example what are the consolations of those who suffer patiently. Not in His own Sacred Person that could not be, because to the very end He must be an example of absolute desolation and abandonment but in the Penitent Thief at His side, whom He inspired with such Christian piety, contrition, resignation in the midst of suffering, that He could with His own sacred lips promise him an eternal reward, the crown of a conqueror bestowed upon the spot. This day thou shalt be with Me (Luke xxiii. 43).

There is no need to enlarge upon the fact, so well known to every Christian, that God has a special love for all suffering souls. What I shall try to impress upon you is the cause of this love ; I should rather say the causes, for there are several. And the first that occurs to me is the contrition of a penitent heart. We know that a heart contrite and humbled by the remembrance of past sin is a sacrifice of great price in God s eyes and an oblation sweeter than all the perfumes of Arabia. But never is this sacrifice of humiliation more acceptable than when offered in the midst of suffering ; for we know by experience that many who are hardened and impenitent in the time of prosperity, never perhaps giving a thought to their crimes, yet, when pain and sorrow overtake them, often wake up suddenly to the consciousness of those sins and are ready to confess them. And this because deep down in our inmost soul there lurks a secret conviction of the justice of Almighty God, and at the same time of His infinite goodness towards His creatures ; so that even the obstinate sinner who in the whirl of pleasure has forgotten his sins and said in his heart that God has forgotten them (Ps. ix. 34), when struck by the thunderbolt of suffering, begins to fear His judgments and confesses with bitterness the disorders of his past life.

So it was with the Penitent Thief upon the Cross. He hears his comrade blaspheming, and wonders (with reason) that the vengeance which has overtaken him has not humbled him before Divine Justice. What I he cries, dost thou not fear God, seeing thou art under the same condemnation ? You see how his terrible suffering recalls to his mind the fear of God and a vision of His judgments ; this brings him to a humble confession of his sins. As for us, he continues, we receive the due reward of our deeds (Luke xxiii. 41). See how he humbles himself, how he kisses the hand that strikes him, how he acknowledges and adores the justice that chastises him. This is the only means of changing that justice into mercy ; for God, Who desires not the ever lasting death of a sinner but only his conversion and salvation, never strikes in this life except to humble us and deliver us from eternal vengeance. Let us, then, at the first blow dealt by Divine Justice, humble ourselves in the dust, crying with our whole heart : We receive the punishment due to our sins (Luke xxiii. 41) ;

Thou art just, Lord, and Thy judgment is right (Ps. cxviii. 137). But more than this. Let us look upon Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our Faith ; let us imitate the happy Thief who, having acknowledged himself to be a malefactor, turns a glance full of love and devotion upon the innocent Divine Sufferer at his side, crying aloud : But this Man hath done no evil ! (Luke xxiii. 41). This thought soothes his agony, for if the just endures ought the guilty to complain ? When we suffer, let us always console ourselves with this consideration. Jesus Christ the Guiltless suffered as we suffer, but He submitted to suffering in mercy to us ; we sinners have no choice, the inevitable law of justice imposes suffering upon us. Then, sinners as we are, let us suffer for the love of the Just, for love of the infinite Mercy which saves us, which exposes spotless Innocence to such ignominy ; let us suffer the salutary corrections of that Justice which indeed chastises, but which also protects and spares us. This is the sacrifice well-pleasing to God, this is the sweet-smelling holocaust ; with such feelings as those we shall take Heaven by storm, and the gates of Paradise will be opened to us : This day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise.

But afflictions do not only serve to make us conscious of our sins ; they are a spiritual furnace in which Christian virtue is tested and rendered worthy of the eyes of God Himself and of the perfection of the future state. That virtue must be tried as gold in the fire, is a well-known truth and constantly impressed upon us in the Holy Scriptures ; but we should remember that the fire not only tries gold, but it also makes its reality or its spuriousness known. If it is true metal, the fire purifies and refines it ; and this is exactly what afflictions do with regard to Christian virtue. Until it has been tried in the furnace of affliction, it is never assured. Just as we do not know what a soldier really is until he has been in battle, so it is with Christian virtue. It is not meant for show or display, but for use and for conflict ; it does not know itself till it has struggled and fought. This is why St. Paul will not give it leave to hope till it has been tried. He says : Patience worketh trial, and trial worketh hope (Rom. v. 4).

Ah ! what mistakes are made in this matter ! Men talk of the future life, they aspire to the crown of immortality ; and yet they live careless, self-indulgent lives, and when the trials come which God has planned for His servants, how does their faith, their apparent piety stand the test of affliction ? Loss of fortune, sickness, no matter what the trial may be alas, these souls are proved to be false metal ; it shone brightly enough in the sunlight, but it melts in the crucible ; it could deceive men by a vain show of virtue, but is not worthy of God or fit for life eternal.

No Christian worthy of the name should complain of losses, disappointments, bereavements, because he must know that even in our purest affections, in our most legitimate earthly interests, there mingles a something born of our love of the world, a dross which debases our fine gold, taints the perfection of our virtue. Ah, if you only realized, poor human heart, how easily that world gets hold of you, yes, and how easily yet insensibly you bend yourself to it, you would bless the loving Hand which violently snaps these cords by disturbing the even tenor of your life, and taking away these temporal goods to which your heart clung too fondly ! St. Augustine says : This man must learn by losing his possessions how much he sinned in loving them. Yes, and nothing but loss will convince us how frail and fleeting are all earthly joys, how imperishable and how incorruptible those eternal joys which we had perhaps almost forgotten. Thus a small evil will cure great ones, and the furnace of affliction will purify our virtue by separating it from its dross.

If we wish to realize the love of God for virtue thus perfected by suffering, we need only turn our eyes again upon that happy penitent, the dying Thief of whom I have already reminded you. Yes, we have looked upon him as a penitent perfected in that penitence by suffering, we have heard him acknowledging the justice of his condemnation ; but now regard him in another light. A saint, in all the grandeur of an ardent faith and a passionate devotion, speaks to the Divine Sufferer to Whose innocence he has just so boldly borne witness in the face of a raging multitude ; Lord, he cries, remember me when Thou earnest into Thy Kingdom (Luke xxiii. 42). Oh, boundless faith ! could anything surpass it ? A dying man sees Jesus dying and asks of Him life ! a crucified man sees Jesus crucified and asks of Him a Kingdom ; his eyes behold only Crosses, yet his faith only represents to him a Throne ! What faith ! what hope ! When we die we know that Jesus Christ lives, yet our wavering faith can scarcely trust in Him. This man sees Jesus dying with him, and places all his hope in Him ; and at what a time ! in the midst of what surroundings ! At a time when the whole world is condemning Jesus, when even His own are forsaking Him, it is reserved for him alone (says St. Augustine) to glorify Him on the Cross ; his faith began to blossom when that of even the Apostles had withered. The Disciples had forsaken Him Whom they knew to be the Author of life, and this man acknowledges as his Master the companion of his torture and death. Surely, says St. Augustine, he deserves to hold a high rank in the triumphant army of martyrs, since he, almost alone, remained close to Jesus, doing what they who should have been its leaders and captains would have done. Ah, happy thief ! now we know to what a height faith and piety can raise those who in the school of affliction learn to suffer with Jesus Christ. Happy thief ! this it was which drew for him those wonderful words of consolation from the lips of the Son of God : Amen I say to thee, this day thou shalt be with Me in Paradise (Luke xxiii. 43). This day ; how soon ! With Me ; what companionship ! In Paradise ; what rest !

But there are souls so callous that the gentler aspect of piety cannot soften them, and for such as these I must for a while dwell upon the terrible example of that other thief to whom the bitter suffering of the cross brought no repentance, and I must remind you of the consequent vengeance which descended upon him.

His example is sufficient to establish my position when I affirm that the cross, which is, if we will have it so, a certain pledge of mercy, may be turned by our own malice into an instrument of vengeance. So true is it, as says St. Augustine, that the point is not what we suffer, but in what spirit we suffer ; that the afflictions which God sends us may easily change their nature, according to the spirit in which we receive them.

The hardened and impenitent who suffer without being converted begin their hell even in this life. No need to try and call up before our shuddering imagination the terrible picture of that region of the lost where the fires that burn on to all eternity only make the blackness of darkness more visible, and where there is no silence but only the discordant clamour of wailing and moaning and despairing weeping. If you want a vivid picture of Hell and of a lost soul, look upon a man who suffers and has no thought of turning away from sin and being converted to God.

In fact, the distinguishing characteristic of Hell is not so much pain, but pain without repentance. Holy Scripture speaks of two sorts of fire that which purges, and that which consumes and devours. The fire shall try every mans work (i Cor. iii. 13). With devouring fire (Isa. xxiii. 14). The Gospel calls the latter a fire which is not extingiiished (Mark ix. 47), to distinguish it from that fire which is kindled only to purify us, and which never fails to die out when it has done its work.

Nothing on earth, then, can be more terrible than the condition of a man whom the chastening hand of God has not brought to repentance, because that condition is a foretaste of eternal damnation ; the man already bears its awful impress on his brow. It is of such as those that the Apocalypse says that God having afflicted them with horrible wounds, they blasphemed Him and did not penance (Apoc. xvi. 9). Truly their example should be a warning to us, teaching all sinners that it is not enough to suffer much, and that they must not persuade themselves that because this life has been full of pains and miseries the next will be one of peace and rest. Many are on the cross, yet far from the Crucified ; to some the cross is a grace, to others a vengeance. Was it not so with the two thieves ? Both were crucified with Jesus Christ one in that crucifixion found mercy, the other the utmost rigour of justice ; one by means of it worked out his salvation, the other by it began his damnation. The cross raised the patience of one to Paradise, it dashed the impenitence of the other down to Hell. Tremble then, sinners, in the midst of your sufferings ; fear lest instead of experiencing now a fire which shall in time purge you, you should kindle by your sins a flame which shall devour you through all eternity.

But as for you, loving and obedient children of Jesus Christ, whatever scourge may descend upon you, never for one moment believe that God forgets you. Never persuade yourselves that you are confounded with the wicked, although you are tried by the same afflictions as befall them, by the same wars and pestilences, bereavements and losses. The Lord knoweih who are His (2 Tim. ii. 19) ; He can separate His own from the confused ranks of suffering mortality. The same fire makes the gold glitter and the straw smoke. The same action of stirring, says St. Augustine, brings out the ill savour of mud and the sweet odour of perfumes. Good wine is not mistaken for the lees, though both are trodden in the same wine-press. Thus the same afflictions which reduce the wicked to despair, purify the just ; and though you may have to endure reproach, you will never be confounded if only you have courage and strength sufficient to know yourselves.

The hand of God, invisible to you but most assuredly there behind the things of sense, offers you this bitter potion of suffering, the true medicine of your souls. Take the cup calmly, nay, joyfully ; drink it to the very dregs, and thank the good Physician Whose love has mixed the draught for you. St. James bids us rejoice in every affliction that befalls us, knowing that the trial of our faith works patience, and that our patience must be perfect if we too would be perfect, wanting nothing. Blessed, he says, is the man who endures the temptations and miseries of this life, for when his virtue has been sufficiently tried he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love Him (Jas. i.). Remember that temptation will not last for ever ; yet a little while and this brief span of our earthly life will have passed like a winter's day in which morning and evening touch each other so closely. When a sick man parched with fever s thirst calls for drink, his nurses hurry to bring it ; yet to him it seems long before the longed-for draught moistens his lips. So it is with us. This day, says the Son of God. Fear not, it will be very soon. We call this life a day ; nay, it is but a moment ; only our weariness and infirmity make it seem long. When it is past, you will under stand how short it really was. Ah, when that future life opens upon you, then you will see and know indeed ! What ! are you still groaning under the weight of these present sufferings ? Why, you are but adding another woe to all the rest. Impatience, murmuring, will rob you of all the merit of your sufferings. You will add sin to misery. Be patient, suffer gladly ; then like the Penitent Thief you shall hear these blessed words : With Me in Paradise.

Necessity of Suffering by Fr Bousset

Chapter XXVI 2nd paragraph

For a long time the Apostle Peter did not venture into the house of Petronius, but at last one evening, Nazarius announced his arrival. Lygia, who was now able to walk unaided, and Vinitins hurried to meet him and embraced his feet. He greeted them with all the greater emotion because so few sheep remained in the fold over which Christ had placed him, and the fate of whom filled his great heart with anguish. Consequently, when Vinitius said to him: "Oh, Lord, through your intercession, the Saviour gave her back to me," he replied: "He gave her back to you, because of your faith and that not all the lips which praised Him might be silent." Evidently he was thinking then of the thousands of his children who had been torn to pieces by wild beasts, of those crosses which had filled the arena, and those fiery pillars in the gardens of the "Beast," for he spoke with great emotion. Vinitius and Lygia noticed also that his hair had grown quite white, that his body was bent, and that his face gave as much evidence of sadness and suffering as if he had passed through all the pains and tortures which had been endured by the victims of Nero's rage and malice But they both understood as Christ had delivered Himself to torture and death nobody could avoid such suffering. Nevertheless the sight of the Apostle, bent by age and pain, pierced them to the heart. So Vinitius, who intended in a few days to take Lygia to Naples to meet Pomponia there and go on to Sicily, entreated him to leave Rome with them. But the Apostle laid his hand on the head of Vinitius, and replied:

"I hear in my soul the words of the Lord, which he spoke to me on Lake Tiberius: 'When thou wert young, thou didst gird thyself and go whither thou wouldst; but when thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hand and another shall gird thee and carry thee whither thou wouldst not;' it becomes me, therefore, to follow my flock."

And when they were silenced by the words, although they did not understand them, he added:

"My toil is nearly over; I shall find refuge and rest only in the House of the Lord."

And then he turned towards them and said: "Remember me, because I have loved you as the father loves his children, and whatever ye do in life, do it for the glory of God." With these words he raised his aged hands and blessed them; they nestled up to him, feeling that this perhaps would be the last blessing they should receive from him.

But it was destined that they should see him once again. A few days later Petronius brought dreadful news from the Palatine. It had been discovered that one of Caesar's freedmen was a Christian, and on him were found letters of the Apostles Peter and Paul, and also letters of James, John, and Judas. Peter's presence in Rome had been known to Tigellinus, but he thought that the Apostle had perished with the thousands of other believers. Now it was evident that the two leaders of the new faith were still alive and that they were in Rome. It was determined that they must be found and captured at any price, because it was believed that only with their deaths could the hated sect be eradicated. Petronius was told by Vestinius that Caesar himself had issued an order to cast Peter and Paul in the Mamertine prison within three days, and that whole detachments of the pretorians had been sent to search all the houses in the Trans-Tiber.

As soon as he heard this Vinitius resolved to warn the Apostle. In the evening, he and Ursus donned Gallic mantles, whose hoods covered their faces, and made their way to the house of Miriam, situated in the outskirts of the city at the foot of the Janiculum Hill. On the way they saw houses surrounded by soldiers, led by unknown persons. This division of the city was alarmed. Here and there groups of curious people had assembled. Centurions went about examining the prisoners and endeavoring to gain information about Simon Peter and Paul of Tarsus.

Ursus and Vinitius, however, outstripped the soldiers and arrived safely at the house of Miriam, where they found Peter surrounded by a handful of the faithful. Timothy, Paul's assistant, and Linus were at the side of the Apostle.

On hearing of the approaching danger, Nazarius led all by a hidden passage to the garden gate, and then on to some deserted quarries a few hundred yards from the Janiculum Gate. Ursus was obliged to carry Linus, whose bones, broken by tortures, had not yet knit together. But when they had entered a quarry they felt safe, and by the light of a torch which Nazarius lit, they held a consultation, carried on in low voices, as to the best means of saving the life of the Apostle who was so dear to them. "Master," said Vinitius to Peter, "let Nazarius at the break of day guide thee to the Alban Hills. We will find thee there and take thee to Antiuin, where a vessel waits to transport us both to Naples and Sicily. It will be a blessed day and hour when thou shalt enter my house and bless my home."

All the others approved this plan and urged the Apostle to accept, saying: "Take refuge, oh, Shepherd. Stay not in Rome. Preserve the living truth, so that it may not perish with us and with thee. Hear us, who implore thee as our father."

"Do this in the name of Christ," cried others, clinging to the Apostle's garments. But Peter answered: "My children, who knows when the Lord will mark the end of His life."

But he did not say that he would not leave Rome, and he was in doubt as to what course to pursue, because, for some time, uncertainty and fear had stolen into his soul. His flock: was dispersed, his work had come to naught. The Church which, before the burning of the city, had nourished like a great tree, had been annihilated by the power of the "Beast." There was nothing left but tears and the remembrances of agonies and death. The sowing had yielded an abundant crop, but Satan had trampled it down. Legions of angels had not come to rescue the perishing, and Nero sat upon the throne of the world, terrible and more powerful than ever, Lord of the sea and of the land. Many a time had the fisherman blessed the Lord, stretched his hands towards Heaven in his loneliness and asked: "Oh, Lord, what shall I do. How can I, a powerless old man, wage war against the invincible power of evil, which Thou hast allowed to rule and to whom Thou hast granted victory."

And from the depths of his anguish he cried out in his soul: "The sheep which Thou didst command me to feed are no more. Thy Church is no more. In Thy capital are only sounds of mourning. What are now Thy commands? Am I to stay here, or shall I lead forth what remains of Thy flock to glorify Thy name in concealment somewhere beyond the sea?"

He hesitated. He believed that the living truth could not perish, that it must prevail. But at times he thought that the hour had not yet come, that it would come only when the Lord should descend upon earth on the Day of Judgment, in glory and power greater a hundredfold than those of Nero.

Often it seemed to him that if he left Rome the faithful would follow him, and then he would lead them far away to the shady groves of Galilee, to the quiet waters of the Lake of Tiberius, to throw in their lot with shepherds as peaceful as doves or as the sheep that grazed there in the valleys. And the heart of the fisherman was filled with a yearning for peace and rest, and for the lake and for Galilee. His eyes frequently moistened with tears.

But the moment he made up his mind a sudden fear and anxiety seized him. How was he to leave that city whose sacred soil had drunk the blood of martyrs and where so many dying lips had given witness to the truth? Should he alone shrink from his fate? And what answer could he make to the words of the Lord: "These have suffered death for the faith, but thou didst flee."

He passed nights and days in anxiety and distress. Others whom lions had torn to pieces, who had expired on crosses, who had been burned in the gardens of Caesar, now slept in peace after their moments of torture. But he could not sleep and suffered greater tortures than any of those invented by persecutors for victims. Often the dawn whitened the roofs of houses while he was still crying from the depths of his suffering heart: "Oh, Lord, why didst Thou order me to come here and found Thy capital in the den of the "Beast?"

During all the thirty-four years since the death of his Master, he had known no rest. With staff in hand he had travelled over the wide world to spread the good tidings. His strength had been exhausted by his travels and toils, and at last, when in this city, the capitol of all the world, he had established the work of his Master, the fiery breath of malice had blighted it and he saw that the struggle must be undertaken anew. And what a struggle! On one side Caesar, the Senate, the people, the legions, encircling the world with chains of iron, lands innumerable, such power as was never seen before; and on the other side, he, so weakened with age and toil, that his trembling hand could scarcely carry his staff.

Often he told himself that he was no match for the great Caesar and that Christ alone had the power to uphold him. These thoughts passed through his careworn head as he listened to the prayers of the last handful of his faithful followers, who, surrounding him in an ever narrowing circle, besought him with imploring voices:

"Hide thyself, oh, Rabbi, and deliver us from the power of the Beast." Linus himself, at last bowed before him his tortured head:

"Master," he said, "the Saviour commanded thee to feed his sheep, but they are here no longer, or they will disappear on the morrow. Go, therefore, where thou mayst still find them. The word of God still lives in Jerusalem, in Antioch, in Ephesus, and in other cities. What wilt thou gain by staying in Rome? If thou shouldst fall, thou wilt only magnify the triumph of the Beast. The Lord has not foretold the limit of John's life. Paul is a Roman citizen and cannot be condemned without a trial. But if the powers of hell prevail against thee, oh, teacher, those who have lost heart already will ask: "Who is greater than Nero?" Thou art the rock upon which the Church of the Lord is founded. Let us die, but suffer not anti-Christ to prevail over the vicegerent of God, and return not here till the Lord has crushed him who shed the blood of innocents."

"Regard our team," repeated all who were present. Tears coursed down the cheeks of Peter also. After a time he rose, and, stretching his hands over the kneeling people, said:

"May the name of the Lord be glorified and may His will be done!"


At dawn of the following day two dark figures were stealing along the Appian Way towards the valley of the Campania. One of them was Nazarius, the other the Apostle, Peter, who was leaving Rome and his distracted brethren. In the East the sky was already assuming a slight tinge of green, which changed gradually into a saffron color. From out the shadows appeared trees with silvery foliage, white marble villas and the arches of aqueducts stretching along the plain toward the city. The green tinge of the sky was becoming shot with gold. Soon the rays began to redden and illuminate the Alban Hills, which appeared as if wrapped in a violet frame. The dawn was mirrored in drops of dew trembling on the leaves of trees. The haze grew thinner, and unveiled a wider view of the plain, the houses that dotted it, the cemeteries, towns, and groups of trees, among which gleamed the white columns of temples.

The road was deserted. The peasants who brought vegetables to the city had evidently not yet harnessed their horses. The blocks of stone with which the road was paved as far as the mountains echoed from the wooden-soled shoes of the wayfarers.

The sun rose over the hills, and then a wonderful vision burst upon the Apostle. ft seemed to him that the golden disc, instead of rising higher and higher in the sky, came gliding down from the heights and moved along the road. Then Peter stopped and said:

"Dost thou see the brightness approaching us?"

"I see nothing," replied Nazarius.

Peter, shading his eyes with his hands, continued: "Some figure is approaching us in the gleam of the sun."

But no sound of footsteps reached their ears. Nazarius saw only that the trees in the distance were trembling as if shaken, and that the light was spreading more widely over the valley. With amazement in his eyes he looked at the Apostle.

"Rabbi, what troubles thee!" he cried in alarm.

Peter dropped his staff; his eyes looked straight ahead, his mouth was open, his face expressed wonder, delight, ecstasy.

Suddenly he fell upon his knees, with his hands stretched out, and cried:

"Oh, Christ! Oh, Christ!" and he pressed his face towards the earth, as though kissing some one's feet. There was a long silence. Then the voice of the old man was heard, choked with tears:

"Quo Vadis, Domine?" (Whither goest Thou, oh, Lord?)

Nazarius did not catch the answer, but to Peter's ears came a sad, sweet voice, which said: "As thou art deserting my people, I go to Rome to be crucified, for the second time."

The Apostle lay on the ground, his face in the dust, motionless and silent. It seemed to Nazarius that he had fainted, or perhaps even that he was dead. But suddenly he arose, and, without a word, turned back towards the City of the Seven Hills. The lad, seeing this, repeated like an echo:

"Quo Vadis, Domine?"

"To Rome," replied the Apostle.

And he returned.

Paul, John, Linus and all the faithful greeted him with consternation in their eyes. Their alarm was all the greater because, at daybreak, just after Peter's departure, the pretorians had surrounded the house of Miriam and had searched it for. the Apostle. But to all questions he simply answered in a calm voice: "I have seen the Lord." And in the evening he went to the Ostian Cemetery to teach and baptise those who wished to bathe in the Water of Life, and afterwards he went there daily, followed by increasing crowds. It seemed that from every tear of the martyrs there were born new believers, and that every groan in the arena reverberated in thousands of breasts. Caesar wallowed in blood; Rome and the whole Pagan world went mad. But those who were weary of crimes and bloodshed, those who were downtrodden, these whose lives were a succession of misery and oppression, all line weary and the sorrowful, and the heavy-laden, came to listen to the wonderful tidings of that God, who, moved by pity for men, had given Himself to be crucified in order to atone for their transgressions.

When they found a God they could love, they found that which the world at that time could not give, the happiness born of love. Peter understood that Caesar, with all his legions, could not crush the living truth, that it could not be quenched in tears or blood, and that now was the commencement of its victory. He understood now why the Lord had turned him back from the threshold of his journey. The city of pride, of crime, of debauchery, and of power, was now becoming His City, and the double capital, whence would issue the rule of the flesh and of the spirit.

CHAPTER XXVIII. At last the hour of both the Apostles had come. But, as if to complete his work,it was given to the fisherman of the Lord to rescue two souls in his very prison. Two soldiers, Processus and Martinianus, his guards in the Mamertine prison, were baptized by him. But the hour of torture was at hand. Nero was not in Rome at the time. Sentence was passed by Helius and Polythetes, two freedmen, to whom Caesar had intrusted the government of Rome in his absence. Peter was first flogged, according to law, and the next day was taken outside of the city walls, toward the Vatican Hill, where he was to suffer death on the cross. The soldiers were surprised at the numbers that gathered before the prison. They could not understand how the death of a common man and an alien could excite such interest. They knew not that this retinue was composed not of the merely curious, but of believers, who wished to accompany the great Apostle to the place of his execution. At last, in the afternoon, the gates of the prison were thrown open and Peter appeared in the midst of a detachment of pretorians. The sun was already slanting towards Ostia; the day was clear and calm. Peter was not required to carry his cross. It was supposed that on account of his years he would not be able to support its weight, he walked slowly. The faithful could catch an unobstructed view of him.

When his white head showed itself amid the iron helmets of the soldiers, a wail arose in the throng, but ceased almost. immediately, because the face of the old man was so serene and shone with such joy that it seemed to all that this was not a victim going to his execution, but a conqueror celebrating his triumph.

And such was really the case. The fisherman, usually humble and bent, now walked erect, towering above the soldiers, and full of majesty. Never before had there been such dignity in his bearing. He looked like a monarch attended by the people and soldiers. From all sides came voices: "Behold Peter going to the Lord!" All seemed to forget that he was going to torture and to death. The crowd marched in a solemn concourse, feeling that since the death on Golgotha, nothing so great had taken place, and that as the first sacrifice had redeemed the world, this was to redeem the city.

.People stopped on the road and gazed with wonder at the old man, but the faithful, placing hands upon one another's shoulders, said: "Behold how a just man dies, one who knew the Lord and proclaimed love to the world!" And those who had halted to gaze upon the Apostle, walked away, saying: "Verily, this is not a criminal!"

Along the way, the noises and the cries of the streets were hushed. The procession wound along by newly-built houses and the white columns of temples, above which hung the deep blue sky, calm and serene. They moved in silence, save when, at times, the arms of the soldiers clashed, or the murmur of prayers arose. Peter caught the low-breathed prayers, and his face shone with an increasing delight, for his glance could hardly compass those thousands of believers. He felt that his work was crowned with triumph, and now he knew that the truth which he proclaimed all his life would overwhelm everything like a sea, and that nothing could restrain the waves. Thinking thus, he lifted up his eyes and said: "O Lord, Thou didst command me to conquer this city,

which rules over the world, and I have subdued it. Thou didst command me to found thy capitol in it, and I have done so. Now, O Lord, it is thy citadel, and I am going to Thee, because my work is done."

As he passed by the temples he cried: "Ye will become the temples of Christ!" Gazing at the crowds of people that swarmed before his eyes, he said: "Your children will be the servants of Christ." And he went on with the consciousness of victory achieved, aware of his services, aware of his power, calm, and great. The soldiers took him across the Pons Triumphalis, or Bridge of Triumph, as if unwittingly testifying to his triumph, and led him on toward the Naumachia and the Circus. The faithful from the Trans-Tiber joined the procession, and swelled it to such an extent that the centurion who commanded the pretorians, appreciating now that he was escorting a high priest, surrounded by his congregation, grew alarmed because of the smallness of his force. But no cry of indignation or anger arose from the crowd. All felt the solemnity of the moment, and the faces of the believers were grave and expectant. Some of the faithful, recalling that at the death of the Saviour the earth opened in terror, and the dead rose from their graves, thought that now some portents would appear, so that the death of the Apostle would not be forgotten in the ages to come. Others said to themselves, "Perhaps the Lord will choose the hour of Peter's death to descend upon the earth, as He promised, and judge the world." With this idea they commended themselves to the mercy of the Saviour.

All about there was a great calm. The hills appeared as if resting and basking in the sun. At length the procession stopped between the Circus and the Vatican Hill. Some of the soldiers began now to dig a hole, others placed the cross and the hammers and nails upon the earth, waiting till all the preparations should be finished. The crowd hushed and solemn, fell upon their knees. The Apostle, his head glorified by the sun, turned for the last time toward the city. Far away below them the gleaming Tiber could be seen; beyond was the Campus Martius. Higher up was the mausoleum of Augustus; below were the great baths which Nero had just begun to build; still lower was Pompey's Theatre, and beyond them, partly visible and partly screened by other buildings, were the Septa Julia, a multitude of porticos, temples, columns, towering edifices. Finally, far away in the distance, were the hills studded with houses whose summits faded away in the blue haze, the abodes of crime but of power, of madness but of order, all these forming the city which had become the throne of the world, its oppressor and yet its law and its peace, omnipotent, invincible, eternal. Peter, surrounded by the soldiers, gazed over this scene as a ruler and king looks upon his inheritance, and thus he addressed it: "Thou art redeemed and mine." And no one there present, not merely among the soldiers digging the pit in which the cross was to be planted, but even among the faithful, could divine that the real ruler of that city stood amongst them; that Caesars would pass away, that waves of barbarians would come and go, that ages would vanish, but that this old man would hold there uninterrupted sway.

The sun slanted still more towards Ostia, and had become large and red. The whole western sky was bathed with the glow of the dying day. Then the soldiers approached Peter to strip him of his garments. But he, who had been bowed in prayer, now suddenly stood erect and stretched forth his right hand. The executioners paused as if in awe at his attitude. The faithful scarce dared to breathe, thinking that he desired to speak. Unbroken silence prevailed. But he, standing on the height, with his right hand extended, made the sign of the cross, blessing in the hour of his death—

"Urbi et Orbi!" (The City and the World).

On that same beautiful evening another detachment of soldiers led along the Ostian Way Paul of Tarsus, towards a place called Aquae Salviae. He also was followed by a band of the faithful whom he had converted. Whenever he recognized a friend, he stopped and talked with him, for the guard treated him with greater consideration because he was a Roman citizen. Beyond the gate known as Tergemina he met Plautilla, the daughter of the prefect, Flavius Sabinus, and noticing that her youthful face was wet with tears, he said: "Plautilla, daughter of eternal salvation, depart in peace. Only lend me your veil to cover my eyes as I go to the Lord." Taking the veil, he went on with a face as full of joy as that of a laborer returning home after a day's toil. His thoughts, like those of Peter, were calm and serene as that evening sky. He gazed in thoughtful contemplation over the plain which extended before him, and upon the Alban Hills, bathed in light. He recalled his journey, his pains and labors, the trials he had overcome, the churches he had founded, in all lands and beyond all seas, and he felt that he had earned his rest, that his work was completed. He knew that the seed he had sown would not be scattered by the breath of malice. He was departing from this life with the certainty that the conflict against the world which the spreading of the truth had occasioned would result in victory. A peace beyond understanding filled his soul.

The road to the place of execution was long, and the shades of evening were falling. The mountains became purple and their bases were gradually veiled in shadows. Flocks were wending their homeward way. Here and there groups of slaves walked along with their implements upon their shoulders. Children at play before the houses on the road looked with wonder at the soldiers. On that evening the transparent, balmy air seemed filled with peace and harmony, which, as it were, rose from the earth and floated heavenward. And Paul felt this, and his heart was filled with joy at the thought that to this harmony of the earth he had added a note which did not exist before, but without which the whole earth was like sounding brass and tinkling cymbals.

And he recalled how he had taught the people charity; how he had admonished them that though they should give all they possessed to the poor, and though they learned all languages, all mysteries, and all sciences, they would be nothing without love, which is kind, patient, which does not return evil, does not crave honor, suffers all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures to the end.

- His whole life had been spent in teaching people this truth. And now he said within himself: "What power can equal it? What power can conquer it? Can Caesar overcome it, though he had twice as many legions, twice as many cities, the seas and the lands and nations?"

And like a conqueror he went to his reward.

The escort finally left the main road and turned eastward along the narrow path leading to the Aquae Salviae. The red sun was lying low on the heather. The centurion halted the soldiers at the fountain, for the time had come. Paul threw Plautilla's veil over his arm, intending to cover his eyes with it, and for the last time he raised those eyes, filled with indescribable peace, towards the eternal light of the evening, and prayed. Yes, the hour had come; but now he saw before him a long road of light leading to heaven, and to himself

he repeated the same words which formerly he had written in the consciousness of duty done and the end at hand:

"I have fought the good fight; I have finished my course; I have kept the faith; henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.”

Quo Vadis A tale at the time of Nero by Henryk Siekiewicz

by St Francis deSales


When sick, offer all your sorrows, your languors, and your pains to the Lord, and beg of Him to unite them with the torments which He endured for you. Obey the doctor; take medicine, food, and other remedies, for the love of God, remembering the gall which He took for the love of you I desire to be cured in order to serve Him; do not refuse to languish in order to obey Him ; and dispose yourself to die, if He wishes it to be so, in order to praise and enjoy Him. Remember that bees, during the time in which they make honey, live on a very bitter kind of nourishment, and that in like manner we can never more properly elicit the great acts of meekness and patience, or better compose the honey of excellent virtues, than when we eat the bitter bread of tribulation and live in the midst of anguish. And as that honey which is made from the flowers of thyme, a small but bitter herb, is the best of all, so that virtue which is formed in the bitterness of pain and humiliation is the most excellent of all. Tribulation and sickness are well calculated to advance us in virtue, on account of the many resignations which they oblige us to make into the hands of Our Lord.'

Your body is weak; but charity, which is the nuptial robe, covers it.' A weak person excites all those who know him to a holy support, and gives them even a particular tenderness for him, provided he shows that he carries his cross lovingly and devoutly.

We must be equally free to take and ask for remedies, as sweet and courageous to support our illness. He who can preserve meekness in the midst of sorrows and sufferings, and peace in the midst of bustle and business, is almost perfect; and though there are few persons found, even in religion, who have attained to this degree of happiness, yet there are some, and there have been some in all times, and it is to this highest point we should aspire.

The life of a person in good health is almost entirely barren, and that of one in sickness may be a continual harvest: we must accommodate ourselves to necessity, and turn all to our eternal happiness. Ah! how little it matters if every thing dies in us, provided that God reigns and lives there! Evils often happen to us in order that, not having done much penance voluntarily for our sins, we may do some unavoidably. Let us, nevertheless, use suitable remedies,

* Sickness separates the Christian from the world and from all inebriation of the senses; it causes silence around him ; it changes his body, which is the usual instrument of his illusions and vain desires, into an altar of sacrifice and expiation ; the conversation of men is no longer sought for; every thing tells him to look inwards, and the Christian sufferer naturally finds himself alone with God but with such resignation that if the divine hand render them unavailing, we may acquiesce in its arrangement, and if it render them efficacious, we may bless it for its mercy. Oh! how little it were, though all the hours of our life were sad and full of affliction, provided that the hour of our death shall be happy and bring us true consolation I ought we not wish as much to live on Mount Calvary as on Mount Thabor? It is good to be with Our Lord, wherever He is, on the cross as well as in glory. The hand of God is equally amiable, when it dispenses afflictions and when it distributes consolations. We must not say a word against the decrees of the celestial will, which disposes of its own in accordance with its greater glory. It is not in our power to retain the consolations which God bestows upon us, unless the one of loving Him above all things, which is a favour supremely desirable. O God! how good a thing it is to live only in God, to labour only in God, and to rejoice only in God!

It is on this account that we must have patience not only to be sick, but to have the sickness God wishes, in the place where He wishes, among the persons whom He wishes, and with the inconveniences He wishes, obeying the physician in each and every thing (except as regards ejaculatory prayers, which he cannot and should not prohibit, if they be not too frequent), taking medicines, meats, and other remedies, for the love of God, remembering the gall which Our Lord took for the love of us, desiring to be cured in order to serve Him, not refusing to suffer in order to obey Him, and disposing ourselves to die, if He should so will it, in order to praise and enjoy Him.

Lord Jesus! what true happiness has a soul dedicated to God, in being well exercised in tribulations, before quitting this life!

How can we know a sincere and fervent love, unless we see it in the midst of thorns and crosses, and particularly when it is left among them for a long time?

Thus our dear Saviour testified His immeasurable love, by the measure of His labours and His Passion.

Manifest your love for the spouse of your heart on the bed of sorrow; it was on the bed of sorrow that He formed your heart, even before it was formed in the world, beholding it as yet only in His divine designs.

Alas! Our Saviour counted all your sorrows, all your sufferings, and purchased, at the price of His blood, the patience and the love that were necessary for you, in order to worthily refer your pains to His glory and your own salvation.

Be consoled in the thought that God sends you these crosses; for nothing comes from His divine hand but what is for the benefit of souls that fear Him, either to purify them or to confirm them in His holy love.*

* " The remembrance which the saints in heaven have of their sufferings and humiliations, delights them; they celebrate them in their songs of gladness, and if they could have any regret, it would be that they had not suffered more. The saints who reign in heaven have taught these things to persons who are not there yet. Let us endeavour to remember this holy doctrine; it is understood by the saints.

"The great characteristic of sanctity is love of suffering, as its peculiar seal is spiritual joy; one produces the other.

Pains considered in themselves cannot be loved, but considered in their source, that is to say, in the divine will which appoints them, they are infinitely amiable. Behold the rod of Moses on the ground, it is a frightful serpent; see it in the hand of Moses, it is a wand of wonders. Behold tribulations in themselves, they are terrors; regard them in the will of God, they are delights You will be truly happy, if, with a heart filially loving, you receive that which Our Lord sends you from a heart paternally careful of your perfection.

Look often to the length of eternity, and you will not be troubled at the accidents of this mortal life.

If you have scarcely any gold or frankincense to offer to Our Lord, you have at least some myrrh, and I am sure He will accept it most willingly, for this fruit of life wished to be committed to the myrrh of bitterness, both at His birth and at His death.

Jesus glorified is beautiful; but although He is always infinitely good, He seems to be yet more beautiful, when crucified. Thus He wishes to be your spouse at present; in the future you will have Him glorified.

On what occasions can we make great acts of the union of our heart with the will of God, of the mortification of our self-love, and of the love of our own abjection, if not on these?

This is a mystery; but strive sincerely to enter into it, and you will find that I have reason for what I say.

"Let us not speak ill of the cross; it has been sent to us to warn us, to detach us from the earth, to conduct us to our end. Let us leave it only to cast ourselves into God. We have much need of suffering ... let us suffer well!"—-E -,De Savignan.

God wishes thus to exercise our heart. It is not severity, it is clemency. Let not our will, but His most holy will, be done.

Let us have good courage, for, provided that our heart is faithful to Him, He will not load us above our strength, and He will carry our burden with us, when He sees that with a good affection we bow down our shoulders beneath it.

I desire your advancement in solid piety, and this advancement has its difficulties, given to train you in the school of the cross, in which alone our souls can be perfected.

Be assured that my heart expects the day of your consolation with as much ardour as your own; but wait, wait, I say, while waiting, to use the words of the Holy Scripture. Now, to wait while waiting means not to be disquieted while waiting; for there are many who, while waiting, do not wait, but are troubled and uneasy.

It is not with spiritual rose-bushes as with material ones; on the latter the thorns remain and the roses pass away, on the former the thorns pass away and the roses remain.

It is a great error to imagine that the services we render to God, without relish, without tenderness of heart, are little agreeable to Him, since, on the contrary, our actions are just like roses, which, while fresh, have more beauty; being, nevertheless, dry, they have more perfume and strength. In the very same manner, while our works performed with tenderness of heart are more agreeable to us, to us, I say, who desire only our own pleasure; yet, being done in aridity, they have more excellence and merit before God.

For to love God in sugar, little children could nearly do as much; but to love Him in senna, that is the proof of a loving fidelity.

To say: Live Jesus on Thabor! St. Peter, rough as he was, had enough courage; but to say: Live Jesus on Calvary! that belonged only to the Mother, and the beloved disciple who was left to her as a child.

Oh! how blessed, my dear souls, will all those be who will not be scandalized at the opprobriums and ignominies of Our Lord, and who, during this life, will be crucified with Him, meditating on His Passion, carrying His mortification about with them, and not being ashamed to see that He was the scorn, the refuse, and the outcast of the world !*

Beyond a doubt, if we wish to be saved, we must attach ourselves to the cross of Our Saviour, meditate on it, and carry about His mortification in our bodies: * " The same God sanctified both Thabor and Calvary, to make us understand the mysterious union that exists between ignominy and glory: they ought to be the same to us. We should remember that in consolation or in temptation, God is ever the same Being in our regard; He is always a Saviour, always great, always powerful, always turned towards us with infinite love. Let us then say on every occasion: God is always the same, this thought suffices for me, I wait for Him, ... If Jesus shows His glory and splendour to His apostles, it is to lead them afterwards to the cross, it is to prepare them for sacrifice and immolation. In undertaking the labour of sanctification, we must always say: The joy of Thabor may be given sometimes on earth, but only for a very short and almost indiscernible time. Pain is what is regularly given us, to establish us in devotedness and zeal."—P. Ravignan.

there is no other way to heaven; Our Lord passed by it first. As many ecstacies, elevations of soul, and raptures as you please; ascend, if you can, even to the third heaven with St. Paul; but still, if you do not remain on the cross of Our Lord and exercise yourself in mortification, I tell you that all the rest is vanity, and that you will remain void of every good, without virtue, and liable to be scandalized with the Jews at the Passion of our Divine Saviour. In fine, there is no other gate by which to enter into heaven than by that of humiliation and mortification.

" When every thing in the world smiles on us, we easily attach ourselves to it: the enchantment is too powerful and the attraction too strong. If God loves us, be assured that He will not allow us to repose at our ease in this land of exile. He disturbs us in our vain amusements, He interrupts the course of our imaginary felicity, lest we should be carried away by the rivers of Babylon, that is to say, by the current of transitory pleasures. Believe, then, O children of the new alliance! that when God sends you afflictions, He wishes to break the bonds which attach you to the world and to recall you to your true country.”—Bossuet.

But, you say, you can scarcely fix your mind on the fatigues which Our Lord endured for you, so long as your sorrows press upon you. Very well! it is not necessary that you should do so, but only that, as frequently as you can, you should lift up your heart to Our Saviour, making some acts like the following:—

1. Accepting this sorrow from His hand, as if you saw Him actually laying it upon your head.

2. Offering yourself to suffer still more.

3. Conjuring Him, by the merit of His torments, to accept these little inconveniences which you endure in union with the pains which he suffered on the cross.

4. Declaring that you wish not only to suffer, but to love and caress these evils, being sent from so good and so kind a father.

5. Invoking the martyrs and the many holy men and women who now enjoy heaven for having been afflicted on earth.

There are many persons who, when sick or afflicted in any manner whatever, take care not to complain, or to act delicately, because they think with reason that this would be a weakness and an immortification; yet at the same time they earnestly desire and act in such a manner that every one should pity them, that every one should compassionate their lot, that every one should look upon them as not only afflicted, but also patient and courageous. Now, I acknowledge there is patience in this, but it is a false patience, which, in fact, is no other thing than a most refined pretence and subtle vanity. They have glory, says the Apostle, but not in the eyes of God. The true patient does not complain of his sickness, or desire to be pitied; he speaks of it sincerely, truthfully, and simply, without bewailing himself, without being angry, without making his malady appear worse than it is. And if he is pitied, he suffers patiently to be pitied, unless that he is . pitied for something which he does not suffer; for then he modestly declares he does not suffer that, and remains thus peacefully between truth and patience, telling his sickness and not complaining of it.

There is no harm in desiring a remedy; on the contrary, we should carefully endeavour to procure it; for God, who sends you sickness, is also the author of remedies.

Nevertheless, you must employ those remedies with such resignation that if His Divine Majesty wishes the sickness to overcome them, you may acquiesce therein, and if He wishes the remedies to overcome the disease, you may bless Him.*

My God! how happy you are, if you continue thus under the hand of God, humbly, sweetly, and unaffectedly!

Ah! I hope that this pain in your head will much benefit your heart. It is now more than ever, and on the best assurance, you can show to our sweet Saviour that with all your affliction you said and say: Live Jesus!

* " As to the motives you may take for the preservation of your health, besides that of obedience, which delivers you from all self-seeking, you ought to consider your body as the temple of the Holy Ghost, who has made you its guardian, and that, as it is not your own, you must render an account of it to its Master. You ought to do the same for it, as if you were responsible for a chapel which was falling to ruin, and which you were obliged to repair. Moreover, your body is a member of Jesus Christ; be careful then of it, as if Our Lord would complain of the ill treatment He had received from you. Treat it, again, like that of a third person, to whom you would render a charity. And, in fine, remember that, as a child of God the Father, you belong to His family, and He wishes your body to be taken care of, and to be kept up. It belongs to Him, He has purchased it with the blood of His Son, He has a right over it, and He wishes us to preserve it, that we may employ it in His service."—M. Olier.

Live Jesus! and may He reign in the midst of our sorrows, since we cannot reign or live but by those of His death!

Hope then always in Him; and to hope in Him, belong always to Him. Often immolate your heart to His love, even on the altar of the cross, on which He immolated His for the love of you. The cross is the royal gate by which we enter into the temple of sanctity.

If envy could reign in the kingdom of eternal love, the angels would envy two prerogatives in man: one is that our Lord endured the cross for us, and not for them, at least not so entirely; the other, that men endure something for Our Lord: the suffering of God for man, and the suffering of man for God.*

Remembering the cross you carry, I say to you: Love your cross well, for it is all of gold if you regard it with eyes of love; and while, on the one side, you behold the love of your heart dead and crucified amid nails and thorns, you will find, on the other, an assemblage of precious pearls to com * Perfection does not consist in consolation, but in the submission of oar will to God, especially in times of bitterness. Let us bear in mind that the obedience of Jesus Christ became perfect when His tongue and His mouth were burning, and when His cruel thirst was increased by vinegar and gall: we ought to value more the aridity and desolation of a submissive soul than the loving languor and delicious sweetness of an overflowing devotion.

pose the crown of glory which awaits you, if, while awaiting it, you lovingly carry the crown of thorns with your King, who so much desired to suffer before entering into His felicity.'

Let our dear Jesus crucified then rest for ever as a bouquet on your bosom; yes, for His nails are more desirable than carnations, and His thorns than roses. My God! how I desire that you should be holy, and all odoriferous with the perfumes of the Saviour!

The Our Father which you say for the head-ache is not forbidden; but, my God! no, I would not have courage to ask Our Lord, by the pain He had in His head, that I might not have any pains in mine. Ah! did He suffer, that we might not suffer? * St. John Damascene teaches us that the Son of God deified all the goods of this life by His incarnation, and all its evils by His passion; that, in a manner, He united them hypostatically to His Divinity; so that, as we adore what touched the body of Jesus Christ, we should adore evils of every kind, because they have entered into His heart; there is not one of them which did not touch His sacred body, or was not embraced by the desires of His holy soul. This was St. Anselm's thought when he said that he adored all the evils of this life as so many sacraments. The sacraments produce grace in those who receive them worthily; so the cross sanctifies those who touch it; and as the Son of God is always present in the sacrament of the Eucharist, so we can say with truth that He is found present in our afflictions. Hence that burning expression of faith and love in the mouth of a holy religious, prostrate at the feet of a sick man: I adore Jesus Christ in this suffering body; my faith shows Sim to me in a manner less real, but more sensible than in the consecrated host. I see Sim present, not only as a physician is with his patient, a father with his son, a friend with his friend, but as the soul is with the body, the head with its members.

St. Catherine of Sienna seeing that her Saviour presented her with two crowns, one of gold, the other of thorns: "Oh, I wish for the crown of sorrow," said she, "in this world; the other will do for heaven!" I would desire to employ the crowning of Our Lord to obtain a crown of patience around my head-ache.

Live entirely among the thorns of the Saviour's crown, and say continually: Live Jesus! Our flesh is very delicate in not desiring anything unpleasant, but still the repugnance which you feel do not show a want of love. For, as I think, if we believed that by being flayed alive, He would love us more, we would have ourselves flayed alive, not indeed without repugnance, but in spite of repugnance.

Do not say that you would wish to recover your health in order the better to love and serve God; for, on the contrary, it would be only the better to serve your own contentment, which you would prefer to the contentment of God. The will of God is as good in sickness as it is in health, and is usually better. And if we love health better, let us not say it is the better to serve God; for who does not see that it is health we seek in the will of God, and not the will of God in health?

Poor and contemptible creatures that we are, we can hardly do anything good in this miserable life, except to endure some adversity. We seldom do God a service on one side, but we undo it on another. If by an action we desire to unite ourselves to Him, we often separate ourselves from Him by the evil circumstances which accompany it. On this account, it is good to quit him in sweetness to serve Him humbly in bitterness.

We must act with Our Lord by serving Him faithfully so long as health is good, and suffer with Him by patient endurance, when He sends us sorrows and afflictions.

Judge now, Theotime, whether you should regret the time you spend under the pressure of suffering, since in each one of those moments you may earn an eternal crown. How many crowns in an hour! how many in a day! how many in a year! Oh, what treasures! what glory for heaven I "I would prefer one of those days," says a holy religious, "to all the exploits of conquerors." When we think on eternity, where there will be nothing more to suffer, where we can give nothing more to God, and where God will have nothing more to do but to load us with His gifts, all the miseries of this life appear infinitely amiable, and there is not a moment which ought not to be a moment of the cross or of humiliation. How precious then is the time of this life, and how holy is its use, when joined with pain and bitterness!

The heart united to the heart of God cannot refrain from loving Him, or from accepting willingly the arrows which the hand of God shoots at it. St. Blandina found no greater relief amid the wounds of her martyrdom than the sacred thought which she expressed in these few words : l am a Christian. Blessed is the heart that knows how to breathe this sigh!

The only cure for the most of our maladies and infirmities, whether corporal or spiritual, is patience and conformity to the divine will, resigning ourselves to the good-pleasure of God, without reserve or exception, in health, in sickness, in contempt, in honour, in consolation, in desolation, in time, and in eternity; willingly accepting pains of mind and body from His most amiable hand, as if we saw it present; offering ourselves to endure even more, should it appear good to Him. No one can tell how pure and meritorious such an acceptance of the will of God renders our sufferings, when, with meekness, patience, and love, we receive the afflictions which we must endure, in consideration of the eternity during which God has willed them, and because they are now conformable to His providence. As soon as the divine good-pleasure appears, we should immediately range ourselves on its side.

You are aware that the fire which Moses saw in the desert was a figure of holy love, and that, as its flames were nourished in the midst of thorns, so the exercises of sacred love are performed much better in the midst of tribulation than in the midst of comfort.*

* "What can the soldier hope for, whose captain disdains to prove him? But, on the other hand, if the soldier is exercised in a variety of laborious undertakings, he has reason to expect promotion. O delicate piety, which never tasted afflictions, piety nurtured in the shade and in repose! I hear thee discourse of the future life; thou pretendest to the crown of immortality, but thou shouldst not reverse the order of the Apostle: "Patience produces trial, and trial, hope." If that thou expectest the glory of God, come, that I may put thee to the test which God has proposed for His servants. Here is a disaster, a loss of goods, a contradiction, a sickness; what! thou beginnest to murmur, O poor disconcerted piety! thou canst not endure it, 0 piety without strength or foundation! Ah, thou didst never deserve the name of Christian piety, thou wast only a vain phantom; thou didst glitter like gold in the sun, but thou couldst not bear the fire of the crucible; thou mayest deceive men by a false appearance, but thou art not worthy of God, or of the purity of the future kingdom.”—Bossuet.

You have then good reason to know that Our Lord desires you to profit by His love, since He sends you such health as is always uncertain, and many other trials. My God! how sweet a thing it is to see Our Lord crowned with thorns on the cross and with glory in heaven! For this encourages us to receive contradictions lovingly, knowing well that by the crown of thorns we shall arrive at the crown of felicity. Keep yourself ever closely attached to Our Lord, and you will meet with no evil that will not be converted into good.

Often look with the interior eyes of your soul on Jesus Christ crucified, naked, blasphemed, calumniated, abandoned, overwhelmed with every kind of weariness, disgust, and sadness; and consider that all your sorrows are not at all comparable to His, either in kind or in degree, and that you will never suffer anything approaching to that which He has suffered for you.

Consider the pains which the martyrs endured formerly, and those which so many persons endure even at this day, greater beyond all proportion than any which afflict you, and say: "Alas! my labours are consolations, and my pains are roses, if I compare myself with those who, without resources, without sympathy, without any alleviation, live in a continual death, overwhelmed with afflictions, a thousand times greater than mine."

We do not think of death; and you, being in health, are obliged to think no longer of life. We avoid the cross of Jesus Christ; and He Himself nails you to it. We do not wish to feel the efficacy of sufferings, for we desire to be virtuous without patience; and Our Lord, who loves you more than you can love yourself, applies Himself till He is tired to purify you, while perhaps He leaves others to themselves.

Oh, how happy you are to have something to suffer for Our Lord, who, having founded the Church militant and triumphant on the cross, always favours those who carry the cross! Since you cannot remain very long in this world, it is well that the little time you do spend in it should be employed in suffering.

If I had anything to desire, it would be that my death should be preceded by a long illness; for, by this means, the affection of my friends would relent, and they would no longer have so much care of visiting me. The diligence, in like manner, of my servants would gradually diminish, and every one would receive comfort by my death.

Consoling Thoughts St Francis de Sales

Te Deum

Laudate Dominum

Year with the Saints

Year with the Saints May 16 - May 31 Audio

Year with the Saints Jun 1 - June 15 Audio

Year with the Saints June 16 - June 30 Audio


I BID you welcome, brothers in the Lord,
Who come to see an old man ere he pass
In pain of body, but in joy of soul,
To his long rest. I bid you welcome, friends.
And gladly to your question make reply.
You ask if I whose sun is well-nigh set,
Remember well that day on Calvary,
When we, — may God forgive us, — crucified
The holy Jesus, — aye, from early dawn
Till night it all comes back to memory.
Clear as a legend sculptured on the frieze
Of some Greek temple to Athena reared. —

You want the story of that day complete.
Told as I saw it, not the incidents, —
These are engraved with steel upon your minds
Through hearing oft the wondrous narrative, —
But as they seemed to me, a Gentile Wind
To Jewish faith and customs, which I thought
Vain superstitions fit for eastern slaves.
But not for Romans.
I will tell the tale
Although the memory of my part therein
Wounds lke a scorpion when with angry sting
It pierces to the flesh.
Early that morn
When I commanded Pilate's guard, the Jews
Brought Jesus up for judgment. All His face
Was marred so with blows that I supposed
He had been battered in some riotous brawl.
But as I watched, surprised, such royal grace
And majesty shone in His countenance,
Although defaced with buffets, that I thought,
Here is no common culprit : Pilate, too, —
Who might, perhaps, without much questioning
Have sentenced some base slave to please the Jews, —
Seeing the unwonted dignity of Christ,
Required the Sanhedrim to state His crime ;
Whereas the Jews in their presumption thought
To have Him sentenced at their mere behest.
No question being asked. But Roman rule.
Unless by some weak hand administered,
Brooks not such rank injustice. Then the Jews, —
Whose answer deserved chastisement, — replied,
" Were He not guilty He would not be here."
Oh ! Pilate vexed me greatly on that day, —
So weak and vacillating. — Well he knew
Jesus had done no wrong, and yet he feared
The wretched Jews, and dared not set Him free.
I longed to take my hundred soldiers mailed
Straight through the crowd with sword and spear in hand,
And make short work of Caiaphas and his gang :
But Pilate gave no sign. The soldiers, too,
Who saw the Praetor yielding to the Jews
Unwillingly, were vexed, and when the word
Was given to scourge Jesus, all their rage, —
He being a Jew, — was vented upon Him.
Heinous injustice ! And I, angry too.
Checked not their cruelty ; for this I weep
Daily, and daily mourn in penitence.
Human injustice ? Nay, 'twas bestial,
Canine, not human ; see a pack of hounds, —
If one attack a weak defenceless dog
What do the rest ? Assail the criminal ?
Defend the innocent ? Not so, they side
With him who did the wrong, the stronger beast.
And join in worrying the defenceless hound.
Thus did my soldiers, and I checked them not,
Angry with Pilate, Caiaphas, and the Jews.

Men take their scourging differently ; some
Howl from the first, but others laugh in scorn
Until the iron-tipped thongs have ploughed the flesh,
And every stroke is torture ; then they groan.
Knowing the scourge will fall relentlessly
With regular pulsations ; some will faint.
And after, when the tale of strokes is done.
Are found, it may be, dead. But unlike all
Was Jesus, Who in silence bared His back,
And with a countenance resolved and firm
Walked to the post, and held His hands aloft
Until the soldiers tied them to the ring.
And then the blows descended. Not a word
Or cry He uttered, but with upturned face
Gazed skyward, and His lips moved silently
As though He prayed to some invisible God.

You ask, — did He not suffer since no cry
Revealed His anguish ? Aye, the tortured flesh
Quivered in agony, and from His brow.
With pain distorted, poured a stream of sweat ;
But not a word He uttered. This enraged
The soldiers, who regard it as their due
To hear their victims groaning, so they wove

A crown of thorns and pressed it on His head
Until the spikes had passed into His brow,
And all His face was bloodstained. O'er Him then
They cast in scorn a tattered purple robe,
And giving Him as sceptre a bamboo.
They mocked Him as a false, pretended King.
I would have checked them, but they had the right
By custom to amuse themselves at will
With culprits sent to torture.

Pilate then.
Struck by His deep humiliation, hoped
His foes might be appeased. So deemed not I : —
Hate thrives on deeds of hatred, and each sin
Grows strong by sinning. This I knew too well
By dim self-knowledge. Oh, the dreadful cry
From many thousand raging Israelites, —
" Let Him be crucified." — It brought to mind
The yell of some huge pack of hungry wolves
Round a belated traveller at night
Lost in a German forest. Such a sound
Would in most hearts strike terror, not in His, —
The prisoner before Pilate, — silent still.
Even when Pilate asked Him " Whence art thou ? "
He did not tremble at the mob's fierce cry.
Nor kneeling ask protection, but quite calm.
As though the people's rage concerned Him not.
Spoke of the source of strength, and told the judge
His power was given by God. I thought it strange.
But now perceive He would the Praetor help
To fear not Caesar but the heavenly powers.
And so do justice, — not for Jesus' sake
But Pilate's.

All was vain, the Jewish mob
Prevailed, and Pilate's selfish, timid soul

Was stained with innocent blood. I thought it, then,
Unworthy of a Roman, and the attempt
By vain ablutions to evade the blame
His own heart uttered, childish. Now I see
Not only this, but in the fuller light
Vouchsafed me since, that all injustice meets
The wrath of God : 'Tis strange, for earth seems full
Of what we count injustice ; sickness falls.
And pain, upon the noblest of mankind.
So God ordains, and simple folk like me
Know not the reason ; but if man commit
Injustice on his fellows, God's rebuke
Will surely fall upon him, either now.
Or in the fields of Hades. Pilate then
Condemned the innocent Jesus, and his crime
The Furies saw and punished.

Many a man
Have I to crucifixion led, and aye
Their thoughts were fixed on coming agony.
Must it not be so ? Think of this, my friends ; —
Suppose you know that in a short half-hour
Your body will be racked with direst pain, —
Nerve-torture that will sometimes last three days,
Without a hope of respite, would your thoughts
Turn to aught else, or could you make them dwell
On troubles that might meet your countrymen
A generation hence ? Yet Jesus Christ,
Though staggering 'neath the burden of His cross,
Half turned to tell the women standing near
And weeping, not to vex themselves for Him
But for the sorrows coming on their babes.
I noted this as strange and wonderful,
Beyond my knowledge of the ways of men
About to die in torture.

Then I asked,
Questioning self without a spoken word,
Has this strange man no thought at all of self.
No fear of coming agony, no dread
Of those long-drawn-out hours upon the cross
Which soon must rack His frame ? Then as I looked
I saw that He was gazing on the crowd
Gathered around, with eyes so full of love
And pity that I knew He took no thought
For his own pain or sorrow.

After this
He fell to earth exhausted. He had lived
Throughout the scourging, which will often kill ;
But pain and loss of blood, and that long night
Of sleepless torment well might sap the force
Even of the strongest. And I sometimes think.
My brothers, since I learnt the mystery
Of Love Divine, that what oppressed His soul
That night on Olivet beneath the moon,
When thrice He prayed, was not the fear of death,
Nor yet of pain, nor even mental pangs.
But dread of dying 'neath the murderous scourge.
And losing thus the glory of the cross.
And that mysterious power to win men's souls
Which Jesus' love, revealed upon the cross,
Holds as the price of suffering : But I stray, —
A simple soldier, — from my proper path.

When Jesus fell through weakness, and the blows.
And harsh spear-prickings of my soldiers failed
To make Him raise His cross, I knew not whom
To lade with its slave's burden. Fain would I
Have caught some sleek and prosperous Pharisee,
And laid it on his shoulders, but the law
Forbade such treatment of the vanquished Jews ;

Nor would the soldiers bear it. Happily
By chance came Simon of Cyrene, him
We might compel, and so he bore the cross.
Or was it God's high purpose, and not chance
That brought Him there just then, that he might watch
The faultless patience of the Son of Man,
And seeing learn to love ? I think God works
Amongst us men in that way, — little things, —
Some chance decision of our wayward wills, —
Using to serve great ends. I thank the Lord
It was my turn for duty on that day
Of Jesus' crucifixion, else His Love
I might have never known, because the sight
Of His vast patience in the midst of pain
Showed me the dreadful ugliness of sin,
And turned me from the foul delights of sense.
Which Roman vice had taught me, to the joys
Found in the thought of God and His great Love.

But not at once the change ; it slowly came
As other action in the drama dire
Wrought on my soul. For when at last we reached
The skull-shaped hill with Jesus and His cross
He spoke the words which more aroused my thoughts
Than all else done or uttered on that day.

For when the nails were driven through His flesh.
And all His body quivered with the pain,
In place of the accustomed bitter cry,
He spake the words, — well known now, then so strange, —
" Father, forgive them," and I standing by
Heard them and greatly wondered. Who was this ?
And who His Father ? and why in His pain,
When men are wont to curse their torturers.
Asked He that they be pardoned ? All day long
I pondered on this mystery as I watched
The cross and all the Jewish rabblement
That came to mock their King. And when there fell
That strange and awful darkness on the land,
And strong men trembled, and the mocking voice
Of all that abject multitude was hushed,
And men spoke low in whispers, or were dumb.
My wonder grew, and still the question came
Unanswered to my soul, — " What man is this ? "
And as I gazed upon His quivering form.
Scarred, flayed, and furrowed by the cruel scourge.
All suddenly there came into my mind
Hercules dying on Mount (OEta's crest,
Tortured by Nessus' poison, punished thus
For saving his wife's honour, — Hercules,
The son of Zeus the Thunderer. And then
The thought came of Prometheus and his woes.
The godlike Titan, who gave gifts to men,
And therefor suffered torture ; and I asked
Within myself, — Is it a trait Divine
Pain to endure for giving gifts to men ?
And I remembered then that one had told, —
Bringing me Jewish tattle, — that a man
Who seemed to be a prophet from the north.
Had brought the gift of health to sickly folk,
And even life to some who seemed as dead ;—
Was this the man now dying on the cross ?
The Jews had said He came from Galilee. —
So through the hours of darkness did my soul
Question and get no answer. Then there rang
Through the black horror the most awful cry
That ever smote my ear and stilled my heart, —
A cry that bitter anguish of the soul,
Not suffering of the body, might extort
From one in mental torment. At that cry

The firm earth trembled, and the crosses swayed ;
And then the sky grew brighter, and I saw
The face of Him I watched change suddenly
As though illumined by some wondrous joy ;
And from the parched mouth of that tortured frame.
When breath was scant, and friends beside the cross
Might scarcely hope to catch a whispered word,
There came a loud cry like the voice of one
Who shouts in victory ; and then I knew
That He who hung there dying on the cross
Could be none other than the Son of God.

Saint Longinus, the Centurion

A Sermon on the Apostleship of Prayer

THE Rev. Father Ramiere, S.J., preached a sermon at Farm Street on Sunday, the 17th of October, inviting attention to that great apostolic work with which the readers of the MESSENGER are so familiarly acquainted. He took his very apposite text from the last chapter of the Second Book of Machabees.

So Nicanor being puffed up with exceeding great pride, thought to set up a public monument of his victory over Judas. But Machabeus ever trusted with all hope that God would help them. And he exhorted his people not to fear the coming of the nations, but to remember the help they had before received from Heaven, and now to hope for victory from the Almighty. And speaking to them out of the law, and the prophets, and withal putting them in mind of the battles they had fought before, he made them more cheerful. Then after he had encouraged them, he showed withal the falsehood of the Gentiles and their breach of oaths. So he armed every one of them, not with defence of shield and spear, but with very good speeches and exhortations, and told them a dream worthy to be believed, whereby he rejoiced them all. Now the vision was in this manner: Onias who had been high priest, a good and virtuous man, modest in his looks, gentle in his manner, and graceful in his speech, and who from a child was exercised in virtues, holding up his hands, prayed for all the people of the Jews. After this there appeared also another man, admirable for age and glory, and environed with great beauty and majesty. Then Onias answering said: This is a lover of his brethren and of the people of Israel: this is he that prayeth much for the people, and for all the holy city, Jeremias the Prophet of God. Whereupon Jeremias stretched forth his right hand, and gave to Judas a sword of gold, saying: Take this holy sword a gift from God, wherewith thou shalt overthrow the adversaries of my people Israel. Thus being exhorted with the words of Judas, which were very good and proper to stir up the courage and strengthen the hearts of the young men, they resolved to fight, and to set upon them manfully, that valour might decide the matter, because the holy city and the temple were in danger.

There we find, my dear brethren, an instance of the general truth which St. Paul expressed when he said: Omnia in figura contingebant illis. (All these things happened to them.) The history of the ancient people is a symbol of the destinies of the true people of God, of the new Israel. Who does not see in the present situation of the Church of God the realization of that which we have been reading just now—of the abandonment to which the Synagogue was reduced in the time of the Machabees? All the earthly glories with which the Church of God was once surrounded have faded away: the holy city is in the hands of her fiercest enemies, her streets are profaned with all kinds of abominations, her treasures are dispersed, her most devoted ministers expelled, her children torn violently from her bosom and delivered up to the worst of all captivities, to the impious education which enslaves the minds and souls of men under the shameful yoke of error and of vice.

And who in this extremity comes to the help of the Church of God? We look to the north and to the south, to the east and to the west, and nowhere appears any human hope of salvation. All the earthly powers that once supported the Church have now turned against her, all, all! Those which are not openly hostile, at least deny her Divine rights. An immense league, embracing all the civilized nations of the world, was formed more than a century ago, to distress the Kingdom of God upon earth, and after having expelled Jesus Christ from public institutions by the so-called Liberal system, they are preparing to expel Him from families and even from the conscience of individual men by godless education.

What remains to the Church? A handful of pious Christians who in all nations form a small minority, and who compared with the numbers of their enemies, and the multitude much greater still of the indifferent and the cowardly, are less capable of fighting successfully than the Machabees were to resist the armies of Demetrius. Shall we then despair of the victory? No, my dear brethren, we shall not despair. And why not? Because Almighty God shows to us as a living and certain reality a spectacle much more consoling than that which was shown to Judas Machabeus in a dream. Do you not see those thousands of pious souls who like Onias hold up their hands and pray for the people of Israel? And above them, do you not see that other intercessor infinitely more powerful than Jeremias, the Very Son of the Almighty, Who, continually present in the midst of us at the same time that He is sitting at the right hand of His Father, is occupied in making intercession for us: Semper vivens ad interpellandum pro nobis? (He always lives to intercede for us )This is He that prayeth much for the people and for all the holy city, and by His prayer, to which He invites us to join our prayers, He renders us invincible and assures our triumph.

I have, therefore, a right to present to you the Apostleship of Prayer, exercised first by our Saviour and practised by Christians in union with the Heart of Jesus, as the last but all-powerful resource of the Church in the extreme danger with which she is threatened.

The Apostleship of Prayer thus understood is not a special association. We must distinguish two aspects of one and the same idea. The Apostleship of Prayer as a power and a duty is as old as Christianity itself, a power conferred and a duty imposed on all Christians to contribute by their prayers and good works to the edification of the Body of Christ. Under this point of view it is as old as the Church. What is new in it is a peculiarity of organization belonging to these later times by which the faithful are induced to unite together in order to exercise that power and to fulfil that duty. In order to organize this Holy League in England, and enable it to produce there the great fruits which it has produced in the other parts of the world, we need the assistance of your pious pastors.

It is not precisely under that respect that I wish to present the Apostleship of Prayer to your consideration to-day. I propose to set before you the idea of the work, to prove the immensity of the power which it puts into your hands and the stringent nature of the duty which it imposes upon you. To attain this end we must examine the Apostleship, first as it is in the Heart of Jesus, and secondly as it is in the heart of Christians.

I. Considered as it is in the Heart of Jesus, the Apostleship of Prayer appears to us as the proper apostolate of the Sacred Heart, the first apostolate which our Saviour exercised, the one which He exercised without interruption, the one which He kept for Himself when He was obliged to divest Himself of all other apostolates. Before briefly developing these three considerations, it is well to determine what is meant by the words Apostleship of Prayer. Preaching and administering the sacraments are not the only apostolate. If they were, you would not be able to give to our Blessed Lady in her own right the title of Queen of Apostles. Mary never preached : she remained silent in the assemblies of the primitive Church, although she could have spoken with more eloquence and efficacy than St. Paul or any other preacher of the Word. And nevertheless she was an apostle, nay, the Queen of Apostles, because by her prayers, her actions, her sufferings, united with those of her Divine Son, she contributed more efficaciously than all the Apostles together to the work of the apostleship, the conversion of souls, the propagation of the Kingdom of Christ. The apostleship includes every work which tends efficaciously to promote the salvation of souls, to convert the sinner, to sanctify the just, to assist the triumph of the Church. Preaching and the administration of sacraments contribute to these results, but the only indispensable means is the grace of God. Every work, therefore, which helps to impart grace to souls is included in the idea of an apostolate.

This explains the mystery of the Life of our Saviour Himself. He had come down from Heaven for one purpose—the salvation of mankind, to enlighten minds immersed in darkness, and bring back into the path of justice souls which had been led astray into the tortuous ways of sin. Having thirty-three years to spend among men, how is it that He waited till the age of thirty to show Himself and to speak? Were those long years of His Hidden Life lost? No, they were as usefully spent as the years of His Public Life. From the very beginning of His Life He had begun to suffer and to pray. He had not yet exercised the apostolate of His preaching, but He had already exercised the apostolate of His Heart, the apostolate of prayer. The first palpitation of His Heart, the first aspiration of His Soul, was the first act of that apostolate, and by that first act He had already done enough for our salvation. Why so? Because He had already obtained the grace necessary and sufficient to save the souls of all men.

I am, therefore, right in saying that the Apostolate of Prayer is the proper apostolate of the Heart of Jesus. For all other apostolates the Heart of Jesus needs cooperation. The apostolate of the word will require the movement of His sacred lips, the apostolate of charity will employ His sacred feet to run after the lost sheep, His sacred hands to bind their wounds; but before the Sacred Heart can have this cooperation of lips and feet and hands, It has already undertaken Its own proper apostolate of prayer. That apostolate was the first which our Saviour exercised. It is true that long before He began to teach men by word of mouth He had taught them by His example: coepit Jesus facere et docere.(Jesus began to do and to teach) At Bethlehem He had preached, by the mute eloquence of His poverty, the same lesson which was to be the first subject of His public exhortation; but even that apostolate of example which began with His visible Life had been forestalled by the invisible apostolate of prayer.

And that apostolate begun at the first moment will thenceforward be continued without interruption. The apostolate of the Word, even when it is undertaken after thirty years, is not exercised without intermission. However indefatigable Jesus may be in announcing the doctrine of salvation, He will only be able to speak according as men shall be disposed to listen to Him. However assiduous He may be in hunting after souls, the night will necessarily interrupt that work of mercy. But the night itself will not interrupt His prayer. When He can no longer proclaim to men the merciful designs of His Heavenly Father, He will continue to treat with that Heavenly Father about the eternal interests of men: Erat pernoctans in oratione Dei.(he spent the night in prayer )

There is only one other apostolate which shares with the Apostolate of Prayer the privilege of being uninterrupted. It is the apostolate of suffering. As the Heart of Jesus never ceased to pray for our salvation during His whole earthly Life, so He never ceased to suffer physically or morally for the expiation of our sins: Tota vita Christi crux fuit et martyrium.(The whole life of Christ was a cross and a martyrdom) But a moment will come when it will be necessary to interrupt that apostolate of suffering as well as the others. The work of Christ is consummated, His earthly Life comes to an end, His Father recalls Him to Heaven, in order to reward Him by unmixed joy for all His bitter trials. He must therefore divest Himself of His apostolic functions, and bequeath them to His ministers. He will henceforward preach by their lips, administer the sacraments, and perform works of mercy by their hands; He will fulfill in the sufferings of His devoted servants what is wanting to His own. But there is an apostolate which He will keep to Himself —the Apostolate of Prayer: semper vivens ad interpellandum pro nobis.(He always lives to intercede for us) In order to exert it more suitably He will create to Himself a second existence upon earth parallel to His existence in Heaven, as humble and obscure as His heavenly Life is glorious—a life of sacrifice and prayer. We see the Lamb Whom in Heaven the angels and the saints adore, "standing as it were slain," in a state of perpetual immolation, and perpetually praying for us.

And how long will that intercession last? As long as the duration of the world. As long as the Bride of Christ is exposed to the attack of her enemies and apparently suffering defeat at their hands, so long will her Divine Spouse help her by His prayers to bear those assaults and to change, as He Himself did before, apparent defeat into glorious victory. As long as one soul on the road to Heaven is exposed to the danger of falling into Hell, so long He Who gave His life for all men without exception will strive by His prayers to apply to that soul the merits of His death. The Apostolate of Prayer is therefore the last apostolate of our Redeemer as it was the first: it is the last mystery of His Life on earth, the one which crowns and makes perfect all the rest, the one by which are applied to our souls the fruits which come from all His actions and sufferings.

Is it not becoming then that there should be an association specially dedicated to the manifestation, the meditation, the glorification of that mystery? Is it not just that sanctuaries should be erected to honour that last and permanent proof of the love of our Saviour, as there are so many dedicated to the transient mysteries of His earthly Life? There is as yet only one sanctuary erected for that purpose, close to the Seminary of Vals, where the Association of the Apostleship of Prayer had its birth. There forty lamps, burning night and day, symbolize the union of our prayer with that perpetual intercession of the Heart of Jesus. But now that sanctuary is closed by those who have undertaken to destroy Christianity in France. They have put their seals upon it as the murderers of Christ once put their seals upon His sepulchre. Let us hope the heirs of the Pharisees will not succeed better than their less guilty forefathers. In the meantime we will only honour the more diligently that mystery of the love of our Saviour the more it is outraged by His enemies.

We do not meditate sufficiently upon His life of prayer. What comfort we should find in our sorrows, what light in our anxieties, what strength in our struggles, what confidence after our falls, if we did but realize that truth? There is now One Who prays for me, Who interests Himself in my difficulties, Who ardently desires my happiness, Who is ready to give me His help; and He is not only the holiest man that ever lived upon earth, He is not only more powerful in His intercession than Moses and Elias, but He is the Almighty Himself, the Son of God, Who has atoned already long ago for the sins which discourage me, and Who has no other desire than to apply to me the immense merits of His atonement.

And again, what confidence should we feel in the destinies of the Church, how easy would it be.to despise her enemies and to laugh at the dangers which surround her, if we kept ever present to our minds the thought of the protection which is given to her by the uninterrupted intercession of the Son of God? Should we not say with St. John: Fortior est qui in nobis est quam qui in mundo est (This stronger man is who is in us , than he that is in the world). Our enemies are strong. They have at their disposal the powers of hell and of earth. But there is in the midst of us One, of Whom it has been said that every knee shall bend at the very sound of His Name, on earth and in hell as well as in Heaven. He is here offering for us those prayers which cannot but be heard by His Father: Ego autem sciebam quia semper me audis (And I knew that thou hearest me always). He is here fulfilling the only condition put by His Father for gaining the triumph over all the world: Postula a me et dabo tibi gentes hereditatem tuam;(Ask of me, and I will give thee the nations for thy inheritance) and the utmost parts of the earth for thy possession.

Not only will the meditation of this great mystery produce in us fruits of consolation and confidence, but it must moreover lead us to unite our prayers to the perpetual intercession of the Sacred Heart of Jesus for the salvation of souls in the exercise of that power imparted to us, of which I shall now briefly demonstrate the reality.

II. Few words are needed to place in the clearest light the second aspect of the Apostleship of Prayer, and when I have convinced your understanding I may leave it to your piety to feed your hearts with the practical consequences which follow from the principles explained. I am not afraid of being accused of exaggeration when I say that by exercising the Apostleship of Prayer in union with the Sacred Heart of Jesus we acquire an unlimited power in cooperating with Him to the success of His great work of saving and sanctifying souls and leading His Church to a triumphant victory:—yes an unlimited power, and unlimited in every way.

That power is unlimited, first as regards the graces which we may obtain for souls. Whatever limit there may be to the results obtained is put by us and not by the promise or the action of Christ, for He says: Whatsoever you shall ask the Father in My Name, that will I do. The same expression is repeated with the same universality in several passages, and as we cannot accuse our Lord of exaggeration or inaccuracy, we must believe that He has really set no bounds to the efficacy of prayer. The promise, therefore, does not apply to those prayers alone which are inspired by the legitimate desire of our own advantage. That is a kind of spiritual selfishness which, although it is not wrong, is less conformable to the example set before us. The promise of Christ applies still more, I will venture to say, to the prayers which are prompted by fraternal charity, for the prayer which most resembles the prayer of the Sacred Heart of Jesus is necessarily most acceptable to His Father. The prayers offered for our neighbour's good are more than any others made in the Name of Jesus. An evident proof that the promise of infallible efficacy applies by preference to them, is that our Lord, wishing to give us the pattern to which we must conform all our prayers that they may deserve to be heard, teaches us a form of words, according to which we are to put the interests of God and of all mankind before our own: Thus shall you pray: Our Father Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done. We must first think of His Divine interests, and after that we are allowed to think also of our own interests, but even then no one can be permitted to think of himself alone. What we ask for ourselves we must ask for others also. It is true that we can never be absolutely certain to obtain the conversion of the sinners for whom we pray, because the cooperation of each soul is free; but what is certain is that we shall obtain a grace proportioned to the fervour and confidence of our prayer, and as it depends upon us to enlarge more and more that measure, it depends upon us also to increase indefinitely the chances of salvation of those for whom we pray.

That power is unlimited also as regards the persons to whom it is imparted. The other apostolates require a special vocation and faculties of some particular kind. Not all men have a vocation to the priesthood, and among those who have received the vocation not all are fitted in mental acquirements and physical strength for the active ministry. But the Apostolate of Prayer can be exercised by every Christian. We all in fact have exercised it from the day in which our mother taught us to bend our knees, and join our hands, and say our prayers under the unconscious impulse of the Holy Spirit. And who is he who can exercise that apostolate with most success? Is it the most learned, the most exalted in society, the most influential, the most esteemed? No, it is the most humble, the most pious, the most united with our Lord, the most generous in fulfilling His commandments, and accepting with love all the dispositions of His Providence. A poor beggar like Benedict Joseph Labre, who says his beads at. the door of the church, while an eloquent preacher enraptures from the pulpit a distinguished audience, may contribute more efficaciously than the preacher himself to the serious results of the preaching.

That power is unlimited as to the persons in whose behalf it may be exercised. To convert a sinner by preaching, you must be heard by him; to sanctify souls by your good example, you must be seen; to extend by the press the influence of your spoken word, you must be read; but to contribute by your prayers to the conversion of sinners and to the sanctification of souls it is not necessary to be heard or seen, to know the persons whom you lead into the way of salvation, or to be known by them. By a prayer made here in union with the Sacred Heart of Jesus for the conversion of heathens, you may cause a grace to fall upon a dying Chinese or American savage, and open the gates of Heaven to him.

That power is unlimited finally as to the time and manner in which it may be exercised. We must not imagine that it belongs only to formal prayers, to particular words recited at stated times, or to lonely meditations made in the church or in some domestic sanctuary. No, we may exercise it as Jesus, Mary, and Joseph did at Nazareth, by intentions which change all our works into prayers. It is in that sense that our Lord has ordered us to pray always, and not to faint. The intention is the soul of our works, and whatever be their body, their outward shape, provided they are conformable to the law of God, the intention which animates them gives them merit according to its purity. But of all intentions the purest, the most perfect, the most meritorious, is certainly the intention of Divine charity which animates the Heart of Jesus. If therefore at the beginning of each day, and, if possible, sometimes during the day, we unite our intentions with the intentions of the Heart of Jesus, if we offer our prayers, our actions, our sufferings for the conversion of sinners, for the sanctification of the clergy and of pious souls, for the defence and triumph of the Church, that is enough to render all those actions apostolic, and to give them, together with a much greater merit for ourselves, a much greater efficacy in assisting the work of God.

Such is in its nature and in its essential practice the Apostleship of Prayer. There still remains much to be said about its necessity, its advantages, and the method of its practice, but time does not permit. I will conclude with the words of Jeremias to Judas Machabeus which I quoted at the beginning of my discourse. It is our Divine Lord Who addresses these words to every one of you, while He offers you that all-powerful weapon of prayer by which He Himself has wrought our salvation. "Take this holy sword a gift from God, wherewith thou shalt overthrow the adversaries of my people, Israel."

Yes, my dear brethren, it is my firm persuasion that by divesting His Church of all earthly advantages and depriving her of all human help our Lord wishes to show that He alone is her Saviour. And what He requires from us is to unite in an immense effort of prayer to obtain from Heaven the assistance which earth refuses. We must not remain idle. Every one of us must fight as did the Machabees, even though there is no human hope. But while we do on our part all that is in our power to move our fellow-men, we must display our energy in procuring help from on high. More than ever we must cry from the bottom of our hearts, Adveniat regnum tuum—“ Thy Kingdom come!" That is the war-cry which we must oppose to the cry of rebellion of the anti-Christian sect which has sworn to destroy the Kingdom of Christ upon earth. That is in fact the device of the Association of the Apostleship of Prayer; and in order to encourage us to repeat that motto, and to make it the rule of all our desires and ambitions, the Holy Father has granted an indulgence of one hundred days to all the Associates of the Apostleship who, wearing an image of the Sacred Heart upon their breasts make that aspiration either orally or mentally. Let us therefore repeat it often by the movement of our lips, and oftener still and more continually by the wishes of our heart, that the reign of the Sacred Heart of Jesus may be fully established in our hearts and in the hearts of all men. Nothing more is wanted to change earth into a paradise and the vestibule of the Heavenly Paradise. Amen.

******** - Latin Translations added by webmaster

Sermon on the Apostleship of Prayer by Rev. Father Ramiere, S.J.

Book on the Apostleship of Prayer by Rev. Father Ramiere, S.J.


This essay by Fr. Roger Calmel, O.P. (1914-75) helps us in these difficult times to preserve our love of the Church. More than 30 years after its first publication, this article retains all its relevance, so much so that it even seems to have been written for our time, in which the crisis in the Church deepens at an unprecedented pace.

This essay will help the reader to think clearly, keep the Faith, and maintain serenity in the troubled times we are navigating.

Fr. Roger Calmel

“My country has hurt me,”wrote a young poet in 1944 during the purge1when the head of state [Charles De Gaulle] implacably pursued the sinister job that had been in the works for more than four years. My country hurt me: this is not a truth that one shouts from the rooftop. It is rather a secret one whispers to oneself, with great sorrow, while trying nonetheless to keep hope. When I was in Spain during the 1950’s, I remember the extreme reserve with which friends, regardless of their political allegiance, would let escape certain details about “our war.” Their country was still hurting them. But when it is no longer a question of one’s temporal motherland, when it is a question, not of the Church considered in herself, for from this perspective she is holy and indefectible, but of the visible head of the Church; when it is question of the current holder2of the Roman primacy, how shall we come to grips with it, and what is the right tone to adopt as we acknowledge to ourselves in a low voice: Ah! Rome has hurt me!

Undoubtedly, the publications of the “good” Catholic press will not fail to inform us that, in the last 2,000 years, the Lord’s Church has never known such a splendid pontificate! But who takes these pronouncements of the establishment’s hallelujah choir seriously? When we see what is being taught and practiced throughout the Church under today’s pontificate, or rather when we observe what has ceased to be taught and practiced, and how an apparent Church, which passes itself off as the real Church, no longer knows how to baptize children, bury the dead, worthily celebrate holy Mass, absolve sins in confession; when we apprehensively watch the spread of Protestantizing influences swelling like a contaminated tide without the holder of supreme power energetically giving the order to lock the sluice gate; in a word, when we face up to what is happening, we are obliged to say: Ah! Rome has hurt me.

Fr. Roger Calmel


And we all know that it involves something other than the iniquities, in a sense private, which the holders of the Roman primacy were too often wont to commit during the course of history. In those cases the victims, more or less maltreated, could recover from it relatively easily by being more vigilant over their personal sanctification. We must always watch over our sanctification. Only, and this is what was never seen in the past to such a degree, the iniquity allowed to happen by the one who today occupies the throne of Peter consists in his abandoning the very means of sanctification to the maneuvers of the innovators and the negators. He allows sound doctrine, the sacraments, the Mass, to be systematically undermined. This throws us into a great danger. If sanctification has not been rendered all together impossible, it is much more difficult. It is also much more urgent.

At such a perilous juncture, is it still possible for the simple faithful, the little sheep of the immense flock of Jesus Christ and His vicar not to lose heart, not to become the prey of an immense apparatus which progressively reduces them to changing their faith, worship, religious habit, and religious life-in a word, to changing their religion?

Ah! Rome has hurt me! It would be truly meet and just to repeat gently to oneself the words of truth, the simple words of supernatural doctrine learned in catechism, so as not to add to the harm, but rather to let oneself be profoundly persuaded by the teaching of Revelation, that one day Rome will be healed; that the impostor Church will soon be officially unmasked. Suddenly it will crumple into dust, because its principal strength comes from the fact that its intrinsic lie passes for truth, since it has never been effectively disavowed from above. In the midst of such great distress, one would like to speak in words that are not out of phase with the mysterious, wordless discourse that the Holy Ghost murmurs to the heart of the Church.

But where shall I begin? Doubtlessly, by recalling the first truth touching the dominion of Jesus Christ over His Church. He wanted a Church having at its head the Bishop of Rome, who is His visible vicar and at the same time the Bishop of the bishops and of the entire flock. He conferred upon him the prerogative of the rock so that the edifice might never collapse. He prayed that he at least, among all the bishops, not make shipwreck of the faith, so that, having converted after the failures from which he would not necessarily be preserved, he confirm his brethren in the faith; or, if it is not himself in person who confirms his brethren, that it be one of his closest successors.

Such is undoubtedly the first consoling thought that the Holy Ghost suggests to our hearts in these desolate days in which Rome has been at least partially invaded by darkness: there is no Church without the infallible vicar of Christ endowed with the primacy. Moreover, whatever the miseries, even in the religious domain, of this visible and temporary vicar of Jesus Christ, it is still Jesus Himself who governs His Church, and who governs His vicar in the government of the Church; who governs in such wise that His vicar cannot engage his supreme authority in the upheavals or betrayals that would change the religion. For, by virtue of His sovereignly efficacious Passion, the divine power of Christ’s regency in heaven reaches that far. He conducts His Church both from within and from without, and He has dominion over the antagonistic world.


Modernist Strategy

The strategy of modernism has been elaborated in two stages: firstly, to get heretical parallel authorities whose strings they pull to be mixed with the regular hierarchy; then, engage in a self-styled pastoral activity for universal renewal which either omits or systematically falsifies doctrinal truth, which refuses the sacraments, or which makes the rites doubtful. The great cunning of the modernists is to use this pastoral approach from Hell, both to transmute the holy doctrine confided by the Word of God to His hierarchical Church, and then to alter or even annul the sacred signs, givers of grace, of which the Church is the faithful dispenser.

Indeed, there is a head of the Church who is always infallible, always impeccable, always holy, with no interruption or halt in his work of sanctification. And that head is the one head, for all the others, even the highest, merely hold their authority by him and for him. Now, this head, holy and without stain, absolutely separated from sinners and elevated above the heavens, is not the Pope; it is he of whom the Epistle to the Hebrews speaks so magnificently; it is the Sovereign High Priest, Jesus Christ.


Papal Authority

Before ascending into heaven and becoming invisible to our eyes, Jesus, our Redeemer by the Cross, wanted to establish for His Church, above and beyond numerous particular ministers, a unique universal minister, a visible vicar, who alone holds supreme jurisdiction. He heaped him with prerogatives:

Thou art Peter; and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it (Mt. 16:18-19).

Yea, Lord, thou knowest that I love thee. He saith to him: Feed my lambs....Feed my sheep (Jn. 21:16-18).

But I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not: and thou, being once converted, confirm thy brethren (Lk.22:32).

Now, if the Pope is the visible vicar of Jesus, who has ascended into the invisible heavens, he is nothing more than vicar: vices gerens, he holds the place but he remains another. The grace that gives life to the mystical Body does not derive from the Pope. Grace, for the Pope as for us, derives from the one Lord Jesus Christ. The same holds for the light of Revelation. He has a singular role as the guardian of the means of grace, of the seven sacraments as well as of revealed truth. He is specially assisted to be the guardian and faithful servant. Yet, for his authority to receive a privileged assistance in its exercise, it must not fail to be exerted. Besides, if he is preserved from error when he engages his authority in such a way that it is infallible, he can err in other cases. But should he do wrong in matters that do not engage papal infallibility, that does not prevent the unique head of the Church, the invisible High Priest, from continuing the governance of His Church; it changes neither the efficacy of His grace nor the truth of His law. It cannot make Him powerless to limit the failings of His visible vicar nor to procure, without too much delay, a new and worthy Pope, to repair what his predecessor allowed to be spoiled or destroyed, for the duration of the insufficiencies, weaknesses, and even partial betrayals of a Pope do not exceed the duration of his mortal existence.

Since He has returned to heaven, Jesus has chosen and procured 263 Popes. Some, just a small number, have been such faithful vicars that we invoke them as friends of God and holy intercessors. A still smaller number have fallen into very serious breaches. Yet the great number have been suitable. None of them, while still Pope, has betrayed nor could betray to the point of explicitly teaching heresy with the fullness of his authority. This being the situation of each Pope and of the succession of Popes in relation to the head of the Church who reigns in heaven, the weaknesses of one Pope must not make us forget in the least the solidity and the sanctity of our Savior’s dominion, nor prevent us from seeing the power of Jesus and His wisdom, who holds in His hand even the inadequate Popes, and who contains their inadequacy within strict bounds.

But to have this confidence in the sovereign, invisible head of the Church without straining to deny the serious failings from which, despite his prerogatives, the visible vicar, the Bishop of Rome, the key-bearer of the kingdom of heaven, is not necessarily exempt; in order to place in Jesus this realistic trust which does not evade the mystery of the successor of Peter with his heaven-guaranteed privileges and his human fallibility; so that this overwhelming distress caused by the occupant of the papacy might be subsumed in the theological virtue of hope we place in the Sovereign Priest, obviously our interior life must be centered on Jesus Christ, and not the Pope. It goes without saying that our interior life, while taking into account the Pope and the hierarchy, must be established, not in the hierarchy and in the Pope, but in the Divine Pontiff, in the priest which is the Word Incarnate, Redeemer, on whom the visible, supreme vicar depends even more than the other priests: More than the others, for he is in the hand of Jesus Christ in view of a function without equivalent among the others. More than any other, and in a more eminent and unique way, he cannot leave off confirming his brethren in the faith-he or his successor.

The Church is not the mystical body of the Pope; the Church with the Pope is the mystical Body of Christ. When the interior life of Christians is more and more focused on Jesus Christ, they do not despair, even when they suffer an agony over the failings of a Pope, be it an Honorius I or the rival Popes of the Middle Ages, or be it, at the extreme limit, a Pope who fails according to the new possibilities of failing offered by modernism. When Jesus Christ is the principle and soul of the interior life of Christians, they do not feel the need to lie to themselves about the failures of a Pope in order to remain assured of his prerogatives; they know that these failures will never reach such a degree that Jesus would cease to govern His Church because He would have been effectively prevented by His vicar. He would yet hold such an erring Pope in His hand, preventing him from ever engaging his authority for the perversion of the faith which he received from above.


True Obedience

An interior life centered as it should be on Jesus Christ and not on the Pope would not exclude the Pope, or else it would cease to be a Christian interior life. An interior life focused as it should be on the Lord Jesus thus includes the vicar of Jesus Christ and obedience to this vicar, but God served first; that is to say, that this obedience, far from being unconditional, is always practiced in the light of theological faith and the natural law.

We live by and for Jesus Christ, thanks to His Church, which is governed by the Pope, whom we obey in all that is of his purview. We do not live by and for the Pope as if he had acquired for us eternal redemption; that is why Christian obedience can not always nor in everything identify the Pope with Jesus Christ. What ordinarily happens is that the vicar of Christ governs sufficiently in conformity with the Apostolic tradition so as not to provoke major conflicts in the consciences of docile Catholics. But occasionally it can be otherwise. And exceptionally things can be such as to cause the faithful to legitimately wonder how they can hold fast to tradition if they follow the directives of this Pope?

The interior life of a son of the Church who would set aside the articles of Faith concerning the Pope, obedience to his legitimate orders, and prayer for him would have ceased to be Catholic. On the other hand, an interior life which includes yielding to the Pope unconditionally, that is to say, blindly in everything and always, is an interior life which is necessarily subject to human respect, which is not free with regard to creatures, which is exposed to many occasions of compromise. In his interior life, the true son of the Church having received with his whole heart the articles of the faith with regard to the vicar of Christ prays for him faithfully and obeys him willingly, but only in the light, that is to say, only while the Apostolic tradition and, of course, the natural law are preserved whole and entire.


Holy Church, Sinful Churchmen

Let us remember the great prayer at the beginning of the Roman Canon, in which the priest, having earnestly implored the most clement Father by His Son Jesus Christ, to sanctify the spotless sacrifice offered in first place for Ecclesia tua sancta catholica, continues thus: “...una cumfamulo tuo Papa nostro...et Antistite nostro....” The Church has never envisaged him saying: “una cum SANCTO famulo tu Papa nostro et SANCTO Antistite nostro,’“ while she does have him say, “for Thy HOLY Church.” The Pope, unlike the Church, is not necessarily holy. The Church is holy with sinful members, among whom are we ourselves; sinful members who, alas! do not pursue or no longer pursue holiness. It can even happen that the Pope himself figures in this category. God knows. In any case, the condition of the head of the holy Church being what it is, that is to say not necessarily that of a saint, we should not let ourselves be scandalized if trials, sometimes very cruel trials, befall the Church because of her visible head in person. We must not let ourselves be scandalized from the fact that, subjects of the Pope, we cannot, after all, follow him blindly, unconditionally, always and in all.


Layman's Right

The Lord, by the Pope and the hierarchy-by the hierarchy subject to the Pope-governs His Church in such a way that it is always secure in the possession and understanding of its tradition. On the truths of the catechism, on the celebration of the Holy Sacrifice and on the sacraments, on the fundamental structure of the hierarchy, on the states of life and the call to perfect love, let us say on all the major points of tradition, the Church is assisted in such way that any baptized Catholic having the faith clearly knows what he must hold. Thus the simple Christian who, consulting tradition on a major point known to all, would refuse to follow a priest, a bishop, an episcopal conference, or even a Pope who would ruin tradition on this point, would not, as some charge, be showing signs characteristic of private judgment or pride; for it is not pride or insubordination to discern what the tradition is on major points, or to refuse to betray them. Whatever may be the collegiality of bishops, for example, or the secretary of the Roman Congregation who uses subterfuge to arrange things so that Catholic priests end up celebrating the Mass without giving any mark of adoration, no exterior sign of faith in the sacred mysteries, every faithful Catholic knows that it is inadmissible to celebrate Mass making this display of non-faith. One who would refuse to go to such a Mass is not exercising private judgment; he is not a rebel. He is a faithful Catholic established in a tradition that comes from the Apostles and which no one in the Church can change. For no one in the Church, whatever his hierarchical rank, be it ever so high, no one has the power to change the Church or the Apostolic tradition.

On all the major points, the Apostolic tradition is quite clear. There is no need to scrutinize it through a magnifying glass, nor to be a cardinal or a prefect of some Roman dicastery to know what is against it. It is enough to have been instructed by the catechism and the liturgy prior to the modernist corruption.

Too often, when it is a question of not cutting oneself off from Rome, the faithful and priests have been formed in the sense of a partly worldly fear in such a way that they feel panic-stricken, that they are shaken in their consciences and they no longer examine anything once the first passer-by accuses them of not being with Rome. A truly Christian formation, on the contrary, teaches us to be careful to be in union with Rome not in fear or without discernment, but in light and peace according to a filial fear in the Faith.

For it must be said, first of all, that on the major points the tradition of the Church is established, certain, irreformable; then, that every Christian instructed in the rudiments of the Faith, knows them without hesitation; thirdly, that it is faith and not private interpretation which makes us discern them, just as it is obedience, piety and love, and not insubordination, which make us uphold this tradition; fourthly, that the attempts of the hierarchy or the weaknesses of the Pope which would tend to upset this tradition or let this tradition be upset will one day be overturned, while Tradition will triumph.


Tradition Will Triumph

We are at peace on this point. Whatever may be the hypocritical arms placed by modernism in the hands of the episcopal collegialities and even of the vicar of Christ, tradition will indeed triumph: solemn baptism, for example, which includes the anathemas against the accursed devil will not be excluded for long; the tradition of not absolving sins except after individual confession will not be excluded for long; the tradition of the traditional Catholic Mass, Latin and Gregorian, with the language, Canon, and gestures in conformity with the Roman Missal of St. Pius V, will soon be restored to honor; the tradition of the Catechism of Trent, or of a manual exactly in conformity with it, will be restored without delay.

On the major points of dogma, morals, the sacraments, the states of life, the perfection to which we are called, the tradition of the Church is known by the members of the Church whatever their rank. They hold fast to it without a bad conscience, even if the hierarchical guardians of this tradition try to intimidate them or throw them into confusion; even if they persecute them with the bitter refinements of modernist inquisitors. They are very assured that by keeping the tradition they do not cut themselves off from the visible vicar of Christ. For the visible vicar of Christ is governed by Christ in such wise that he cannot transmute the tradition of the Church, nor make it fall into oblivion. If by misfortune he should try to do it, either he or his immediate successors will be obliged to proclaim from on high what remains forever living in the Church’s memory: the Apostolic tradition. The Spouse of Christ stands no chance of losing her memory.


“Quod Ubique, Quod Semper...”

As for those who say that tradition is a synonym of sclerosis, or that progress occurs by opposing tradition, in short, those who conjure up the mirages of an absurd philosophy of becoming, I recommend the reading of St. Vincent of Lerins3 in his Commonitorium and the careful studying of Church history: dogma, sacraments, fundamental constitution, spiritual life, in order to descry the essential difference which exists between “going forward” and “going astray”; between having “advanced ideas” and “advancing according to right ideas”; in short, distinguishing between profectus (development) and permutatio (change).

Even more so than in times of peace, it has become useful and salutary to us to meditate on the Church’s trials by the light of faith. We might be tempted to reduce these trials to persecutions and attacks coming from the outside. But enemies from within are, after all, even more to be feared: they know better the weak points; they can wound or poison where or when it is least expected; the scandal they provoke is much more difficult to overcome. Thus, in a parish, an anti-religious institution will never succeed, whatever it does, in ruining the faithful as much as a high-living, modernist priest. Equally, the defrocking of a simple priest, though more sensational, has consequences far less baneful than the negligence or treason of the bishop.


Ultimate Scandal

Be that as it may, it is certain that if the bishop betrays the Catholic faith, even without abandoning it, he imposes on the Church a much heavier trial than the simple priest who takes a wife and ceases to offer holy Mass. What then can be said of the kind of trials that the Church of Jesus Christ would suffer were it to come by the Pope, by the vicar of Jesus Christ in person? Merely raising this question is enough to make some hide their faces in their hands and push them to the brink of crying blasphemy. The mere thought torments them. They refuse to face up to a trial of this gravity.

I understand their feeling. I am not unaware that a sort of vertigo can grip the soul when it is placed in the presence of some iniquities. “Sinite usque hue-Suffer ye thus far,”3 Jesus in agony said to the three Apostles when the rabble of the high priest came to arrest Him, drag Him before the tribunal and to death, Him who is the eternal High Priest. Sinite usque hue. It is as if the Lord were saying: “The scandal can indeed go that far, but let it go, and follow my recommendation: Watch and pray, for the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Sinite ad hue: “By my consent to drink the chalice, I have merited for you every grace while you were sleeping and left me all alone. I obtained for you in particular the grace of a supernatural strength that is up to every trial, even the trial that can come upon the Church by the Pope’s own doing. I have made you able to escape even that vertigo.”

On the subject of this extraordinary trial there is what Church history says and what Revelation about the Church does not say. For nowhere does Revelation about the Church say that the Popes will never sin by negligence, cowardice, or worldliness in the keeping and defense of the Apostolic tradition. We know that they will never sin by making the faithful believe in another religion: that is the sin from which they are preserved by the nature of their mandate. And when they engage their authority in such a way as to invoke their infallibility, it is Christ Himself who speaks to us and instructs us: that is the privilege with which they are robed as soon as they become successors of Peter. But if Revelation instructs us in the prerogatives of the papacy, nowhere does it say that when he exercises his authority below the threshold of infallibility, a Pope will never become Satan’s pawn and favor heresy up to a certain point. Likewise, it is not written in sacred Scripture that, though he cannot formally teach another religion, a Pope will never go so far as to sabotage the conditions indispensable to the defense of the true religion. The possibility of such a defection is even considerably favored by modernism.

Thus, Revelation about the Pope nowhere guarantees that the vicar of Christ will never inflict on the Church the trial of some major scandals; I speak of serious scandals, not just in the domain of private morals, but rather in the religious sphere properly so-called, and, so to speak, in the ecclesiastical domain of faith and morals. In fact, the Church’s history teaches us that this sort of trial inflicted by the Pope has not been spared the Church, although it has been rare and not prolonged to an acute stage. It is the contrary that would be astonishing, when we consider the small number of canonized Popes since the time of Gregory VII who are invoked and venerated as the friends and saints of God. And it is more astonishing still that the Popes who suffered very cruel torments, like Pius VI or Pius VII, were never prayed to as saints, neither by the Vox Ecclesiae, nor by the Vox populi. If these Pontiffs, who nonetheless had to suffer so much as Popes, did not bear their pain with such a degree of charity as to be canonized saints, how can we be astonished that other Popes, who looked upon their position from a worldly point of view, would commit serious breaches or inflict on the Church of Christ an especially fearful and harrowing trial. When they are reduced to the extremity of having such Popes, the faithful, priests and bishops who want to live the life of the Church take great care not only to pray for the Supreme Pontiff who is the subject of great affliction for the Church, but first and foremost they cleave to the Apostolic tradition, the tradition concerning dogma, the missal and the ritual, the tradition on the interior life and on the universal call to perfect charity in Christ.


St. Vincent Ferrer

In such a juncture, the mission of the Friar Preacher who, undoubtedly among all the saints worked the most directly for the papacy, that son of St. Dominic, Vincent Ferrer (1350?-1419), is particularly enlightening. Angel of Judgment, Legate a latere Christi (from the side of Christ), causing the deposition of a Pope after exercising towards him infinite patience, Vincent Ferrer is also, and from the same inspiration, the intrepid missionary full of benignity, abounding in prodigies and miracles, who announces the Gospel to the immense multitude of the Christian people. He carries in his heart of an apostle not only the Supreme Pontiff, so enigmatic, obstinate and hard, but also the whole flock of Christ, the multitude of the hapless, humble folk, the “turba magna ex omnibus tribubus et populis et linguis-ihe great multitude...of all...tribes, and peoples, and tongues” (Apoc. 7:9). Vincent understood that the major concern of the vicar of Christ was not, indeed was far from, faithfully serving the holy Church. The Pope was placing the satisfaction of his own obscure will to power ahead of everything. But if, at least among the faithful, the sense of the life of the Church could be reawakened, the concern to live in conformity with the dogmas and the sacraments received in the Apostolic tradition, if a pure and mighty wind of prayer and conversion were to unfurl upon this languishing and desolate Christendom, then doubtlessly there would come a vicar of Christ who would be truly humble, who would have a Christian conscience about his super-eminent charge, who would preoccupy himself with exercising it to the best of his ability in the spirit of the Sovereign High Priest. If the Christian people could rediscover a life in accord with the Apostolic tradition, then it would become impossible for the vicar of Jesus Christ, when it comes to upholding and defending this tradition, to fall into certain derelictions, to abandon himself to lying compromises. It would be necessary that, without delay, a good Pope, and even a holy Pope, succeed the bad or misguided one.


Worthy Flock, Worthy Shepherd

But too many of the laity, priests and bishops in these days of great evil, when trial overtakes the Church by the Pope, would like order to be restored with their having to do nothing, or almost nothing. At most will they agree to mutter a few prayers. They even balk at the daily Rosary: five decades offered daily to our Lady in honor of the hidden life, the Passion, and the glory of Jesus. In this vein, they have very little interest in deepening their understanding of that part of the Apostolic tradition that applies directly to them in a spirit of fidelity to that tradition: dogmas, missal and ritual, interior life (for progress in the interior life obviously is a part of the Apostolic tradition). Each in his station of life having consented to lukewarmness, they take scandal at the fact that neither is the Pope, in his place as Pope, very fervent when it comes to upholding for the entire Church the Apostolic tradition, that is to say, to faithfully fulfilling the unique mission confided to him. This view of things is unjust. The more we need a holy Pope, the more we ourselves must begin by putting our own lives, by the grace of God and holding fast to tradition, in the path of the saints. Then the Lord Jesus will finally give to His flock the visible shepherd of whom it will have striven to make itself worthy.

This was the lesson of St. Vincent Ferrer at an apocalyptic time of major failings by the Roman Pontiff. But with modernism we are in the midst of experiencing even greater trials, reasons all the more compelling for us to live even more purely, and on all points, the Apostolic tradition; on all points, including a real tending towards perfect charity. And yet, in the moral doctrine revealed by the Lord and handed down by the Apostles, it is said that we must tend to perfect love, since the law of growth in Christ is part and parcel of the grace and charity which unite us in Christ.


A Fundamental Mystery

There is indeed both transcendence and obscurity in the Church’s dogma relative to the Pope: a supreme pontiff who is the universal vicar of Jesus Christ, yet who nonetheless is not sheltered from failings, even serious ones, which can be quite dangerous for his subjects. But the dogma of the Roman Pontiff is but one of the aspects of the fundamental mystery of the Church. Two great propositions introduce us to this mystery: firstly, that the Church, whose members are recruited from among sinners, which we all are, is nonetheless the infallible dispenser of light and grace, dispenser by means of a hierarchical organization, dispenser governed from heaven above by its head and Savior, Jesus Christ, and assisted by the Spirit of Jesus. On the other hand, on earth, the Savior offers by His Church the perfect sacrifice and nourishes it by His own substance. Secondly, the Church, holy Spouse of the Lord Jesus, must have a share in the Cross, including the cross of betrayal by her own; but for all that she does not cease to be sufficiently assisted in her hierarchical structure, beginning with the Pope, and to be on fire enough with charity; in a word, she remains at all times holy and pure enough to be able to share in the trials of her Spouse, including betrayal by certain members of the hierarchy, while keeping intact her self-mastery and supernatural strength. Never will the Church be subject to vertigo.

If, in our spiritual life, the Christian truth concerning the Pope is rightly situated within the Christian truth about the Church, by that light shall we overcome the scandal of all the lies, not excluding those that can befall the Church by the vicar of Christ or by the successors of the Apostles.

When we think of the Pope now and of the prevailing modernism, of the Apostolic tradition and perseverance in this tradition, we are more and more reduced to considering these questions only in prayer, only in an unceasing petition for the entire Church and for him who, in our days, holds in his hands the keys of the kingdom of heaven. He holds them in his hands, but he does not use them, so to speak. He leaves the gate of the sheepfold open at the approach of thieves; he does not close these protective doors which his predecessors had invariably kept shut with unbreakable locks and bolts. Sometimes, as is the case with post-conciliar ecumenism, he even pretends to open what will forever be kept shut. We are reduced to the necessity of never thinking of the Church except to pray for her and for the Pope. It is a blessing. Nevertheless, thinking of our Mother, the Spouse of Christ, in this piteous condition does not diminish in the least our resolve to think clearly. At least, let this indispensable lucidity, lucidity without which all courage would flag, be penetrated with as much humility and gentleness as the vehemence with which we assail the Sovereign Priest, that He make haste to help us. Deus in adjutorium meum intende. Domine, ad adjuvandum mefestina. May it please Him to charge His most holy Mother, Mary Immaculate, with bringing us as soon as possible the effective remedy.


from the SSPX Asia site.

Parce Domine

Meditations on the Mysteries of the Rosary

from the From French of Father Monsabre, O.P.
translated by Very Reverend Stephen Byrne, O.P.



GOD is about to descend from heaven and to clothe Himself with our poor and fragile human nature in the womb of a virgin ; this is the mystery that the Archangel Gabriel announces to Mary (Luke i.) It is an incomprehensible and ineffable mystery, expected for four thousand years and prepared from all eternity. Let us contemplate this preparation even in the bosom of God Himself.

Before the birth of ages God saw all that was to be. The work conceived by Him unfolded itself before His eyes with all its wonders, with all its mighty revolutions. He saw sin enter into His work, and He decreed that sin should be punished. But the Word intervened and proposed to His Father to receive in His own adorable person the strokes of divine justice. Sin will be expiated by a Victim equal to the Majesty it offends ; it will be pardoned. To effect the reconciliation of mercy and justice, the Word, a member of the divine family, must become a member of the family of sinners and permeate with His infinite merits the guilty nature He would save. To this effect an unspotted and sanctified humanity, which God will wound and put to death on account of our iniquities, will be formed in the virginal womb of a daughter of Adam by the mysterious and chaste operation of the Holy Ghost. Such is the admirable and merciful design of the Holy Trinity. Let us adore it in the depths of our hearts.

The hour of its accomplishment has struck. Mary has pronounced the fiat (let it be done) of a new creation more glorious than that of the world; and "the Word was made flesh." The Word, the true Son of God, eternally begotten of Him, equal to His Father in all things, the resplendent mirror and living image of His original principle, the personal splendor of the divine substance — this is the Word made flesh. Flesh ! did I say ? Yes ; He has passed by the angels and has not noticed their pure and holy natures, and He has espoused our soul with its weak and corruptible companion. He takes the world at its worst, in order to associate all creatures to His divinity ; He descends to the lowest depths, for it is not the immortal and impassible flesh of innocence and justice He assumes, but the miserable flesh of sinners. If His sanctity shrinks from contracting the stain of sin, His merciful condescension assumes its entire responsibility. Thus, in the eyes of His Father, He becomes sin itself : " Him, who knew no sin, He hath made sin for us, that we might be made the justice of God in Him" (2 Cor. v. 21). How well it is expressed by the great Apostle of the Gentiles : "He has annihilated Himself" (Philip, ii.)

In this annihilation all is pure goodness ; we have done nothing to deserve it. The rare desires of holy souls were washed away in torrents of iniquity. After waiting long the world, in decay and in rottenness, appeared more deserving of destruction than at its beginning ; but the errors and crimes of man had not exhausted the indefatigable love of Him who annihilated Himself.

In presence of this great mystery the sentiments of our soul should be those of profound astonishment, of loving and grateful admiration. The principle of our greatness is to be found in this abasement of the Divinity. Having adored the Son of God annihilated, let us consider what we are by the Incarnation : Brothers of God ! Nothing is more certain than this great honor ; for the Word incarnate, which Mary calls Jesus, is clothed in our veritable human nature and carries in His sacred veins blood drawn from the same source whence ours has descended. Whilst we give to Him, by the flesh, our earthly father, He gives to us, by the hypostatic union, His heavenly Father. Children of wrath, we are made in Him children of benediction ; condemned to a double death, we receive from Him resurrection and life ; proscribed by the malediction pronounced in the beginning of the world, we are called by Him to the inheritance of glory and beatitude promised also at the moment of our creation. Our debased soul is raised to honor ; our flesh, humbled by suffering, aspires to immortality. With Jesus, and through Him, and in Him our thoughts, desires, and actions are purified, transformed, and raised to heaven. The aspiration of our nature, a prey, from the day of its origin, to the mysterious longing for the infinite, is at length satiated ; now we are indeed divine beings. Oh ! what honor, and, in consequence, what respect we owe ourselves ! "O man !" says St. Leo, "recognize your dignity; and having become a participant in the divine nature by the incarnate Word, never lower yourself by returning to the meanness of your former life."


THERE is commotion in an humble home at Nazareth. They who live in it seem agitated, hurried ; they are preparing for a journey. What is its purpose ? Is Mary, till then so humble and discreet, now hastening to publish the wonders performed under Her roof and in Her womb ? No ; filled with the Holy Spirit, she carefully guards the secret of the King of Kings. But an interior voice says to Her : Go. It is Jesus who wishes to justify His name of Saviour without delay, to begin His mission of redemption, to destroy in souls the empire of sin, and to show Himself beneficent and merciful. One day the Apostle St. Peter will say of Him: " He went about doing good " (Acts x. 38). Even before He was born He merited this testimony. Hidden from human view, silent and imprisoned, He goes to manifest Himself and to give expression to His omnipotent goodness in visiting His Precursor.

Why does He not call the Precursor to Him? Is it not the duty of the servant to go to his master, of the sick man to seek his physician, of the poor man to go to the rich whose alms he begs ? But love reverses all these rules; the King of Kings, the heavenly Physician, the Author of grace anticipates the advances of His creatures. Not yet in condition to move of Himself, He wishes to be carried. "Behold," says St. Ambrose, "the inferior has need of succor, and his superior goes to his aid — Mary goes to Elizabeth, Christ to John. The wonderful meeting of the mothers is the signal for divine benefits. Elizabeth hears the voice of Mary ; John is touched by the grace of his Redeemer." At the same instant the severe laws of nature, which confine the Infant in a mysterious repose, yield to the pressure of the Author of nature. " Before he was born John speaks by his motions of joy. Before entering into the world he announces his God; before seeing the light he points out the Eternal Sun. Still a prisoner in his mother's womb, he nevertheless performs the office of precursor, and says to all: “ Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who taketh away the sins of the world" These are the words of St. John Chrysostom.

Let us admire the full and sudden correspondence of the Precursor with the grace which purifies him from sin, illumines his soul, and calls him to the service of God. Let us consider the mystery of the Visitation as a type of the sweet anticipations of the divine bounty in our own regard, and of the line of conduct we should follow when we are visited by God's grace.

After the days, too quickly passed, which our Lord spent on earth, in which men could see and feel and touch Him, in which they could contemplate His charms, hear His words, ad- mire His works, condole with Him in His sufferings, and receive His promises, He is again hidden from human view in a manner even more profound than in His Mother's womb. Hidden indeed He is, but He has not withdrawn Himself to an inaccessible distance. "His delight is to be with the children of men." He is with us in our tabernacles, more imprisoned, more immovable than He was as an infant in the living sanctuary in which He first learned to live.

Thither He calls to Him His priests, and commands them to carry Him with reverential hands to visit our souls and fill them with His presence. What do I say ? He stands night -and day at the door of our hearts, knocking and demanding an entrance. " Behold I stand at the door and knock" (Apoc. iii.) Every grace that we receive, every advance He makes to us, every light, every good counsel, encouragement, or impulse towards good, is a visit of Jesus.

O dearly-beloved Saviour ! How do we respond to so much honor and to so many benefits ? Our souls, in order to become the abode of their Spouse in His sacramental visits, ought to deck themselves out in the most tender and perfect virtues. Like docile harps they ought to sing and thrill with joy at the touch of the Saviour's hand in the same manner as the unborn Precursor leaped for joy in His presence. But, alas! we meet Him more frequently with coldness, indifference, hesitation, and even a refusal to accept His heavenly visits. Oh, how shameful !

Thou seest us, 0 Lord! penetrated with confusion and remorse at the thought of Thy many visits we have lost. Grant that they may not be lost again! Strengthen our faith, that we may be able at all times to adore Thy holy presence under the veil by which Thou concealest Thyself from our eyes. Make our souls delicately sensitive to the touch of Thy grace. Let every good impression received be at once transformed into a virtue. Let the prompt and abundant growth of Thy gifts draw from those who will see our spiritual transformation the words of the Psalmist : " Thou hast visited the earth and hast plentifully watered it ; Thou hast many ways enriched it " (Psalm lxiv.)


THE heavens resound with a joyous and sublime canticle : “Glory to God in the highest heavens, and peace on earth to men of goodwill." Angels bear the glad tidings to the world: " This day is born to you a Saviour." O heavenly spirits ! tell us where shall we find this Saviour so ardently desired, so long expected ? In Bethlehem, the city of David. In Bethlehem ! A small city indeed for so great a King ! But surely some ancient, stately palace, the last relic of the fallen fortunes of those who once ruled in Juda, has been fitted up to receive the Son of God. Ah ! no. His poverty finds no place for Him even in the public inns of the old city. The owners of human habitations refuse to receive Him ; and His Mother, all desolate, sees Herself forced to share with animals a corner of their stable. " And this shall be a sign to you," continue the angels : " you shall find the Infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger."

What a change, great God, in Thy manifestations ! Formerly, when Thou didst appear to our fathers of the old law, it was always under striking, and even terrible, figures ; and often those who had been honored by Thy manifestation were heard to cry out : " We have seen the Lord ; let us die the death." Now Thou presentest Thyself to us in the form of an infant.

An infant attracts us by its charms and touches our hearts by its helplessness. Its weak cries, its sweet smile, its peaceful rest soften the heart. What is more amiable than an infant ? And behold, my Saviour is one ! He does not resemble the children of some royal house around whom servants and courtiers gather in crowds. A cradle gilt with gold, a sumptuous service, would repel the lowly and the poor ; and Jesus came that all should approach Him with confidence and love. This is why He shows Himself to us "wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger."

But at this crib how many precious lessons unfold themselves to me !

The infant Jesus teaches me to trample under foot the vain honors which human pride pursues with frantic eagerness.

The infant Jesus teaches me to despise the false and fleeting goods which my covetous heart rushes after.

The infant Jesus teaches me that privations and sufferings are intended to tame and reduce to obedience my rebellious flesh, the enemy of all virtue and of my perfection.

The infant Jesus calls me to a state of simplicity and candor, to an obscure, solitary, and hidden life.

With deepest reverence I receive these lessons in my heart, for it is love that gives them to me.

Love ! Behold what moves me most to-day. The imperial edict which tore the Holy Family from the sweets of the domestic fireside, the blindness of men who refused an asylum to the Son of God hidden in the womb of His Mother, the cold December night of His nativity, the stable of Bethlehem, the swaddling clothes, the crib — all this was prepared in His eternal councils by the love of my God.

The Splendor of eternal light, the infant Jesus clothes Himself with our poor flesh. It is for love of me. My impure eyes could never have borne the brightness of His glory ; and yet I had need of coming near my God, of seeing Him, of hearing Him, of touching and embracing Him. After the anxious waiting of humanity we had need of being delighted in the light of His sensible presence. Master of all the goods of the world, the infant Jesus condemns Himself to poverty. It is for love of me. My heart, so easily charmed with earthly things, had to learn that they are too small and too mean for my love, and that those who have the smallest portion of them ought to possess, like their Saviour, the fullest measure of spiritual goods.

Eternally and perfectly happy, the infant Jesus began to suffer at the moment of His birth into the world. It is for love of me. I will be less inclined to rebel against the hard necessity of suffering when I see my Saviour submit to it from the first moment of His mortal life.

Who will not return the love of Him who has loved so much ?

Would that I possessed the most pure heart of Thy Mother, O my Jesus, in which to love Thee as I ought !

"Would that I could unite my affections with those of Thy adopted Father, so full of humility and reverence !

Would that I had a place among the shepherds whom the angels notified of Thy birth, so as to take part in their simple and fervent adoration !

Would that I could enter into the company of the kings and lay down at Thy feet the gold of my charity, the incense of my adoration, the myrrh of my penance !

O beloved Child ! drive me not away. Allow me at least to envy the lot of the poor, dumb beasts that warmed Thee by their breath ; and, even if it is small indeed, deign to unite the humble love of my poor heart with Thy infinite love.


" " AND presently the Lord, whom you seek, and the angel of the testament, whom you desire, shall come to the temple. Behold He cometh, saith the Lord of hosts " (Malachy iii.) The holy souls did truly desire His coming. They anxiously waited for that event and seriously desired it. And they filled the ages with their plaintive invocations. In the mystery now under our consideration these true Israelites are represented by an old man, just and fearing God, who looked for the consolation of Israel, for the Holy Spirit had promised him in sleep that he would not die before he saw the " Christ of the Lord " ; also by a venerable and holy widow who, although old, was less burdened with years than with austerities. Simeon, taking in his arms the Child of heavenly promise, chanted his canticle of eternal farewell to the world in the beautiful words recited every day in the offices of the Church : "Now Thou dost dismiss Thy servant in peace, O Lord ! for my eyes have seen Thy salvation " (St. Luke ii.) Anna, the prophetess, in an ecstasy of joy on seeing Him, whom she had invoked in her prayers day and night, "hastened to publish His glory everywhere and to tell of His coming to those who looked for the redemption of Israel."

These just souls are holding high festival, yet nothing extraordinary is seen in the temple ; to other eyes it is only a poor Infant that is brought to be presented to God according to the law of Moses. But this Infant accomplishes an admirable substitution that can only be comprehended by true Israelites. To all appearance He is redeemed before the law ; but in reality He immolates Himself instead of the insufficient victims of the law. "Holocausts for sin were not pleasing in Thy sight ; then said I : Behold I come."

Let us carefully consider this mystery. The labors, the fatigues, the sweat, the humiliations, the opprobrium, the sufferings and wounds, the blood and death of Jesus Christ are all laid at the feet of God in this presentation. All is offered and accepted ; it is a sacrifice of propitiation and salvation. Mary takes part in this sacrifice. The sword of sorrow which will one day consummate Her anguish has a prototype in the sad prophecy addressed to Her to-day : " Thy own soul a sword shall pierce." But will not all humanity, or at least the chosen people of God, profit by this offering of Jesus ? Alas, no ! The divine Child will meet with a thousand contradictions, and along with those who shall rise to glory by virtue of His sacrifice we shall see many, who shall despise it, eternally lost. " Behold this Child is set for the ruin and resurrection of many in Israel, and for a sign that shall be contradicted."

Let us aspire to be of those included in the resurrection ; and, as Christ offers Himself for us, let us also offer ourselves through Him to His Father. It is only infinite perfection that can fill the void of our unworthiness and of our insufficiency. The victims of the old law, permeated with our intentions and our faults through the imposition of human and guilty hands, represented our guilty lives. Therefore God rejected them. He will reject us also if we dare present ourselves to him alone ; but in company with His well-beloved Son He can refuse us nothing.

Receive, then, O my God ! from our unworthy hands this unspotted Host that gives Himself to us ; this living religious worship which unites heaven with the earth in the union of the divine and human natures.

Thrice blessed Majesty of God ! I cannot offer anything proportionate to the greatness of Thy being out of my nothingness. The benedictions of all humanity, the universal canticle of praise taken up by all creatures, would be far too little for Thy glory ; but we adore Thee with Jesus, and through Him, and in Him.

Unbounded goodness of God ! neither our acts of thanksgiving nor the joyful transports of a world filled with Thy gifts can perfectly respond to Thy infinite benefits; but with whatever spiritual or temporal good there is in us we thank Thee with Jesus, through Jesus, and in Jesus.

Terrible justice of God ! Thou wilt not be appeased by the sacrifice of our poor, sin-stained life. A hecatomb of all nature could not restore Thee the honor that sin has taken from Thee ; but we implore pardon with Jesus, and through Him, and in Him.

Author of all good ! Thou hast anticipated us in the effusion of Thy gifts. But how can we hope to secure a continuance of these, except with Jesus, and through Him, and in Him ?

O heavenly Father ! we present to Thee Thy only-begotten and well-beloved Son, the object of Thy eternal complacency. We hide ourselves in His heart ; we present ourselves with Him in the arms of Mary to be immolated to Thy glory, if it is Thy good pleasure. Take all that we have — our mind, our heart, our body, our thoughts, affections, and desires, our life itself — and declare to us that our sacrifice is agreeable to Thee, so that we may joyfully sing with the holy old man, Simeon :

" Nunc dimittis servum tuum Domine"


THE law was fulfilled by the presentation in the temple. Jesus offered Himself to His divine Father in the name and in favor of humanity ; and now He enters into the humble and obscure dwelling of Nazareth, where He increases in years and in strength, and is filled with wisdom, " for the grace of God is in Him."

Twelve years of silence and obscurity pass quickly by, after which we find Him, when it was supposed He was lost in the excitement of a great festival, among the doctors of the law, hearing them and asking them questions.

O marvel ! These men, who have grown gray in study and in learning, who almost know the number of letters contained in the Sacred Writings, who scrutinize the mysteries and reduce to a nicety the interpretation of the law — these wise men of Israel, whose grave and learned word had the greatest weight in the land, have found their Master. They have found Him in a child of twelve years ! Their humbled pride is astonished at the profundity of His teaching and at the wisdom of His answers. It was the first wound it received, and its sting will continue to rankle in their hearts until the time of His public preaching shall have come. The people simply give way to ecstasies of admiration : " And all that heard Him were astonished at His wisdom and His answers " (Luke ii. 47).

Dear and admirable Child ! I know who Thou art. Divine Word, infinite Wisdom, Thou art come from the " mouth of the most high God." In God Thou hadst subsisted before the birth of time, and in Him Thou wilt subsist when time shall be no more. Hear His inspired word in the eighth chapter of the book of Proverbs: "When He prepared the heavens I was present ; when with a certain law and compass He enclosed the depths ; when He established the sky above, and poised the fountains of waters ; when He compassed the sea with its bounds, and set a law to the waters that they should not pass their limits ; when He balanced the foundations of the earth, I was with Him, forming all things, and was delighted every day, playing before Him at all times : playing in the world , and my delights were to be with the children of men." Thou knowest, O Lord! all secrets, even the most profound secrets of the Divinity. What Thou hast revealed to men is no more than a drop from the ocean of Thy infinite knowledge. The Sacred Scriptures, full of Thee, have been written by Thy inspiration. Who, then, can so well explain them as Thyself ? Therefore I am not astonished that questions and answers should fall from Thy lips which confounded the learned doctors of the law. I wonder not, but rather cry out in my simple ignorance, with the prophet Isaias : "Behold I have given Him for a witness to the people, for a leader and a master to the gentiles" (chap. lv. 4).

Speak, O Master ! speak. It is Thy right and Thy function. Is it not right, and even necessary, that Thou shouldst be "engaged in the business of Thy Father," Who, by Thy teaching, hast deigned to instruct us in the mysteries of eternity? Speak, O Jesus ! to the great and powerful, too often surfeited with empty grandeur ; speak to the worldly-wise of our clay, whose proud reason too often vanishes in the delirium of folly ; speak to the worldly-prudent, who, in their presumption, pretend to have no other rule of life than common honesty. Show them that nothing is truly great which does not lead up to a participation in the divine Sonship ;, that human science must submit itself to the science of heaven ; that the wisdom of the world, from the moment it refuses to enter upon the heroic way of Christian virtue, is supremest folly.

Speak to the poor, the ignorant, the humble, to raise them from their abject state ; teach them the mysteries which no human reason can fathom ; and conduct them by humble and despised pathways to the dwelling-place of life eternal. Speak to me, O my Jesus ! I listen to Thee, and I wish to receive no other promises than Thine, no doctrine but Thine, no law but Thine. For me it is not necessary to behold Thee with the eyes of the flesh to submit to Thy teaching. It is enough for me to read Thy books in which Thy words are engraven : to hear the Church, the guardian of Thy truth and of Thy commandments ; to feel within me the mysterious attractions of Thy holy grace.

O adorable Jesus ! speak to me especially by Thy grace. Speak to my spirit and to my heart. Let my thoughts, desires, affections, discourses, and acts be regulated by Thy internal word. Speak to me, as Thou didst in the temple, with the sweetness and amiability of a child ; but if my obdurate heart refuses to be moved by Thy loving words, speak to me with authority and with the just severity of an offended Master. Press, insist, reproach, threaten, annoy, and torment me. I am prepared to submit to Thy rigors. Speak, Lord, for Thy servant heareth.

Joyful Mysteries by Bishop Monsabre, O.P.



LET us humbly ask our Blessed Saviour to admit us among the chosen disciples who followed Him to Gethsemani. There, casting off sleep, let us enter into the grotto in which Jesus is prostrate, and contemplate His agony. What a sad and sorrowful spectacle ! The human nature of our Saviour, till then calm and serene, is disturbed, saddened, and afraid at the approach of death; yet death is not for that nature a surprise. For a long time its cruel necessity, the hour in which it would take place, its many mournful circumstances were well known to Him. Then His humanity was not troubled; but now at the supreme moment the storm breaks more relentless and more dreadful than upon any other nature. Whence comes this awful change ? From a secret weakness long held under the mask of a hypocritical peace ? Blasphemy ! Every circumstance in the agony of our dear Master is a prodigy. The exercise of His omnipotence was necessary to open the door of His holy soul to grief at all ; and, again, His omnipotence was needed to prevent His death in His unspeakable anguish. It was because He willed it that passions hitherto submissive were agitated and troubled. It was His divine foreknowledge that placed clearly before Him the living and frightful images of death and sin. He brought before Him in one appalling vision all the evils He was about to endure — the treason of His disciples, the abandonment of those whom He loved, the sacrilegious hatred of the Jewish priests, the injustice of the great, the ingratitude of the people, the despair of His friends, the tortures of His beloved Mother; the insults, injuries, humiliations ; the spittle, the scourging, the crown of thorns ; the cross and, at last, His death as the most infamous of malefactors. And all these evils for sinners who had loaded past ages with their iniquities ! Sins of the mind, of the heart, of the senses; the abominations of idolatry, injustices, violences, debaucheries of pagan races; the prevarications and apostasies of His own people — Jesus saw it all. But the future weighed more heavily upon His dismayed soul than the past. His precious blood would be shed for millions to no purpose; they would ungratefully refuse His grace and would reject His merits.

" And He began to fear and to be sad" (Mark xiv.) Jesus is seized with a mysterious sadness. His sacrifice seems to be repugnant to Him, and He implores God to spare His life, threatened with so much ingratitude and profanation. We read it in the twenty-ninth Psalm, in which David had already spoken in His name : " What profit is there in My blood whilst I go down to corruption ? " Why shed it if, in a great measure, it is sure to be lost?

" Jesus begins to fear." His spirit and His flesh, so tenderly and so purely united, protest against the horrors of a cruel and unmerited separation.

"His soul is sorrowful, even unto death." He falls with His face to the ground ; a sweat of blood flows upon it ; He is in an agony. He would certainly have expired if He had not been sustained for the bitter death of the cross by divine power.

Oh, what a conflict ! Human nature, left for a moment to itself, repels the too bitter chalice which God presents to it. "O my Father ! if it be possible, let this chalice pass from me." But His human nature is promptly lifted up by the divine nature and abandons itself to the most holy will of its heavenly Father in the words : " Not My will but Thine be done."

O most sweet and blessed Jesus ! I am not scandalized in Thy agony and dereliction; rather do I see, under the doleful veil of this mystery, Thy sacred divinity, and I offer to it the homage of my faith and adoration. Prostrate in spirit before Thee in the grotto of Gethsemani, I tenderly pity Thee in Thy awful sorrows, and I beg the grace to take part in them. Have I not merited these by my innumerable faults ? Is it not to me that this disgust with a sinful life, this fear of the terrors of divine justice, this sadness unto death, properly belong ? Be just and severe, O my Jesus ! Give me strength to suffer with Thee ! How bitter soever Thy chalice may be, grant me grace to submit to it, and accept it as Thou didst accept the holy will of God.


IN the sixteenth chapter of the book of Job we find words which admirably prefigure the awful scourging of our Lord: " He hath gathered together his fury against me, and threatening he hath gnashed with his teeth upon me ; my enemy hath beheld me with terrible eyes. They have opened their mouths upon me ; and, reproaching, they have struck me on the cheek. They are filled with my pains."

Having fallen into the hands of His enemies, having been judged and condemned, Jesus is delivered up to a troop of malefactors, the vilest and most cruel of whom act the part of executioners in the pretorian court. They seize their victim violently and bind Him fast to a pillar at which He is to be scourged. They arm themselves with rods and thongs, and strike Him with all their strength without counting their blows. The sacred body of our Saviour shudders. In the midst of the hissing of the scourges His deep moans and sad, low cries are heard. The fierce butchers, already drunk with wine, are infuriated at the sight of His blood.

They yield to fatigue, but the awful work is not yet finished. Still more ! Still morel is the cry that is heard. Some bring knotty brambles bristling with thorns, others bring iron-mounted thongs. These frightful cruelties last nearly an hour, a part of the people gloating over their victim, a part of them buried in stupor. Not to have expired under this treatment required the strength of God. Jesus can no longer stand erect. His body is one red, gushing wound. His eyes, almost closed with tears and blood, see only His executioners ; yet so sweet and mild are they that they would soften a savage beast. But under control of the passion of hatred man is more savage than any beast. So much love on the part of our dear Sayiour only irritated His enemies all the more. At last, when He had received five thousand strokes, as it has been revealed to His Saints, Jesus is untied from the pillar and falls covered with blood.

What hast Thou done, O sweet Lamb ! to bring upon Thyself this fearful barbarity ? Thou hast selected these people from among the gentile nations ; Thou hast delivered them from the slavery of Egypt. Through a thousand dangers Thou hast brought them into the land of benediction. To them and to us all Thou hast promised the blessed liberty of the children of God. Is it for this Thy beneficent hands are torn and bruised ? Is it for this Thou art tied, like a rebellious slave or a vile malefactor, to a pillar ?

Thou hast consoled the just and holy men of Israel, "the men of desires/' who, inclining their hearts and souls to the future, looked for the coming of God's envoy. Thou didst go about doing good, and Thou hast stretched out Thy loving hand to solace all human infirmities. Thou hast cured the paralytic and the lame ; Thou hast given hearing to the deaf, sight to the blind, speech to the dumb, life to the dead. Is it for this Thy sacred body has been beaten until it became one bleeding wound ? Thou hast brought down manna from heaven like the dew of the morning, and from the hard rock Thou hast brought pure water to relieve Thy people about to die of thirst in the desert. Thou hast multiplied a few loaves in another desert to feed the famished multitude that fol- lowed Thee. Thou hast allowed a torrent of heavenly doctrine to flow from Thy lips. Thou hast opened for our souls fountains of living water, the divine virtue of which will make it leap to the abodes of eternal life. Is it for this Thy flesh was torn and Thy blood shed ?

O my dear Saviour ! Thou didst merit nothing but our tender respect and loving gratitude ; but I hear the prophet Isaias say (liii.) : " He was wounded for our iniquities ; He was bruised for our sins." And how truly has his word been realized in Thee !

Nothing could be more just than that our sinful flesh should be tied to a pillar and beaten to death ; but, even if our blood were drawn drop by drop until no more remained, of what value would it be as long as it was impure and sinful ? But there must needs be blood, for I hear the Apostle of the Gentiles say in his Epistle to the Hebrews: " Almost all things, according to the law, are cleansed with blood ; and without the shedding of blood there is no remission" (chap, ix.)

Adorable Jesus, Thou hast fulfilled this austere law, and the lashes of Thy executioners, more effectual and more salutary than the rod of Moses, have opened, even in our flesh, wounds through which our salvation enters.

Flow on, flow on, O adorable stream of my Saviours blood ! I cast myself into this sacred fountain. Penetrate me and wash me, not only from all impurity and weakness of the flesh, but from all weakness and languor of soul. Go to the root of my imperfections and spiritual miseries. Wash away and bear far from me sin and the principles of sin.


"GO forth, daughters of Zion, and see King Solomon in the diadem wherewith his mother crowned him in the day of his espousals, and in the day of the joy of his heart " (Cant, iii.)

This King Solomon means my Saviour. The Church, His spouse, invites us to go with her and contemplate the strange and unheard-of diadem with which the synagogue, His cruel and relentless step-mother, crowns our Holy Saviour.

Those who were employed to scourge Him are now glutted with blood ; the soldiers lying listlessly around wish to amuse themselves. " Then the soldiers of the governor, taking Jesus in the hall, gathered together unto Him the whole band " (Matt, xxvii. 27). A broken column and a shaky stool is found. It will answer for a throne. Our dear Saviour is stripped of His garments a second time. An old scarlet mantle is thrown upon His shoulders ; this is His royal purple. A reed is put into His right hand ; this is His sceptre. Now, O my Saviour, be seated ! Thou art about to be crowned !

The soldiers have obtained three thorny branches, which, with diabolical art, they twist together in the form of a crown, bristling on the inside with a hundred sharp points. These ruffians, assuming a solemn air and simulating a grave ceremony, place this newly-invented crown on the head of Jesus. It will not keep its place at first, but they force it to remain by the blows of a piece of wood. The thorns pierce His head on all sides, and His eyes are almost destroyed. All the veins of the head are pierced ; blood flows like water from this newly-opened source. Jesus now loses the power of sight ; He is a prey to burning fever ; He is devoured by extreme thirst, and He shudders with pain and anguish. Nothing can be conceived more frightful, but it is mere sport for His tormentors. One after another they come before Him, bending the knee in mockery, saluting Him with the words, " Hail, King of the Jews ! " Then they throw down the throne and its Occupant, and again put Him on it with brutal violence. All this lasts at least half an hour, and is applauded by the full cohort which surrounds the pretorian. Then our dear Saviour is brought to Pilate, who presents Him to the people with the words: "Behold the Man!"

Yes, behold the Man ! No longer the glorious being whom the Father presented to a world just fresh from His creating hand, saying to it : "Be ruled by Him, be His subject.” Behold now the Man such as sin has made Him! The ignominy of our Lord is a living and a horrible image of the ignominy of the sinner. How wretched indeed the sinner is ! He thinks that it will increase his power, or at least his independence, to throw off the yoke of the divine will and to follow no longer any but his own. Soon he becomes a marvel of shame and misery.

Behold the Man ! Jesus is despoiled of His clothing and covered with a ragged purple garment. The sinner is stripped of the white robe of innocence. Grace, the gifts of the Holy Ghost, the reflection of the glory of God in his soul, all disappear at the very instant in which he becomes a sinner. Only the tattered remnants of a dishonored nature are left to him.

Behold the Man ! Jesus is crowned with thorns, the sharp points of which pierce and torture His adorable head. The sinner is wild with joy in his transgression. His joy comes quickly and flies away again like the lightning. The enjoyment of past iniquity soon becomes nothing more than the sharp thorn of disgrace and remorse.

Behold the Man ! Jesus is forced to take into His hand a reed for a sceptre ; it is a mock sceptre, an insult to His omnipotence. The sinner holds over his passions only a power enfeebled by the consent he has given to sin. His reason, deprived of the supernatural vigor derived from grace, no longer knows how to rule the appetites. It is no longer the rigid sceptre to which obedience is given ; it is now but a reed that bends with the least resistance.

Behold the Man ! Jesus has His hands tied and is led without effort from Pilate to Herod, and from Herod back again to Pilate. The sin- ner has forfeited his liberty, for t; he that commits sin is become the slave of sin " (John yiii. 34).

Behold the Man ! Jesus is the sport of a troop of soldiers, who deride Him, buffet Him, treat Him as a fool, and mock Him in His miserable state. The sinner, when his eyes are opened, will see around him a troop of devils well pleased with their triumph, laughing at the misfortune of their victim and feasting on their victory with atrocious joy. For a long time they had looked for his fall, which they effected by their wiles. Their hour is come ; they hold fast this proud soul that wished to be its own master. It is become in their hands a mock-king, whilst it listens only to their flatteries and is invisibly saturated with their outrages.

What ignominy ! O my God ! Behold what sin has made of man !

O humbled yet blessed Saviour ! I bring to Thy feet this miserable soul, which at length confesses its disgrace. I bring it confused, repentant, wounded not merely by cruel remorse, but also by the salutary thorns of contrition. Have pity on it. Touch it with one drop of that precious blood which flowed from Thy adorable head. It comes to Thee to be transformed, to be invested with glory and honor ; a master again, and possessed of the blessed liberty of the children of God. Seeing it, restored the angels will cry out in joy : " Be- hold the Man."


"NOTHING- in the Passion of our Saviour can possibly resemble ordinary sufferings ; all His ignominies, all His dolors are outside of the common description of punishments or of executions. He was scourged as no one had ever before been scourged ; no one before Him had been insultingly and barbarously crowned with thorns ; and now He is brought to the place of His execution in a manner different from all others.

The custom of the age required slaves to carry the gibbet of a condemned person to the place prepared for it. But figures and prophecies had proclaimed in advance the additional and special tortures reserved for Him. Abraham had placed the wood of the sacrifice on the shoulders of his son Isaac ; Jesus, the new Isaac, is made to bear His cross to the hill of sacrifice. The prophet Isaias had seen Him in this state of humiliation and suffering when he cried out : " The government is on His shoulder" — Principatus super humerum ejus (ix. 6).

Wherefore Jesus, having heard His sentence, is brought to the middle of the forum. His cross is there. He prostrates Himself to take it upon Him ; He embraces it as if it were a long-wished-for spouse. The trumpet is heard ; the officers cry out : " Move on ! " Jesus rises. On the right and on the left the people stare at Him.

With naked and bloody feet our dear Saviour, stooping low, tottering on His limbs, torn with wounds, exhausted by a long fast and by the loss of blood, advances, or rather creeps, to Calvary. Officers in front of Him are dragging Him along; others are pushing Him forward. He cannot make one firm step. Loaded as He is, and not being able to advance as they desire, those who follow Him ever press Him on, and thus he falls several times with His face to the ground, and the cross falls with Him. The executioners raise Him with imprecations and kick Him as they would the meanest animal. It is the most frightful spectacle to be imagined. O Christian soul ! veil not your face ; look on. Move forward along with Him. Follow your Saviour piously on the sorrowful way to Calvary. Content not yourself with weeping, like the holy women who will not leave Him ; but gather up and carefully guard, in an humble and contrite heart, the deep lessons He gives you. The burden of the cross is, after all, less heavy to Him than the immense weight of our sins. It is really under this weight He falls to teach us what a heavy load to carry is a sinful life. If we do not take steps to throw it from our souls as soon as we feel its weight, it will drag us down and cast us into an abyss. Vain thoughts, frivolous desires, culpable levities appear to us as nothing; yet bow often are they the cause of shameful falls ! Jesus falls several times on His way to Calvary. Herein He gives, for our benefit, a sign of our sad weakness. This Man, weakened, bruised, pushed forward, thrown down by soldiers and spectators, is a symbol of ourselves. The infirmities of nature and the tribulations of life cast us down ; the passions make us feel in our souls their terrible sting; the demon tempts and torments us; the world multiplies its seductions around us ; yet we go on in our course without serious attention to the dangers that beset us, and without any safeguard, as if there was no danger to our virtue. Our Saviour says to us : " Take care, take care, for the strong- have fallen ! "

He fell in the dolorous way, but He quickly rose again, notwithstanding His bruises and wounds, to show us that we too, when thrown down by the enemy of our salvation, ought to rise quickly again. To make no effort to gain our feet, not to call any one to our assistance, to make known to no one our great misfortune, would be the part of sloth and pride. And then the evil one, whose hatred rejoices in our falls, endeavors to persuade us that it is better to wait. Of what use is it to rise ? We are still so very weak we will fall again. Later in life, when age shall have fortified our reason, when the passions, growing cold, no longer make such pressing demands, when we shall have been satiated to disgust with pleasures the attraction to which has hastened our fall, then it will be time to say, " Rise, go on ! "

Oh ! how foolish. Who has promised that death will not come and find us in our sin, or that the inveteracy of evil habits will leave us any power at all to repent ? No, no ! Away with cowardly sloth, away with presumptuous delays ! Then all the rest will follow.

Bat can we repent now ? Are not our repeated falls an evidence of ingratitude which has exhausted the divine mercy ? Here is another temptation of the evil spirit against which the infinite goodness of our Saviour protests, as well as the "plentiful redemption" we will find in His blood. "With the Lord there is mercy, and with Him plentiful redemption" (Psalm cxxix.) He came to save sinners ; He will not break the reed bent down by the tempest. He wishes to receive us to His mercy, and to pardon all our sins each time we go to Him with an honest and sincere heart. Up, then, poor sinner, up ! It is Jesus invites you. It is possible you may fall again, notwithstanding all your good resolutions, But stay down not a moment ; always beg the grace of God to give you true penance until the supreme moment comes when God's last pardon shall be the answer to your last act, an act of contrition.


WEAKENED almost to death by wounds, exhausted by a most painful journey, crushed and bruised under the weight of His cross, Jesus reaches the summit of Calvary. Let us concentrate our thoughts upon this last and most awful scene of His Passion.

The executioners seize upon our dear Saviour and roughly drag off His garments, now adhering to the wounds made in His scourging. They stretch Him upon the cross and violently lay hold of His bruised and torn members, driving rough nails into His hands and feet. The breaking and disjointing of His bones is distinctly heard. Oh ! how horrible. Finally the cross is set upright and the Victim is exposed to the view of a degraded and immoral crowd, gathered from all parts to Jerusalem to feast on the spectacle of His agony and to insult Him in His expiring pains at a time when the suffering of the most infamous criminal would command pity and make of him an object sacred to respect and compassion.

But the sweet Lamb of God forgets all injuries and all cruelties. He pardons His murderers, promises paradise to the repentant thief, gives His Mother to us to be our Mother for evermore, thirsts for souls and invites them to Him. He submits to the divine will, and fulfils the prophetic oracles until all is consummated. He lovingly complains that He is abandoned by the Father, commends His soul to Him, utters a loud cry, and expires.

Jesus is dead ! But He has not yet poured out upon us all the treasures of His love. His Sacred Heart is pierced by a lance, which brings with it blood and water to give living virtue to the sacraments and to regenerate sinful souls.

Jesus is dead ! Let us contemplate His body, all livid and covered with blood. To our carnal eyes it is without beauty or glory ; but His Father joyfully turns to Him : He clasps the Victim of sin in a loving embrace, and gathers into His merciful bosom all the merits and sufferings of that divine Victim. He is the well-beloved of whom Solomon, sang ; He is the well-beloved, clothed in the white robe of innocence and in the purple of sacrifice : " My beloved is white and ruddy, chosen out of thousands " (Cant. v. 10).

Jesus is dead ! Let us unite ourselves with the invisible angels who surround the cross and adore in silence His lifeless flesh. The soul of which it was the unspotted tabernacle has left it to visit the sombre prison in which the just souls of the old law awaited His coming ; but His divinity is still there, preparing in those dead members the triumph of the resurrection.

Jesus is dead ! Let us weep with His Most Holy Mother, and beg of Her to obtain for us a portion, at least, of Her tender and profound compassion. All the dolors of Her Son are felt in Her maternal Heart. Her tears are a reproach to our guilty hearts, yet She desires nothing so anxiously as our pardon. O Queen of Martyrs! O Mother of God and of men ! we will cling for eyer to the memory of Thy great mercy. That we may continually bring it to mind, imprint deeply in our souls the wounds of Thy crucified Love :

Sancta Mater, istud agas,
Crucifixi fige plagas
Cordi meo valide.

Holy Mother, pierce me through,
In my heart each wound renew
Of my Saviour crucified.

Jesus is dead ! Let us lament with Magdalen, and with the centurion strike our breasts ; our sins indeed have crucified our Saviour. Come forward now, all ye impieties, blasphemies, ingratitudes, sacrileges, proud thoughts, tumultuous ambitions, egotism, injustices, lies, deceit, pleasures of sense, shameful indulgences — come to the mangled body of your Saviour and be confounded. " Of a truth you have murdered the Author of life.” O my Jesus ! I am ashamed to appear before Thee ; I fear the fate of Thy executioners ; I would fly far away from Calvary, the scene of my infamy, if I were not kept there by Thy merciful words and by Thy promises of pardon.

Jesus is dead ! Let us forget all else, and give our hearts without reserve to the contemplation of the holy Cross, as if we were alone in the world with it. It is for us, for each one of us, He was crucified. For us, in this sense : that He is our substitute on that frightful gibbet on which, but for Him, we would have received the strokes of God's justice. For us, in the sense that He has expiated our faults and accomplished the work of our salvation. To Jesus crucified be ever given the homage, too long withheld, of our heartfelt repentance ! To Jesus crucified be ever given the homage of our deepest gratitude for the greatest of all benefits — that of our redemption !



JESUS, having been taken from the cross, is placed in a new sepulchre in which His flesh, fearfully mangled by the ordeal through which it had passed, reposed for a little while. Its rest was not the deep sleep which weighs down human beings after they breathe their last sigh, and from which only the trumpet of the angel will awaken them ; it is a tranquil slumber from which the voice of God will soon arouse Him.

Two passions — hatred and fear — watch round His tomb. It is covered with a huge stone and secured by the seal of the synagogue. The soldiers are on guard to prevent any secret approach. It is confidently believed that these precautions will stifle for ever in the tomb the voice of Him who had said of His body : "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will build it up again (John ii. 19). How ridiculous and foolish men make themselves when they attempt to run counter to the designs of God or to give the lie to His promises ! On the morning of the third day there is an earthquake ; an angel descends and rolls away the stone ; and the flesh of Jesus, receiving Life again by the divine power, springs forth, glorious and immortal, from the arms of Death.

Let us adore our risen Saviour! No longer is He a prisoner whom the soldiers of the synagogue and the pretorium drag about from one tribunal to another ; no longer is He the man forsaken by His Father and His friends, and complaining most touchingly of the rigors of divine justice ; no more is He the condemned man whom all insult who dare address Him ; no longer is he the man covered with wounds and become like a leper whose aspect is fearful to look upon ; nor is He any more the dead body which His afflicted Mother enshrouded with reverent hands and saw laid in a sepulchre. Now He is free, joyous, triumphant, radiant, immortal. Let us, with the Psalmist, sing to the Lord : " Thou hast broken my bonds, and I will offer to Thee a sacrifice of praise." Thou hast not forgotten the Just One in His tomb, "nor hast Thou allowed Thy Holy One to see corruption." With St. Paul we will cry out : " O death ! where is thy victory ? O death ! where is thy sting?" (1 Cor. xv.) "Christ rising from the dead, dieth now no more, death shall have no more dominion over Him ; for in that He liveth, He liveth to God" (Rom. vi.) Let us sing these canticles of joy and then turn our thoughts upon ourselves.

This great mystery includes for us a lesson, a figure, and a promise.

The ineffable joy and glory of the Resurrection have been purchased at the price of most horrible sufferings. It was inevitable. It is our Saviour Himself who tells it to those who, like the disciples of Emmaus, might be scandalized or weakened on account of His Passion : " Ought not Christ to have suffered these things, and so to have entered into His glory ? " (Luke xxiv.) Now, the road of soldiers must be the same as that travelled by their leader. Enlisted under the banner of Jesus Christ, we cannot hope to attain the incorruptible glory and unalloyed happiness, promised by Almighty God, through the broad pathway of pleasure and enjoyment, which is unhappily too much frequented. Jesus did not take that road. It was the rough way of sorrow and pain, in which we can easily trace His bloody foot- steps, that conducted Him to eternal honors. It was the cross He bore and on which He died that opened the gates of heaven, barred and bolted against the luxury of worldlings. The motto of every Christian ought to be : "Let me suffer, O Lord ! in this life, that I may live eternally in the next."

This is the lesson of the Resurrection.

There is in it also a symbol or figure. The mystery of the Resurrection is a lively figure of the spiritual transformation which ought to take place in each of us. Sin is death. It is the tomb in which the captive soul sleeps a fatal sleep. The enemy takes all manner of precautions to prevent its awakening. Yet he cannot prevent the voice of God from reaching even this sepulchre of the sinful soul. " Arise," says that voice, " thou who sleepest ; arise from the dead. Christ will enlighten thee " (Ephes. v.) At the first sound of that voice let us rise from sin. We may never hear it more. Death long continued will breed corruption.

But how will I rise ? How break the cords that tie me down ? How roll away the heavy stone that is laid over me ? How break the inveterate habits and the shameful laxity of the will, which is weakened so much by its many consents to sin ? Courage, Christian ! In the figure just given there is a promise. For us Christ died, and " for our justification He rose again." The divine virtue of His glorified humanity will one day bring together the scattered dust of our bodies, and will make our flesh, dissolved in death, live again eternally incorrupt ; but at present He addresses Himself to the soul especially to draw it from sin to justice, and to give it strength to " walk in the pathway of a blessed newness of life."

I count on Thee, O my adorable Master ! Have pity on me ! I am dead, or at least I feel myself dying day by day ; for it is not life that languishes in tepidity. In virtue of Thy blessed Resurrection enable me to rise from the tomb of my failings. Create, O Lord ! a new spirit within me, so that, penetrated with Thy light, disengaged from the influences of the flesh, active and alert in good works, and bent upon the perfection of my life, I may live henceforth only for Thee, as Thou livest only for God.


LET us go to Mount Olivet. Thither Jesus brings His disciples for the last time. He recalls to their minds their divine mission, confirms the powers conferred upon them, again promises the Holy Spirit, gives them His blessing, bids them adieu, and rises towards heaven. The hearts of the apostles, divided between grief and wonder, follow with their eyes their adorable Master, who is leaving them, and whom they will never see again on earth. A bright cloud intercepts their view of the triumphant humanity of their Saviour, but they continue to look towards the heavens whither He had ascended. Now they understand all ; and their hearts, so recently gross and carnal, break all earthly chains.

Let us with them raise our hearts to heaven. Sursum corda ! If Jesus leaves us He does not forget us, nor does He abandon us to our exile without hope. His going is not to put an immense distance between His glory and our misery ; it is to prepare a place for us : " I go to prepare a place for you " (John xiv. 2). This is His promise ; can we suppose He will not keep it?

O Jesus, our only love! we have need of hearing this good word fall from Thy adorable lips to console us in Thy absence. Thou goest to prepare a place for us; is this world, therefore, not our most suitable home? Ah ! no. It is too full of troubles to give that joy to the heart to which it aspires; it is too narrow to satiate the immensity of our desires ; it is too uncertain to give us any assurance of eternal possession, the idea of which is inseparable from all our dreams of happiness. The eternal life of God, His infinite perfections, the perfect love of God, the boundless space which His immensity fills — this is the "length and breadth and depth" of which St. Paul speaks; this is the place to which we should direct our course and in which we should anchor our bark of life, the place which Jesus went to prepare for us.

He is there indeed. It is our humanity that triumphs in his person and sits at the right hand of God. Even if we were not called to a participation in His glory and beatitude we ought to be anxious to know where it is and to register His victory in our human records. If he belongs to God He belongs to us also; if He is of the divine substance He is also of our flesh and blood, and we may well declare with a holy doctor: " Where a part of me reigns, I believe I reign also; where my flesh is glorified, I am glorified; where my blood is king, I too am king."

But listen, Christian! Jesus does not wish to reduce you to the sterile honor of knowing His triumph. By His ascension He enters into the bosom of God the Father, not as a delegate, but as a precursor of humanity. This is the expression of St. Paul in his sixth chapter to the Hebrews. The precursor prepares the way for those who follow Him, and the place in which they are to rest after the fatigue of the journey. The precursor puts all things in order; He waits for His friends and calls them in. But how much more certain and efficacious His office is when, instead of being a servant merely, He is master of those for whom He prepares a place, and master of the place as well!

Christ, our precursor, is all this. Let us consider carefully the words of the apostle. He teaches us that Christ asserted our rights by His very presence in the bosom of God. For we are His property, and He has a right to enter into heaven with what belongs to Him. " He is our head; we are the body and members of that head." But where the head is, there likewise ought to be the body and the members. But Jesus would be our precursor only half-way if, by His action, He did not put us in condition to realize our lights — that is to say, if He did not prepare God to receive us and did not prepare us to take possession of God.

He is our priest "for ever"; or, in other words, He presents eternally to God the most sacred gifts that humanity has to offer, and to humanity the most sacred gifts of God. Our acts of religion would never have penetrated this sanctuary, in which they ought to mark out a place for us, if they did not pass through the hands of Jesus Christ. And if we return to God after our transgression, our repentance is only acceptable because "we have an advocate with the Father — Jesus Christ, the Just." If the groans of our misery or the expressions of our love are heard in heaven it is because Jesus appropriates them; for "He lives only to intercede for us.' He shows to the Father the marks of His glorious wounds, and makes His blood plead more strongly than that of Abel.

O God! Thou canst not resist this strong cry. It must be that Thou permittest us to mark our places in the sacred tabernacles which Thou fillest with Thy blessedness. This is the will of my Lord Jesus; and in preparing Thee to receive us He prepares us to take possession of Thee. The incarnate Word, humbled and annihilated in the days of His life on earth, became on the day of His ascension the inexhaustible treasury of the gifts of God. "Christ, ascending on high, led captivity captive, and gave gifts to men" (Ephes. iv. 8). Thus it is that the remedies of our faults, the succor of our weakness, the light of our darkness, the solace of our pains, the impulses towards good, all descend into our souls to make them worthy of God, whom we ought to possess. He extends His benign influence even to our corruptible flesh, which He prepares for the resurrection.

O Christian! meditate upon this glorious and consoling mystery. Never more turn to creatures as the end of your life. This world is not your resting-place. Honors, riches, pleasures, human affections are unworthy of a great and generous soul. Look to your Leader and Precursor; have confidence in His divine ministry; abandon yourself to His holy grace; raise your heart to heaven. Sursum corda!


THE apostles were assembled together in one place, awaiting in recollection and prayer the effect of the promises of Jesus. For He had said: "And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself ; that where I am you also may be. . . . And I will ask the Father, and He shall give you another Paraclete [comforter or advocate], that He may abide with you for ever ; the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth Him not nor knoweth Him ; but you shall know Him, because He shall abide with you and be with you " (John xiv. 3, 16, 17). Ten days after the Ascension of our Lord a mighty event took place. It was the fulfillment of the promise, and is thus recorded in the Acts of the Apostles : And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a mighty wind coming, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. And there appeared to them cloven tongues as it were of fire, and it sat upon each one of them ; and they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and they began to speak with divers tongues, according as the Holy Ghost gave them to speak" (Acts ii.)

O wonderful prodigy ! But a moment ago these men were ignorant and could not clearly understand the doctrine of their Master; now they possess a full knowledge of the most sublime truths. At one moment they express themselves in a weak and stammering manner; the next they are filled with a marvelous eloquence. At one moment they are weak and timid even to the extent of cowardice — they hide themselves, so as not to be involved in the misfortunes of their Master ; the next they come forth boldly, and fearlessly proclaim their faith and love, and this, too, before a people who load them with injuries and drag them before, their tribunals. They seem at one moment ungrateful and almost without hope; the next they are devoted to the words of their Master, even unto death. Now they are sad and downcast ; all at once their hearts abound in hope and joy. What has happened ? The Holy Ghost, having descended from heaven, has brought to perfection in the souls of the disciples the spirit and form of the Christian life, which until now were only in a crude, inchoative state. This is His special mission. The holy Fathers have sometimes called Him the " perfective force."

Learn from this, O Christian soul ! that the effusion of the Holy Spirit is as necessary for thy salvation as is the application of the blood and merits of Jesus Christ. " The end of man, which is to see God and possess Him eternally, is beyond the powers of nature," says St. Thomas of Aquin ; " our reason cannot conduct us to it, if its natural movement does not bring to its aid the instinct and motion of the Spirit of God. 9 ' It is so necessary for us that without it we possess only the rudiments of the Christian and supernatural life.

Jesus, the divine Architect, makes of our souls His temples, having purified them with His precious blood. It is the Holy Ghost who consecrates us in marking us with His character, and conferring upon us the unction of His love and the illumination of His gifts. Pentecost is therefore, in the Church, a universal and perpetual festival. Our baptism is a pentecost; our confirmation is a pentecost. Besides this, as St. Thomas teaches, the divine Paraclete returns constantly in His secret visits, to illuminate, strengthen, and beautify with His gifts the souls of the just.

But let us hear attentively the word of God : " The Lord does not come in times of disturbance " (3 Kings xix.) We must have peace in our souls ; we must remove the agitation of vain thoughts and of vain desires, if we would receive the Spirit of God. Let us await His coming, like the apostles, in recollection and prayer.

It is not likely that God will surprise us by sudden visits of His light and grace ; in the ordinary workings of His providence He only sends His Holy Spirit to us when we say with earnest fervor : Come ! Veni Sancte Spiritus !

Let us invoke Him, then, in the dark night of temptation, in the agony of doubt. When, enveloped in the darkness of ignorance and drawn on by the glare of creatures, our uncertain spirit asks for the truth to guide it ; and when, desirous of the knowledge and light of faith, we desire to penetrate the divine mysteries, let us invoke the Holy Spirit, for he is indeed the " Spirit of wisdom, understanding, and knowledge."

When we are moved to determine and fix our vocation in life, when we are about to perform some work in which our consciences are deeply concerned, or if it is our duty to direct. souls in the ways of God, let us invoke the " Spirit of counsel."

When we feel the love of God languish in our hearts, or even when we are moved by a holy zeal and we wish to love God with good effect, let us invoke the Holy Spirit, for He is truly the " Spirit of piety ."

When the power of evil attacks us and the world persecutes us, when passion torments us, and when sorrow oppresses us, let us earnestly call Him to our assistance, for He is the " Spirit of fortitude."

When the abyss of sin is open before us and ready to engulf us, let us invoke Him with all our strength, for He is the "Spirit of the fear of the Lord,"

In all our sufferings let us invoke Him, for He is indeed the Paraclete — the Comforter.

Against the slavery of all evil habits that weigh down the will let us invoke Him, for " where the Spirit of God is, there is true liberty."

Has He come ? Then let us meet Him with attention, vigilance, and profound respect. Let us not "'grieve the Spirit of God by our faults and imperfections."


MARY languished waiting anxiously many years for the blessed day that would reunite Her with Her Son. It came at length. Her lamp of life was peacefully extinguished in the home of the beloved disciple, St. John, surrounded by other apostles, whose messages she bore to heaven. A virgin sepulchre received the mortal remains of the spotless Virgin. It was the mysterious cradle soon to be visited by the Author of life. Sleep on, dear Blessed Mother, sleep on, whilst the infant Church mourns around thy grave !

Soon one of the disciples desired to see again His Mother's face, and to kiss the blessed hand that had caressed the Saviour of the world. The tomb was opened, but the immaculate body was not there ; instead of it were found roses and lilies of the sweetest perfume — a fitting symbol of her perfections and virtues.

Thus a miracle is performed in the silent shade of the tomb. Jesus, from the highest heavens contemplating the spotless body which was the tabernacle of His humanity, repeated the words of the prophet : " Thou wilt not give Thy Holy One to see corruption." He applies it to His holy Mother ; He will not suffer Her to feel the corruption of the grave. Mary slumbers in death, as Her Son once did, but He awakes Her with these loving words of the Canticles : "Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come. The winter is now past ; the rain is over and gone. The flowers have appeared in our land ; the time of pruning is come ; the voice of the turtle is heard. The fig-tree has put forth her green figs ; the vines in flower yield their sweet smell. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come. . . . Come from Libanus, where the incorruptible cedars grow. Come and be crowned." *

* Antiphon of the Assumption.

Mary can neither rise nor ascend to heaven of Her own power, but the Author of life extends to Her His omnipotent force, places His angels at Her service, and they bear Her to Her home in heaven.

To us poor mortals the privilege of incorruption in the tomb does not belong. Wretched children of Adam, defiled, from the first moment of our existence, by original sin, unfaithful to the grace of our regeneration, frequently guilty of sin after having been pardoned, we have opened to death all the avenues of life. Death entered with sin and has written on our flesh this terrible word : Corruption ! Nothing escapes its cruel tooth. The skin, gradually eaten away, soon disappears entirely, leaving only a dry skeleton ; and this, too, silently crumbling into dust, is mingled with the surrounding earth by the grave-digger's spade when he is preparing a place for other dead bodies. This is the end of all.

Let us not be terrified, however, at our nothingness. Men may seek for us in vain ; but the all-seeing eye of God follows through the mazes of nature the wanderings of the particles which once composed our bodies. When the world shall have finished its course the Author of life will visit the empire of death, and with His sovereign voice will address the elements of which human bodies were once constituted, saying : " Unite, arise, come." Then the bones of each human being shall be recomposed, and the flesh shall recover the texture and color by which it was once before known. This is a certain truth.

And it is no less certain that our resurrection will be the same as our death. It will be glorious or ignominious, it will be for eternal joy or eternal sorrow, according as our death shall have been in justice or sin.

Let us meditate seriously on these truths ; and whilst we carry about with us our bodies as vessels made by the divine hand for honor, and destined to receive from the same hand a new existence which no inimical force can destroy, let us take good care not to make of them objects of almost idolatrous attention which cannot save them from the ravages of time or the corruption of the grave. If to-day we hear the forebodings of death, if we are saddened by our infirmities, if our thoughts are gloomy and dark, if the perfection of our souls is retarded or burdened with the weight of our bodies, let us not repine. Patience ! Patience ! One day this poor companion of the soul will rise immortal, incorruptible, brighter than the stars of heaven, obedient to the commands of the soul which will impart to it a wonderful agility. If the body presses us with gross demands, and even incites to sin, we must inexorably repress it. We must preserve ourselves from all defilement by wise precautions, strong resolutions, and salutary chastisements. The more we resemble in the flesh the unsullied flesh of our Holy Mother, the more resplendent will be the glory of our resurrection.


HEAVEN is opened. Our Most Holy Mother, invited by Her Son, triumphantly enters in. " Come and be crowned,’ our Saviour says to Her. Let us assist in spirit at this coronation. It is the eternal consecration of all the virtues, of all the dolors of Mary. It is the recompense which confers upon Her the greatest power ever before imparted to a creature. All the kings of Judah gather round their well-beloved daughter. " David dances for joy ; the angels and archangels unite with Israel's sweet singer to chant the praises of their Queen. The virtues proclaim Her glory ; the principalities, powers, and dominations exult with joy ; the thrones felicitate Her who was the living and immaculate throne of the Most High. The cherubim salute Her in a canticle of praise, and the seraphim declare Her glory," says St. John Damascene. Finally Jesus comes, and, amid the plaudits of the whole Court of Heaven, places a crown on the brow of His Most Blessed Mother.

Jesus forgets nothing. All is crowned in Mary : Her thoughts, Her desires, Her actions, Her virtues, Her merits — even Her privileges, of which She had rendered Herself most worth by Her constant correspondence with the admirable designs of God. The feast of the Coronation is a feast of justice.

Christian soul, this feast of justice ought to rejoice your heart ! It is your Mother is honored, it is your Mother's triumph ; and Her triumph teaches us that we have a just God in heaven, who, when the day of remuneration comes, will remember all. Therefore what signify the difficulties, sorrows, languors, and tribulations of our short lives ? "For the rest there is laid up for us a crown of justice which the Lord, the just judge, will bestow upon us in that day" (2 Tim. iv.) O senseless souls who run after earthly goods, can you say this of the world you seem to adore or of the rulers of the world ? They promise riches, pleasures, celebrity, love. Your whole soul is held in a state of tension by the toys of imagination, covetous desires, or other passions ; your senses themselves are disturbed, your health is injured, your life is filled with intrigues, troubles, and meannesses. Humble yourselves, throw away earthly cares, else you will never be able to say, with the noble and fervent confidence of the true Christian : " There is laid up for me a crown." Crowns of gold or of roses, of honor or affection, often slip from your grasp just when you think you hold them most securely. And if you were able to obtain at once all the crowns of the world, you must bring them at last before the "just Judge," who will, with pitiless hand, tear them from your brow and throw them down to rot where you received them. We cannot carry with us to heaven useless or hurtful ornaments. Our crown in heaven — our true crown — will remain eternally on our brow and will never fade. "And when the Prince of pastors shall appear you shall receive a never-fading crown of glory " (1 Peter v. 4).

Feed yourself, then, O my soul ! on these deep and consoling thoughts. The all-just Rewarder of all faithful souls sees you and knows you. Despise the vain objects of worldlings and cling to the road that brings you to a crown of glory. It is a rough and difficult road. You will have to overcome obstacles, to leap over more than one abyss, to avoid ambuscades(def. attack from an ambush.), to fight the enemy, to repair reverses and even defeats. Courage ! Courage ! All your marches, all your efforts, all your labors and combats are in God's keeping : " For the rest there is laid up for you a crown." You will say: " If I could only march alone on the hard road leading to glory ! But no ; I must carry along with me this miserable body. It is a furnace of sin, and of sorrow too. It obscures my sight so that I cannot see clearly what I ought to see ; from it come doubts, scruples, dryness, disquietude, chagrin, and anguish. From time and from nature it receives many blows and wounds. How many are the evils, both external and internal, of our sad lives ! " Courage ! Courage ! All these are counted ; all will be crowned. At once a champion, a pilgrim, and a martyr, you will be able to say with the great Apostle of the Gentiles : " I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith. For the rest, there is laid up for me a crown of justice, which the Lord, the just judge, will render to me at that day ; and not to me only, but to them also who love His coming " (2 Tim. iv. 7, 8).

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Liturgical Schedule
Date Liturgical Schedule
October 20: Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost
Saint John Cantius, Confessor
Dominican Martyrology
October 21: Saint Hilarion, Abbot
Commemoration of Saint Ursula and her Companions, Virgins and Martyrs
Dominican Martyrology
October 22: Blessed Peter of Tiferno, Confessor, OP Book
Dominican Martyrology
October 23: Saint Anthony Marie Claret
Blessed Bartholomew Breganza, Bishop and Confessor OP Book
Dominican Martyrology
October 24: Saint Raphael, Archangel
Dominican Martyrology
October 25: St. Isidore the Farmer, Patron of Madrid
Saints Chrysanthus And Daria, Martyrs
Dominican Martyrology
October 26: Saint Evaristis, Pope and Martyr
Blessed Damien of Finario,Confessor OP Book
Dominican Martyrology
October 27: Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost
Feast of Christ the King
Vigil of Saints Simon And Jude, Apostles
Dominican Martyrology
October 28: Saints Simon And Jude, Apostles
Dominican Martyrology
October 29: Blessed Benvenuta Bojani,Virgin OP Book
Dominican Martyrology
October 30: Mass of Preceding Sunday.
Dominican Martyrology
October 31: Vigil Of All Saints
Dominican Martyrology
November 1: Feast of All Saints
Dominican Martyrology
November 2: Feast of All Souls
Votive Mass of the Sacred Heart (First Friday)
Dominican Martyrology
November 3: Twenty-first Sunday after Pentecost )
Blessed Simon Ballachi, Lay Brother,Confessor, OP Book
Third Day Within The Octave Of All Saints
Dominican Martyrology
November 4: Saint Charles Borromeo, Bishop and Confessor
Dominican Martyrology
November 5: Saint Martin de Porres, Confessor, OP Book
Fifth Day Within The Octave Of All Saints
Dominican Martyrology
November 6: Sixth Day Within The Octave Of All Saints
Dominican Martyrology
November 7: Seventh Day Within The Octave Of All Saints
Blessed Peter of Ruffia, Martyr, OP Book
Dominican Martyrology
November 8: Octave Day of All Saints
Commemoration of the Four Crowned Martyrs
Dominican Martyrology
November 9: Dedication Of The Basilica Of Saint Saviour
Commemoration of Saint Theodore, Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 10: Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost )
Saint Andrew Avellino, Confessor
Commemoration of Saints Tryphon, Eespicius, and Nympha, Martyrs
Dominican Martyrology
November 11: Saint Martin, Bishop and Confessor
Commemoration of Saint Mennas, Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 12: Feast of All Saints of the Dominican Order, OP Book
Saint Martin I, Pope and Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 13: Saint Francis Xavier Cabrini
Saint Thomas Aquinas, Patron of Catholic Schools, OP Book
Saint Didacus, Confessor
Dominican Martyrology
November 14: Saint Josaphat, Bishop and Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 15: Saint Albert the Great
Saint Albert the Great, OP Book
Dominican Martyrology
November 16: Saint Gertrude, Virgin
Blessed Lucy of Narni,Virgin, OP Book
Dominican Martyrology
November 17: Twenty-third Sunday after Pentecost )
Saint Gregory Thaumaturgus, Bishop and Confessor
Dominican Martyrology
November 18: Dedication Of The Basilicas Of Saints Peter And Paul
Dominican Martyrology
November 19: Saint Elizabeth Of Hungary, Widow
Commemoration of Saint Pontian, Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 20: Saint Felix of Valois, Confessor
Dominican Martyrology
November 21: Presentation Of The Blessed Virgin Mary
Dominican Martyrology
November 22: Saint Cecilia, Virgin and Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 23: Saint Clement I., Pope and Martyr
Commemoration of Saint Felicitas, Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 24: Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost )
Saint John Of The Cross, Confessor
Commemoration of Saint Chrysogonus, Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 25: Twenty-fifth Sunday and Last Sunday after Pentecost
Saint Catharine, Virgin and Martyr
Saint Catharine of Alexandria, Protectress of the Order, OP Book
Dominican Martyrology
November 26: Blessed James Benefatti, Bishop and Confessor, OP Rite
Saint Sylvester, Abbot
Commemoration of Saint Peter of Alexandria, Bishop and Martyr
Dominican Martyrology
November 27: Blessed Margaret of Savoy,Widow, OP Book
November 28: Dominican Martyrology
November 29: Vigil of Saint Andrew, Apostle
Dominican Martyrology
November 30: Saint Andrew, Apostle
Dominican Martyrology
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