On Sorrow

If you're connected to any form of social media, chances are good that you're being barraged with exhortations to "be a joyful witness" and to "transmit joy and hope to others." It would seem that there's nothing more worthy of contempt these days than giving the appearance of being a "sad Christian," an "old maid," or a "sourpuss," to use a few choice insults which have been directed at faithful Catholics over the past few years. One gets the distinct impression that, no matter what you do, all will be forgiven as long as you do it with a smile.

Well, I call phooey. 

Personally, I'm tired of the insinuation that I'm a bad Catholic if I'm not glad-handing everyone I meet. Why not let prospective converts know the truth from the get-go?

Being Catholic is not always easy. It's not always fun, either. Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices that hurt. Sometimes those sacrifices are made for you. Sometimes you understand why, and sometimes you don't. But, as a Catholic, you can be sad without losing hope; you can experience sorrow without falling into despair. The great strength of Catholicism is not that it eliminates suffering, but that it gives our suffering meaning.

There's an old woman who sits, always alone, a few pews ahead of me at church. She never speaks to anyone. She knows all the hymns by heart. And she weeps bitterly through the whole Mass.

When I see her return to her place after having received Our Lord, her eyes are puffy and bloodshot, her nose red and shiny. Before the ciborium is placed back in the tabernacle, she has moved on to her second handkerchief, the first having been utterly demolished during the consecration.

After Mass, she kneels and sobs, sits and sobs, blows her nose a last time, collects her things, and then rises to leave. She always looks exhausted, like she has just returned from the bedside of a terminally ill loved one. There is a hint of a smile on her lips, but the smile is neither for me nor for the other parishioners, with whom she doesn't even try to make eye contact. She's smiling for Our Lord, who is in her heart.

She might be old and wrinkled, but at that moment, she's truly beautiful, positively glowing with love of God. And I love her for it.

If you are a "sad" Catholic, take heart, gentle reader: you're in good company.

Mater Dolorosa, ora pro nobis!

Does Richard Dawkins Exist?

Regular readers will have noticed that things around here have taken a decidedly philosophical turn as of late. I've written several longish articles (see here, here, here, here and here) which I sincerely hope have been able to spark in you an interest in our rich Catholic philosophical heritage. Now, I realize that engaging in the study of philosophy can be a somewhat daunting task, and I'm still looking for ways to make the treasures of Catholic philosophy more readily accessible to those of you whose resources in time and energy may be limited. In the meantime, I would like to keep the flame burning by presenting you with a talk delivered earlier this year by Dr. Dennis Bonnette of the Aquinas School of Philosophy with the delightfully cheeky title Does Richard Dawkins Exist? It's just over an hour long, and it's best enjoyed in one sitting, so try to find some undisturbed time to take it in.

The presentation itself is a very accessible introduction to Aristotelian-Thomist metaphysics. Dr. Bonnette goes about his task by contrasting the Theistic Hylomorphism of the Thomist school with the dominant scientistic philosophy of the day, i.e. Atheistic Materialism. For those of you engaged in apologetics, this video is sure to whet your appetite for more substantial portions. A brief outline of the talk is as follows:

• Introduction (0:42-2:06)
• The Case for Atheistic Materialism (2:06-25:10)
• The Response of Theistic Hylomorphism (25:10-59:20)
• Conclusion (59:20-1:02:20)

If you enjoyed the video, and would like more of the same, please let me know in the comments section.

In hoc signo perturbes

This post offers only a series of images, and I invite you, gentle reader, to peruse them at your leisure (the images can be viewed in a larger format by clicking on them). I'm not drawing any conclusions from this, and it's not meant to tempt you to wild speculation, either. It's just a starting point for a potentially interesting conversation, either here or elsewhere. Those who feel inspired to research the images further are welcome to add their own insights in the comments section.

Pope Francis

Cardinal Óscar Andrés Rodríguez Maradiaga

Archbishop Victor Manuel Fernández

Cardinal Chibly Langois

Archbishop Ludwig Schick

Bishop Christopher J. Coyne

Bishop Wayne Kirkpatrick

Bishop Edward Scharfenberger

Bishop Myron J. Cotta

Bishop Jaime Soto

Bishop Pierre Nguyên Van Kham

Bishop Jose Luis Lacunza Maestrojuan

Bishop Gabino Zavala (Ret.)*

Bishop David O'Connell

Bishop Luc Van Looy

Bishop Kevin Doran

Bishop Justin Mulenga

Bishop John Conway McNabb

Bishop Moses Hamungole

Bishops Robert Barron, Michael G. O’Connell and Joseph V. Brennan

Bishop Robert Barron
(just making sure)

Newly Recognized Chinese Bishops at Youth Synod 2018

*Note: Bishop Zavala resigned in 2012 after it was discovered that he had two children. The picture is from before his resignation, and is the earliest confirmed sighting thus far. Interesting, no?

Anger

Twelfth in a Series on Catholic Morality

 by
 Fr. John H. Stapleton

Ira (Anger)
Hieronymus Bosch

Never say, when you are angry, that you are mad; it makes you appear much worse than you really are, for only dogs get mad. Rabies in a human being is a most unnatural and ignoble thing. Yet common parlance likens anger to it.

It is safe to say that no one has yet been born that never yielded, more or less, to the sway of this passion. Everybody gets angry. The child sulks, the little girl calls names and makes faces, the boy fights and throws stones; the maiden waxes huffy, spiteful, and won't speak, and the irascible male fumes, rages, and says and does things that become him not in the least. Even pious folks have their tiffs and tilts. All flesh is frail, and anger has an easy time of it; not because this passion is so powerful, but because it is insidious and passes for a harmless little thing in its ordinary disguise. And yet all wrath does not manifest itself thus exteriorly. Still waters are deepest. An imperturbable countenance may mask a very inferno of wrath and hatred.

To hear us talk, there is no fault in all this, the greater part of the time. It is a soothing tonic to our conscience after a fit of rage, to lay all the blame on a defect of character or a naturally bad temper. If fault there is, it is anybody's but our own. We recall the fact that patience is a virtue that has its limits, and mention things that we solemnly aver would try the enduring powers of the beatified on their thrones in heaven. Some, at a loss otherwise to account for it, protest that a particular devil got hold of them and made resistance impossible.

But it was not a devil at all. It was a little volcano, or better, a little powder magazine hidden away somewhere in the heart. The imp Pride had its head out looking for a caress, when it received a rebuff instead. Hastily disappearing within, it spat fire right and left, and the explosion followed, proportionate in energy and destructive power to the quantity of pent-up self-love that served as a charge. Once the mine is fired, in the confusion and disorder that follow, vengeance stalks forth in quest of the miscreant that did the wrong.

Anger is the result of hurt pride, of injured self-love. It is a violent and inordinate commotion of the soul that seeks to wreak vengeance for an injury done. The causes that arouse anger vary infinitely in reasonableness, and there are all degrees of intensity.

The malice of anger consists wholly in the measure of our deliberate yielding to its promptings. Sin, here as elsewhere, supposes an act of the will. A crazy man is not responsible for his deeds; nor is anyone, for more than what he does knowingly.

The first movement or emotion of irascibility is usually exempt of all fault; by this is meant the play of the passion on the sensitive part of our nature, the sharp, sudden fit that is not foreseen and is not within our control, the first effects of the rising wrath, such as the rush of blood, the trouble and disorder of the affections, surexcitation and solicitation to revenge. A person used to repelling these assaults may be taken unawares and carried away to a certain extent in the first storm of passion, in this there is nothing sinful. But the same faultlessness could not be ascribed to him who exercises no restraining power over his failing, and, by yielding habitually, fosters it and must shoulder the responsibility of every excess. We incur the burden of God's wrath when, through our fault, negligence or a positive act of the will, we suffer this passion to steal away our reason, blind us to the value of our actions, and make us deaf to all considerations. No motive can justify such ignoble weakness that would lower us to the level of the madman. He dishonors his Maker who throws the reins to his animal instincts and allows them to gallop ahead with him, in a mad career of vengeance and destruction.

Many do not go to this extent of fury, but give vent to their spleen in a more cool and calculating manner. Their temper, for being less fiery, is more bitter. They are choleric rather than bellicose. They do not fly to acts but to desires and well-laid plans of revenge. If the desire or deed lead to a violation of justice or charity, to scandal or any notable evil consequence, the sin is clearly mortal; the more so, if this inward brooding be of long duration, as it betrays a more deep-seated malice.

Are there any motives capable of justifying these outbursts of passion? None at all, if our ire has the two features of unreasonableness and vindictiveness. This is evil. No motive, however good, can justify an evil end.

If any cause were plausible, it would be a grave injury, malicious and unjust. But not even this is sufficient, for we are forbidden to return evil for evil. It may cause us grief and pain, but should not incite us to anger, hatred and revenge. What poor excuses would therefore be accidental or slight injuries, just penalties for our wrongdoings and imaginary grievances! The less excusable is our wrath, the more serious is our delinquency. Our guilt is double-dyed when the deed and the cause of the deed are both alike unreasonable.

Yet there is a kind of anger that is righteous. We speak of the wrath of God, and in God there can be no sin. Christ himself was angry at the sight of the vendors in the temple. Holy Writ says: Be ye angry and sin not. But this passion, which is the fruit of zeal, has three features which make it impossible to confound it with the other. It is always kept within the bounds of a wise moderation and under the empire of reason; it knows not the spirit of revenge; and it has behind it the best of motives, namely, zeal for the glory of God. It is aroused at the sight of excesses, injustices, scandals, frauds; it seeks to destroy sin, and to correct the sinner. It is often not only a privilege, but a duty. It supposes, naturally, judgment, prudence, and discretion, and excludes all selfish motives.

Zeal in an inferior and more common degree is called indignation, and is directed against all things unworthy, low and deserving of contempt. It respects persons, but loathes whatever of sin or vice that is in, or comes from, unworthy beings. It is a virtue, and is the effect of a high sense of respectability.

Impatience is not anger, but a feeling somewhat akin to it, provoked by untoward events and inevitable happenings, such as the weather, accidents, etc. It is void of all spirit of revenge. Peevishness is chronic impatience, due to a disordered nervous system and requires the services of a competent physician, being a physical, not moral, distemper.

Anger is a weakness and betrays many other weaknesses; that is why sensible people never allow this passion to sway them. It is the last argument of a lost cause: "You are angry, therefore you are wrong." The great misery of it is that hot-tempered people consider their mouths to be safety-valves, while the truth is that the wagging tongue generates bile faster than the open mouth can give exit to it. St. Liguori presented an irate scold with a bottle, the contents to be taken by the mouthful and held for fifteen minutes, each time her lord and master returned home in his cups. She used it with surprising results and went back for more. The saint told her to go to the well and draw inexhaustibly until cured.

For all others, the remedy is to be found in a meditation of these words of the Our Father: "forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us." The Almighty will take us at our word.

On the Virtuous Pagan, Limbo and the Theology of Damnation

As some of you might have noticed, Christine Niles of Church Militant recently hosted a webcast which explored the thrice-defined dogma of extra Ecclesiam nulla salus (EENS), or "No salvation outside the Church." I took this as a wink from God, because I've been meaning to write something on this very important teaching for quite a while now. After months of procrastination, it seems the time has arrived to put my thoughts down on paper... or whatever blogs are made of. I offer them for your consideration.

Instead of going through the list of familiar papal pronouncements which treat the doctrine of EENS, I'd like to approach the teaching from a completely different angle. In particular, from that of the theology of damnation. This might at first seem to be a rather odd point of entry, but there are good reasons for exploring the theology of damnation before attempting to digest EENS. Three such reasons concern us here:

1. Damnation is the theological complement to salvation. Any doctrine which explicitly defines matter related to salvation implicitly defines matter related to damnation, as the one is the logical and eschatological complement of the other. Thus, EENS has just as much to do with damnation as it does with salvation.
2. Damnation is the rule, not the exception. It is often assumed that nearly everyone is saved, and that only a few exceptionally bad individuals - Hitler, Stalin, the guy who invented reality TV - are damned. On the contrary, damnation is the condition into which all of us are born, and unless we receive and die in the saving grace of God, damnation will also be our eternal reward. Christ came to save us from damnation, and it's a miracle every time a soul is saved precisely because, according to God's law, we fully deserve that damnation. This is essential background knowledge for approaching the doctrine of EENS.
3. Damnation is poorly understood. While damnation is the logical and eschatological complement to salvation, it is not simply the inverse of salvation. That is to say, the state of damnation is positively differentiated in a way which is not reflected in the order of salvation. Understanding this qualitative differentiation is essential for putting EENS in its proper theological context.

While the first two points should be readily grasped by all, the third stands in need of some clarification. In what does the qualitative differentiation of damnation consist? And how does it help elucidate the doctrine of EENS? Before we attempt to answer these important questions, it behooves us to identify the prevailing view of damnation, as this is what we will be attempting to correct as we proceed. This preliminary step proves to be key, because much of the disdain for the doctrine of EENS arises from a faulty understanding of damnation - which, incidentally, many Catholics have adopted from their Protestant neighbors.

As a general rule, Protestants believe that there are two possible fates for each individual soul - fates which are instantaneously awarded and diametrically opposite to one another: heaven and hell. One minute you're eating a delicious strip of crispy bacon, and the next, you're either sitting on a cloud strumming your harp or you're down in the pits of hell being roasted over hot coals while listening to Kenny G for all eternity. Of course, I'm taking some creative license with the imagery - it could well be Zamfir - but the dichotomy referred to is nonetheless an unmistakable feature of the Protestant's theological landscape. So much so, in fact, that, next to bashing the mother of Our Lord, there's little else Protestants love more than attacking the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory. In their strictly two-category system, Purgatory is like a third-party American President: interesting to think about but utterly impossible.

Most Catholics in the West have unconsciously absorbed this way of thinking about damnation. Sure, they know about Purgatory, but it's generally treated like a quirky doctrinal addendum and imagined to be not unlike a really horrible waiting room. This is a rather unfortunate state of affairs, because Catholic teaching on damnation is not only intellectually and morally satisfying, but also demonstrates the perfect harmony of God's mercy with His justice.

Back in the day - i.e. before the ecumenicidal leveling of every distinctively Catholic doctrine into the feel-good mush regularly served up in parishes around the world - theologians worked at providing genuine insight into the truths of our Catholic Faith. And damnation was, believe it or not, something of a "big deal" - so big, in fact, that theologians spent a lot of time examining it in great detail. They discovered that there are actually four kinds of damnation, each with their own variety of poena or "penalty" and each with their own proper spiritual 'location', though all can be considered as parts of "Hell", viz:

• poena aeterna damni et sensus of Hell proper, i.e. the Inferno
• poena temporalis damni et sensus of Purgatory
• poena aeterna damni of the Limbo of the Unbaptized/Infants
• poena temporalis damni of the Limbo of the Fathers

For those of you with a working knowledge of Latin and an appreciation of the Scholastic art of logical division, the breakdown here is as clear as it is precise. For everyone else:

There are two primary forms of "penalty", "punishment" or "pain" (all of which are etymologically related to Latin poena): (1) poena damni, the punishment of damnation, and (2) poena sensus, the punishment of the senses, i.e. sensory pain. Each of these can be either eternal (aeterna) or temporary (temporalis) in duration.

From this, we can draw several illuminating conclusions, many of which I will leave to you, gentle reader, to discover on your own. One critical insight which deserves to be highlighted, however, is this: the punishment of damnation and the punishment of sensory pain are not the same thing. In point of fact, the punishment of sensory pain is limited to Hell and Purgatory. This makes good Catholic sense, because Hell and Purgatory are the respective sentences for mortal and venial sin, and are therefore predicated upon the moral fault of the individual. Where there is no personal moral fault, as is the case with those who die with nothing other than the stain of original sin on their souls, there is no punishment of sensory pain. And how could it be any other way? God, being omnibenevolent, is not going to allow a person to be tormented for something of which he is not personally guilty.

At the same time, however, God is all-holy and all-just, and nothing bearing the stain of sin can stand before Him. And this is the essence of salvation: to be fully reconciled to God by removal of the stain of sin and to stand in His presence, i.e. to enjoy the beatific vision. Yet, the stain of original sin can only be removed by the waters of baptism. Thus, baptism is absolutely necessary in order to avoid the punishment of damnation and to enjoy the beatific vision, and the souls of those who die free from all personal sin but who are nonetheless stained with original sin are, technically speaking, damned. In this category would fall not only babies who die before baptism, but also virtuous pagans who never receive the opportunity to hear the Gospel and be baptized. But - and this is important - such a person does not suffer the positive pains of Hell.

This is not merely speculation culled from theological manuals. At least two Popes and an Ecumenical Council have said as much:

The Roman Church teaches [...] that the souls of those who depart in mortal sin or with original sin only descend immediately to Hell, nevertheless to be punished with different punishments and in disparate locations. - Pope John XXII, Nequaquam sine dolore

That is to say, the unbaptized who die without personal sin (i.e. "only original sin") are, strictly speaking, "damned," as they endure the poena damni or punishment of damnation. But the extent of their damnation is limited to the deprivation of the beatific vision, and they dwell in a "disparate location," i.e. not in Hell proper, as the place of sensory punishment. This teaching was confirmed by the Council of Florence in the following terms:

...the souls of those who depart this life in actual mortal sin, or in original sin alone, go down straightaway to Hell to be punished, but with unequal pains. - Council of Florence, Laetentur Caeli

Pope Pius VI later taught the same in his condemnation of an error widely held at his time:

The doctrine which rejects as a Pelagian fable that place of the lower regions (which the faithful generally designate by the name of Limbo of the Children) in which the souls of those departing with the sole guilt of original sin are punished with the punishment of the condemned, exclusive of the punishment of fire [...] is false, rash, injurious to Catholic schools. - Pope Pius VI, Auctorem Fidei

This statement is clearer still in that it identifies "that place of the lower regions," i.e. Limbo, as receiving not merely children but all who die free from personal sin yet with the stain of original sin, and that such persons, while undergoing the poena damni, do not experience the poena sensus, i.e. the "punishment of fire."

This same teaching was summarized by Fr. L. E. Latorre in his Guidebook for Baptism:

The great majority of theologians teach that such children and unbaptized adults free from grievous actual sin enjoy eternally a state of perfect natural happiness, knowing and loving God by the use of their natural powers. This place and state is commonly called Limbo.

This statement goes even further, claiming that, more than simply being free from sensory pain, those in Limbo actually experience natural happiness. This, however, appears to be a point upon which there was heavy disagreement among theologians. As one historian notes:

In the fifth session of the Council of Trent, the Dominicans advocated the stricter view, making of the limbus infantium [Limbo of the Infants] a dark, underground prison, while the Franciscans placed it above in a region of light. Others made the condition of these children still better: they supposed them occupied with studying nature, philosophizing on it, and receiving occasional visits from angels and saints. As the Council thought it best not to decide this point, theologians have since been free to embrace either view.

Finally, I offer the following useful summary, which appeared in the July, 1849 edition of Brownson's Quarterly Review:

Suppose now, - and if the supposition is inadmissible the objection vanishes, - that among the gentiles there are persons who die out of the Church, free from all actual sin: they, certainly, will never see God, will never enter heaven, will not be saved; yet nothing obliges us to believe that they will be doomed to the punishment of sense, or to the positive sufferings of hell. What will be their fate, beyond the fact that they will not be saved, we do not know, and do not attempt to determine. We remit them, if such there are, to the bounty of God, who, for aught we know, may place them in the category of unbaptized infants who die in their infancy. But no injustice is done them in not admitting them to the beatific vision; for to see God by the light of glory is a gratuitous reward, promised only to supernatural faith and sanctity, never due and never promised to mere natural innocence or to mere natural virtue. The defect of natural innocence or of natural virtue excludes from it, but the possession of either or both does not and cannot entitle to it; and natural innocence and virtue are all that it can be pretended that these have. Hence, supposing such persons, supposing them to die free from all but original sin, no injustice is done them in excluding them from salvation, and therefore the dogma which denies the possibility of salvation out of the Church asserts nothing contrary to the justice or even to the fidelity of God.

This quote brings us neatly back to our original question:  How does the qualitative differentiation of damnation help to elucidate the doctrine of extra Ecclesiam nulla salus? I hope the answer is already sufficiently clear. But allow me to highlight what I consider to be the most salient point:

There is absolutely nothing harsh or judgmental in the doctrine that there is no salvation outside the Catholic Church. On the contrary, a proper understanding of the teaching reveals both God's supreme justice as well as His infinite mercy, as He neither punishes nor rewards arbitrarily. If we approach the teaching with a wrong understanding of salvation and damnation, then we are bound to misunderstand what it means. We do not need to adjust the meaning of the term "outside," as some have attempted to do; we do not need to adjust the meaning of the term "Church," as others have attempted to do; and we certainly do not need to abandon the doctrine of Limbo, as still others have attempted to do. The Catholic teaching on salvation and damnation, including the teaching on the absolute necessity of the Church, is inextricably intertwined with her teaching on countless issues, being of central importance to moral theology, soteriology and eschatology, and a doctrine such as EENS cannot be "tweaked" to appease the sensibilities of a decadent and unrepentant generation without distorting a whole host of intimately related truths. 

Now, I understand that some might be concerned that the approach taken above - and it is nothing more than one possible approach - could be seen as demoralizing to the Church's missionary efforts. After all, if the Virtuous Pagan can attain something resembling natural happiness without being a member of the Church, then why should Catholics risk life and limb to bring them the message of the Gospel? In response, I would point, first, to Our Lord's positive commandment to "teach ye all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you." Second, I would highlight that, as Catholics, we know that man was created to live in the presence of Almighty God, and that to fail in attaining this, our proper end, is always a tragedy, even if it does not necessarily bring with it the painful torments of Hell. That is to say, our goal in evangelization and mission is not merely to assist the Church in her work of saving souls from Hell (or Purgatory, or Limbo), but also to assist her in bringing souls to the throne of majesty to enjoy the beatific vision of Our Lord in all His glory. That is the true mission of the Catholic Church, outside of which there is no salvation.

Dante and Vergil Visit the Virtuous Pagans in Limbo
"Lost are we and only so far punished that, without hope, we live on in desire."
Gustave Doré (1832-1883)

Cardinal Marx Gives Master Class in Subversion

His Eminence Reinhard Cardinal Marx
(Photo: Allessia Giuliani/CPP/Ciric)

Last week, the Central Committee of German Catholics (Zentralkomitee der deutschen Katholiken, ZdK) published a document which demands, among other things, sacramental blessings of same-sex unions and adulterous relationships as well as the "unconditional acceptance" of the cohabitation of people living in such unions. To anyone even remotely aware of the current moral condition of the German Catholic laity, the report was cause for little more than a deep if thoroughly unsatisfying yawn. It was only a few weeks ago that the Confederation of German Catholic Youth (Bund der deutschen katholischen Jugend, BDKJ) made much the same demands, and it was largely due to the BDKJ's inflexibility that the ZdK included them in the final draft of its paper. Today, however, the German Catholic press is awash with reports of Cardinal Reinhard Marx's critical - some would even say "harsh" - response to the ZdK document:

The document includes some demands which are theologically unacceptable. The demand for the blessing of same-sex partnerships and second marriages which remain unrecognized by the Church is incompatible with the teaching and tradition of the Church. The demand for "unconditional acceptance" of the communal life of committed same-sex relationships also contradicts the teaching and tradition of the Church.

What's this? Cardinal 'Moneybags' Marx suddenly develops an appreciation for fidelity to Church teaching and tradition? Before anyone begins singing Te Deum in thanks for the miraculous conversion of the current head of the German Bishops Conference, however, observe the demands included in the ZdK document which did not receive the same public deprecation:

• more respect for cohabitation outside of marriage, i.e. concubinage
• a re-evaluation of artificial methods of contraception
• more liturgical "development"
• admittance of divorced and "remarried" Catholics to Holy Communion

It doesn't take much insight to surmise that these demands were passed over in silence precisely because Cardinal Marx and the German faction he represents support them.

But at least he has categorically rejected something, right? I mean, he's demonstrated that he has something resembling conviction on a point of doctrine. That has to count for something, doesn't it? Well, it might - if it were true. Observe the words of the Cardinal which follow immediately upon the heels of his "condemnation":

Both issues [i.e. sacramental blessings of same-sex unions and adulterous relationships and "unconditional acceptance" of life in such states] require further theological clarification and not rash, bold demands, which do nothing to encourage what is certainly necessary theological debate and dialogue within the Church.

Ah, there it is: Modernism's penchant for duplicity. With one side of your mouth, condemn a proposition as contrary to Church teaching; with the other, open it up to debate and "dialogue". You know you're doing it right if you can accomplish the feat in a single breath.

Cardinal Marx is condemning, therefore, not so much the propositions of the ZdK, but rather their sophomorically blunt tactics. Any Modernist deserving of the name knows that open revolution is deadly to the cause. The name of the game is slow and steady subversion, and Cardinal Marx is a world-class player. So, take heart, fledgling subverters of the Confederation of German Catholic Youth: You just got schooled by the best.

He Loved Them Unto The End

Tenth Conference on the Most Sacred Heart

 by

 Fr. Henry Brinkmeyer

We have dwelt with adoring wonder upon the scenes glowing with the manifestations of Christ's love in His hidden life, and again in that  public life, when He became a teacher in Israel. Let us now follow His steps through the scenes of His Passion, and see how Love can die to win for man eternal life.

We know that God was not obliged to redeem the world; much less was He bound to pass through all those exquisite sufferings which He in reality did endure. It is true that the insult contained in mortal sin is infinite. Were all men to shed their blood, it could not atone for one mortal sin. Whatever be the extent of its sufferings, neither man, nor angel, nor any other creature can give adequate satisfaction to an offended God. But our Lord is more than a creature.

Having united to His divine Person a human nature, everything He does or endures in His human nature is divine, and therefore gives infinite satisfaction, and has infinite merit. Hence, one short prayer uttered by the human lips of Jesus, one breath, one thought, one sigh, one tear, one tiny drop of blood would have been infinitely pleasing in the sight of His Father and would have been sufficient to redeem millions of sinful worlds like the one we inhabit. But love is not selfish, it knows no measure; our Lord hungered for sufferings.

I lay down My life for My sheep, no man taketh it away: but I lay it down of Myself, and I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again.

Why, we ask, did our Lord wish to suffer and die? Why did He permit such torrents of pain to overwhelm His soul? Naturally He was averse to suffering. What, then, was the motive? Love. Infinite love for man. The boundless love of the Sacred Heart made Jesus thirst for our love, and desire to be baptized in His own blood, that by so doing He might excite us to love.

I am come to cast fire on the earth, and what will I but that it be kindled?

And:

I have a baptism wherewith I am to be baptized; and how am I straitened, until it be accomplished.

For love is what is called ecstatic, that is to say, it goes out beyond itself. It diffuses and overflows. It does not only what is sufficient; it passes on to the excessive.

Our Lord then suffered, first of all, in His body. The body of Christ was perfect beyond all the bodies of men; for had there been any imperfection in it, it would have been due, as St. Thomas says, either to the maker or to the material. But the maker, the miraculous maker, was God Himself. He formed it, He fashioned it, all alone. And the material was the pure, immaculate heart's blood of the Blessed Virgin. It was, then, perfect and beautiful beyond conception.

But the more perfect a body, the finer its organization, and the more delicate its fibre, muscle and nerve, the more sensitive is that body to pain. Our Lord's body was therefore tremblingly alive to suffering. See now, how He permitted His body to be treated.

From the crown of His head to the sole of His foot, there is no soundness in Him, there are wounds and bruises, and swelling sores.

Ecce Homo, "Behold the Man." Behold Him at the pillar, bound like a criminal, to the whipping-post, and the cords cutting into His wrists and ankles. Hark to the cutting lashes of the whips! They raise the purple welts, they tear gashes into His virginal flesh, they make streams of blood run down His sacred body. He sinks exhausted, His knees give way beneath Him, and He hangs by the cords apparently lifeless to a felon's pillar of shame. They cut the bands and seat Him upon a mock throne, they scoff at Him and put a robe of purple about His bleeding shoulders. Then, plaiting rude thorns into a crown, they place them on His forehead and force them in with the blows of a reed. And the sharp thorns pierce that fair and majestic brow, and the crimson drops ooze out beneath them, and the silent tears mingle with the blood that flows down His cheeks and blinds His loving eyes. Surely, malice has now spent itself. But no! They hurry Him through the streets to Mt. Calvary, they nail His hands and feet to the cross, they hoist it into the air, they pull and push it into the hole prepared for it, it is fixed, and on it hangs the mangled, dying Saviour of the world.

I am a worm and no man, the reproach of men and the outcast of the people. [...] They have dug My hands and feet; they have numbered all My bones.

Truly, He had a baptism, wherewith He was baptized: He was baptized in His own blood.

He also suffered in His soul, and far more intensely than in His body. Interior sufferings arise chiefly from dishonor, ingratitude, and abandonment. Our Lord suffered from all these sources.

First, from dishonor. To a high, noble-minded soul, dishonor is more than death: and Jesus permitted Himself to become the reproach of men and the outcast of the people. During the three years of His public life, He had gained the hearts of the Jewish multitude. His miracles had won for Him respect and veneration as a prophet and messenger of God. Throngs were ever following, in love and awe, His footsteps. His power had never yet been known to fail ; His bitterest enemies could justly impute no fault to Him, His sanctity was acknowledged everywhere, His wisdom respected and men were disposed to look upon Him as the Messiah and one of the sons of God. All at once, a revulsion took place. He was captured and bound, He appeared wholly unable to defend Himself. He was ignominiously treated, buffeted, even spit upon. He seemed powerless before the storm. He was accused of being a blasphemer, a glutton, an impostor, a seducer of the people, and He said not a word in His defense. Even when they treated Him as a fool and mocked Him publicly in the streets, He opened not His mouth. He was led as a lamb to the slaughter. He bore his own cross, no angel was permitted to share His weary burden. He suffered an agony as ordinary mortals do. Angry voices asked: "If He is so wise, so great, so holy, why does not Heaven help Him? Behold how He bleeds, how He suffers, how He dies!" And men turned away from Him, mocking and deriding Him, and laughing at their former fears. Truly could He say: "I am a worm and no man!"

He suffered from ingratitude. Ingratitude cuts like a two-edged sword into the heart, and if there ever was a human heart lacerated by an ungrateful world, it was the Heart of "the Man of Sorrows." Think of the countless deeds of love He had wrought for that people, how He had instructed them day after day, and night after night; how He had healed their afflicted and raised their dead, how He had multiplied His miracles and revealed to them the brightness of His divine sanctity, yet, like fiends, they cry: "Crucify Him, crucify Him! We do not wish Him for our king. His blood be upon us; nail Him to the cross." Think of the traitor Judas! How Jesus Christ had loved him; and still this villainous apostate barters away his God and Master for thirty pieces of silver. Again, Simon Peter, whom our Lord had chosen as the Head of His Church, whom He had instructed more carefully than the rest, whom He had warned and for whom He had prayed, whom He had just ordained a priest, whom He had united to Himself at the mystical supper of the Eucharist: Simon Peter denies His Master at the word of a weak servant-girl. And oh! What sources of grief overwhelmed Him at thought of those innumerable souls who will damn themselves knowingly and freely, thoughtless of all that their Redeemer has suffered. Hanging on the cross between heaven and earth, with all the agony of death upon Him, Jesus looks out into the future and sees their guilty souls. How His Heart must have sunk with anguish at the sight of the generations of men, who, heedless of all that He had done, and of all that He had suffered, would yet trample upon His blood and fix their destiny in hell. What marvel, that in the Garden of Gethsemane, blood oozed in agony from His every pore!

Finally, He suffered from abandonment. Listen to His cry. He had given up all He had. His reputation was gone. His disciples had left Him. His Mother was there, but He had consigned her to St. John, to be the Mother of men. One consolation seemed to be left for Him in the extreme agony which He was enduring, viz.: the thought that He was pleasing to His Father, and that His Father was with Him. But no, even of that joy, even of that one consolation He deprived Himself. See Him on the cross; He lifts up His head, the drooping eyes are cast to heaven, an expression of intense agony passes over His dying face, and the quivering, agonized lips cry out: "My God! My God! Why hast Thou forsaken Me?" Poor Jesus! He holds back every consolation from His soul; He deluges His broken Heart with every grief the human heart is capable of knowing, and then, when He has exhausted the chalice of suffering, He bows His head and dies with all the justice of the Father upon Him, as the innocent victim of a guilty world. What could He have done that He did not do to prove to us the love of His Heart? Can we think of so much love and not love in return?

If any man love not our Lord Jesus Christ, let him be anathema! The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you!

Amen.