How Catholics, under the Influence of Worldliness, Go Astray in Matters of Morality
The Church of God is infallible in matters of morality, as well as of faith. Hence Catholics are in no danger of straying from the path of righteousness, when they regulate their conduct by her teachings. But they run the greatest risk, when they order their ways according to the maxims that are rife in the modern world.
It is true, indeed, that at all times there have been men, whose lives were sadly out of harmony with their religion, and whose actions belied the faith which their lips professed. "For many walk," writes St. Paul, "of whom I have told you often (and now tell you weeping) that they are enemies of the cross of Christ .... whose end is destruction .... and whose glory is in their shame."[1] But, in the ages of faith, notwithstanding human infirmities, the public standard of morality was conformable to the teachings of faith. In our age, on the contrary, it is greatly at variance with them; and, as a consequence, the public conscience is often seriously at fault in its judgments. Men not only do amiss, but think amiss, in matters of ethics.
It is little wonder, therefore, that in the daily intercourse of modern life, the moral sense of the worldly-minded Catholic is quickly perverted. A slave to his surroundings, he rises with difficulty above the sensible and the earthly to the spiritual and the heavenly. For "the worldly-minded man", as the Apostle teaches us, "perceiveth not the things that are of the Spirit of God; for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them."[2] His faith, though not extinct, is so torpid and inactive, that it does little to enlighten his intellect or to move his will. Hence the supernatural, which rests on faith and is made known to us by faith, is something intangible and unreal to him. He seems to have lost the spiritual sense, necessary to perceive and appreciate it. For, unlike the just man, he lives not by faith, but by appearances.
Does a person lead a supernatural life and perform his actions from supernatural motives? Does he show by his conduct, that he believes the words of our Blessed Lord, "but one thing is necessary"?[3] Does he make it his chief duty, to lay up "a treasure in heaven which faileth not"?[4] Does he strive "to be made conformable to the image'"[5] of Him who said, "learn of me, because I am meek and humble of heart"?[6] Does he love his fellow-men for God's sake, and interest himself above all in their spiritual welfare? Does he do his charities in such a manner, as not to "let [his] left hand know what [his] right hand doth"?[7] In a word, does he practise virtue according to the mind of Christ?[8]
If so, he is certain to be an object of pity, perhaps of ridicule, to the worldly-minded. He is so eccentric —they say—so unlike others of his kind, so much out of place in this world of ours! His asceticism might have suited the recluses of the "Dark Ages" or the hermits of the Thebaid, who believed that doomsday was near at hand! It ill befits the enlightened men who frequent the busy haunts of commerce or the learned gatherings of scientists, and who know that the human race has only just entered upon its march of civilization and enlightenment!
Does a person lead a purely natural life and. perform his actions from purely natural motives? Does he worship thrift and worldly success? Does he resemble the man in the Gospel, who said to his soul, "thou hast much goods laid up for many years, take thy rest, eat, drink and make good cheer"?[9] Does he court the favor of men by his munificence and largesses? Does he make a parade of his patriotism and public spirit, of his benevolence and philanthropy? In short, does he practise virtue in the spirit of the pagan philosophers of old?
In that case, he is an object of wonder and admiration to the worldly-minded. He is so sensible— they tell us—so progressive, so much in sympathy with modern ideas! He knows how to accommodate his religion to the tastes and requirements of the present day! He is the pattern of a new Christianity, which recommends itself to the world! He represents a type of spirituality, which appeals to the hearts of sensible men!
Strange language, surely, on the lips of a Catholic! Strange forgetfulness of Christian principles! Strange ignorance of the relations between the natural and the supernatural!—True, the natural order, as well as the supernatural, is from God, and is loved by Him. Human nature, which came pure and perfect from the divine hands, though now tainted and weakened by Adam's fall, is not essentially corrupt; nor is everything that proceeds from it to be decried as worthless. Quite the contrary. It is Catholic doctrine that even the sinner, even the unbaptized pagan may, by his natural powers, do morally good actions and practise virtues, which the Almighty will reward here below. Thus, according to St. Augustine, he did in fact reward the natural virtues of the ancient Romans, to whom He gave the empire of the world.
The natural virtues, therefore, are not to be despised by those who aspire to a holy life. Nay, in a certain sense, it is true to say that the study of Christian perfection consists largely in the cultivation of the natural virtues.[10] Yet the natural is at best only the handmaid of the supernatural. Man's eternal destiny is supernatural;[11] and nothing but the supernatural virtues will enable him to reach it. So that, in the words of St. Augustine, we may say of such as struggle earnestly to acquire purely natural virtues, that they make "great efforts and rapid progress, but out of the course."[12]
Moreover, though it is possible for a man, left to his natural powers, to perform acts of the natural virtues, it is morally impossible for him, in the present order of providence, to persevere steadily unto the end in a virtuous life; because it is morally impossible for a man, without the aid of supernatural grace, to observe the whole of the natural law, and to vanquish all the temptations with which he is beset.[13] In other words, it is morally impossible for the natural, without the help of the supernatural, to realize its own ideals.[14] The rejection of the supernatural is the marring of the natural. Hence among unbelievers we may, indeed, find men who perform some brilliant acts of the natural virtues, but we shall look in vain for men who have the habits of all the natural virtues.[15] While they excel in one virtue, they are often lamentably deficient in another; or, what is still worse, they wear the appearance of virtue, without possessing the reality.
But the worldly-minded Christian is so much captivated by the appearance, that he does not miss the reality.[16] He judges of right and wrong, of virtue and vice, of the merit of a good action and the guilt of an evil action, by feeling rather than by reason, by impression rather than by reflection. He is shocked by the boisterous amusements which disturb the quiet of the Lord's day; but he makes little account of the precept to hear Mass on that day. He resents as a crime the stubborness of a servant; but he feels little remorse for not performing his Easter duties. He chastises a child for telling a trivial falsehood; but he has little hesitation to expose its innocence to the greatest spiritual dangers.[17] Yet those whom he judges so severely, have committed only a slight failing against good order, or at most a venial sin, while he himself is guilty of neglecting important Christian duties which bind under pain of mortal sin.
Having abandoned the Catholic standard of morality, he is willing at any moment to sacrifice the law of God to the fashion of the hour. And all the while, like the Pharisees of old, he boasts of his virtue and unblemished honor. He lays great stress upon the etiquette of religion; he professes the highest esteem for it, so long as it does not interfere overmuch with his personal convenience; he looks upon it as a respectable adjunct to social usages, to be practised, if practised at all, with due regard to the conventionalities of modern life.
Like the Pharisees, he delights to find fault with the servants of God, and calls upon us to witness that they are no better than any one else. He derides their piety as weakness, their simple faith as want of intelligence, their zeal for the divine glory as religious fanaticism. He is always ready to carp at them, always spying to surprise them in some real or apparent shortcomings. He attributes even their holiest deeds to natural and unworthy motives. He has by heart a long litany of charges, which he is eager to pour into willing ears. If you believe him, the reason for which he does not approach the sacraments and frequent the church as others do, is that fervent Catholics are so very imperfect. He fears that, should he do as they do, he too may become imperfect. He sees the mote that is in his brother's eye, but he sees not the beam that is in his own eye.[18]
Like the Pharisees, proud of their name—which signifies select or separated from the crowd—he considers himself superior to the ordinary faithful. "In self-adoring pride securely mailed," he thanks heaven that he is not like the poor publican, who strikes his breast and says: "O God, be merciful to me a sinner."[19] He fancies that special consideration is due to him from men, and perhaps from the Almighty as well. Indifferent, as he is, to religion, he claims to be its representative, whenever there is some temporal emolument attached to it. Vain and ostentatious, he loves to occupy a prominent place at Catholic meetings, to attract the admiration of the crowd, to be saluted, and thanked for condescending to honor the occasion by his presence. In his self-conceit, he persuades himself, that the Church is greatly beholden to him for identifying himself in any manner with her interests, and allowing her to profit by the prestige of his illustrious name.
Like the Pharisees, he is ambitious of power, and uses his authority to influence the conduct of others. Would, that he were less successful and had fewer admirers! His influence is always pernicious, always detrimental to the best interest? of the Church; his example is contagious, and does more than the attacks of her avowed enemies to alienate the minds and hearts of men from her teaching. Hence our Lord warns us to "take heed and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees";[20] that is, as He Himself interprets it, of the doctrines or principles which they hold and endeavor to popularize by word and example.
A Christian, worthy of the name, is the very reverse of the Pharisee. A Christian, writes St. Cyprian, is a compound of soul and body and the Holy Ghost. That is, the supernatural element, represented by the Holy Ghost, is a constituent part of a Christian, just as the soul is the constituent part of a man. We can no more conceive a Christian without the supernatural element of faith, than we can conceive a man without a soul.
The supernatural, then, must be the very soul of our spiritual being; faith must guide us in all our doings, great and small, public and private. Not that we must always preach our religion from the house-top, or overflow with sanctimonious cant; not that we must say our beads aloud in the public street, or display the crucifix and other emblems of religion to the profane gaze of every passer-by. No! Our religion must not be ostentatious and obtrusive. But neither must it be timid and shrinking. It must be so bold and assertive as to leave no one in doubt about our convictions, so true and sincere as to challenge the admiration of the unbelieving world.
"I give thanks to my God through our Lord Jesus Christ for you all," writes the Apostle St. Paul to the Christians at Rome, "because your faith is spoken of in the whole world."[21] He gives thanks, remarks St. John Chrysostom, "not for the dominion, the power and the glory of the Romans, all of which things are of no value, but for things that are really precious: for their faith and their frank and open profession of the same." And he gives thanks for their faith, "not on their account only, but on account of the good effects which it produces upon others; because by the example of those who are the masters of the world, others are being led to embrace the faith."[22]
What was true in the days of St. Paul, is equally true in our days. Now, as then, the believer's frank and open profession of the faith is a very efficacious means to induce the unbeliever to embrace the faith, and submit to the authority of the Church, the one infallible guardian of the faith. For the vast majority of unbelievers the Catholic Church is not the Church of God in the abstract, with a system of dogmas which they reject as antiquated, and a code of morality which they regard as impracticable; not the primitive Church of the Catacombs, with its thousands and thousands of martyrs; not the Church of the Middle Ages, with its mighty cathedrals and imposing ritual; not, in fine, the Church of the present, as exemplified in the seclusion of the cloister. No! For them the Catholic Church is the multitude of Catholic men and women, with whom they are brought into daily contact. As they judge of her representatives, so they judge of her doctrines and her morality.
The religion of the Catholic, therefore, is not like a garment, which he may put on and off at pleasure, in which he may array himself on Sunday, while all the week he wears the every day dress of worldliness. No! He must be clothed in it at all times: whether he is laboring in his workshop or worshipping in church, whether he is mingling in society or kneeling before his crucifix, whether he is making a promise to his fellow-men or a vow to his Maker. In a word, he must live by faith, and prove by his conduct, how great a value he sets upon the supernatural and the spiritual. This duty is doubly imperative in the modern world, which worships the natural and the material.
"To reestablish all things in Christ,"[23] to stimulate Catholic faith and practice, and thereby to attract the attention of mankind to the supernatural element in the Church: this is the key note, sounded by the Sovereign Pontiff Pius X in his first message to the faithful of the world;[24] this is the task, especially assigned to the shepherds of souls in our age. And the reason is evident. The mission of the Church is essentially supernatural. Her sacraments and her ministrations are all directed towards a supernatural end. The tendency of the modern world, on the other hand, is to ignore, to disregard or to deny the supernatural altogether. In fact, the very notion of the supernatural is fast disappearing from among men. They are completely immersed and absorbed in the natural; they live in it and for it. Yet, in spite of themselves, they hunger after the supernatural. They linger in the porch of God's temple, to study its construction and to admire its beauty. Yet, in their inmost souls, they long to behold the glory within. We must open the portals for them, give them a glimpse of the interior life of the Church, and let them see the effects of her doctrine upon her faithful children. At first they will be dazzled, amazed, and perhaps inclined to turn away their gaze. But by degrees their hearts will be drawn to love the dogmas of faith, their wills disposed to accept them, and their minds enabled to understand the reasons by which they are proved.
It is by this means, more than by learned argument, that we shall lead men, in this sceptical age, to a knowledge of the true faith. We must not, of course, neglect argument; for religion is not a matter of feeling, but of rational conviction. We must be "ready", as St. Peter tells us, "always to satisfy every one that asketh [us]."[25] We must be able and willing to solve the doubts and difficulties of every honest searcher for religious truth. But we must not imagine that mere argument will always satisfy him. For religious doubts and difficulties are often mainly, if not wholly, subjective; they are greatly strengthened, if not caused, by prejudice and a strange reluctance to yield to reason. Unlike scientific doubts and difficulties, they often resist the most obvious and cogent arguments, while they dissolve, like the mists of the morning, before the heavenly light which, radiating from the Holy of Holies, is reflected in the supernatural lives of the faithful.[26]
Shall we, then, cultivate the supernatural to the exclusion of the natural? shut ourselves up within the church, and bewail the wickedness of the world without? pray, receive the sacraments and wait, with folded arms, for some miraculous intervention of Providence in our behalf? By no means. The supernatural, so far from excluding, depreciating or destroying the natural, presupposes, elevates and consecrates it.
Saints like Bernard and Francis of Assisi, who had the highest appreciation of the supernatural, also had the truest love or the natural. Their raptures over the works of nature far surpassed, in genuine warmth and enthusiasm, the lyrics of the poets. But they subordinated the natural to the supernatural, even as God subordinates it; and hence they were ready to make an offering of it, when He required it of them. Bernard was ready to exchange the attractive society of his ancestral manor for the solitude of Citeaux; and Francis was ready to give up a lucrative commerce, in order "to espouse the lady Poverty".
Saints like Vincent de Paul and John of God, who burnt with supernatural love for souls, also felt the purest and tenderest natural affection for their fellow-men. And herein they resembled the Saint of Saints, whom natural affection prompted to perform the stupendous miracle of the multiplication of bread in the wilderness; and his Blessed Mother, whom natural affection moved to ask for the no less stupendous miracle of the change of water into wine at the marriage-feast of Cana. They were all the more affectionate towards others, because their feelings were not dulled by selfishness. But they were willing, when duty called, to lay their feelings upon the altar of sacrifice; and so they were capable of deeds of heroism, which the world can admire, but which it seeks in vain to rival.
Saints like Xavier and Teresa, who knew by personal experience the power of God's supernatural assistance, also knew the need of using all the natural means at their disposal, in order to succeed in their undertakings for his glory. They knew that, without his help, all human efforts are of no avail; that, "unless the Lord build the house, they labor in vain that build it"; that, "unless the Lord keep the city, he watcheth in vain that keepeth it."[27] But they also knew, that God requires our cooperation, and that He has, in a manner, made his own glory, as well as the salvation of souls and the prosperity of the Church, dependent upon our efforts. Hence their zeal, their care, their solicitude, their labors, their sacrifices, their sufferings in the service of God. When they had exhausted all human resources—and not till then —they dared to say to Him: "Arise, O God, judge thy own cause."[28] They had done their share, as well as they could; He must do the rest.[29]
Such are the principles of an enlightened spirituality, followed by the greatest servants of God, and pithily expressed by St. Ignatius in the golden motto: "Trust in God, but labor as if success depended upon your efforts alone; labor, but trust in God as if success were due to his help alone."
ENDNOTES
1 Phil. III, 18, 19.
2 Cor. II, 14. See these "Lessons"—Lesson IV at the end.
3 Luke X, 42.
4 Luke XII, 33.
5 Rome VIII, 29.
6 Matth. XI, 29.
7 Matth. VI, 3.
8 "Virtutes generatim distinguuntur....... ratione principii, in naturales quae etiam humanae et philosophicae dicuntur, et supernaturales quae et christianae vocantur."— Schouppe, Elementa Theologiae.
9 Luke XII, 19.
10 See these "Lessons"—Part First—Lesson XIX, page 315.
11 Conc. Vat. Const. Dogm. De Revelatione.
12 "Magnae vires et cursus celerrimus, sed praeter viam." In Psalm XXXI.
13 St. Thom., Sum. theol. I, II, q. 109, a. 8; Suarez, de Grat., 1. I, cc 24, 25; de Lugo, de Incarnat., d. 2, n. 14.
14 See these "Lessons"—Part First—Lesson XVI, page 268.
15 Id. ibid. Lesson XIX, page 311.
16 Id.—Part Second —Lesson III.
17 A falsehood, however trivial, is against the natural law, and therefore never justifiable. But such a falsehood, told by a child, is incomparably less than the fault of the parent who exposes its innocence to spiritual dangers.
18 Matth. VII, 3.
19 Luke XVIII, 13.
20 Matth. XVI, 6.
21 Rom. I, 8.
22 Cornely, Com. in 1. cit.
23 Ephes. I, 10.
24 The same thought runs through the beautiful Encyclical on the thirteen hundredth anniversary of St. Gregory, dated March 12th, 1904.
25 I Peter III, 15.
26 Formal argument, as Card. Newman remarks, often fails to convince men, even when it overpowers them. To reach their reason, we must approach them through their prejudices, their inclinations, their tastes. An appeal to the heart, or an argument drawn from the beauties of the Catholic Church or its ability to satisfy all the aspirations of human nature, is therefore quite proper, and sometimes even necessary, in Christian apologetics. But it must be employed very prudently, as a help or a preparation, and not as a substitute, for the arguments usually brought by the standard theologians of the Church. (See Mazzella, De Relig. disp. I, art. VIII, §§ 165—170, de criter, intrins. et extrins., negat. et posit.) If it is unduly urged, as though nature demanded, in answer to its aspirations, a Church having the supernatural character of the Catholic Church, it leads to the denial of the supernatural; for the essence of the supernatural is, that it is not demanded by nature or due to nature. After all, the real credentials of Christ's Church are, and always must be, the same that He Himself appealed to; namely, prophecies and miracles. By making light of these and dwelling too much upon the aspirations of nature, we make a dangerous concession to the religious scepticism of the age.
27 Psalm CXXVI, 1.
28 Psalm LXXIII, 22.
29 No one can read the letters of these great Saints, without admiring the human prudence and tact, which they displayed ill the management of affairs.
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