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lEISH-AMERICA^' LIBRARY. 
 
 VOLUME III. 
 
^v 4#/ 
 
 /y 
 
 : /K^ 
 
SERMONS 
 
 AND 
 
 LECTURES ON MORAL AND HISTORICAL 
 SUBJECTS. 
 
 BY 
 
 Very Rev. THOMAS N. BURKE, O.P. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 LYNCH, COLE & MEEHAN, 57 MUKRAY STREET. 
 1873. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
 
 LYNCH, COLE & MEEHAN, 
 In the OflBce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 Stereotyped and Printed at tha 
 
 Nl-.W YORK CATHOLIC PROTECTORY, 
 
 West Chester, X. Y. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The discourses contained in the present volume comprise the most 
 important and beautiful of the Sermons delivered in the United States 
 by the Very Rev. Thomas N. Burke, O.P., as well as of his Lectures 
 on moral and historical subjects, — all of which possess an interest for 
 the Irish-American element of the community, not only as magnificent 
 and praiseworthy efibrts of one of the most gifted living orators of their 
 race, but also on account of the testimony which they bear to the fidel- 
 ity to faith, religious fervor, and national virtue exhibited by the Irish 
 people in every vicissitude of fortune. As specimens of pulpit oratory, 
 nothing can be imagined finer or more impressive than those discourses ; 
 while the enlightened spirit, and broad, compi-ehensive views characteriz- 
 ing the Lectures, — in which the great wants and deficiencies of 
 society, in the present day, are analyzed with the acumen of a master- 
 mind and the learning of a true Christian philosopher, — render them 
 doubly valuable, even from a purely humanitarian point of view. 
 
 The secret of Father Burke!s influence over his auditors, (and, indeed, 
 over his readers, also,) lies not so much in his eloquence — great as are 
 his natural gifts in that particular — as in the convincing force of his 
 sincerity, and the intensity of his zeal for the enlightenment, elevation, 
 and sanctification of all his fellow creatures. On this point, one of the 
 most eminent and well-known of American Catholic writers has said of 
 the great Irish Dominican : — 
 
 "Father Thomas Burke is known all over Europe, as a great 
 apostolic preacher. It is especially in Rome, where most of his life 
 has been passed, that his reputation is so great. Wherever he goes, 
 after he has preached once, the faithful flock around the pulpit and 
 around the church, if he preaches a second time, as bees gather round 
 a bed of jessamines. * * * What is the power by which he holds, 
 hushed and breathless, each one in a crowded congregation ; alike the 
 most learned and critical, and the rough men with little either of senti- 
 ment or education ? A natural gift of oratory no one can mistake in 
 him. He has the richness of voice, and the persuasiveness of accent. 
 
 18f 
 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 that God has lavished so largely on his countrjmen. But these are 
 'tricks of the tongue/ that the man of trained intellect can arm himself 
 against, even while he admires them. But Father Burke disarms this 
 trained, intellectual listener; because, in him, it is neither trick nor art. 
 It is ihe gift God has given him, and that he has consecrated to God! 
 The honey-dew that drops fi-om his lips is distilled from a soul con- 
 secrated to God, and an intellect saturated and steeped in the learning 
 and piety of the Saints and Doctors of the Church." 
 
 All the discourses given in this voliime have been taken down by 
 competent stenographers, with, the utmost accuracy and fidelity, as 
 delivered by Father Burke, and, in the course of compilation have been 
 carefully revised, in order that they should not only be correct as to the 
 text, but should, in every w^ay, accord with the high reputation of the 
 illustrious Dominican, who, as a preacher, stands to-day without a 
 superior, and with scarce a rival. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Christian Man. the Max of thk Day 
 
 The Catholic Church, the Foster-Mother of Liberty 
 
 The Church, the Mother and Inspiration of Art 
 
 St. John the Evaxoelist 
 
 Chjiist ox Calvary 
 
 The Catholic Church, the Salvation op Society 
 
 The Resurrection 
 
 The Catholic Mission 
 
 The Coxstitutiox of the Catholic Church . 
 
 The Attributes of Catholic Charity . 
 
 The Catholic Church, the True Emancipator 
 
 The Month of Mary 
 
 The Positiox and Dignity of the Mother op God 
 Mary, the Immaculate Mother of God 
 The Pope's Tiara, its Past, Present, and Future 
 The Immaculate Conception .... 
 
 Catholic Education 
 
 The Blessed Eucharist 
 
 The Divine Commission op the Church . 
 
 PAOE 
 9 
 
 . 25 
 
 48 
 
 . 70 
 
 87 
 
 . 110 
 
 133 
 . 145 
 
 158 
 . 180 
 
 200 
 . 219 
 
 231 
 . 240 
 
 250 
 . 272 
 
 288 
 . 306 
 
 325 
 
LECTURES AND SERMONS. " 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN MAN THE MAN OF THE DAY. 
 
 {_A Discourse Delivered by the Very Rev. T. N. Burke. O.P., in St. 
 Faul's Church, Brooklyn, March 22, 1872 J 
 
 My feiends : I have selected, as the subject on which to 
 address yon, the "following theme : — " The Christian Man the 
 IMan of the Day." You may, perhaps, be inclined to suppose 
 that I mean by this, that, in reality, the Christian man was 
 the actual man of the day ; that he was the man whom our age 
 loved to honor ; that he was the man who, recognized as a 
 Christian man, received, for that very reason, the confidence of 
 his fellow-men and every honor society could bestow upon him. 
 Do not flatter yourselves, my friends, that this is my meaning. 
 I do not mean to say that the Christian man is the man 
 of the day. ^ wish I could say so. But what I do mean is, 
 that the Christian man, and he alone, must be the man of the 
 day ; that our age cannot live without him ; and that we are 
 fast approaching to such a point, that the world itself will be 
 obliged, on the principle of self-presentation, to cry out for 
 the Christian man. But to-day he is not in the high places ; 
 for the spirit of the age is not Christian. Now, mark yon, 
 there is no man living who is a greater lover of his age than I 
 am : and, priest as I am, and monk as well, coming here before 
 you in this time-honored old habit ; coming before tlie men of 
 the nineteenth century, as if I were a fossil dug out of the soil 
 of the thirteenth century, I still come before you as a lover of 
 the age in which we live, a lover of its freedom, a lover of its 
 laws, and a lover of its material progress. But I still assert 
 that the spirit of this nineteenth centmy of ours is not Catholic. 
 Let me prove it. At this very moment, the Catholic Church, 
 tlirough her bishops, is engaged in a hand-to-hand and deadly 
 conflict, in England, in Ireland, in Belgium, in France, in 
 
10 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 Gei-raaiiy, aye, and in tliis country, with tlie spirit of the age ; 
 and for what ? The men in power try to lay hold of the young 
 child, to control that child's education, and to teach him all 
 things except religion. But the bishops come and say : " This 
 is a question of life and death, and the child must be a 
 Christian. Unless he is taught of God, it is a thousand times 
 better that he were never taught at all ; for knowledge with- 
 out God is a curse, a,nd not a blessing." Now, if our age were 
 Christian, would it thus seek to banish God from the schools, 
 to erase the name of God clean out of the heart of that little 
 one, for whom Christ, the Son of God, shed his blood ?^ 
 
 Another proof that the spirit of our age is anti-Christian, — 
 for whatever contradicts Christ is anti-Christian : — Speaking 
 of the most sacred bond of matrimony, which lies at the root 
 of all society, at the fountain-head of all the world's future, 
 Christ has said: "What God hath joined. together, let no 
 man put asunder." But the Legislature — the " spirit of the 
 age," as it is called — comes in and says : " I will not recognize 
 this union as being from God : I reserve to myself the right 
 to separate them." They have endeavored to substitute a 
 civil marriage for the holy Sacrament which Christ sanctified 
 by His presence, and ratified by His first nnracle, — the sacra- 
 ment which represents the union of Christ with His Church. 
 " I will not let God join them together," says the State ; 
 "let them go to a magistrate or a registrar." Let God 
 have nothing to do with it. Let no sanctifying influence be 
 upon them; leave them to their own histful desires, and to 
 the full enjoyment of wicked passions, unchecked by God. 
 
 Thus the State rules, in case of marriage, and says : " I 
 will break asunder that bond." And it made the anti-Chris- 
 tian law of " divorce." " Whom God joins together," says 
 the Master of the world, whose word shall never pass away, 
 though heaven and earth shall pass away, — "let no man 
 separate." God alone can do it : the man who dares to do 
 it shakes the very foundation of society, and takes the key- 
 stone out of the arch. But the State comes and says : "I 
 will do it." This is the legislation— this is the spirit of 
 our age. I do not mean to say that there were not 
 sins and vices in other ages ,' but I have been taught, from 
 my earliest childhood, to look back, full six hundred years, 
 to that glorious thirteenth centmy, for the bloom and flower 
 of sanctity prospering upon the eai'th. Still, I have been so 
 
THE CEEISTIAN MAN THE MAX OF THE DAY. 11 
 
 taught as not to shut ni}^ eyes to its vices ; and yet the spirit 
 of that age was more Christian than the spirit of this. The 
 spirit that had faith enough to declare that, whatever else 
 was touched by profane hands, the sanctity of the marriage 
 Sacrament was to remain inviolate ; when all recognized its 
 living author as the Son of God. It had faith enough to 
 move all classes of men as one individual, and as possessing 
 one faith and one lofty purpose. And this is not the spirit 
 of our age. Whom do we hear spoken of as the men who 
 invent and make our telegraphs and railroads, and all the 
 great works of the day ? We hear very little ahout Catholics 
 being any thing generally but lookers-on in these great mat- 
 ters ; that Catholics had nothing to do with them, and that 
 they came in simply to profit by the labor of others. And 
 yet do we not know that nearly every great discovery made 
 upon this earth was made by some Catholic man or other; 
 and some of the greatest of them all made by old monks in 
 their cloisters ? Therefore, as the spirit of the day makes the 
 man of the day, I cannot congratulate you, my friends, that 
 the man of the day is a Christian man. 
 
 Now, I am here this evening, to prove to you, and to bring 
 home to your intelligence, two great facts : remember them 
 always: First — The man the world makes independent of 
 God,' is such an incubus and curse, that the world itself can- 
 not bear him, that the world itself cannot endm'e him ; for, 
 if he leaves his mark upon history, it is a curse, and for evil. 
 Secondly — The only influence that can purify and save the 
 world, is the spirit of that glorious religion which alone 
 represents Christianity. Call me no bigot, if I say that the 
 Catholic Church alone is the great representative of Chris- 
 tianity. I do not deny that there is gooduess outside of it, 
 nor that there are good and honest men who are not of this 
 Church. Whenever I meet an honest, truthful man, I never 
 stop to inquire if he is Catholic or Protestant ; I am always 
 ready to do him honor, as " the noblest work of God."^ But 
 this I do sav — all this is, in reality, represented in the 
 Catholic Church. And I further assert that the Catholic 
 Church alone has the power to preserve in man the conscious- 
 ness that God has created him. 
 
 And now, having laid down my opening remarks, let ns 
 look at the man of Uie day, and see what he is. Many of you 
 have the ambition to become men of the dav. It is a pleas- 
 
12 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCO UBSJES. 
 
 ant thing to be pointed at and spoken of as a man of the day. 
 " There is a man who has made his mark." ^' There is a man 
 of whom every one speaks well ; the intelligent man, the 
 successful man, the man who is able to propound the law by 
 expressing his opinion ; able to sway the markets ; the man 
 whose name is blazoned everywhere." You all admire this 
 man. But let us examine him in detail — ^for he is made for 
 mere show, a mere simulacrum of a man. Let us pick him in 
 pieces, and see what is in this man of the day j whether he 
 will satisfy God or man; see whether he will come up to the 
 wants of society or not. 
 
 Man, I suppose you will all admit, was created by Al- 
 mighty God for certain fixed, specific pmposes and duties. 
 Sm-ely, the God of wisdom, of infinite love, — a God of infinite" 
 knowledge and freedom, — never communicated to an intel- 
 ligent human being power and knowledge like His own, with- 
 out having some high, grand, magnificent, and God-like 
 purpose in view. A certain purpose must have guided Him. 
 Certain duties must have attached to the glorious privileges 
 that are thus imprinted on man's soul as the image of God. 
 And hence, my fiiends, there are the duties man owes to the 
 family ; the duties of the domestic circle ; the duties he owes 
 to society, to those who come within the range of his 
 influence, and within the circle of his friendship ; the duties 
 he owes to his country and native land, — his political duties ; 
 and, finally, over them all, permeating through them all, 
 overshadowing all that is in him, there is his great duty to 
 Almighty God, who made him. 
 
 Now, what are man's duties in the domestic circle ? Surely, 
 the fii'st vutue of man in this circle is the virtue of fidelity, 
 representing the purity of Christ in the man's soul ; the vir- 
 tues of fidelity, stability, and immovable loyalty to the vows 
 he has pledged before high heaven, and to all the con- 
 sequences these vows have involved. God created man -^ath 
 a hearty disposition to love and to find the worthy object of 
 his love ,* and to give to that object the love of his heart, is 
 the ordinary nature of man. A few are put aside — among 
 them the priest and the monk and the nun, to whom God 
 says, "I myself will be your love:" and they know no 
 love save that of the Lord Jesus Christ. Yet they have the 
 same craving for love, the same deske, and the same neces- 
 sity. But to them the Lord says: "I myself will be your 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MAN THE MAN OF THE DAY. 13 
 
 love, your portion, your inheritance." These, I say, are 
 those who are wTapt in the love of the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 This is not the time nor the occasion for me to dwell upon 
 the infinite joy and substantial happiness of the days of those 
 who have fastened their hearts upon the great heart of Jesus 
 Christ ; but, for the ordinary run of mankind, love is a neces- 
 sity ) and the Almighty has created that desire for love in 
 the hearts of all men ; and it has become sanctified and 
 typical of the union of Christ with His Church ; typical of 
 the grace that Christ poured abroad upon her : and this love 
 must lie at the very fountain-head of society ; it must sanctify 
 the very spring whence all our human natm-e flows ; for it is 
 out of this union of two loving hearts that our race is pro- 
 pagated, and mankind continued to live on earth. What is 
 that grace which sanctifies it ? I answer, it is the grace of 
 fidelity. Understand me well ; there is nothing more erratic, 
 nothing more changeable than this heart of man ; nothing 
 wilder in its acts, in its propensities, than this treacherous 
 heart of man. I know of no greater venture that a human 
 being can make than that which a young woman makes, when 
 she takes the hand of a young man, and hears the oath fi-om 
 his lips that no other love than hers shall ever enter his 
 heart. A treacherous, erratic heart is this of man ; prone to 
 change, prone to evil influences, excited by every form of pass- 
 ing beauty. But from that union spring the obligations of 
 father and mother to their progeny. Their children are to be 
 educated ; and as they grow up and bloom mto the fulness 
 of their reason, the one" object of the Christian father and 
 mother is to bring out in these children the Christianity that 
 is latent in them. Christ enters into the young soul by Bap- 
 tism ; but He lies sleeping in that soul, acting only upon the 
 blind animal instincts of infancy ; and, as the child wakes to 
 reason, Christ that sleeps there must be awakened and devel- 
 oped, mitil that child comes to the fulness of his intellectual 
 age, and the man of God is fully developed in the child of 
 earth. 
 
 Now, how does the man of the day fulfil this end ? how 
 does he fulfil these duties to his wife and to his children, 
 these duties which we call the domestic duties ? This " clever" 
 man of the day — how does he fulfil them? He, perhaps, in 
 his humbler days, before he knew to what meridian the sun 
 of his fortune would rise, took to himself a fair and modest 
 
14 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 wife. Fortune smiled upon liim. Tlie woman remained 
 content only with her first and simple love, and with fidelity 
 to the man of her choice, and the duties which that love 
 broug'ht with them. But how is it with the man of the day ? 
 Shall I insult the ears of the Christian by following the man 
 of the day through all the dark paths of his iniquity ? Shall 
 I describe to you the glance of his lustful eye, forgetful of the 
 vows he has made to the one at home? Can I tell you of 
 the man of the day, following every passing form, — a mere 
 lover of beauty j without principle, without God, without 
 virtue, and without a thought of the breaking hearts at home? 
 Shall I tell you of the man of the day trying to conceal the 
 silvering hand of age as it passes over him, trying to retain 
 the shadow of departed youth — and why? Because all the 
 worst vices of the young blood are there, for they are insepar- 
 able from the man of the day. Sometimes, in some fearful 
 example, he comes out before us in all his temble deformity. 
 The world is astonished — the world is frightened for a moment ; 
 but men who understand all these things, better than you or 
 I, come to us, and say : " Oh ! this is what is going on ; this 
 is the order of the day." There is no vestige of purity, no 
 vestige of fidelity. Mind and imagination corrupted ; the very 
 flesh rotting, defiled by excess of unmentionable sin. Chil- 
 dren are brought forth to him in all innocence, in all the 
 magnificence of God-like purity : but the time comes when 
 the State assumes that which neither God nor man ever 
 intended it should assume — namely, the office of instructor ; 
 when the State comes and says : " I will take the children ; 
 I will teach them every thing excepting God ; I will bring 
 them up clever men, but infidels, without the knowledge 
 of God." Then the man of the day turns round to the 
 State, and says, "Take the labor off our hands 5 these 
 children are incumbrances ; we don't want to educate them : 
 you say you will."~ But the Church comes in, like a true 
 mother, — like the mother of the days of Solomon ; and, with 
 heartbreaking accents, says to the father, " Give me the 
 child ; for it was to me that Christ said : ' Go and teach ; go 
 and educate.'" But the father turns away. He will not 
 trust his child to that instructor who will bring up this child 
 as a rebuke to him in his old age for his wickedness, by its 
 own virtue and goodness. The " spuit of the age " not only 
 tolerates this, but actually assists all this. This man may 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MAN THE MAN OF THE DAY. 15 
 
 tell his wife that she is not the undisturbed mistress of her 
 house. He may come in with a writing of '^ divorce " in his 
 hand, and turn his wife out of doors. Yes ; when her beauty 
 and accomplishments are not up to the fastidious taste of this 
 man of the day, he may call in the State to make a decree of 
 '^ divorce," and depose the mother of his children, the queen 
 of his heart. 
 
 Let us now pass from the domestic to the social circle. He 
 is surrounded by his friends and has social influence. He has 
 a duty, to lay at least one stone in the building up of that 
 society of which the Almighty created him a member, and of 
 which He will demand an account in the hour of death. Every 
 man is a living member of society. He owes a duty to that 
 society. What is that duty ? It is a duty of truthfulness to 
 our friends, a good example to those around us, a respect and 
 veneration for every one, old and young, with whom we come 
 in contact. Even the pagans acknowledge this in the maxim, 
 " Maxima debetur puero revereniia" The man of the day 
 opens his mouth to vomit forth words of blasphem}^, or sicken- 
 ing obscenity j and before him may be the young boy, grow- 
 ing into manhood, learning studiously, from the accomplished 
 jestei^s lips, the lesson of iniquity and impurity that will ruin 
 his soul. Hear him, and follow him into more refined and 
 general society. What a consummate hypocrite he is, when 
 he enters his own house, dressed for the evening ! With a 
 smile upon his face, and with words of affection upon his 
 adulterous lips, he addresses himself to his wife, or to his 
 daughter, or to his lady friends. What a consummate hypo- 
 crite he is ! Ah ! who would Imagine that he knows every 
 mystery of iniquity and defilement, even to its lowest depths ! 
 Who would imagine that this smiling face has learned the 
 smile of contempt for every thing that savors of virtue, of 
 purity, and of God ! Who would imagine that the man who 
 takes the virgin hand of the young girl in his, and leads her 
 with so much confidence and so much gladness to the altar, — 
 who would imagine that that man's hand is defiled by contact 
 with every thing abominable that the demon of impurity could 
 present to him I Take him in his relations with his friends. 
 Is he a tmstworthy friend ? Is he a reliable man ? Will he 
 not slip the wicked publication into the hands of his young 
 friend, to instruct him in vice ? Will he not pass the obscene 
 book fi'om hand to hand, with a pleasant look, as though it 
 
16 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 were a good thing, altliough he knows the poison of hell is 
 lurking between its leaves ? Is he a reliable man ? Is he 
 trustworthy ? Go and ask his friends will they trust him ; and 
 they will turn and laugh in your face, and tell you he is as 
 ''slippery as an eel." 
 
 This is the man of the day, — this boasted hero of ours, — 
 in a social way. Pass a step farther on. Take him in his 
 relations to his country, to its legislature, to its government. 
 Take him in what they call the political relations of life. 
 What shall I say of him ? I can simply put it all in a nut- 
 shell. I ask you, my friends, in this our day, suppose some- 
 body were to ask you to say a good word for him, as for a 
 friend ; suppose somebody were to ask you the character of 
 the man ; and suppose 3^ou said : '' Well, he is an honest 
 man ; a man of upright character in business ; a man of well- 
 ascertained character in society ; a good father, a good hus- 
 band, — but, you know — he is a politician ; " — I ask you, 
 is there not something humiliating in the acknowledgment, 
 — " he is a "politician "? " Is it not almost as if you said 
 something dishonorable, something bad? But there ought 
 to be nothing dishonorable in it. On the contrary, 
 every man ought to be a politician, — especially in this 
 glorious new country, which gives every man a right of 
 citizenship, and tells him : '' My friend, I will not make a 
 law to bind and govern you without your consent and per- 
 mission ; " — why, that very fact makes every man a politician 
 among us. But if it does, does it not also recognize the 
 grand virtue which underlies every free government ; which 
 makes every man a sharer in its blessings, because he en- 
 hances them by his integrity ; which makes politics not a 
 shame and a disgrace, but something to be honored and 
 prized as the aim of unselfish patriotism f What is that ? It is- 
 a love, but not a selfish love, of one's country ; a love, not 
 seeking to control or share its administration for selfish pur- 
 poses — not to become rich — not to share in this, or take 
 that — but to serve the country for its good, and to leave an 
 honorable and unblemished name in the annals of that 
 country's history. Is this the man of the day f I will not 
 answer the question. I am a stranger amongst you ; and it 
 would be a great presumption in me to enter upon a dissertation 
 on the politics of America. But this I do know, that, if the 
 politicians of this country are as bad, or half as bad as their 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MAN THE MAN OF THE DAY. 17 
 
 own newspapers represent them, it is no credit to a man to 
 be a politician. Some time ago a fellow was arrested in 
 France for having committed a robbery. He was taken 
 before a magistrate and jury, and the prosecuting officer said : 
 " The crime of the man incUcted before you is this : That on 
 such a night he went to such a house for the pm-pose of rob- 
 bery." <' Yes," said he, " it is so ; but remember, there is an 
 extenuating circumstance." "What is it?" ''I am no 
 Jesuit." " Did you rob the house ? " " Yes, I did." " Did 
 you rob the house and set fire to it?" "Yes, I didj but, 
 thank God, I am no Jesuit." This man had been reading 
 the French infidel newspapers ; and he selected a priest as 
 something worse than himself. Bad as he was, in order to 
 make it appear that there was something still worse, it was 
 necessary to say, " he was not a Jesuit." So if a man were 
 aiTaigned for any conceivable crime, he might urge, as an ex- 
 tenuating circumstance, " It is true ; I did it ; but I am no 
 politician ! " Thank God, there are many and honorable ex- 
 ceptions. If there were not many honorable exceptions, what 
 would become of society ? Why, society itself would come to 
 a standstill. But there are honest and independent men, 
 and no word of mine can be regarded as, in the slightest 
 degree, reflecting on any man, or class of men. True, I 
 know no one : I speak simply as a stranger coming amongst 
 yon, and from simply reading the accounts that yoiir daily 
 papers give. 
 
 Now, I ask you, if the man of the age, or the day, be 
 such — and I do not think that I have overdrawn the picture ; 
 nay more, I am convinced that, in the words I have used, you 
 have recognized the truth, perhaps something less than *^the 
 whole truth, of " the man of the day" in his social, political, 
 and domestic relations — I ask you — not as a Catholic priest 
 at all, but as a man — as a man not -uithout some amount of 
 intelligence— as one speaking to his fellow-men, as intel- 
 lectual men — can this thing go on? Should this go on? Are 
 you in society prepared to accept that man as a true man of 
 the day 1 Aie you prepared to multiply him as the model 
 man ? Are you prepared to say : " We are satisfied ; he comes 
 up to the requirements of our mark ?" Or, on the other hand, 
 must you say this : " It will never do : if this be the man of 
 the day there is an end to society ; if this be the man of the 
 day, it will never do ; we must seek another style — another 
 
18 FATHER BUBKWS DISCOURSES. 
 
 stamp of man, with other principles of conduct, or else society 
 comes to a deadlock and standstill f" And to those two pro- 
 positions T will invite your attention. 
 
 Go back three hundred years ago. When Martin Luther 
 inaugurated Protestantism, one of the principles upon which 
 he rested his fallacy was to separate the Church from all 
 influence upon human affairs. His tenets said: "Let her 
 teach religion, but let her not be mixing herself up with this 
 question or that." The Church of Cod, my dear friends, not 
 only holds and is the full deposit of truth, not only preaches 
 it, not only pours forth her sacramental graces, but the 
 Church — ^the Catholic Chui'ch — mixes herself up with the 
 thousand questions of the day — not as guiding them, not as 
 dictating or identifying herself with this policy or that, but as 
 simply coming in to declare, in every walk of life, certain prin- 
 ciples and rules of conduct. Here let me advert to the false 
 principle that, outside of the four walls of her temples, she has 
 nothing to do with man's daily work. This principle was 
 followed out in France in 1792-3, when not only was the 
 Church separated from all legitimate influence in society, but 
 she was completely deposed for the time being. And now, 
 the favorite expression of this day of our is : " Oh, let the 
 Catholic priests preach until they are hoarse ; let them fire 
 away until they are black in the face ; but let us have no 
 Catholicity here, Catholicity there, the priest everywhere ! 
 We will not submit to it j like the Irish, getting the priest 
 into every social relation j taking his advice in every thing ; 
 acting under his counsel in every thing. We will not submit 
 to be a priest-ridden people. We will not submit to have the 
 priest near us at all, outside of his church. If he stays there, 
 well and good : if not, every one can do as he likes." For 
 the last century all the Catholic nations of Europe — in fact, 
 the whole world — have, more or less, acted upon this principle. 
 Let us see the advantage of all this. Have th^ world, society, 
 governments, legislatures, gained by it ? To the Church they 
 say : " Stand aside ; don't presume to come into the Senate or 
 the Parliament. We will make laws without you. Don't be 
 preaching to me about God ; I can get along without you." 
 The world has " got along" for some hundreds of years ; and 
 it has produced only that beautiful man I have described to 
 you — the man of the day — the accomplished man — the gentle- 
 man — the man in kid gloves — the man who is well dressed — 
 
THE CHEISTIAN MAN THE MAN OF THE DAY. 19 
 
 the man with the gemmed walch and gold chain — the man 
 with the lacquered hair and well-trimmed whisker. Do not 
 trust his word — he is a liar ! Do not trust him. Oh, fathers, 
 oh, children, do not have any thing to say to him ! He is a 
 bad man. Keep away from him. Close the doors of your gov- 
 ernment-house — of your House of Representatives — against 
 him. This is the man whom the Church knows not as of her ; 
 whom the world and whom society have to fear. If this is 
 the best thing that the world has created, surely it ought to 
 be proud of its offspring ! Society lives and can only live up- 
 on the purity that pervades the domestic circle and sanctifies 
 it ; upon the trathfulness and integrity that guard all the 
 social relations of life and sanctify them ; and upon the pure 
 and disinterested love of country upon which alone true 
 patriotism depends. Stand aside, man of the day ! You are 
 unfit for these things. Stand aside, simulacrum ! O 
 counterfeit of man, stand aside ! Thou art not fit to encumber 
 this earth. Where is the truthfulness of thy intellect, thou 
 scoffer at all religion 1 Where is the purity of thy heart, thou 
 faithless husband ? Where is the honesty of thy life, thou 
 pilfering politician ? Stand aside ! If we have nothing 
 better than you, we must come to ruin. Stand forth, O 
 Christian man, and let us see what we can make of thee ! 
 Hast thou principles, Christian man? He advances, and 
 says : " My first principle is this : that the Almighty God 
 created me responsible for every wilful thought, and word, 
 and act of my life. I believe in that responsibility before 
 God. I believe that these thoughts, and words, and acts 
 shall be my blessedness or my damnation for eternity." These 
 are the first principles of the Christian man. Give me a man 
 that binds up eternity with his thoughts, and his words, and 
 his acts of to-day : I warrant you he will be very careful how 
 he thinks, how he speaks, and how he acts. I will trust that 
 man, because he does not love honesty for the sake of man, 
 but for the love of his own soul ; not for the love of the world, 
 but for the love of God. Stand forth, O Christian man, and 
 tell us what are thy principles in thy domestic relations, which, 
 as father and husband, thou hast assumed. He comes forth 
 and says : ''I believe, — and ] believe it on the peril of my 
 eternal salvation, — that I must be as true in my thought and 
 in my act to the woman whom I made my wife, as you, a 
 priest, are to the altar of Christ. I believe that, as long as 
 
20 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 the Angel of Death comes not between me and that woman, 
 she is to be the queen of my heart, the mother and mistress 
 of my household 5 and that no power, save the hand of God, 
 can separate us, or break the tie that binds us." 
 
 Well said, thou faithful Christian man ! Well said ! Tell 
 us about thy relations to thy children. The Christian man 
 answers and says : " I believe and I know that, if one of 
 these children rises up in judgment against me, and cries out 
 neglect and bad education and bad example against me, that 
 that alone wall weigh me down and cast me into hell for ever." 
 Well said, Christian father ! You are the man of the day 
 so far. With you the domestic hearth and circle will remain 
 holy. When your shadow, after your day's labor, falls 
 across your humble threshold, it is the shadow of a man lov- 
 ing the God of all fidelity, and of all sanctity, in his soul. 
 What are your relations to your friends, Chiistian man ? 
 He answers : " I love my friend in Christ, my Lord ; I believe 
 that when I speak of my friend, or of my fellow-man, every 
 word I utter goes forth into eternity, there to be registered for or 
 against me, as true or false. I believe that when my friend, 
 or neighbor, and fellow-man, is in want or in misery, and that 
 he sends forth the cry for consolation or for relief, I am bound 
 to console him, or to relieve him, as if I saw my Lord him- 
 self lying prostrate and helpless before me." Who are thy 
 enemies, man of faith ? He answers : " Enemies I have 
 none." Do you not hold him as an enemy who harms you ? 
 "No, I see him in my own sin, and in the bleeding hands 
 and open side of my Saviour ; and whatever I see there I 
 must love in spite of all injustice." What are your political 
 reiations? He answ^ers and says: "If any one says of an- 
 other, he is a man who fattened upon corruption, no man can 
 say so of me. I entered into the arena of my country's ser- 
 vice, and came forth with unstained hands. Whatever I 
 have done, I have done for love of my country ; because ray 
 country holds upon me the strongest and highest claims, after 
 those of God." Heart and mind are there. Oh, how grand 
 is the character that is thus built upon Faith and Love ! 
 How grand is this man, so faithful at home, so truthful 
 abroad, so in^eproachable in the senate or the forum ! Where 
 shall we find him I I answer, the Catholic Church alone can 
 produce him. This is a bold assertion. I do not deny that he 
 may exist outside the Catholic Church ; but if he does it is as 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MAN THE MAN OF THE DAT. 21 
 
 an exception ; and the exception only proves the rule. I do 
 not deny much of what I have said, if not all, to that glorious 
 name that shall live for ever as the very type of patriotism, 
 and honor, and virtue, and truth, — the grand, the majestic, 
 the immortal name of George Washington, the Father of his 
 country. But, just as a man may find a rare and beautiful 
 flower, even in the field, or by the roadside, and he is sur- 
 prised and says, " How came it to be here ? How came it 
 to grow here?" when he. goes into the garden, the cul- 
 tivated spot, he finds it as a matter of course, because the 
 soil was prepared for it, and the seed was so^vn. There is no 
 surprise, no astonishment, to find the man of whom I speak — 
 the Christian man — in the Catholic Church. If you want to 
 find him, as a matter of course — if you want to find the 
 agencies that produce him — if you want to find the soil 
 lie must grow in, if he grows at all, you must go into the 
 Catholic Church, decidedly. Nowhere out of the Catholic 
 Church is the bond of matrimony indissoluble. In the 
 Catholic Church, the greatest rufiian, the most depraved man 
 that ever lived, the most faithless woman that ever cursed the 
 world, if they are faithless to every thing, they must remain 
 joined by the adamantine bonds that the Church will not 
 allow any man to break. 
 
 Secondly, the only security you have for all I have spoken 
 of as enriching man in his social and political relations, is 
 in conscience. If a man has no conscience, he can have no 
 truth : he loses his power of discerning the difierence be- 
 tween truth ar^d falsehood. If a man has no conscience, he 
 loses all knowledge and all sense of sin. If a man has no 
 conscience, he loses by degrees even the very abstract ftiith 
 that there is for good in him. Conscience is a most precious 
 gift of God ; but, like every other faculty in the soul of man, 
 unless it be exercised, it dies out. The conscience of man 
 must be made a living tribunal within him, and he must 
 bring his own soul and his own life before that tribunal. A 
 man may kneel down and pray to God ; he may listen to 
 the voice of the preacher attentivel}^, seriously ; but in the 
 Catholic Church alone there is one Sacrament, and that 
 Sacrament the most frequent, and the most necessary, after 
 Baptism, — and that is the Sacrament of Penance ; the going 
 to confession ; an obligation imposed under pain of mortal sin, 
 and of essential need to every Catholic at stated times : an 
 
22 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 obligation that no Catliolic can shrink from without covering 
 himself with sin. This is at once a guarantee for the existence 
 of a conscience in a man, and a restraining power, which is 
 the very test, and the cracial test, of a man's life. A 
 Catholic may sin, like other men ; he may be false in every 
 relation of Hfe ; he may be false in the domestic circle ; he 
 rnay be false socially j he may be false politically ; but one 
 thing you may be sure of, — that he either does not go to con- 
 fession at all, or, if he goes to confession, and comes to the 
 holy altai"^ there is an end to his falsehood, there is an end to 
 his sin ; and the whole world around him, in the social cu'cle, 
 the domestic cu'cle, the political circle, receives an absolute 
 guarantee, an absolute proof, that that man must be all that 
 I have described the Christian man to be, — a man in w4iom 
 every one, in every relation of life, may trust and confide. 
 This is the test. Do not speak to me of Catholics who do not 
 give us this test. When a Catholic does not go to the 
 Sacraments, I could no more trust in him than in any other 
 man. I say to you, do not talk to me about Catholics who 
 do not go to the Sacraments. I have nothing to say of them, 
 only to pray for them, to preach to them, and to beseech 
 them to come to this holy Sacrament, where they will find 
 grace to enable them to live up to the principles w^hich they 
 had forsaken. But give me the practical, intellectual Catholic 
 man, the man of faith : give me the man of human power 
 and intelligence, and the higher power, divine principle, and 
 divine love. With that man, as with the lever of Ai'chi- 
 medes, I will move the world. 
 
 Let me speak to you, in conclusion, of such a man. Let 
 me speak to you of one whose form, as I beheld it in 
 early youth, now looms up before me ; so fills, in imagi- 
 nation, the halls of my memory, that I behold him now 
 as I beheld him years ago ; majestic in statm'e, an eye 
 gleaming with intellectual power, a mighty hand uplifted, 
 waving, quivering with honest indignation j his voice thun- 
 dering like the voice of a god in the tempest, against 
 all injustice and all dishonor. I speak of L'eland's 
 greatest son, the immortal Daniel O'Connell. He came, 
 and found a nation the most faithful, the most generous on 
 the face of the earth ; he found a people not deficient in any 
 power of human intelligence or human courage ; chaste iu 
 their domestic relations, reliable to each other, and truthful j 
 
THE CHRISTIAN MAN THE MAN OF THE DAY. 23 
 
 and, above all, a people who, for centuries and centuries, had 
 lived, and died, and suffered to uphold the faith and the 
 Cross. He came, and he found that people, after the re- 
 bellion of '98, down-trodden in the blood-stained dust, and 
 bound in chains. The voice of Ireland was silent. The 
 heart of the nation was broken. Every privilege, civil and 
 otherwise, was taken from them. They were commanded, as 
 the only condition of the toleration of their existence, to lie 
 down in their blood-stained fetters of slavery, and to be grate- 
 ful to the hand that only left them life. He brought to that 
 prostrate people a Christian spirit and a Christian soul. He 
 brought his mighty faith in God and in God's holy Church. 
 He brought his great human faith in the power of justice, 
 and in the omnipotence of right. He roused the people fi'om 
 their lethargy. He sent the cry for justice throughout the 
 land, and he proved his own sincerity to Ireland and to her 
 cause, by laying down an income of sixty thousand pounds a 
 year, that he might enter into her service. He showed the 
 people the true secret of their strength himself. One day 
 thundering for justice in the halls of the English Senate, on 
 the moiTow morning he was seen in the confessional, and 
 kneeling at the altar to receive his God: with one hand 
 leaning upon the eternal cause of God's justice ; with the other 
 leaning upon the Lord Jesus Christ. Upheld by these and 
 by the power of his own genius, he left his mark upon his 
 age : he left his mark upon his country. This was, indeed, 
 the " Man of his Day !" the Christian man, of whom the 
 world stood in awe — faithful as a husband and father j faith- 
 ful as a friend ; the delight of all who knew him j faitli- 
 ful in his disinterested labors ; with an honorable, honest 
 spirit of self-devotion in his country's cause ! He raised that 
 prostrate fomi, he struck the chains from those virgin arms, 
 and placed upon her head a crown of fi'ee worship and 
 free education. He made Ireland to be, in a great measure, 
 what he always prayed and hoped she might be, " The 
 Queen of the Western Isles, and the proudest gem that 
 the Atlantic bears upon the surface of its green waters." 
 Oh, if there were a few more like him ! Oh, that our race 
 would produce a few more like him ! Om* O'Connell was 
 Irish of the Irish, and Catholic of the Cathohc. We are 
 Irish and we are Catholic. How is it we have not more 
 men like him? Is the stamina wantinfi: to us? Is the 
 
24 FA THEE B USEE'S DISCO UESES. 
 
 intellect wanting to us? Is the power of united expres- 
 sion in the interests of society wanting to us ? No. But 
 the religious Irishman of our day refuses to be educated ; 
 and the educated Irishman of to-day refuses to be religious. 
 These two must go hand in hand. Unite the highest 
 education with the deepest and tenderest practical love of 
 God and of your religion, and I see before me, in many of 
 the young faces on which I look, the stamp of our Irish 
 genius. I see before me many who may be the fathers and 
 legislators of the Republic, the leaders of our race, and the 
 heroes of our common country and our common religion. 
 
THE CATHOLIC CHURCH THE FOSTER- 
 MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 
 
 lA Lecture delivered by the Very Bev. T. N. BurTce, O.P., in St. 
 Paul's Church, Brooklyn, March 3, 1872. 
 
 My Friexds : On last Tuesday evening, wlien I had the 
 honor of addressing yon, I proposed to you a subject for ypur 
 consideration which, perliaps, may have struck a good many 
 among you as strange. We are such worshippers of this age 
 of ours, that when the " man of the day," as he is called, is 
 put before us in an^^ other than an amiable light, no matter 
 how true it may be, it seems strange. It is a hazardous 
 thing for me to attempt ; — and there are many among you 
 that will consider the thing I have undertaken to do this 
 evening a still more hazardous attempt — namely, to prove to 
 you that the Catholic Cluu'ch is the foster-motlier of human 
 liberty. Was there ever so strange a proposition heard "I — 
 the Catholic Church the mother of human liberty ! If I 
 undertook to prove that the Catholic Church was the in- 
 strument chosen by Almighty God to save Christianity, I 
 might do it on the testimony of Protestant historians. I 
 might quote, for instance, Guizot, the French statesman and 
 historian, who repeatedly and emphatically asserts that only 
 for the organization of bishops, priests, monks, etc., — what is 
 called " the Church," — the Christian religion would never 
 have been preserved ; never have been able to sustain the 
 shock of the incursions of the barbarians of the North upon 
 the Roman Empire ; and never liave been preserved through 
 the following ages of confusion, and, some people say, of 
 darkness. I could quote the great German historian, Neander, 
 who was not only a Protestant, but bitterly opposed to the 
 Catliolic Church, and who repeats, again and again, the self- 
 same proposition : " Were it not," he says, " for the Church, 
 the Christian religion must have perished during the time 
 that elapsed between the fiftli and the tenth centuries." I 
 might, I say again, find it easy to prove any one of these 
 })rop()siti(uis, witli less fear of cavil. Ah, but this is quite 
 another thing, you will say in your own minds! This man 
 
26 FATHER BUEKE'S DISCOUBSES. 
 
 tells us that he is prepared to prove that the Catholic Churcli 
 is the foster-mother of human liberty. Why, the " man of the 
 day," whom we were considering on a previous evening, is not 
 a very amiable character. He has a great many vices ', there 
 are a great many moral deformities about him — this boasted 
 man of the nineteenth century. But there is one thing that he 
 lays claim to: he says, — and he claims that it is something 
 which no man can gainsay, — that he is a fi-eeman ; that 
 he is not like those men who lived in the ages when the 
 Catholic Church had power, when she was enabled to enforce 
 her laws. ^^ Then, indeed," he says, " men were slaves ; 
 but now, whatever our faults may be. we have freedom. 
 Kay, more," he will add, " we have freedom in spite of the 
 Catholic Church. We are free because we have succeeded in 
 disanuing the Catholic Church ; in taking the power out of her 
 hands. We are free because our legislation and the spirit of 
 our age is hostile to the Catholic Church. How then, JMonk, 
 do you presume to come here and tell us, the men of the 
 day, that this Church of yours — this Church whose very name 
 we associate with the idea of intellectual slavery — that she is 
 the foster-mother of human liberty ? " 
 
 Well, I need not tell you, my friends, that there is nothing 
 easier than to make assertions ; that there is nothing easier 
 than to proclaim such and such things ; lay them down as if 
 .they were the law ; tumble it out as if it was gospel. It may 
 be a lie. Out with it. Assert it strongly. Repeat it. Do 
 not let it be put down. Assert it again and again. Even 
 though it be a lie, a gi'cat many people will believe it. No- 
 thing is easier than to make assertions without thinking well 
 on what we say. Now, let me ask you this evening to do 
 what very few men in this age of ours do at all ; and that is, 
 to reflect a little. It is simply astonishing, considering the 
 powers that God has given to man, — the power of thought, the 
 power of reflection, the power of analyzing facts and weighing 
 statements, the power of reducing things to their first principles, 
 — I say it is astonishing to think of that and to look around us 
 and see how few the men are who reason at all, — who reflect, 
 — who take time for thought ; how many there are who use 
 words of which they do not know the meaning. Take, for 
 instance, that word '' liberty." I need hardly tell yon that I 
 must explain it to you before I advance the proposition that 
 the Catholic Church is the mother o-f liberty. 
 
TUE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 27 
 
 What is tlie meaning of the word " liberty," — so dear to 
 ns air? We are always boasting of it; the patriot is always 
 aspiring to it ; the revolutionist makes it justify all his wiles 
 and all his conspiracies. It is the word that floats upon the 
 folds of the nation's banners, as they are flung out npon the 
 breeze over the soldier's head ; and he is cheered in his last 
 moments by the sacred sound of liberty ! It is a word dear to 
 lis jil]^ — the boast of all of ns. What is the boast of America'? 
 That it is the Land of Freedom. Yes; but I ask you, do you 
 know what it means! Liberty ! Just reflect npon it a little. 
 Does liberty mean freedom from restraint? Does liberty, in 
 your mind, mean freedom from any power, government, or 
 restraint of legislati(m I Is this your meaniug of liberty I 
 For instance : Is this yonr meaning of liberty — that every 
 man can do what he likes ? If so, you cannot complain if 
 you are stopped by the robber on the roadside, and he puts 
 iiis pistol to your head and says: ^^ Your money or your life !" 
 l^ou cannot complain ; he is only using his liberty in doing 
 what he likes. Does liberty mean that the murderer may 
 come and put his knife into*^you1 Does liberty ruean that 
 the dishonest man is to })e allowed to pilfer'? Is this liberty"? 
 This is freedom from restraint. But is it liberty ? j\[ost cer- 
 tainly not. You will not consider that you are slaves be- 
 cause you live under laws that tell you that you must not 
 steal; "^that you must not murder; that you must not interfere 
 with or violate each other's riglits ; but that you must respect 
 those of each other; and if you do hot do that, you must be 
 punished. You do not consider you are slaves because you 
 are under the restraint of law. Whatever liberty means, 
 therefore, it does not, in its true meaning, imply siuiple and 
 mere freedom from restraint. Yet, how many there are who 
 use this word, and who attach this meaning to it. What is 
 liberty? There are in man — in the soul of man — two great 
 powers, — God-like, angelic, sjHritual, — viz. : the intelligence 
 of the mind and the will. The intelligence of the human 
 mind, the soul, and the will are the true fountains and the 
 seat- of liberty. What is the freedom of the intelligence ? 
 What is the freedom of the will ? ^There are no other powers 
 in man capable of this freedom excej)t these two. If you ask 
 nie in what does the freedom of the intelligence and of the 
 will of man consist, I answer: The freedom of tlie intellect con- 
 sists in being free from error, — from intellectual error. The 
 
28 FATHER BVRKWS DISCOURSES. 
 
 freedom of man's intelligence consists in its being perfectly 
 free from tlic clanger and liability of believing tliat wliich 
 is false. The slavery of tlie intelligence in man is submission 
 in mind and in belief to that Avlncli is a lie. If, for instance, 
 I came here this evening, and if, by the power of language, 
 by plausibility of words, by persuasiveness, I got any man 
 among you to believe a lie, and take that lie as truth and 
 admit it into his mind as truth, and admit it as a principle 
 that is right, and just, and true, when it is false, and -unjust, 
 and a lie, — that man is intellectually a slave. Falsehood is 
 the slavery of the intelligence. 
 
 Reflect a little upon this. It is well worth reflecting upon. . 
 It is a truth that is not grasped or held by the men of this 
 century of ours. There w^as a time when it was considered 
 a disreputable thing to believe a lie. There was a time when 
 men were ashamed of believing what, even by possibility, 
 could be a lie. Nowadays, men glory in it. It was but a 
 short time ago a popular orator and lecturer in England 
 referred to the multitude of religious sects that are there — 
 of those people who assert that Christ is God, and of those 
 who assert that He is not God; of those who assert that 
 there are three persons in the Trinity, and of those who assert 
 that there is no Trinity — the Unitarians ; of those who assert 
 that good works are necessary for salvation, and of those 
 who assert that good works are not necessary at all ; of those 
 Avho assert that Christ is present on the altar, and of those 
 who say it is damnable heresy to assert that He is there at 
 all ] — speaking of all these, — how, we ask, can any one of 
 them be true and all the rest not be false I This lecturer 
 said : " The multitude of sects and churches in England is 
 the glory of our age and of our people ; for it shows what a 
 religious people we are." My God ! A man believes a lie ; 
 a man takes a lie to him as if it were the truth of God j a 
 man takes an intellectual falsehood — a thing that is false in 
 itself — a thing that has no real existence in fact — a thing 
 that God never said, and never thought of saying ; and he 
 lays that religious lie upon tlie altar of his soul, and he bows 
 down and does homage to it as if it were the truth ! 
 And then he says : " It may be a lie ! but you know it 
 is a religious lie ; and it is so respectable and religious 
 to have a nmltitude of sects ; and it shows what a good 
 people we are ! " This is our age. The very definition of 
 
THE CHUFCH THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 29 
 
 the intellectual freedom of man, which I am about to 
 give you, I take from the hig-hetft authority. I A\ill not 
 quote for you, my friends, the words of man ; but I will 
 quote to you the Word of God — of God himself — who ought 
 to know l)est ; of God himself, who made man and gave him 
 his intelligence and his freedom — of God himself, who has 
 declared that the freedom of the human intellect lies in the 
 possession of the truth — the knowledge of the truth — the 
 grasping of the truth — the exclusion, by that very fact, of 
 all error. Christ, our Lord, said : — " You shall know the 
 truth and the truth shall make you free." You shall know" 
 the truth, and, in the knowledge of that truth, will lie your 
 freedom. Mind 3'ou, He did not say : " I will send you 
 groping after the truth." No ! But you shall know it-^j^ou 
 shall have it — no doubt about it ! He did not say : " Here 
 is a book ; here is My word ; take it and look for the truth 
 in it, and if you happen to find it, well and good ; if not, you 
 are still a religious man !'' He did not say : ^' Your duty is 
 to seek for the truth, to look for itj" no, but He said : " You 
 shall have it, and you shall know it ; and th'at shall make 
 your freedom 5 the truth shall make you free!" I lay it 
 down, therefore, as a first principle, that the very definition 
 of intellectual freedom lies in the possession of the truth. 
 
 Now, my friends, before I go any further, I may as well 
 at once come home to my subject, and that is, that the 
 Catholic Church alone is the foster-mother of intellectual 
 freedom. Afterwards we will come to the freedom of the 
 will. We M'ill ask what it is, and apply the same principles 
 in answering it. There is in the Catholic Church a power 
 which she has always exercised ; and, strange to say, it is 
 the very exercise of that power which forms the world's chief 
 accusation against her. And that is, the power of defining, 
 as articles of faith and dogma — as what we are to believe 
 beyond all doubt, all cavil, beyond all speculation, what she 
 holds and knows to be true. There is this distinguishing 
 feature between the Catholic Church and all sects that call 
 themselves religious, — that she always speaks clearly. 
 Every child that belongs to her, every man that hears her 
 voice, knows precisely wliat to believe, knows precisely what 
 the Church teaches. Never does she leave a soul in doubt. 
 What can be more striking than the contrast which Protest- 
 antism presents to the Catholic Church in this respect, — its 
 
?,0 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 leaders lost in utter perplexity, not knowing what to say. 
 Some time ago a deputation of clergymen of the Church of 
 Enghand waited upon the Arclibishop of Canterbury, and 
 propounded a very simple question, indeed, to him : viz., — 
 Whether the Protestant Church allowed its ministers, or 
 taught them, to preach their sermons, with surplices on, or 
 without. Well, there was not much in that : about half a 
 3'ard of calico was all of it ; the most of it was not as much 
 as would make a surplice for a little boy. They came and 
 asked the Archbishop if he would kindly tell them what 
 w^as the discipline of the Church. The Archbishop knew 
 and remembered very well that there was a party in England 
 that could not bear to see a surplice on a clergyman. The 
 very i^ight of such a thing is like the shaking of a red rag 
 before a bull : it makes them mad. It is a singular thing. 
 Now, when you come in here to your deviations, you do not 
 mind much whether the alb the priest wears be a long one 
 or a short one ; whether the surplice be plain or embroid- 
 ered ; or -whether tlie fringes of the lace are long or short. 
 But, in the Protestant Church, in England, if a minister goes 
 up before a certain congregation with a surplice on, one-half 
 of them stand up and walk out of the house. The Arch- 
 bishop knew this ; he also knew that there is a strong party 
 in the Protestant Church who not only favor surplices, but 
 would like to see all kinds of vestments worn. Mournfully 
 he turns round, and what is the' answer that he gives ? He 
 answers them as if he had nothing to say, as if there was 
 nothing in it. What was the answer his Grace of Canter- 
 bury gave ? What answer do you suppose he gave them ? 
 He rubbed his hands— (I don't know whether he took a 
 pinch of snufF or not) — ^but he rubbed his hands and said : 
 " It was — a — really — a — a — a — very — serious question ; that 
 we lived in times when the Church uses a caution and pru- 
 dence that was most admirable and most necessary ; — that 
 the fact of it is, that those who wear surplices in performing 
 the functions of the Church, — that, no doubt, the}^ were 
 actuated by the purest of motives and the best of feelings ; 
 that he honored them ; and that, in fact, he felt that, accord- 
 ing to ch-cumstances, the surplice might be worn ; and that 
 when a man had it on him — why — he had it on him ! 
 There was no mistake about it. Then, that there were 
 others who did hot wear surplices — and, of course, as to 
 
THE CHURCR THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 31 
 
 those who did not wear them — why, thoy were not in the 
 habit of putting- them on ; and that, really, he must say 
 that, on this question, the discipline of the Church was such 
 that it was very hard precisely to say whether the wearing 
 of a surplice, or the not wearing- of a surplice, was precisely 
 the most convenient j '' and, to use a vulgar phi'ase, he haui- 
 boozjed them, — and, under Heaven, they did not know what 
 he meant. One minute he told them it was right ; the next 
 minute he told them it might be wrong. And that on the 
 mere question of a surplice ! The Catholic Church comes 
 out on a question affecting the existence of God ; Heaven ; 
 the Revelation of Scripture 5 the Divinity of Jesus Christ. 
 It is a question affecting an article of faith. She gives to 
 the Church, on this or that article of faith, language as clear 
 as a bell — language so clear and decided that every child 
 may know what God has revealed ; that this is what God 
 teaches; — that this is the truth. But the "Man of the 
 Day " says : " What right has the Church to impose this on 
 you? Are y«)U not a slave to believe it?" I answer at 
 once : " If it be a lie, you are a slave to believe it. If it be 
 not a lie, but the truth, — in the very belief of it, then, — in 
 the knowledge of it lies your freedom, according to the 
 words of Christ : ' You shall know the truth, and the truth 
 shall make you free.' " 
 
 The whole question hinges upon this: Has the Church 
 the power and the authority to teach you what is the truth? 
 She at once falls bacl^ upon the Scriptures and lays her 
 hand upon the words of Jesus Christ, saying — " Go and 
 teach all nations ; teach them all truth : I will send the Spirit 
 of truth upon you to abide with you, and I Myself will be 
 with- you all days to the end of the w:orld ; and the gates 
 of hell, -that is to say, the si)irit of error, — shall never, 
 never, never prevail against My Church ! " If that be true, 
 the whole question is settled. If that word be true — if Jesus 
 Christ be the God of truth, as we know Him to be, then the 
 whole controversy is at an end. He commands us to hear the 
 Church, to accept her teachings, to grasp them, being the 
 truth, with our minds as though we heard them immediately 
 fi-om the lips of our Lord God Himself — who is the very 
 quintessence of truth and of intellectual freedom — for intellec- 
 tual freedom lies in a knowledge of the truth. And now, 
 let me give you a familiar proof of this. Let me suppose, 
 
32 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 now, that instead of being what I am — a Catholic priest and 
 a monk — that 1 was — (God between us and harm !) — a Meth- 
 odist, a Presbyterian, or that I was a Baptist, an Anabaptist, 
 or any thing of that kind, or a Quaker, or a Shaker, or any 
 thing that you like. And suppose that I came here, a man of 
 a certain amount of intellect and originality, and that I had 
 taken up, or that I had dreamt, last night, some crooked view 
 of the Scriptures, and that I said in my own mind : " Well, 
 perhaps, after all, Christ did not die on the cross ; perhaps 
 that was one of those fictions that we find in history 5" and 
 that I then came np here, on this altar, and put that lie plausi- 
 bly, — perhaps dogmatically, — and told you how man}^ other 
 lies were thus told, — how this thing thus said was proved to be 
 false, and that that thing thus said was proved to be false ; — 
 and that then I said to you : ^' What evidence have we of the 
 crucifixion of our Lord but historical evidence"? Perhaps, 
 after all, it was only a myth f " When we look into ourselves, 
 and see how much there is in us of evil and how little of good, 
 and then think of Christ coming to die for us and save us ! — 
 indeed, they say, there is a question whether He came at all 
 or not. If I were only to put that question plausibly to you, 
 what is to hinder me from deceiving you ? What is to hinder 
 me, if I am able to do it eloquently and forcibly ? What is to 
 save some of you from being imposed upon, and some of you 
 from believing me ? You are at my mercy. So far as I can 
 raise a doubt in j^our minds, I can put an intellectual chain 
 upon you. You are at my mercy ; and I am at the mercy of 
 my own idle dreams. Well, let us take things as they are. 
 I came here as a Catholic jDriest to you, who are Catholics. If 
 I were here, this evening, to breathe one breath — one word — 
 against the real presence of our Lord, — or against the infalli- 
 bility of the Pope, — or against the indefectibility of the 
 Church, — or against the power of the priest to absolve from 
 sin, — or any other doctrine of the Catholic Church ; — if I was 
 just to approach it with the faintest touch; — is there a man 
 among you — is there one in this Chiu'ch — who would not rise 
 up and say : ^' You lie ! You are a heretic ! You are a false 
 teacher ! You are a heathen and an infidel ! " If I dared to 
 do it, could I have the slightest influence on any one of you ? 
 No. And why? Because you know the truth. Why? 
 Because the Church of God has thrown the shield of dogma 
 between you and every false teacher — between you and 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 33 
 
 every one -svlio would tiy to make you believe a lie. Is not 
 tins freedom ? 
 
 Some time ago, a poor man from the county of Galway — 
 my own county — went over to England, to earn the rent by 
 reaping the harvest. He went down into the southwest ot' 
 England — into Gloucestershire. And, now, you must know 
 that the Protestants of that part of England are what 
 they call ^' Puseyites," — men who are fond of being as like 
 Catholics as possible, without being actually Catholics. 
 And so this poor fellow went in one Sunday morning; — 
 to be sure, it was a very strange place in which he 
 found himself; — but he heard the bells ring; he walked 
 along ; he saw a cross ; he saw, as he supposed, a church ; 
 he went in, and (sure enough) saw a cross, found an altar, 
 and the candles on it ; and three men — young men — 
 attending, if you please, on the altar. There were a priest, 
 and his deacon, and sub-deacon, and a congregation — all 
 kneeling down as the service went on ; and he thought he 
 was all right. He knelt down, blessed himself, and every 
 thing went on smoothly, to all appearance ; and the mock 
 Mass went on until the time came for the priest to preach, 
 and the deacons and sub-deacons sat down in their chairs. 
 The priest took off his vestments and laid aside his stole. 
 He then blessed himself. There were many distinguished 
 personages there — all Pi'otestants. In his beautiful sermon 
 he called the Blessed Virgin Mary, the mother of God. 
 All this time the poor Galway man was beating his breast. 
 Every thing went off delightfully until the man came to talk 
 to the people that were coming in : " Now," said he, ^^ some 
 of you, my dear brethren," — (he was an elegant English 
 Protestant, highly educated) — " Now, my dearly beloved 
 brethren," said he, •' some among you, no doubt, are going 
 to approach the holy communion ; — of course, I do not wish 
 to force my opinion upon you ; — but you must remember 
 that faith is required, and I humbly hope that as many of 
 you as go to the altar will believe that you are about really 
 to receive the Lord. I do not want to say, for an instant, 
 that this is absolutely necessary, or that I put it upon you 
 under the awful penalty of excomnmnication ; but still I 
 hope you will ap})roach it in the right faith." " God bless 
 my soul ! " said the poor Galway man ; " this is too bad ! 
 I have never seen the like of this before ! " So he stoops 
 
34 FATHER BUREWS DISCOURSES. 
 
 down, takes np liis liat, and goes for tlie door ; for, as soon 
 as he heard the hesitatino-, faltering, ahnost apohjgetio 
 assertion of the preacher, he at once nnderstood that he was 
 in a Protestant and not in a Catholic Church. When he 
 was telling- it to me, he said : '' Why, your reverence, it was 
 only when he got to the end of the sermon that he let the cat 
 out of the hag ! '' Now, I ask you who was the free man in 
 that church ? Was it not the man whose intelligence, Immhle 
 as he was, uneducated as he was in worldly learning — but 
 with the knowledge of the Catholic Church in his soul — was 
 it not he whose intelligence instantly rose up, rejected the 
 false doctrine, and shook off the slavery of the lie ? 
 
 Need I say any more? Before I end, I will come to 
 vindicate the Church, my mother, as is my duty, from any 
 charge of ever fostering slavery, or of ever riveting one 
 fetter upon the intelligence of man. But I think I have so 
 far sufficiently brought it home to the intellect of every one 
 among you that, if the knowledge of the truth, the possession 
 of the truth, the grasping of the truth, creates freedom of 
 the intellect, according to the definition of it by the word of 
 our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ, — that man alone can 
 have that freedom who receives the truth knowing it to be 
 the truth, from the mouth of one whom Christ, the Son of 
 God, declares to be incapable of teaching man a lie ! 
 
 But now we pass to the second great stronghold of free- 
 dom or of slavery in the soul of man ; and that is, the will. 
 For you know that, strictly speaking, the will of man — 
 that free will that God gives us - is really and truly the 
 subject-matter either of freedom or of slavery. If a man has 
 the freedom of his will, he is free ; if a man's will is coerced, 
 he is a slave. I grant you that. But when is that will 
 coerced ? What is the definition of the word " freedom," so 
 far as it touches human will ? I answer at once, and define 
 the freedom of the human will to be, on the one side, 
 obedience to recognized and just law, and, on the other side, 
 freedom from over-ruling or coercive action of any authority, 
 or of any power that is not legitimately appointed to govern 
 and rule the will. We are slaves, if we are bound to observe 
 laws that are, in themselves, unjust, — laws that involve an 
 immoral act ; and no man but a slave is bound to obey 
 them. Thus, for instance, if the law of the land tells me 
 that what I have heard from any one of my Catholic children 
 
THE CUVRCn THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 35 
 
 ill the confessional, I am to go and make a deposition of it, 
 that is, to use it as evi«lence a<>:ainst him — if the hiw said 
 that — (and the law has sometimes said it) — the Catholic 
 piiest knows, and every Catholic knows, that the observance 
 of that law would make a slave of tlie priest — it would 
 destroy his over-ruling conscience that dictates to his will; 
 — so that if he observed that law he wouhl be a slave ; but 
 if he died rather than observe it, he would be a martyr and 
 im apostle of freedom. 
 
 Secondly, the freedom of the will lies in being free from 
 every influence, from every coercing power that has no right 
 or title whatever to command our wills, AVho has a right 
 to command the will of man f Almighty God, who made it. 
 Every human law that tells us, do this or do that, has 
 authority only inasmuch as it is the echo of the eternal voice, 
 commanding or prohibiting. I will only obey the law 
 l)ecause St. Paul tells us, "the law comes from on high" — 
 that all power, all law, comes from Almighty God. Any 
 other power tliat is opposed to God, any ether power that 
 upsets the reasons of God, has nothing whatever to say to 
 the will of man ; and if the will of man submits to the per- 
 suasion or coercion of that power, by that very fact it 
 becomes a slave. 
 
 Now, what are the great powers that assert tliemselves in 
 this our age upon the will of man ? What are the great 
 powers that make slaves of us ? I answer, they are the 
 world around us and its principles ; — our own passions within 
 us, and our sinful inclinations. Reflect upon it. We live 
 in a world that has certain principles, that lays down certain 
 maxims and acts upon them. The world has its own code of 
 laws ; the world has its own sins, greater or lesser. For in- 
 stance, a man is insulted. The world tells him to go, take a 
 revolver, and wipe out the insult in the blood of the man 
 who dares to insult him. This is the world's law ; but it i.Ji. 
 opposed to God's law, which says : " Love your en,emies, 
 and pardon them for My sake ! '"' The world says to a man, 
 '' Yi)U are in a good position ; you have place, power, influence, 
 patronage ; you have it in your power to enrich yourself. 
 Ah ! don't be so squeamish ; don't be so mealy-mouthed ; 
 shove a friend in here. Let a man have a chance of taking 
 upliis own pickings. Put another man to do the same there. 
 Take something for yourself," The world says this j and I 
 
36 FA THER B URKKS DISCO UBSES. 
 
 believe you have evidence of it every day. The world says 
 to the man of pleasure : '■'■ You are fond of certain sins of iin- 
 purity. Ah ! but my dear friend, you must keep that thing 
 very quiet. Keep it under the rose as long as you can. 
 There is no great harm in it. It is only the weakness of 
 our nature. You may go on and enjoy yourself as much as 
 you choose ; only be circumspect about it. Keep it as quiet 
 as possible, and do not let your secret be found out." 
 The great sin is in being found out. This is the way of the 
 w<»rld. It thus operates upon men. It thus influences our 
 will, and makes us bow down and conform to the manners 
 and customs of those around us. How true this is ! Is 
 there any thing more common? I have heard it said, 
 over and over again, since I came to America : " Oh, Father, 
 we are very difi'erent in this country from what we were in 
 the old country. In the matter of going to Mass, in this coun- 
 try, on Sunday, you cannot go unless you are well dressed. 
 In the old country they go no matter how they are. In this 
 country people would look on it as queer if you did not go as 
 well dressed as your neighbor. In the old country they were 
 A'^ery particular about stations, and about going to confession. 
 They used all to go to their duty at Christmas or Easter — 
 and often more frequently ; — but in this country scarcely 
 anybody goes at all." This is the language I have heard. 
 It is not uncommon. Now, what does all this mean ? What 
 has this country or that, this portion of the world or that, 
 this maxim of the world or that, — what has it to do with 
 your will ? Where, in reason, — where, in faith, — where, in 
 Scripture, can you find me one word from Almighty God to 
 man : " Son of man, do as those around you do ; confomi 
 your life to the usr.ges of the world around you — to the max- 
 ims of the world in which you live." But Christ has said : 
 '^ Be not conformed to this world ; for the friendship of this 
 world is enmity before God." The passions within us, — 
 those terrible passions ! — the strong, the unreasoning, the 
 lustful desires of youth — the strong, unreasoning, revengeful 
 pride and passion of man ; — the strong, unreasoning desire 
 to be enriched before his time by means which are accursed j 
 — the strong passions within him, whatever they may be, 
 that rise up, like giants, in his path, — these are the most 
 teiTible tyrants of all, when they assume dominion over man ; 
 and, above all, when they assume the aggrav^ated and detest- 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 37 
 
 able dominion of habit. Let me say a word to you about 
 this. There is not a man among us who has not his own 
 little world of iniquity within him. Not one ! There is not 
 a man amoni^- us, even of those who are within the sanctuary, 
 that must not work out his salvation with fear and trembling. 
 And whv f Because he has great enemies in his own pas- 
 sions. Now, the Almighty God's design is that those pas- 
 sions should become completely subject to the dominion of 
 reason by the free will of man. So long as man is able to 
 keep the'm down, to subdue them — so long as a man is able 
 to keep humble, pure, chaste, temperate, in spite of them, 
 — that man is free; because he controls and keeps down 
 those servants, his passions, which the Almighty God never 
 intended should govern him. 
 
 Now, the intention of Almighty God is that we should 
 keep down those passions. The second intention of Al- 
 mighty God is, therefore, that if they rise, — as rise they do, 
 in many cases, — and, for a time, overpower the soul, and in- 
 duce a man to commit this sin or that, — that he must at once 
 rise up out of that sin, put down that passion, and chain it 
 down under the dominion of reason and will ; because, if he 
 lets it remain and allows it to subdue him, and seduce him 
 into sin ao-ain, in an inconceivably short time that passion 
 will beconie the habit and the tyrant of his life. For instance, 
 if a man gets drunk, — if there is any one among you that was 
 ever drunk, — I would ask that man, and say : " My dear friend, 
 try to recall the first time you got drunk. Do you remember 
 next morning in what a state your head was, splitting as if 
 it would ^0 asunder ^? You felt that you would give half of 
 all vou were worth for a drink of water. Your tongue was 
 dry "^ and parched, and a coarse fur on it. Do you remember 
 how you got up in the morning and did not know what to do 
 with yourself for the whole day, going about here and there, 
 afraid to eat, your stomach being so sick ; afi-aid to lie down, 
 and not able to remain up or go to work ; moaning and shak- 
 ing and not able to get over the headache of the preceding 
 night? That was the first time; and you made vows it should 
 be* the last. Next day a friend came along and said : " Let 
 us go out and take a glass of toddy ? " He wanted you to 
 take it as medicine. 1 remember once, I heard of a man m 
 this particular state ; and when he saw brandy and water be- 
 fore him, he said: "No, sir; I wouhl rather take Epsom 
 
88 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCOUBSES. 
 
 salts." And why? Because the habit is not yet formed 5 
 the habit is not yet confirmed. But go on, my friend. Do 
 not mind that. When that headache and that first sickness 
 go away, go on 5 and after awhile, when you have learned 
 to drink, the headache does not trouble you any more ; you 
 get used to it 5 the poison assimilates to the system ; — but 
 the habit is comej the physical weakness is gone, and 
 the habit of sin is come. Now, I would like to see you, 
 if you were drunk yesterday evening, to be able to resist 
 " taking your morning." You could not do it ? I have seen 
 a man, I was at his bedside, and the doctor was there 
 after taking him over six long days of delirium tremens ; 
 and the doctor said to him, " As sure as God created 
 you, if you take brandy or whiskey for the next week, you 
 will be a dead maii ! It will kill you ! " I was present ; I 
 was trying to see if the poor fellow would go to confes- 
 sit)n. There was the bottle of brandy near him on the 
 table ; for they had had to give him brandy. And while the 
 doctor was yet speaking to hiui, I saw his eyes fastened on it, 
 and the hand creepiiig up towards it 5 and if ever you saw a 
 hungry horse or mule looking at oats, it was he, when, with 
 his eyes devouring the bottle, he reached out, clutched it, 
 and put it to his head, after hearing that, as sureh^ as God 
 made him, so surely would he die if he drank of it ! He 
 could not help it. Where, then, was that man's freedom "? 
 It had perished in the habit of sin. Look at Holofernes, as 
 we read of him in Scripture, — the profane, the impure man ! 
 What does the Scripture say of him ? That when Judith 
 came into his tent, the moment he looked upon her, the 
 moment he cast his eyes upon the woman, he loved her. He 
 could not help it. His senses had enslaved him. His will ! 
 He had no will. Speak to me of the freedom of the will of a 
 thirsty animal going to the water to drink, and I may believe 
 it. Speak to me of the freedom of will of a raging lion, 
 hungering for days, and seeing food and leaving it, and I 
 will believe in it as soon as 1 will believe in the freedom 
 of the will of the man who has enslaved himself in the 
 habit of sin. 
 
 Therefore, Almighty God intends either that we should 
 be free from sin alt(jgether, keeping down-the habit of all 
 those passions ; or if they, from time to time, rise up, taking 
 us unawareS; taking us off om" feet^ not to yield to them, but 
 
TUE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 39 
 
 to cliain tliein down again, and not by indulgence to make 
 tliem grow into habits. 
 
 Now, the e.^sence of freedom in tlie will of man lies not in 
 tlie restraint of legitimate authority but in the freedom from 
 all care, and from those powers and influences that neither 
 God, nor man, nor society intended should influence or govern 
 his will. Here I come home again to the subject of my 
 lecture. Now I invite you again to consider where shall we 
 find the means of emancipating our will from these passions 
 and other bad influences '? Where shall we find the means ? 
 Will knowledge do it? No. Will faith do it! No. It is a 
 strange thing to say, but knowledge, no matter how extensive, 
 no matter how profound, gives no command over the passions ; 
 no intellectual motives influence them. ^' Were it forme," 
 says a great orator of the present day, Dr. Wilberforce, in 
 his " Earnest Cry for a Reformation j " "when you can moor 
 a vessel with a thread of silk, then you may hope to elevate 
 this human knowledge, and, by human reason, to tie down 
 and restrain those giants — the passions and the pride of 
 man." I know as much of the law of God as any among 
 you — more probably than many — for we are to teach it. 
 Does my knowledge save me from sin ? Will that knowledge 
 keep me in the observance of the sacred vows I took at the 
 altar of God ? Is it to that knowledge that I look for the 
 power and strength within me to keep every sinful passion 
 down in sacerdotal purity — every grovelling desire down in 
 monastic poverty — every sin — every feeling of pride down, in 
 religious obedience? Is it to my knowledge I look for that 
 power ? No : I might know as much as St. Augustine, and 
 yet be imperfect. 1 might be a Pilate in atrocity, and yet 
 as proud a man ! There is another question involving the 
 great necessity of keeping down these passions. I would 
 like to know where, in history, you could find a single 
 evidence of knowledge restraining the passions of man, and 
 purifying him. No ; the grace of God is necessary — the 
 grace of God coming through fixed, specific channels to 
 the soul. The actual participation of the holiness and the 
 iuliuite sanctity of Christ is ne(;essary. Where is that 
 to be found? Where is that to be found that will save 
 the young from -falling into sin, and save the sinner from 
 the slavery of the habit of sin? Where is that to be 
 found which will either tie down the passions altogether, or, 
 
40 FATHER BURKES DISCOURSES. 
 
 if they ocCcasionally rise up, put tliem down again and not 
 allow tliem to grow into the gigantic, tyrannical strength of 
 habit ? Where, but in the Catholic Church "? Take, for 
 example, the Sacrament of Penance. These children are 
 taught, with the opening of reason, their duty to God. You 
 may say the Church is very unreasonable, because to-day she 
 tells you that she will not allow these children to go to your 
 common schools, or to any other schools where they are not 
 taught of God — where they are not taught the holiness of 
 God, the things of God, the influence of God, mixed up with 
 every addition of knowledge that comes to their minds. You 
 may say the Church is unreasonable in that. No : because 
 she tries to keep them from sin ? She tries to give them the 
 strength that will bind these passions down, so as to make 
 moral men, truthful men, pure-minded men of them, — and to 
 give them complete victory, if possible, over these pas- 
 sions. But if, as age comes on, as temptations come 
 on, if the Catholic man goes and gets drunk, if the 
 Catholic man falls into any sin, this or that one, at once 
 the Church comes before him, and at the moment he 
 crosses the threshold of the sanctuary, and his eyes 
 fall upon the confessional, that moment he is reminded of the 
 admonition, " Come to me ! and wash your soul in the blood 
 of the Lamb ! Come and tell your sin ! " The very con- 
 sciousness of the knowledge of having to confess that sin 5 
 the humiliation of being obliged to tell it in all its details — 
 to tell it with so much self-accusation, and sense of self-de- 
 gradation for having committed it, — is, in itself, a strong check 
 to prevent it, and a strong, powerful influence, even humanly 
 speaking, against again falling into it, or repeating it. As the 
 confessional saves from the tyranny of the passions, and above 
 all, breaks up the means and does not allow the habit of sin 
 to become a second nature in the life of man, what is the 
 consequence ? The Catholic man, if he only observes his re- 
 ligion, if he only exercises himself in its duties, if he only 
 ^oes to confession, if he onl}^ partakes in its Sacraments and 
 uses them ; the Catholic man is free in his will, by Divine 
 grace, as he is free in his intelligence, by love. Knowledge 
 of the truth is freedom of the intellect — freedom from every 
 agency, from every power that might control the freedom of 
 the will ; — and that is effected })y"Divine grace. So far, we 
 have seen that Almighty God has reproduced in the Church 
 
THE CHUnCU THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 41 
 
 the elements of true freedom. I do not say that the Catholic 
 Chm'ch was the "• mother " of human freedom. I said she was 
 '' the foster-mother ; " for, to use a familiar phrase, we are lit- 
 erally and truly '^ put out to nurse," as it were, to the Church. 
 The freedom which we possess came to us, not from the 
 Church, but from Cod. He came down from Heaven, after 
 man had been four thousand years in sin — after man had 
 lost his noble inheritance of knowledge, of light, of freedom, 
 and power, and self-restraint. He came in the darkness ; and 
 He gave the light. He came in slavery ; and he gave free- 
 dom. Having thus restored in man what he had lost in 
 Adam, He then, as He himself tells us in the parable of the 
 Good Samaritan, gave us to the Church, and said — " Take 
 care of this race ; presei-ve them in this light of knowledge 
 and freedom of truth. Presence them till I come back again, 
 and I will pay thee well for thy care." Now, my friends, if 
 there were one here to-night who is not a Catholic, he might 
 smile in his own soul and say : " This Fnar is a very cunning 
 fellows He dresses up things plausibly enough so long as 
 he is arguing in the clouds about freedom and the elements 
 of freedom, and the soil of freedom. He is quite at home 
 there. But when he comes down from the clouds to find 
 how this Church, this temble Church, this enslaving Church, 
 has dealt with society, then let him look out ! Then let us 
 hear what he has to say for himself ! " 
 
 Again, what are those charges that are laid against the 
 Catholic Church ? The first charge alleged against her is 
 that she does not allow people to read every thing that is 
 published. It is quite true. If the Church had her will, 
 there are a great many books, that are considered now by 
 many people very nice reading, that would all be put in the 
 fire. I acknowledge that ; I admit it. Tell me, my friends, 
 — and are there not a great many fathers of families among 
 you ? — if one of you found with your little boy some black- 
 guard book, some filthy, vile, immoral book, would you let 
 your child read it ? Would you consider that you were en- 
 slaving his mind by taking that book from him and putting 
 it in the fire before his face? If you found one of your 
 sons reading some very beautiful passage of Voltaire, in 
 which he makes a laughing-stock of faith, and tries to raise 
 a laugh against Christ on the cross, would you consider 
 you were doing badly for yoiu' child — would you consider 
 
42 FA TREE B URKKS DISCO URSES. 
 
 yourself eiislavin<^ him — by taking that book from liim and 
 putting it in tlie fire ? 
 
 Now, tliis is what the Catholic Church does. She declares 
 that people have no right to read that which is against faith 
 and morals 5 that whicli is against the truth of Christ; that 
 which is against the divinity of Christ — that in which the 
 pride of the unregenerated mind of man rises up and says : ^^ I 
 will not believe : " and, not content with this, he writes a book, 
 and tries to make everybody believe and say the same thing. 
 The Church says : " Do not read it." There are some whom 
 she allows to read it. She lets me read it. She lets my fel- 
 low-priests read it. Sometimes she even obliges us to read it. 
 Why ? Because she knows we have knowledge enough to see 
 the falsity of it, and she allows us to read it that we may re- 
 fute it. She does not allow you to read it. And why ? I do 
 not care to flatter you, my friends. Nothing is more com- 
 monly used to lead people astray than a plausible lie. I de- 
 clare to you that, although I think '' the truth is great and 
 must prevail ; " that if I had my choice given to me, and I 
 could do it without sin, — if it were given to me to come out 
 and try to enforce the truth or to make you believe a lie — I 
 really believe I would be able sooner to do the second ; it is 
 so nmch easier for us to flatter — especially with a lie to flatter 
 your pride — to tell you you are the finest fellows in the w^orld 
 — to tell you you must not be governed by a certain class — 
 that you must not ha paying taxes ; — tliat you have no right to 
 support an army and navy ; — that you have no right to pay a 
 class of men to govern you; — and thus they go on, playing 
 into your hands, playing on your love of money and your love 
 of yourself. There is no lie among the whole catalogue of 
 lies that, if I were like them, I would not tell you ; and I 
 could make you believe it. The Church says: ^' There is, in 
 a certain book, an immoral lesson or a lie, and I will not 
 allow my children to read it." There are books published, 
 and I have seen them in the hands of Protestant boys and 
 girls, and the ver}^ Pope of Rome has not leave to read them. 
 They are books that contain direct appeals to immorality, 
 direct appeals to the passions — books against both faith and 
 morals, that the Church does not allow to be read by any 
 one. But is this slavery ? 
 
 But the argument against Catholicity is that the men who 
 make scientific discoveries — the men who said that the world 
 
THE CnVBCH THE MOTHEB OF LIBERTY. 43 
 
 was round, for instance, — men wlio said that the world was 
 round when it was geuenilly V>elieved to be a great flat plain, 
 — were put in prison. There is one answer to that : There 
 is not a sini^le instance in history of the Church joining issue 
 with any minister on any purely scientific subject, and perse- 
 cuting him for it. If there was not any question of faith or 
 morals involved, she bade him '^ God speed ! '' and told 
 him to go on with his discoveries, if there was any thing 
 useful in them, and nothing hostile to religion in them. 
 I will give you an instance : In the sixth century there was an 
 Irish Saint who was called Yirgilius — (in his own country his 
 name was Feargil) — and this man was a great Culdee monk, 
 and a great scholar. The result of his speculations was that 
 he became satisfied in his own mind that this world was a 
 globe — round — as it is, — and that there must, therefore, be an- 
 tipodes — one on this side and one on the other side, and that 
 there must be seas between one land and another. He an- 
 nounced this ; and it came among the scientific men of the day, 
 and fell among them, really and truly, as if a bombshell had 
 ■ burst at their feet. The scholars of \he day, the universities 
 of the day, appealed to Rome against him for having pro- 
 nounced so fearful a theory : they said it was heresy. What 
 did the Pope dof Remember, you can consult tlie authorities 
 for vourselves. I can give you chapter and verse, if you want 
 them. What did that Pope do % He summoned this man 
 to Rome. He said: ''You are charged with teaching 
 a strange doctrine, — with saying that the world is a 
 gpliere— a globe. Tell us all about it'?'' He did so. 
 What answer did Feargil get ! The Poi)e took him by the 
 hand. " Mv dear friend," he said, "go on with your astro- 
 nomical discoveries ;"— and he made him Archbishop of 
 Salzburg, and sent him home with a mitre on his head. 
 This is how the Catholic Church dealt with intellectual 
 Jil^ertv when that intellectual liberty did not claim_ for itself 
 anv thing bad, and was void of any thing that interfered 
 with or was opposed to Christian faith or morals. Do you 
 wish to make us out slaves because we ought not to get a 
 knowledj^e of evil ? One of the theories of the day is that it 
 is better lo let little boys and girls read every thing, good 
 and bad ; to know every thing. Is it better? Do you think 
 you know better than Almighty God ? There was one tree in 
 the garden of Eden, and Ahnighty God gave a commandment 
 
44 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 to Adam and Eve, that they should neither taste of it nor touch 
 it. "What tree was it ? It was the ^'tree of the knowledge of 
 good and evil.'' Did Almighty God intend to exclnde from 
 Adam the knowledge of good ! Ko 5 but He intended to ex- 
 clude from liim the fatal knowledge of evil. A prohibition 
 against reading a very bad book was the first and only prohi- 
 bition that Almighty God gave to the first man. "Do not 
 touch that tree," said He, '' because, if you do, you will come 
 to the knowledge of that which is evil." " When ignorance 
 is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." So says Pope. 
 
 Now, my friends, who are they that make this charge 
 against the Catholic Church, that she enslaves her children ? 
 Who are they that tell us that the historical mother of all the 
 great universities in the old world is afraid of knowledge ? 
 Who are they who tell us that the Church, whose monks, in 
 her cloisters, preserved art and science for a thousand years — 
 preserved all the ancient relics that we have of ecclesiastical 
 learning, and of the learning of Greece and Rome ;— that 
 Church that set her monks, her alchemists, and students 
 experimentalizing in their cloisters, in the Middle Ages, until 
 most of what are called the modern discoveries were made or 
 anticipated by them ; — who are they who tell us that the 
 Church is the enemy of light and knowledge and of freedom? 
 Who are they? They are the Freemasons of the day. 
 Freemasons. 
 
 Now, you will allow me, if you please, to retort the asser- 
 tion on my friends the Masons — Mazzini and Garibaldi and 
 Bismarck; — for all these are Freemasons. They all say: 
 '' Oh, let us wash our hands clean of this old institution — 
 the Catholic Church. She would make slaves of us all. We 
 must give the people freedom ; we must give them liberty." 
 And then they lay on taxation. Then they tell every citi- 
 zen in the land that he must lay aside his spade and become 
 a soldier. They tell every man who is eighteen years of age,- 
 that he is to fight for freedom ; and they thrust him into the 
 army. Call you this freedom "? Yet this is what they give 
 for the liberty of the Church ! Are they free themselves, 
 these Freemasons ? I will give you one answer — and one is 
 as good as a thousand. Last December twelvemonth, when 
 I was in the city of Dublin, a man came to me. He had 
 attended a series of sermons I was preaching in our church 
 there. He w^as an intellectual man, a well-educated man. 
 
THE CnUECH THE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 45 
 
 He came to me and said : " I ought to be a Catholic ; but 
 the fact of it is, I have been so h)ng' away from the Sacra- 
 ments and every thing religious that I can scarcely say I 
 am, even in name, a Catholic. But now," he says, " I feel 
 and I know that I must do something to save my soul." 
 Well, I took him, and instructed him in the holy Sacraments, 
 gave him the Holy Communion, and sent him away. He 
 said that he had never, for years upon years, known such 
 happiness ; and he went on his way. That man received 
 Confirmation, and was constant in his duty from December 
 until the month of April. Then I waited for him ; but, in- 
 stead of his coming, he wrote a letter to me. ^' My Rev. 
 friend," he said, ^' you will, no doubt, be disappointed to find 
 I am not coming to you on Saturday. The fact of it is, I 
 cannot come. I find that I cannot shake off Freemasonry. 
 I have got several notices from my Masonic brethren that I 
 must either adhere to them or give up my religion. My 
 religion has brought me more happiness than I ever experi- 
 enced in my life, and it is with bitter regret I tell you that 
 my business is falling off; that they are turning away my 
 customers from me ; — and they tell me they will bring me to 
 a beggar's grave — a wretched end ; and they can and will 
 do it. Therefore I hope you will not forget me; but I must 
 give up the happiness I have had ! " Was that man free, I 
 ask you ? 
 
 Who are the men who turn round and tell me I am not 
 heQ ? — who tell me I am not free, because, indeed, I am not 
 fettered like a slave, bound by every filthy passion ! Who 
 are they that tell me I am not free, because I do not, of my 
 own free will, incline myself and pollute my mind with every 
 species of evil and impurity! Who are they who tell me I 
 am not free, because in the Church I have to believe that 
 what she teaches is true ? But I tell them it is true. Who 
 are the gentlemen who told my friend that, at the peril of 
 his life, he must return to them, and give up his religion? 
 These are the men who turn round, nowadays, and tell us 
 that in the Catholic Church a man is not free ! But this is 
 the Church that has brought me from the slavery of sin into 
 the freedom of Ood, and the glorious liberty of an heir of 
 Heaven. As long as you pursue any scientific research, as 
 long as yon extend your mind in any legitimate, healthy, 
 moral course of literatm-C; or in any intellectual pursuit, you 
 
46 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 liave the blessing and enconrageinent of tlie Church upon you, 
 Do not mind the worhi if it call you a slave. If yoa come 
 to a certain point, if you read certain hooks, the Church says 
 you must become either an impure man or an infidel. Do not 
 read them, in God's name ! It is not slavery for the intellect 
 to repudiate a lie. It is not slavery for the will to reject that 
 which, if once accepted, asserts the dominion of the slavery 
 of sin and of habit over the souls of men. This do I say 
 with truth : that our mother, the Church, in the piinciples 
 which our Lord established, in her daih' sacerdotal exercises, 
 is the foster-mother of human freedom. It is a historical 
 and a remarkable fact, that the kings of Europe — the King 
 of Spain, the Emperor of Germany, the King of England, 
 the King of France — exercised the most absolute and irre- 
 sponsible power precisely at the time wdien the Catholic Church 
 was weakened in her influence over them by the heresy of 
 Martin Luther. It is most remarkable that so absolute in 
 England was Henry the Eighth, (and never was there a 
 king whose absolute manner of governing and whose conduct 
 recalls more the days of the Grand Turk,) that he married a 
 woman one day, he killed her the next ; and who was to 
 call .him to account ? So absolute a king could not have 
 done this as a Catholic ; and he threw- aside his allegiance. 
 If a Catholic king had done these things — if Henry's father 
 had done them — if any one of Henry's Catholic predecessors 
 had done so, his excommunication would have come from 
 Rome. He would have been afraid of his life to do it. He 
 would have been afraid of the Pope. What was this but 
 securing the people's liberty ? 
 
 Thus do we see that, so long as the Catholic Church had 
 power to exercise, and exercised that power, she exercised it to 
 coerce kings into justice, into respect for their subjects and 
 for law, for property and for life. This is a historical fact, 
 that the Tudors assumed an absolute sovereignty as soon as 
 they shook ofi the Pope, and declared to the people that they 
 W'Cre the lords and rulers of the consciences, as well as of the 
 civil obedience of men. We also know that Gustavus, the 
 Protestant King of Sweden, assumed absolute power. We 
 also know that that power grew into iron fetters under 
 Charles the Fifth, who, thougirnot a Protestant himself, but 
 a good Catholic, yet governed a people who were divided in 
 their principles of allegiance^ and he forsook the world for 
 
THE CnURCR TEE MOTHER OF LIBERTY. 47 
 
 the Clinrch. ^Ye can bring home history to prove that the 
 weakening of the Catholic Chnrch in her temporal power 
 over society has been the cause of the assumption of more 
 power, more absolute dominion, and more tyrannical exercise 
 of that dominion on the part of. every ruler in Europe. And, 
 therefore, I say that, historically, as well as in principle, the 
 Catholic Church is the foster-mother of human liberty. 
 
 And now, my friends, you will be able, by word of mouth, 
 to answer all those who call you slaves because you are 
 Catholics. You may as well call a man a slave because he 
 obeys his father. You may as well say the child is a slave 
 because there are certain laws and rules that govern him. 
 You may as well say that the citizen is a slave because he 
 acknowledges the poi\'er of the State to legislate for him, and 
 he bows to the power of that legislation. 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER AND INSPIRATION 
 OF ART. 
 
 I A Lecture delivered by the Very Rev. T. N. Burke, O.P., in the 
 Church of St. Vincent Ferrer, 2seio York, March 10, 1872. ] 
 
 Deaklt Beloved Brethren : This morning I told you 
 tlie Holy Catholic Church was the spouse of the Lord Jesus 
 Christ, so described to us in Scripture as " dear to the Lord," 
 the interior beauty of which the Psalmist says is " like tlie 
 beauty of the king's daughter," and of the exterior of which 
 he spoke when he said : '^ The queen stood at His right 
 hand, in golden garb, surrounded with variety." We 
 saw^, moreover, this morning, that the interior beauty and 
 ineffable loveliness of the Churcli consists, above all, in this, 
 that she holds enshrined in her tabernacles the Lord, the 
 Redeemer of the world, as the Blessed Virgin Mary, His 
 mother, held Him in her arras in Bethlehem, as the cross sup- 
 ported Hira on Mount Calvary ; that she possesses His ever- 
 lasting truth, which He left as her inheritance, and which it is 
 her destiny not only to hold, but to proclaim and propagate 
 to all the nations ; and, finally, that she holds in her hands 
 the sacramental power and agencies by which souls are sanc- 
 rified, purified, and saved. In these three features we saw 
 the beauty of the Church of God ; in these three we beheld 
 how the mystery of the Incarnation is perpetuated in her, for 
 Christ our Lord did not for ever depart from earth, but, ac- 
 cording to His own word, came back and remained. '• I will 
 not leave you orphans," He said, " but I will come to you 
 again, and I will remain with you all days, even to the con- 
 summation of the world." We see in these three w^onderful 
 features of the Church's interior beauty how she is truly 'Hhe 
 city of the Living Ood," '^ the abode of grace and holiness ;" 
 and, therefore, that all the majesty, all the beauty, all the 
 material grandeur with which it is in our power to invest her, 
 it becomes our duty to give to her, that she may thus appear 
 before the eves of men a fittino* tabernacle for our Divine 
 
THE CHUBCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 49 
 
 Lord Himself. "We have seen, moreover, how the Church 
 of Gorl, acting upon the instincts of her divinely infused life 
 and perpetual charity, has always endeavored to attest and 
 to proclaim her faith by surrounding the object of that Faith, 
 her God, with all that earth holds as most precious and most 
 dear. I then told you (if you remember) this mornino-, that 
 the snbject for our evening s consideration would be the ex- 
 terior beauty of the Holy Church of God — some otiier fea- 
 tures that belong to her distinct from, though not independent 
 of, the three great singular graces of God's abiding presence, 
 of God's infallible truth, and of the unceasing stream of sac- 
 ramental grace that, through her, flows onward : — those 
 features of divine beauty which we recognize upon the face of 
 our Holy Mother, the Church. Therefore, dearly beloved, 
 the things that are indicated by the exterior garb with which 
 the Prophet invested the spouse of Christ : " The queen stood 
 on the right hand, in golden garb, suiTounded with variety," — 
 every choicest gem, every celestial form of beauty embroid- 
 ered upon the heavenly clothing of Heaven's Queen, every 
 rarest jewel let into the setting of that golden garment, every 
 brightest color shining forth upon her. 
 
 What is this exterior beauty of the Church ? I answer 
 that it consists in many things — in mau}^ influences — in the 
 many ways in w^hich she has acted upon -society. Ever 
 faithful to the cause of God and to the cause of humanity, — 
 ever faithful to her heavenly trust, — after more than eighteen 
 hundred years of busy life, she stands to-day before the 
 world, and no man can fix upon her virgin brow the shame 
 of deception, the shame of cruelty, the shame of the denial 
 of the food of man's real life, the Word of Truth. No man 
 can put upon her the taint of dishonor, of a compromise with 
 hell or with error, or with any power that is hostile to the . 
 sovereignty of God or to the interests of man. Many, indeed, 
 are the ways in which the Church of God has operated upon 
 society. Of these many ways, I have selected as the subject 
 for our evening's illustration, the power reposed in the 
 Catholic Church, and attested by undoubted historical evi- 
 dences, — the power which she exercised as the mother and 
 inspirer of the fine arts. And, here, let me first of all say, 
 that, besides the useful and necessary arts which occupy men 
 in their daily' life, — the arts that C(msist in maintaining the 
 essential necessaries, and in providing the comforts of life; 
 
 3 
 
50 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES: 
 
 the arts that result in smoothing away all the difficulties 
 that meet us in our path in life, as far as the hand of man 
 can materially affect this ; — besides these useful and necessary 
 arts, there are others which are not necessary for 
 our existence, — ^nor, perhaps, even for our comfort, — but 
 wdiich are necessary to meet the spiritual cravings and 
 aspirations of the human soul, and that fling a grace 
 around ourselves. There are arts and sciences which 
 elevate the mind, soothe the heart, and captivate the under- 
 standing and the imagination of man. These are called '' the 
 fine arts." For instance : it is not necessary for your life or 
 for mine that our eyes should rest with pleasure upon some 
 beautiful painting. Without that we could live. Without 
 that we could have all that is necessary for our existence — 
 for om- daily comfort. Yet, how refining, how invigorating, 
 how pleasing to the eye, and to the soul to which that eye 
 speaks, is the language that appeals to us silently, yet elo- 
 quently, as from the lips of a friend, from works of architec- 
 ture, or sculptiu-e, or painting ! It is not necessary for our 
 lives, nor for the comfort of our lives, if you will, that our 
 ears should be charmed with the sweet notes of melodious 
 music 5 but is there one among us that has not, at some time 
 or other, felt his soul within him soothed, and the burden of 
 his sorrow lightened, the pleasure he enj^Dyed increased and 
 enhanced, when music, with its magic spell, fell upon his ear? 
 It is not necessary for our lives that our eyes should be 
 charmed with the sight of some grand majestic building; 
 but who, among us, is there who has not felt the emotion of 
 sadness swell wathin him as he looked upon the ivy-clad 
 ruin of some ancient church I Who is there among us 
 that has not, at some time or other, felt the softening, refin- 
 ing, though saddening influences that crept over him when, 
 entering within some time-honored ruin of an abbey, he beheld 
 the old lance-shaped windows, through which came streams 
 of sunshine like the " light of other days ; " and beheld the 
 ancient tracery on that w4iich stood behind the high altar, 
 and had once been filled with legends of angels and saints, 
 but now open to every breeze of heaven ; — \\ hen he looked 
 upon the place as that in which his imagination pictm'ed to 
 him holy bishops and mitred abbots officiating there and 
 offering up the unbloody sacrifice, while the vaulted arches 
 and long-drawn aisles resounded wdth the loud hosannas of 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 51 
 
 the long-lost monastic song ? Who is there among us who 
 has not felt, at times, elevated, impressed, — aye, tilled with 
 strono- feelings of delight, — as his eye roamed steadily and 
 gradually up to the apex of some grand cathedral, resting 
 upon niches of saints and angels, and gliding from beauty 
 to beauty, until, at length straining his vision, he beheld, 
 high among the clouds of heaven, the saving sign of the 
 Cross of Christ, upheld in triumph, and flinging its sacred 
 shadow over the silent graves I It is thus these arts, called 
 the Liberal or the Fine Arts, fill a great place, and accom- 
 plish a great work in the designs of Cod, and in the history 
 of God's Holy Church. 
 
 ]\Iy friends', the theme which I have propounded to you 
 contains two grave truths. The first of these is this : I claim 
 for the Catholic Church that she is the mother of the arts ; 
 secondly, I claim for her the glory that she has been and is 
 their highest inspiration. AVhat is it that forms the peculiar 
 attraction, that creates the peculiar influence of art upon the 
 soul of man, through his senses "? What is it that captivates 
 the eye ? It is the ideal that speaks to him through art. In 
 nature there are many beautiful things, and we contemplate 
 them with joy, with delight ; — the faint blushes of the morn- 
 ing, as the rising sun, with slanting beams, glides over the 
 hills and through the glades, filling the valleys with rosy light, 
 and revealing the slopes of the hillsides, so luxuriant and so 
 bold, rising up towards the majestic, towering mountains, 
 flinging the shadows of their snow-crowned summits to Heaven. 
 All this is grand, all this is beautiful. But, in nature, — because 
 it is nature, — the perfectly beautiful is rarely or never found. 
 Some one thing or other is wanting that would lend an addi- 
 tional feature of loveliness to the scene which we contemplate, 
 or to the theme, the hearing of which delights us. Now^, the 
 aim of the Catholic soul of art is to take the beautiful, wher- 
 ever it is found, to abstract it from all that might deform it, 
 or to add all that might be wanting to its perfect beauty ; to 
 add to it every feature and every element that can fulfil the 
 human idea of perfect loveliness, and to fling over all the still 
 higher loveliness which is caught from Heaven. This is 
 called " the Ideal" in art. We rarely find it in nature. Do 
 we often find it in art ? We do not find that perfect beauty 
 in the things around us. We look upon a picture, and there 
 we behold portrayed, with supreme power, all the glory of the 
 
52 FATHER BURKE S DISCOURSES. 
 
 light that the sun can lend from Heaven — all the glory of 
 material beauty ; — but in vain do we look for inspiration. It 
 is dead form and color. It has no soul. Among the ancient 
 nations — the great fountains of the ancient civilization — 
 Egypt, Assyria, Greece, and, finally, Home, — during the 
 four thousand years that went before the coming of the 
 Redeemer, — these arts and sciences flourished. We have 
 still the remains of the Coliseum, for instance, in Rome, 
 combining vastness of proportion with perfect symmetry ; 
 and the mind is oppressed at the immensity of size, while 
 the eye is charmed with the beauty of proportion. But, in 
 the fourth and fifth centuries, — after the foundation of the 
 Church, — after the promulgation of the Christian religion, — 
 ■when the Roman Empire had bowed down her imperial^ head 
 before the glory of the cross of Christ, — it was in the de- 
 signs of God that all that ancient civilization, all these ancient 
 arts and sciences, should be broken up and perish. Erom 
 Egypt, Syria, and the far East they came ; their glory concen- 
 trated itself in Greece ; and later, and most of all, in Rome. 
 All the wealth of the world was gathered into Rome. All the 
 glory of earth was centralized in Rome. Whatever the world 
 knew of painting, of sculpture, of architecture, of music, was 
 found in Rome, in the highest perfection to which the ancient 
 civilization had brought it. Then came the moment when 
 the Church was to enter upon her second mission, — that of 
 creating a new w^orld and a new civilization. Then came the 
 moment when Rome and her ancient empire gravitated to a 
 climax by her three hundred years of religious persecution of 
 the Chm'ch of God, and her crimes were about to be expiated. 
 Then came the time when God's designs became apparent. 
 Even as the storm-cloud bursts forth and sweeps the earth in 
 its resistless force, so, in these centuries of which I speak, 
 from the fastnesses of the Xorth came forth di"eadful 
 hordes of barbarians — men without civilization, men with- 
 out religion — men without mercy — men without a writ- 
 ten language — men without a history — men without a 
 single refining element of 'faith among them ; — and they 
 came, Goths and Visigoths, Huns and Vandals, sweeping 
 onward in their resistless might, — almost countless thousands of 
 warriors, carrying slavery and destruction in their hands ; — 
 and thus they swept over the Western world. R(vme v/ent 
 down before them. All her glory departed ] and so the civ- 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 53 
 
 ilization of Greece and Rome was completely destroyed. 
 Society was overtlirowiij and reduced to tlie first chaotic ele- 
 ments of its being*. Every art, every science, every si)lendid 
 monu^ient of tlie ancient world was destroyed ; and, at the 
 close of the fifth century, the work of the four thousand pre- 
 ceding years had to be done over again. Mankind was re- 
 duced to its primal elements of V)arbarism. Languages never 
 before heard, barbaric voices, were lifted up in the halls of the 
 ancient palaces of Italy, and in the Forum of Home. All the 
 splendors of the Roman Empire disappeared, and, with them, 
 almost every vestige of the ancient arts and civilization of 
 the preceding times. No power of earth was able to with- 
 stand the hordes of Attila. No army was able to make front 
 against them. All went down before them, save and except 
 one — one organization, one power in the world, — one power, 
 founded by Christ and compacted by the very hand of God ; 
 — founded upon an immovable foundation of knowledge and 
 of truth ; — one power which, for divine purposes, was allowed a 
 respite from persecution for a few years, in order that she 
 might be able to present to the flood of barbarism that swept 
 away the ancient civilization, a compact and well-lormed 
 body, able to react upon it ; — and that power was the 
 Holy Church of God. She boldly met the assault ; she 
 stemmed the tide j she embraced and absorbed in herself 
 nation after nation, million after million of those rude chil- 
 dren of the Northern shores and forests. She took them, rough 
 and barbarous as they were, to her bosom ; and, at the end of • 
 the fifth century, the Church of God began her exterior, 
 heroic mission of civilizing the world, and laying the 
 foundations of modern civilization and of modern societ}^. 
 
 So it went on until the day when the capital of Rome was 
 shrouded in flames, and the ancient monuments of her pride, 
 of iier glory, and of her civilization, were ruined and fell j and 
 almost every vestige of the ancient arts disappeared. The 
 Church, on the one hand, addressed herself, rirst and most 
 immediately, to the Christianizing of these Northern nations. 
 Therein lay her divine niissi(tn ; therein lay the purpose for 
 which she \vas created — to teach them the truths of God. 
 "While she did this she carefully gathered together all that 
 remained of the traditions of ancient Pagan science and art. 
 While all over Europe the greater part of the nations were 
 engaged in the wai' between Northern barbansm and civil- 
 
54 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 ization, and the land was one great battle-field, overflowing 
 with blood, the Church gathered into her arms all that she 
 conld lay her hands on, of ancient literature, of ancient science 
 and art,' and retired with them into her cloisters. Every- 
 where over the whole face of Europe, and in Africa and*Asia, 
 — everywhere the monk was the one man of learning, — the 
 one man who brought with him, into his cloister, the devotion 
 to God that involved the sacrifice of his life, the devotion to 
 man that considers a neighbor's good, and makes civilization 
 and refinement the purpose and study of his life. Where, 
 to-day, would be the literature of ancient Greece and Rome, 
 if the Church of God, the Catholic Church, had not gathered 
 their remnants into her cloisters? Where, to day, would be 
 (humanly speaking) the very Scriptures themselves, if these 
 monks oi old had not taken them, and made the transcribing 
 of them, and multiplying copies of them, the business of 
 their lives ? And so, all that the Avorld has of science, of 
 art, — all that the world has of tradition — of music, of painting, 
 of architecture — all that the world has of the arts of Greece 
 and Rome, was treasured up for a thousand years in the 
 cloisters of the Catholic Church. 
 
 And, now, her twofold mission began. While her 
 preachers evangelized, — while they followed the armies of 
 the Vandal and the Goth, from field to field, and back to 
 their fastnesses of the North ; while they converted those 
 rude and teiiible sons of the forest into meek, pure-minded 
 Christians, upon the one hand, on the other the Church took 
 and applied all the arts, all the sciences, all the human agen- 
 cies that she had, — and they were powerful, — to the civiliz- 
 ing and refining of these barbarous men. Then it was that 
 in the cloisters there sprang up, created and fostered by the 
 Church of God, the fair and beautiful arts of painting, music, 
 and architecture. I say created in the Church. There are 
 manv among you as well informed as I am in the history of 
 our civilization ; and I ask you to consider that, among the 
 debris of the ruin of ancient Rome and of ancient Greece, — 
 although we possess noble monuments of the ancient archi- 
 tecture, — we have only the faintest tradition of their music, 
 or their paintings ? Scarcely any thing. I have visited the 
 ruined cities of Italy. I have stood within the walls of 
 Ostium, at the mouth of the Tiber, when, after hundreds of 
 years, for the first time the earth was removed, and the ancient 
 
TEE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 55 
 
 temples were revealed again. The painting is gone, and 
 nothing but the faintest outline remains. Still less of the 
 music of the ancients have we. We do not know what the 
 music of ancient Greece or of ancient Rome was. All we 
 know is that, among the ancient Greeks, there was a dull 
 monotone or chorus, struck into an alternating strain. What 
 the nature of their music was we know not. Of their 
 sculpture, we have abundant remains ; and, indeed, on this it 
 may be said that there has not been any modem art which 
 has equalled, scarcely approached, the perfection of the 
 ancient Grecian model. But the three sciences of architec- 
 ture, painting, and music, have all sprung from the cloisters 
 of the Church. What is the source of all greal; modern 
 song ? When the voice of the singer was hushed everywhere 
 else, it resounded in the Gregorian chant that pealed in loud 
 hosannas through the long-drawn aisles of the ancient Catho- 
 lic mediaeval churches. It first came from the mind — it came 
 fi'om out the lo\dng heart of the holy Pope, Gregory, him- 
 self a religious, and consecrated to God as a monk. Whence 
 came the organ, the prince, the king of all instruments, the 
 faithful type of Christianity — of the Christian congregation 
 — so varied yet so hannonious, made up of a multitude of 
 pipes and stops, each one differing from the other, yet all 
 blending together into one solemn harmony of praise, just as 
 you, who come in here before tliis altar, each one full of his 
 own motives and desires — the young, the old, — the grave, the 
 gay, — rich and poor — each with his own desire and experi- 
 ence of joy, of sorrow, or of hope, — yet before this altar, and 
 within these walls do you blend into one united and har- 
 monious act of faith, of homage, and of praise before God. 
 Whence came the king of instruments to yon, — so majestic 
 in form, so grand in its volume, — so symbolical of the wor- 
 ship which it bears aloft upon the wings of song! In the 
 cloisters of the Benedictine monks do we hear it for the 
 first time. When the wearied Crusader came home from 
 his Eastern wars, there did he sit down to refresh his soul 
 with sacred song. There, during the solemn Mass of mid- 
 night, or at the Cluirch's office at matins, — while he heard the 
 solemn, plaintive chant of the Church, while he heard the 
 low-blended notes of the accompanying organ, skilfully 
 touched by the Benedictine's hand, — then would his rugged 
 heart be melted into sorrow and the humility of Christian 
 
56 FATHER BURKES ItlSCOURSES. 
 
 forgivoncs?!. And tlnis it is the most spiritualizing and high- 
 est of all the arts and sciences — this heaven-born art of 
 music. Thus did the Church of God make her divine and 
 civilizing ajipeal ; and thus her holy influence was brought 
 GUI during those stormy and terrible times when she under- 
 took the almost impossible task of humbling the proud, of 
 purifying the unchaste, of civilizing the terrible, the fierce, 
 and the blood-stained horde of barbarians that swept, in their 
 resistless millions, over the Homan Empire. 
 
 1'he next great art which the Church cultivated in her 
 cloisters, and, which, in truth, was created by her, as it exists 
 to-day, was the art of painting. Recall the circumstances of 
 the time. Printing was not yet invented. Yet the people 
 had to be instructed, — and not only to be instructed but in- 
 fluenced ; for mere instruction is not sufiicient. The mere 
 appeal to the power of faith, or to the intellect of man, is not 
 sufficient. • Therefore did the Chinch call in the beautiful art 
 of painting ,• and the holy, consecrated monk, in his cloister, 
 developed all the originality of his genius and of his mind 
 to reproduce the captivating forms — to reproduce, in silent 
 but eloquent words, the mysteries of the Church, — the mys- 
 teries which the Church has taught from her birth. Then 
 did the mystery of the Redemption, the Incarnation of the 
 Son of God, the Angel coming down from Heaven to salute 
 Mar\', — then did all these greet the eye of the rude, unlettered 
 man, and tell him, in language more eloquent than words, 
 how much Almighty God in Heaven loved him. But it was 
 necessary for this that this art of painting should be idealized 
 to its very highest form. It was necessary that the paintei-'s 
 hand should fling round Mary's head a halo of virginity and 
 of the light of Heaven. It was necessary that the angelic 
 fonn that saluted her should have the transparency of Heaven, 
 and of its own spiritual nature, floating, as it were, through 
 it in material color. It was necessary that the atmosphere 
 that surrounded her, should be as that cloudless atmosphere 
 which is breathed before the throne of the Most High. It 
 was necessarv that the man who looked upon this should be 
 lifted up from the thoughts of earth, and engaged wholly in 
 the contemplation of objects of Heaven. Therefore, glimpses 
 of beauty the most tian seen dent, aspirations of Heaven, lift- 
 ing up the soul from all earthliness — from worldliness, — were 
 necessaiy. For all this the monk was obliged to fast and pray 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 57 
 
 while he painted. The monk was obliged to lift np his own 
 thouglits, his own imagination, his own soul, in contemplation, 
 and view, as it were, the scene which he was about to illus- 
 trate, with no earthly eye. The Church alone could do this : 
 and the Church did it. She created the art of painting. 
 There was no tradition in the Pagan world to aid the painter; 
 no beauty — the beauty of no fair forms, in all the fulness 
 of their majestic symmetry, before his eyes to inspire him. 
 He must look altogether to Heaven for his inspiration. And 
 so faithfully did he look up to Heaven's glories, and so clear 
 was the vision that the painter-monk received of the beauties 
 he depicted on earth, that, in the thirteenth century, there 
 arose, in Florence, a Dominican monk, a member of our 
 Order, beatified by his virtues, and called by the single title 
 of " The Angelic Painter." He illustrated the Holy Trinity. 
 He put before the eyes of the people all the great mysteries 
 of our faith. And now, after generations of ages, — after six 
 hundred years have passed away, — whenever a painter or 
 lover of art stands before one of those wonderful angels and 
 saints, painted by the hand of the ancient monk, now in 
 Heaven, it seems to him as if the very Angels of God had 
 descended from on high and stood before the painter while he 
 fixed their glory in colored form, as they appear to the eye of 
 the beholder. It seems as if we gazed upon the blessed 
 angelic hosts; and as if Gabriel, standing before Mary, 
 mingled the joy of the meeting with the solenmity of 
 the message which the painter represents him as announc- 
 ing. It seems as if Mary is seen receiving the message 
 of man's redemption from the Angel, not as a woman of 
 earth, but as if she was the very personification of the woman 
 that the inspired Evangelist, at Patmos, sawi, '^ clothed with 
 the sun, and the moon under her feet, and on her head a 
 crown of twelve stars." Michael Angelo, the greatest of 
 painters, gazed in wonder at the angels and saints the 
 Dominican monk had painted. Astonished he knelt <lown, 
 gave thanks to God, and said : " The man that could have 
 painted these must have seen them in Heaven ! " 
 
 The architecture of the ancient world, of Greece and of 
 Rome, remained. It was inspired by a Pagan idea, that 
 never rose above the idea that inspired it. The temples of 
 Athens and of Rome remain in all their shattered glory, 
 and in all the chaste beauty of their proportions. . Very 
 
58 FATHER BUBKE S DISCOURSES. 
 
 remarkable are they, as arcliitectnral studies, for this, — that 
 they spread themselves out, and covered as much of tlie earth's 
 space as possible ; that the pillars were low and the arches 
 low; and everything seemed to cling to and tend towards 
 earth. For this was the idea, and the highest idea of archi- 
 tecture that ever entered into the mind of the greatest of the 
 men of ancient civilization. The monk in his cloister,, 
 designing to build a temple and a house for the living God, 
 looking upon the models of ancient Greece and Rome, saw 
 in them a grovelling and an earthly architecture. His mind 
 was heavenward in aspiration. His thoughts, his affections 
 were all purified by the life which he led. Out of that up- 
 w^ard tendency of mind and heart sprang the creation — the 
 invention — the new creation — of a new style of Christian 
 architecture, which is called the Gothic : as little in it of earth 
 as may be — just sufficient to serve the purpose of a super- 
 structure. The idea was to raise it as high as possible 
 towards Heaven — to raise a monument to Almighty God — a 
 monument revealing in every detail of its architecture the 
 Divine idea, and the upward tendency of the regenerated 
 heart of the Christian man. Now, therefore, let everv arch 
 be pointed; now, therefore, let every pillar spring up as 
 loftily as a spire ; now, therefore, let every niche be filled 
 with angels and saints, — some who were tried in love — others 
 -who maintained the faith, — teaching the lesson of their sanc- 
 tity ; — now pronouncing judgment, now proclaiming mercy. 
 Now% therefore, let the high tower be uplifted, on which 
 swings the bell, consecrated b\^ the blessing of the Church, 
 to fling out upon the air around, which trembles as it receives 
 its message, the notes of Christian joy and of Christian 
 sorrow. And, high above that tower, let the slender, pointed 
 spire seek the clouds, and rear up, as near to Heaven as man 
 can go, the symbol of the Cross on which Christ redeemed 
 mankind. Such is the Church's idea ; and such is the archi- 
 tecture of which she is the mother. Thus we behold the 
 glorious churches of the middle ages. Thus we behold 
 them, in those ancient and quaint towns of Belgium and of 
 France. We behold on their transepts, for instance, a tracery 
 as fine as if it were wrought and embroidered by a woman's 
 hands, with a strength that has been able to defy the shocks 
 of war and the action of ages. If the traveller seeks the 
 sunny plains of Italy, he climbs the snow-crowned, solitary 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 59 
 
 Alps, and tliere, after his steep and mgged ascent, he beholds 
 on one side the valleys of Switzerland, with its cities and 
 lakes,- and he tnrns to the land of the noonday sun, and 
 sees before him the fair and widespread plains of Lombardy. 
 Tlie great rivers flow through these plains, and look as if 
 they were of molten silver. The air is pure ; the sky is the 
 sky of Italy. jNIajestic cities dot the plains at his feet. But, 
 among them all, as the sun flings his Italian light upon the 
 scene, — among them all, he beholds one thing that dazzles 
 his eyes with its splendor. There, far away in the plains, 
 within the gates of the vast city of Milan, he sees a palace 
 of white marble rising up from the earth j ten thousand 
 statues of Saints around it; with countless turrets, and a 
 spire with a pinnacle rising towards Heaven, as if in a riot of 
 Christian joy. The sun sparkles upon it as if it were covered 
 with the rime of a hoar frost, or as if it were made of molten 
 silver. Possibly his steps are dra-^ii tliither, and it pleases 
 him to enter the city. Never before — never, even with the 
 eye of the mind — has the traveller seen so grand an idea of 
 the sacred humanity of Jesus Christ. Here He reigns. 
 Who can deny the historical facts which I have narrated ? 
 Who can deny that, if to-day our ear is charmed with the 
 sound of mnsic — our eye delighted with the contemplation 
 of paintings, — if our hearts within ns are lifted up at the sight 
 of some noble monument of architecture, — who can denv, 
 with such facts before him, that it was the Church that 
 created these, — that she is the mother of these, — and that 
 she brought them forth from out the chaos and tlie ruin that 
 followed the destruction of the pagan civilization. 
 
 Thus, while the Church w^as their mother, she was 
 also their highest inspiration. For, remember, that the 
 zeal in art may be taken from earth, or drawn from Heaven. 
 Art may aspire to neither more nor less than ^'to hold 
 the mirror np to nature." The painter, for instance, may 
 aspire to nothing more than to render faithfully, as it is in 
 nature, a herd of cattle, or a busy scene in the town. The 
 musician may aspire to nothing more than the pleasure 
 which his music will give to the sense of the voluptuous in man. 
 The architect may aspire to nothing more than the creation, 
 •in a certain space, of a certain symmetry of proportion, and 
 a certain usefulness in the work of his hands. They may 
 " hold a mirror up to nature ; " but this is not a perfect 
 
60 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 idealization of art. The true ideal holds the mirror of its 
 representation not onl}^ up to nature, to copy that nature 
 faithfully, but — higher still — to God, to catch one ray of 
 divine inspiration, one ray of divine light, one ray of heavenly 
 instruction, and to fling that pure heavenly light over the 
 earthly productions of his art. This pious inspiration is only 
 to be found in the Catholic Church. It is found in her music 
 — those strains of hers which we call the ^' Gregorian chant," 
 — which, without producing any very great excitement or 
 pleasure, yet fall upon the ear, and, through the ear, upon the 
 soul, with' a calming, solemn influence, and seem to speak to 
 the affections in the very highest language of worship. 
 Plaintively do they fall, — yes, plaintively, — because the 
 Church of God has not yet shone over the earth in the fulness 
 of her glory : plaintively, because the object of her worship 
 is mainly to make reparation to an offended God for the 
 negligence of the sinner: plaintively, because the words 
 which this music breathes are the words of the penitent, 
 and the contrite of heart: plaintively, — because, perhaps, 
 my brethren, the highest privilege of the Christian here is a 
 holy sadness, according to the words of Him w^ho said: 
 "Blessed are they who mourn and weep, for they shall 
 be comforted." 
 
 In the lapse of years, the Church again brought forth 
 another method and gave us another school, which expresses 
 to-day the pious exultation, the riot of joy, with which, on 
 Christmas day, Palsestrina sung before Pope Marcellus in 
 Rome. Hear, for instance, the " Magnificat," as it resounds 
 within the Catholic Cathedrals at the hour of prayer. Hear, 
 for instance, some of the hymns, time-honored and ancient, 
 in which she breaks in on an Easter morning, and which she 
 sets to the words — the triumphant words — of the '^ Alleluia!" 
 Who cannot say — who is there with trained, sympathetic ear 
 who hears them, who cannot say — that the inspiration which 
 is in them is altogether of Heaven — ^heavenly : — and that it 
 lifts up the soul to the contemplation of heavenly themes, and 
 to the triumph of Jesus Christ. The highest insphation 
 comes through faith. 
 
 Let us turn to the art of painting. So long as this noble 
 art was in the hands of the Monk— the man of God — so long 
 had we masterpieces of painting, such as have never been 
 equalled by any that since came forth — masterpieces by men 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 61 
 
 who fasted and prayed, and looked upon their task, as pain- 
 ters, to be a heavenly and a holy one. We read of the 
 Blessed Angelico, the Dominican painter, whose works are 
 the o-lory of the world to-day, — we read of him, that he never 
 laid his brush to a painting of the Mother of God, or of Our 
 Lord, except on the day when he had been at Holy Com- 
 munion. We read of him that he never painted the infant 
 Jesus, or the Crucifixion, except on his knees. We read of 
 him that, while he brought out the divine sorrow in the Virgin 
 Mother for the Saviour on the cross, — while he brought out 
 the God-like tribulation of Him who suflered there, — he was 
 obliged to dash the tears from his eyes — the tears of love — 
 the tears of compassion — which produced the high inspiration 
 of his genius. Nay, ihe history of this art of painting teaches 
 us that all the great masters were eminent as religious men, 
 and that when they separated from the Church, as we see, 
 their inspiration left them. The finest pictm-es that Raphael 
 ever painted were those which he painted in his youth, while 
 his heart was yet pure, and before the admiration of the w'orld 
 had made him stain the integrity of his soul by Sin. The 
 rugged, the almost omnipotent genius of Michael Angelo 
 was that of a man deeply impressed with faith, and most 
 earnestly devoted to the practice of his religion. Whether 
 in the Vatican of Rome, or over the high altar of the Sistine 
 Chapel, he brings out all the terrors of the Di\dne Judgment, 
 which he puts there, in a manner that makes the beholder 
 tremble to-day, — the Lord in the attitude, not of blessing, but 
 of sweeping denunciation over the heads of the wicked, — he 
 took good care, by prayer, by frequenting the Sacraments, by 
 frequent confession and communion, and by the pmity of his 
 life, to avert the punishments that he painted from falling on 
 his own head. The most glorious epoch in the history of 
 architecture was precisely that in the thirteenth and four- 
 teenth centuries, when there arose the minsters of York, of 
 Westminster ; of Notre Dame, in Paris ; of Rouen, and all 
 the wonderful old churches that, to-day, are the astonishment 
 of the world for the grandeur and majesty of their propor- 
 tions, and the beauty of design they reveal. These churches 
 sprang up at the very time that the Church alone held un- 
 disputed sway 5 when all the arts were in her hands, and when 
 the architects who built them were nearly all consecrated 
 sons of the cloister. It is worthy of remai-k that we do not 
 
62 FA THER B URKE'S DISCO URSES. 
 
 know the name of the architect that built St. Patrick's or 
 Christ Church, in Dublin. We do not know the name of 
 the architect tliat built Westminster Abbey, nor any ojie of 
 those great and mig-hty mediaeval churches throughout 
 Europe. "We know, indeed, the name of the architect who 
 built St. Paul's in London, and of him who built St. Petei-'s, 
 in Rome. They were laymen. The men who laid the 
 foundations (that rarely appear to the eye) were Monks, and 
 are now in the dust ; and, in their humility, they brought 
 the secret of their genius to the grave, and no names of 
 theirs are emblazoned on the annals of the world's fame. 
 
 Thus we see the highest civilization, the highest inspira- 
 tion of the arts, — music, painting and architecture, — came 
 from the Catholic Church, — and that the most attractive of 
 them all was created in her cloisters. The greatest painters 
 that ever lived had come forth from her bosom, animated by 
 her spirit. The greatest chiu'ches tliat ever were built were 
 built and designed by her consecrated children. The grand 
 strains of ecclesiastical music, expressing the highest ideas 
 resounded in her cathedral churches. The world had grown 
 under her fostering care. Young Republics had sprung up 
 under the Church's hand and guidance. The Italian Repub- 
 lics — the Republics of Florence, of Pisa, of Venice, of 
 Genoa, — all gained their municipal rights and rights of citi- 
 zenship — (rights that were established for protection, and to 
 insure equality of the law,) — under the Church's protection. 
 Nay, more. The Church was ever willing and ready, both 
 by legislation and by action, to curb the petty tyrants that 
 oppressed the people ; to oblige the rugged castellan to 
 emancipate his slaves. The Church was ever ready to send 
 her highest representatives. Archbishops and Cardinals, into 
 the presence of Kings, to demand the people's rights. And 
 the very man who wrung the fii'st principles of the British 
 Constitution from an unwilling and tyrannical king, was the 
 Catholic Archbishop of Canterbury — the only man who would 
 dare to do it ; for (and w^ell the tyrant knew it) he could not 
 touch the Archbishop, because the arm of the Church was 
 outstretched for his protection. Society was formed under lier 
 eyes and under her care. Her work now seemed to be nearly 
 completed, when the Almighty God, in His wisdom, let fall a 
 calamity upon the world j and I think you will agree with 
 me, — even such among you (if there be any) who are not 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 63 
 
 Catliolicp, — tliat a calamity it was ; a calamity fell upon the 
 world in the sixteenth century, which not only divided the 
 Church in faith and separated nations from her, but which 
 introduced new principles, new influences, new and hostile 
 agencies which were destructive of the most sacred rights. I 
 am not here this evening so much as a preacher as a 
 lecturer. I am not speaking to you so much as a priest as a 
 historian ; and I ask you to consider this : — We are accus- 
 tomed to hear on every side that Protestantism w'as the eman- 
 cipation of the human intellect from the slavery of the Pope. 
 To that I have only to answer this one word : Protestantism 
 substituted the uncertainty of opinion instead of the certainty 
 of faith which is in the Catholic Church. Protestantism 
 declared that there was no voice on earth authorized or 
 empowered to proclaim the truth of God j that the voice that 
 had proclaimed it for fifteen hundred years had told a lie j 
 that the people were not to accept the teaching of the Cath- 
 olic Church as an authoritative and time-honored law, but that 
 they were to go out and look for the faith for themselves, 
 — and in the worst way of all. Every man was to find a 
 faith for himself; and when he had found it, he had no satis- 
 factory guarantee, no certainty, that he had the true inter- 
 pretation of the truth. If this be emancipating the intellect — 
 if this changing of certainty into uncertainty, dogma into 
 opinion, faith into a search after faith, be emancipation of the 
 intellect, then Christ must have told a lie when He said : 
 ^' You shall know the truth; and the truth shall make you 
 free ! " The knowledge of the truth He declared to be the 
 highest freedom : and, therefore, I hold, not as a priest, but 
 simply as a philosopher, that the assertion is false which says 
 that the work of Protestantism was the emancipation of the 
 intellect. All the results of modern progress — all the scienti- 
 fic success and researches that have been made — in a word, 
 all the great things that have been done — are all laid down 
 quietly at the feet of Protestantism as the eftects of this 
 chang'e of religion. In England nothing is more common 
 than for good Protestants to say that the reason why we are 
 now in so civilized a condition is because Martin Luther set 
 up the Protestant religion. Protestantism claims the electric 
 telegraph. The Atlantic cable does not lie so much in a bed 
 of sand as on a holy bed of Protestantism that stretches from 
 shore to shore ! They forget that there is a philosophical 
 
64 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES, 
 
 axiom which says : " One thing may come after another, and 
 yet it may not be caused by the thing that went before." If 
 one thing comes after another, it does not follow that it is the 
 effect of the other. It is true that all these things have 
 sprung- up in the world since Protestantism appeared. It is 
 perfectly true that the many have learned to read since Pro- 
 testantism gained ground. But why ? Is it because the 
 Catholic Church kept the people in ignorance ? No : it was 
 because of a single want. It was about the time Protestant- 
 ism sprung up that the art of printing was invented. Of 
 course the many were not able to read when they had no 
 books. The Catholic Church, as history proves, was even 
 far more zealous than the Protestant new-born sect, in 
 multiplying copies of the Scripture and in multiplying books 
 for the people. Now, one of the reproaches that is made to 
 us to-day is, that we are too busy in the cause of education. 
 Surely if the Catholic Church is the mother of ignorance, 
 that reproach cannot be truly made. Now, Protestants are 
 making a noise and saying that the Church, in every 
 country and on every .side, is planning and claiming to 
 educate. But all this is outside of my question. My ques- 
 tion deals with the fine arts. 
 
 Now, mark the change that took place ! Protestantism 
 undoubtedly weakened the Church's influence upon society. 
 Undoubtedly it took out of the Church's hands a great deal 
 of that power which we have seen the Catholic Church exer- 
 cise, for more than a thousand years, upon the fine arts. 
 They claim, or they set up a rival claim of fostering the arts 
 of music, of architecture, and of painting, so that these may 
 no longer claim to receive their special inspiration from the 
 Church, which was their mother and their creator, and 
 through which they drew their heavenly genius. Well, the 
 arts were thus divided in their allegiance, and thus deprived 
 of their inspiration, by the institution of this new religion. I 
 ask you to consider, historically, whether that inspiration of 
 art, that high and glorious inspiration, that magnificent ideal, 
 was not destroyed the moment it was taken from under the 
 guidance and inspiration of the Catholic Church. I say that 
 it was destroyed ; and I can prove it. Since the day J;hat 
 Protestantism was founded, the art of architecture seems to 
 have perished. No great cathedral has been built. No great 
 original has appeared. No new idea haa been expressed from 
 
THE CHUECR THE MOTHER OF ART. (55 
 
 the day that Lutlier declared schism in the Chnrch, and 
 vrarred against legitimate authority. No Protestant has 
 ever originated a noble model in modern architecture. It has 
 sunk down into a servile imitation of the ancient, grovel- 
 ling forms of Greece and Rome. Nay, whenever the ancient 
 Gothic piles — majestic and inspiring Clnistian churches — fell 
 into their hands, what did they do ? They pulled them down 
 in order to build up some vile Grecian imitation ; or else 
 they debased the ancient grandeur and purity of the Gothic 
 cathedral, by mixing in a servile imitation of some ancient 
 heathen or pagan temple. 
 
 As to the art of painting, the painter no longer looked up 
 to Heaven for his subject. The painter no longer considered 
 that his pious idea was to instruct and elevate his fellow-man. 
 The painter no longer selected for his subject the Mother of 
 God, or the sacred humanity of our Lord, or the Angels and 
 Saints of Heaven. The halo of light that was shed upon the 
 brush of the blessed Angelico, — the halo of divine light that 
 suiTOunded the Virgin's face as it grew under the creative 
 hand of the young Christian painter, — the halo of heavenly 
 light that surrounded the Judge upon his throne, in the 
 fresco of Michael Angelo, — this is to be found only in Chris- 
 tian art. The highest ambition of the painter, now, is to 
 sketch a landscape true to nature. The highest excellence 
 of art seems now to be to catch the colors that approach most 
 faithfully to the flesh tints of the human body. And it is a 
 remarkable fact, my friends, that the art of animal painting, — 
 painting cows and horses, and all these things, — began with 
 Protestantism. One of the very fii'st animal painters was 
 Roos, a German Protestant, who came to Rome ; and the 
 reproach of his fellow-painters was, " There is the man that 
 paints the cows and horses." Even sacred subjects were dealt 
 with in this debased form, — in this low and empty inspiration. 
 How were they dealt with ? Look, for instance, at tlie Mag- 
 dalens ; look at the Madonnas of Rubens. Rubens, himself, 
 was a pious Catholic ; yet his paintings displayed the very 
 genius of Protestantism. . If he wanted to paint the Blessed 
 Virgin, he selected some corpulent and gross-looking woman, 
 in whom he found some ray of mere sensual beauty that struck 
 his eye ; and he put her on the canvas, and held her up 
 before men as the Virgin, whose prayer was to save, and 
 whose power was above that of the angels ! The artist who 
 
66 FATHER BUBKWS DISCOURSES. 
 
 would truly represent her on canvas, must have his pencils 
 touched with the purity and grandeur of Heaven. 
 
 Music lost its inspiration when it fell from under the guid- 
 ance of the Church. No longer were its strains the echoes 
 of Heaven. No longer is the burden of the hymn the heav-' 
 enlv aspiration of the human soul, tending towards its last 
 and final beatitude. Oh, no ! but every development that 
 this high and heavenly science receives is a simple degrada- 
 ti(jn into the celebration of human passion 5 into the magnify- 
 ing of human pride : into the illustration of all that is worst 
 and vilest in man ; and the highest theme of the musician to- 
 day is not the '^ Dies Irce" — an expression, as it were, of the 
 prayers of the Angels in Heaven for the dead ; — it is not the 
 ^^Siabat Mater, ^^ the wailing voice of the Virgin's sorrow j it 
 is not the ^^Alleluia,^^ to proclaim to the world the glories of 
 the risen G-od : no, the highest theme of the musician to-day 
 is to take up some story of sensual, and merely human, love; 
 to set that forth with all the charms and all the meretricious 
 embellishments of art. 
 
 Thus do we behold, in our own experience of to-day, how 
 the arts went down and lost their inspiration, as soon as 
 there were taken from them the genius and the inspiring 
 influence of the Church that created them, and through them 
 civilized the world, and brought to us whatever we have of 
 civilization and refinement in this nineteenth century. 
 Thank God, the reign of evil cannot last long upon this 
 earth. It is one of the mysterious circumstances that the 
 coming of our Lord developed. Before the Incarnation of 
 the Son of God, an evil idea seemed to be in the nature of 
 man. It propagated itself, it found a home, and an abiding 
 dwelling among the children of men. But since the Incar- 
 nation of the Son of God, since the Eternal Word of God 
 vouchsafed to take a human soul, a human body, human 
 sensibilities, and, I will add, human genius, — since that time 
 the base and the vile, and the ephemeral, and the degraded, 
 may come ; may debase art and artists, may spoil the spirit 
 of art for a time; but it cannot last very long. There is a 
 native force, a nobleness in the soul of man that rises in 
 revolt against it. 
 
 And to-day, even to-day, the hour of revival seems 
 to be coming, — almost arrived, — is already come. The 
 thi-ee arts, of Painting, of Music, and Architecture, seem 
 
THE CHURCH THE MOTHER OF ART. 67 
 
 to be rising with their fomier inspiration, and seem to 
 catch again a little of the departed light that was shed 
 on them and flowed through them, from religion. Archi- 
 tectm-e revives, and the glories of the thirteenth century, 
 though certainly they may not be eclipsed, yet they are 
 almost equalled by the glories of the nineteenth. But a 
 short distance from this, you see, in the middle of this great 
 city, rising in its wonderful beauty, that which promises to 
 be, and is to be, of all the glories of this city, the most 
 glorious, — the great Cathedral. Across the water, you see 
 in the neighboring cit}'' of Brooklyn the fair and magnifi- 
 cent proportions of that which will be, in a few years, the 
 glory of that adjacent shore, when on this side, and on that, 
 each tower and spire and pinnacle upholding an Angel or 
 Saint, the highest of all will uphold the Cross of Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 Music is reviving again, — catching again the pure spirit 
 of the past. A taste for the serene, the pure, the most 
 spiritual songs of the Church, is every day gaining ground, 
 and taking hold of the imagination. Painting, thank God, 
 is reviving again, and of this you have here abundant 
 proof. Look around you ! No gross, earthly figure stands 
 out in the bare proportions of flesh and blood. No vile 
 exposure of the mere flesh invites the eye of the voluptuous 
 to feast itself upon the sight. The purity of God is here. 
 The purity of the Church of God overhangs it 5 and the 
 story of these scenes will go home to your hearts and to 
 the hearts of your children, as the story that the blessed 
 Anorelico told in Florence six hundred vears as^o. Thanks 
 be to God, it is so ! Thanks be to God, that, when I lift 
 up my ej^es, I may see so much of the purity of the face 
 down which flow the last tears of blood ! When I lift up 
 mine eyes here, it seems to me as if I stood bodily in the 
 holy society of these men. It seems to me that I see in the 
 face of John the expression of the highest manly sympathy 
 that comforted and consoled the dying eyes of the Saviour. 
 It seems to me that I behold the Blessed Virgin, whose 
 maternal heart consented, in that hour of agony, to be 
 broken for the sins of men. It seems to me that I behold 
 the Magdalen, as she clings to the Cross, and receives, upon 
 that hair with which she wiped His feet, the drops of His 
 blood. It seems to me that I behold that heai't, humbled 
 
68 FA THEB B UBKE'S DISCO UESES. 
 
 in penance and inflamed with love — the heart of the woman 
 who had loved much, and for whom He had prayed. It 
 seems to me that I travel step by step to Calvary, and 
 learn, as they unite in Him, every lesson of snfiering, of 
 peace, of hope, of joy, and of divine love ! Thank God, 
 it is fitting, in a Dominican Church, that this should he so ! 
 It is fitting, in a temple of my Order, that, when I look 
 upon the image of my holy Father over that entrance, 
 in imagination, and without an effort, I travel hack to the 
 spot where I had the happiness to live my student's days, and 
 where, in the very cell in which I dwelt, I beheld, from 
 Angelico's own hand, one glorious specimen of his art. These 
 are the gladness of our eyes, the joy of our hearts. They 
 give us reason to rejoice with Him who said : "I have loved, 
 Lord, the beauty of Thy house, and the place where Thy 
 glory dwelleth." They give us reason to rejoice because 
 they are not only fair and beautiful in themselves, but they 
 are also the guarantee and. the promise that the traditions of 
 ecclesiastical painting, sculpture, architecture and music in 
 this new country, shall yet come out and rival all the glories 
 of the nations that for centuries and centuries have upheld 
 the Cross. They are a cause of gladness to us ; for, ^^hen 
 we shall have passed away, our children, and our children's 
 children shall come here, and, in reviewing these pictures, 
 shall learn to feel the love of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Among the traditions of one of the old cities of Belgium, 
 there is one of a little boy, who grew up, visiting every day 
 the Cathedral of the city. One day he stood with wondering 
 and childlike eyes before a beautiful painting of the infant 
 Jesus. According as time went on, and reason grew upon 
 him, his love for the picture became greater and greater; 
 and when he became a man, his love for it was so great 
 that he spent his days in the Cathedral as organist, pealing 
 forth the praises of the Son of God. His manhood went down 
 into the vale of years ; but his love for the picture was still the 
 one child-love — the young love and passion of his heart. 
 And so he lived, a child of art, and died in the odor of sanc- 
 tity, a child of God. And that art had falfilled its 
 highest mission, for it had sanctified the soul of a man. 
 Oh, may these pictures, that we look upon with so 
 much pleasure,, teach to you, and to your children 
 after you, the lesson they are intended to teach, of the 
 
TEE CHUBCR THE MOTHER OF AET. 69 
 
 love, of the charity, of the mercy of Jesus; that — loving Him 
 and loving the beauty of His house, and catching every gleam 
 that faith reveals of her higher beauty, and every thing that 
 speaks of Him for ever — you may come to behold Him as He 
 shines in the uncreated light and majesty of His glory ! 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. 
 
 \^A Sermon delivered by the Very Rev. T. N. Burke, O.P., in the 
 Dominican Church, New York, on Sunday, March 2i, 1872.] 
 
 I TOLD you this morning-, my brethren, that we should con- 
 fine our attention, during the next few days, to the groupings 
 that surrounded our Blessed Lord upon the Hill of Calvary. 
 I then intended, this evening, to put before you the various 
 characters and classes of men who were there as the enemies 
 of God. I must, however, alter somewhat this programme. 
 To-morrow will be the Feast of the Annunciation of the 
 Blessed Virgin — one of the greatest festivals of the Christian 
 year — commemorating a mystery from which all the mys- 
 teries of our redemption have flown. It will be held, as you 
 are aware, as of obligation ; and, therefore, I shall be obliged 
 so far to depart from my original design, as to let in, to- 
 morrow evening, a sermon on the great festival of the day — 
 the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin. Thus far I must 
 interfere with the plan I have laid down, and this will oblige 
 me, this evening, simply to notice briefly the difl"erent groups 
 and classes by which the enemies of our Divine Lord were 
 represented upon Calvary. We shall pass, at once, to the 
 consideration of the man who stood there as the friend of his 
 dying Lord and Saviom\ 
 
 There were many classes of men surrounding our Blessed 
 Lord on that fearful and tenible journey, when, starting from 
 the house of the High Priest, Annas, He turned His face 
 towards Calvary, and set out upon the dolorous " Way of 
 the Cross." The men who, sitting in that tribunal, had con- 
 demned Him, were not satisfied with that sentence ; but, in 
 the eagerness of their revenge, they would fain witness His 
 execution ; following out the expres^d word of the Evange- 
 list, that the Scribes and l*harisees followed our Lord, and 
 fed their revengeful eyes upon the contemplation of His three 
 hours of agony on the Cross. The immediate agents of this 
 terrible act of execution were the Eoman soldiers of the 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST 71 
 
 cohort who had scourged Him, who had crowned Him 
 with thorns, and who accompanied Him with stolid indiffer- 
 ence to the place of his execution. They were the pagans. 
 They were men who had never heard of the name of 
 God. They were men who, had they heard of it, must 
 have heard of it, if at all, in a language which they scarcely 
 understood, and which was the medium of the common record 
 of what were called " the wonders," — that is, of the miracles 
 of Christ. But it scarcely stirred up in them even a natural 
 curiosity ; and, therefore, they brought him to execution, as 
 they would have dragged any other criminal ; with this one 
 exception, that, by a strange, diabolical possession, they 
 looked upon this man, of whom they knew nothing, — upon 
 this man who had never injured them in word or in deed, — 
 with intense abhorrence, and hated him with an inexplicable 
 hatred. They thus typified the nations which, in the old law, 
 knew not the Lord of Truth. In paganism, in the darkness 
 of the wickedness of their infidelity, they know not the name 
 of God. When that name is pronounced in their presence, it 
 falls upon their ears rather as the name of an enemy than 
 that of a friend. They cannot explain why they hate Him. 
 No more can we explain the hatred of the Roman soldiers. 
 The missionary goes forth to-day in all the power of the 
 priesthood of Christ. He stands in the presence of the people 
 of China or of Japan. As long as he speaks to them of 
 the civilization, of the immense military power, of the riches 
 and of the glory of the country from which he comes, they 
 hear him willingly and wath interested ears. As long as he 
 reveals to them any secret of human science, they make use 
 of him, they are glad to receive him. Thus it is, we know, 
 that some of the Jesuit missionaries held the very highest 
 places at the court of the Emperor of China. But as soon as 
 ever the missionary mentions the name of Christ, they not 
 only refuse to hear him, but they are stirred up on the instant 
 with diabolical rage ; hate and anger flash from iheir eyes j 
 they lay hold of the messenger who briugeth them the mes- 
 sage of peace and love, and of eternal life ; and they imag- 
 ine they have not fulfilled their duty until they have shed his 
 heart's blood upon the spot. Oh, how vast is the crowd of 
 those who, for centuries, have thus greeted the Son of God 
 and every man who speaks in His name ! Think of the out- 
 lying millions, to whom, for eighteen hundred years and more, 
 
72 FA THEB B UBKE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 the Church — the messenger of God — has preached and ap- 
 pealed, but in vain ! Behold the class that was represented 
 round the Cross, lifting up indifferent, stolid, or, if any thing, 
 scowling faces, amid the woes of Him who, in that h<mr of His 
 agony and of His humiliation, mingled His prayers for forgive- 
 ness with the last drop of blood that flowed through l£is 
 wounds from His dying heart ! 
 
 There is another class there. It is made up of those who 
 knew Him well, or who ought to have known Him. They 
 had seen His miracles ,• they had witnessed His sanctity j they 
 had disputed with Him upon the lav\'S, until He had convinced 
 them that His was the wisdom that could not belong to man, 
 but to God. He had silenced them. He had answered every 
 argument that foolhardy and audacious men made to Him. 
 He had reduced them to such shame that no man ever wanted 
 to question Him again. But He interfered with their interests 
 and their pride. That pride revolted against submitting to 
 Him. That self-lov^e and self-interest prompted the thought 
 that, if He lived. His light would outshine theirs, and their in- 
 fluence with the people would be gone. These were the Scribes 
 and the Pliarisees. They were the leaders of the people. 
 They were the magistrates of Jerusalem. They were the 
 men whose loud voice and authoritative tones were heard in 
 the Temple. They were the men who walked into that 
 house as if it was not the house of God, but their house. 
 They were the men who walked fearlessly up to the altar, to 
 speak words of blasphemous pride, and call them prayers. 
 They were the men who despised the humble Publican 
 making his act of contrition. They were the men who lifted 
 theh virtuous hands and hypocritical eyes to Heaven to lament 
 over the weakness of human nature. They were the men 
 who hated Christ, because they could not argue with Him — 
 because they could not uphold their errors against His truth — 
 because they could not hold their own, but were struck dumb 
 at the sight of His sanctity and the so'und of His powerful 
 voice. What did they do? They began to tell lies to the 
 people. They began to tell the people how He was an im- 
 postor and a blasphemer. They began to mislead the 
 people, — to warp the estimate that people might make of 
 Christ ! They endeavored to find false witnesses to bring 
 them to swear away, fii'st, His character and, then, His life. 
 Ah! need I say whom they represent? Need I tell a 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELISt 73 
 
 people in whose memories is fresli to-day tlie ever recur- 
 ring lie tbat is flung in the face of the Catholic Church, 
 — the ever-recun'ing false testimony that is brought against 
 her, — the burning of her churches, the defiling of her altars, 
 the outrages on her priests, — the insults heaped upon her 
 holy nuns, the people inflamed against the very name of Cath- 
 olicity itself, so that the word might be fulfilled of Him who 
 said : " They shall cast out your very name as evil for My 
 sake"? The men who made the very name of a Monk, or a 
 Friar, or a Jesuit mean something awfully gross, or sensual, 
 or material, were naturally worldly and deceitful. I need 
 not point out to you that, in the midst of you, and every 
 day, from their pulpits, from their conventicles, through 
 their daily press — every day we are made familiar with the 
 old lie, shifted and changed, tortured, distorted, and twisted, 
 and the false testimony brought out in a thousand forms 
 of falsehood. 
 
 And there were others who believed in Christ — who 
 knew Him — who had enjoyed His conversation and His 
 friendship, and who were afraid to be seen in His com- 
 pany in that dark hour, and upon that hill of shame. 
 Where were the Apostles? Where were the Disciples? 
 They had fled from their Master because it was dangerous to 
 be seen with Him ! Judas, the representative of the man who 
 sells his religion and his God for this. world j who sells 
 his conscience in order to fill his purse; who sells every 
 thing that is most sacred when that demand is made upon 
 him for temporal profit and pelf ; who seals his iniquity by a 
 bad communion, in order to save appearances ; while with 
 one hand he was taking money from the Pharisees, with the 
 other hand he was taking Christ to his breast j — the man 
 who played a double part — the man who did not wish to 
 break utterly with his Lord, nor to sacrifice the good opinion 
 of his fellow-apostles ; and, therefore, he received damnation 
 to himself in a bad communion ; — he does not dare to climb 
 the rugged steep of Calvary; but he stands afar ofl': and the 
 vision that he sees, of so much sorrow, so much suflering ; — 
 the vision that he sees passing before his eyes is his Lord, his 
 Master in whom he still believes, though he has betrayed 
 Him ; his Lord, his Master, torn with scourges from head to 
 foot ; crowned with thorns ; disguised in His own blood ; 
 blinded with the blood that was flowing down from every 
 
 4 
 
74 FATHER BUEKWS DISCOURSED. 
 
 wonnrl in Ilis sacred brow : — Lis Lord and his Master, who 
 had so often spoken to. him words of friendship and of love j 
 pa^^sed hefore the eyes of the renegade and traitor. As he 
 looked, and his eyes caught, for an instant, the countenance 
 of that figure tottering ahnig in weakness and in pain, — the 
 sio-lit brought back remembrance of the days that were gone, 
 AvUh no glimmering of hope, no light of consolaticm to his 
 soul, but^only the feeling that he had betrayed his God, and 
 that he held then, in his infamous purse, the money for which 
 he had sold his soul and his conscience. He stood aghast and 
 pale. He tore his hair and wTung his hands. He found that 
 he could not live to see the consummation of his iniquity j 
 and, before the Saviour had sent forth the last cry for a re- 
 deemed world, the soul of the suicide Judas had gone down 
 to hell ! '^ It were better for him had he never been born !" 
 Does he represent any class ? Are there not in this world 
 men who are almost glad to have something to baiier with 
 the world, when they give np their holy faith and religion in 
 order to clutch this world's possessions ? Have we not read 
 in the history of the nations — in the history of the land from 
 which most of us sprang — have we never read of men selling 
 their faith for this world's riches and this world's honors ? 
 Have we never read, in the history of the world, of men who, 
 in order to save appearances, approached the holy altar and 
 received the holy communion "? Of monarchs who, in order 
 to stand well with their Catholic subjects, made a show of 
 going to hoh'- communion ? And of sycophants and court- 
 iers who, in order to please a king, in a fit of piety or a fit of 
 repentance, went to holy communion"? But time will not 
 peimit me to linger in the contemplation of the many classes 
 of the worldly-minded ; the false friend, the bitter, though 
 conscious, enemy ; the heartless executioners j the exact re- 
 presentatives of those who crowded round the Cross in that 
 ten'ible hour. 
 
 But there was one there ; — and it is to that one that my 
 thoughts and my heart turn this night, — there was one there 
 who was destined to be, through all ages, and unto all nations, 
 a type of what the true Christian man — the friend of Christ, 
 must be ; a true representative of the part that he must play, 
 in the sacrifice that, from time to time, he must make, to test 
 the strength and the tenderness of his love. There was one 
 there, young and beautiful, who did not flinch from his Mas- 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. 75 
 
 ter and Lord in that hour ; who walked by His side ; who 
 shared in the reproaches that were showered upon the head 
 of the Son of God, and took his shcire of tlie grief and the 
 shame of that terrible morning of Good Friday. Tliere was 
 one there, whom ihe Master permitted to be there, that he 
 might, as it were, lean upon the strength of his manliood and 
 tlie fearlessness of his love. That one was John, the Evan- 
 gelist. Behold him, as with virginal eyes, he looks up as a 
 man to his fellow-man on the Cross ! Behold him as he seems 
 to say : " Oh, Master ! Oh, Lover of my soul and heart ! can I 
 relieve j^ou of a single sorrow by taking it up and making it 
 my own?'^ This was John. Consider who he was, and 
 what. Three graces surrounded him as he stood at the foot 
 of the Cross. Three divine gifts formed a halo of heavenly 
 light around his head. They were the grace of Christian 
 purity, the grace of divine love, and the manliness of the 
 bravery that despises the world, when it is a question of giv- 
 ing testimony of love and of fidelity to his God and his 
 Saviour; — three noble gifts, with which the world is so ill- 
 supplied to-day ! Oh, my brethren, need I tell you that, of 
 all the evils in this our day, there is one which has arrived 
 at such enormous proportions that it has received the name 
 of '-The Social Evil!" — the evil which finds its way into 
 every rank and every grade of societ}^; the evil which, raising 
 its miscreated head, now and again frightens us, and terrifies 
 the very world by the evidence of its widespread pestilence ; 
 — the evil that, to-day, pollutes the hearts, destroys the souls 
 of the young, and shakes our nature and our manliness to its 
 very foundations, and brings down the indignant and the 
 sweeping curse of God upon whole nations? Need I tell 
 you that that evil is the terrible evil of impurity, — the unre- 
 strained passion, the foul imagination, the debased and 
 degraded cravings of this material flesh and blood of ours, 
 rising up in rebellion, and declaring, in its inflamed desires, 
 that nothing of God's law, nothing of God's redemption shall 
 move it ; that all, all may perish, but that it must be satiated 
 and gorged with that food of lust, of which, says the holy 
 Apostle, " the taste is death." Of tliis I have already spoken 
 to you, and also of the opposite virtue, the ''index" virtue, 
 as it is called — the virtue of virtues ; of that I have also 
 spoken to you, that by which lost man is raised up to the 
 very perfection of his spiritual nature ; by which the Divine 
 
76 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 effulgence of the highest resemblance to Christ is impressed 
 upon the soul ; by which the brightness of the Virgin, and 
 of the Virgin's Son, seems to pass forth, even from His body, 
 and sink into the soul's tissues, until it becomes divine. 
 Such virtue of angelic purit\^ did Christ, our Lord, come to 
 establish upon eartli. Such virtue did He lay as the found- 
 ation of His Church, in a chaste and a virginal priesthood ; 
 in the foundations of society, in a chaste and pure manhood, 
 preserving the integrity of the soul in the purity of the body. 
 Such virtue belonged to John, ''^tlie Disciple of love;" and 
 it belonged to him in its highest phase; for, as the Holy 
 Fathers, — and the intei-preters of the Church's traditions from 
 the very beginning, and notably, St. Peter Datnascus, tell 
 us, — John the Evangelist was a virgin from the cradle to 
 the grave. No thought of human love ever flashed through 
 his mind. No angry uprising of human passion ever dis- 
 turbed the equable nature of his heavenly-tempered soul and 
 body. He was the youngest of all the Apostles ; and he 
 was little more than a youth when the virgin-creating eyes 
 of Christ fell upon him. Christ looked upon him, and saw 
 a virginal body, fair and beautiful in its translucent purity 
 of innocence. He, the Creator and Redeemer, saw a soul 
 pure, and bright, and unstained, — a soul just opening into 
 manliood, and in the full possession of all its powers, and a 
 tender, yet a most pure heart, unfolding itself. Even as the 
 lily bursts forth and unfolds its white leaves to gather in 
 its calyx the dews of Heaven, like diamond drops in its 
 heart of glorious innocence, — so did our Lord behold the 
 fair soul of John. In his earliest youth, the words of in- 
 vitation dropped in that vu-gin ear ; and in that virgin soul 
 those graces of apostleship, of love, of tenderness, and of 
 strength, that lay there, among these petals of glor}^, brought 
 forth, in the soul of the young man, all that was radiant with 
 tbe most Christ-like virtue. A virgin — that is to say, one 
 who never let a thought of his mind, nor an affection of his 
 heart stray from the highest form of divine love, — thus was 
 he before he had beheld the face of his Redeemer. But 
 when, to that virginal purity, which naturally seeks the 
 love of God in its highest form, that God made Himself 
 visible to it in the shape of the sacred humanity of our Lord : 
 W'lien the virgin's King, the Prince, and the leader of the 
 virgin's choir in Heaven, presented Himself to the eyes of 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. 77 
 
 the young Apostle 5 — oh, then, with the instinct of purity, 
 his heart seemed to go forth from him, and to seek the heart 
 of Christ. And so it was for three years, under the purifying 
 eyes of our Lord, He lived for three years, in tte most 
 intimate communion of love with his Master ; distinguished 
 from all the other Apostles, of whom we do not know that 
 any one of them, was a virgin, but only John 5 distinguished 
 from them, by being admitted, through his privileged, 
 virginal purity, into the inner chambers of the heart of 
 Christ. Thus, when our Lord appeared to the Apostles 
 upon the waters, all the others shrank from Him, terrified ; 
 and they said to each other, " It is a ghost ! It is an 
 appearance ! " John looked, and instantly recognized his 
 Master J and said to Peter; ^' Do not be afraid ! It is the 
 Lord." Whereupon, St. Jerome says : — " What eyes were 
 those of John, that could see that which others could not 
 see ? Oh, it was the eye of a virgin recognizing a virgin ! " 
 So it was that a certain, tacit privilege was granted to John, 
 as is seen in the conduct of the Apostles themselves. Peter, 
 certainly, was honored above all the others by getting prece- 
 dence and supremacy; by being appointed the Vicar and 
 Representative of his Master ; in other words, " the Head 
 of the Apostles." But this was preceded by the severest 
 tests. He was tried, — nay more, the heart of Peter was 
 sounded to the very depths of its capacity and of its love, 
 before Christ, our Lord, appointed him as His representative. 
 Tliree times did he ask him, " Simon, son of John, lovest 
 thou Me ? " Again in the presence of John, " Lovest thou 
 Me, Peter, more than these?" "More than these; more 
 than the men who are present before Me, and of whom I 
 speak to you." And Peter was confirmed in that hour, and 
 rose, by divine grace, to a height in the sight of his Divine 
 Master, greater than any ever attained by man. It is not 
 the heart of the man loving the Lord ; but it is the heart of 
 the Lord loving the man. So, Peter was called upon to 
 love his Lord more than the others ; but the tenderest love 
 of his Divine Master was the privilege of John. He was 
 '> the disciple whom Jesus loved." And well did his fellow- 
 Apostles know it. What a privilege was not that which 
 was given to John at the Last Supper, because of his 
 virginal purity ! ^Lhere was the Master, and there were 
 the disciples around Him. There was the man whom 
 
78 FATHER BVIiKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 he destined to be the first Pope, — the representative of 
 His pt)\ver and the head of His followers. Did Peter 
 get the first place ? No. The first place, — the place next 
 to the left sitle, — nearest the dear heart-side, — was the 
 privilege of John. And, — oh ! ineffable dignity vouch- 
 safed by our Saviour to His virgin friend ! — the head of the 
 Disciple was laid upon the breast of the Master! and the 
 human ear of John heard the pulsations of the virginal heart 
 of Christ, the Lord of earth and Heaven ! Between those 
 two, in life, you may easily see in this and other such traits 
 recorded in the Gospel, — between these two — the Master and 
 the "disciple whom He loved," — there was a silent inter- 
 communion — an intensity of tender love of which the other 
 Apostles seem not to have known. Out of this very purity of 
 John sprang the love of his Divine Lord and Master. It 
 was after His resurrection that our Lord asked Peter, " Dost 
 thou love Me more than these ? " Before the suffering and 
 death of the Son of God, Peter only loved Him as a man. 
 John's love knew no change. Peter's love had first to be 
 humbled, and then purified by tears, and the heart broken 
 by contrition before he was able to assert : " Lord, Thou 
 knowest all things : Thou knowest that I love Thee ! " 
 But, in the love of St. John, we find an undoubting, an 
 unchanging love. What his Master was to him in the hour 
 of His gh>ry, the same was He in the hour of His shame. 
 He beheld his Lord, shining on the summit of Tabor, on the 
 day of His Transfiguration; j-et he loved Him as dearly 
 when he beheld Him covered with shame and confusion on 
 the Cross. What was the natm-e of that love? Oh, mv 
 friends, think what was the nature of that love ! It had 
 taken possession of a mighty but an empty heart. Mighty 
 in its capacity of love is the heart of man — the heart of the 
 young man — the heart of the ingenuous, talented, and enlight- 
 ened youth. Would you know of how much love this heart 
 is capable ? Behold it in the Saints of the Catholic Church. 
 Behold it in every man who gives his heart to God wholly 
 and entirely. Behold it even in the sacrifices that young 
 hearts make, when they are filled with merely human love. 
 Behold it in the sacrifice of life, of health, of every thing 
 which a man has, which is made upon the altar of his love, 
 even when that human love has taken the base, revolting 
 form of impurity. Look at it. Measure it, if you can. I 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. 79 
 
 address the heart of the young man, and he cannot see it ! 
 The truth lies here, that the most licentious and self-indulgent 
 sinner on the earth has never yet known, in the indulgence of 
 his wildest excesses, the full contentment, the complete enjoy- 
 ment, the mighty faculty of love which is in the human heart. 
 Such was the heart which our Lord called to him. Such 
 was the heart of John. It was a capacious heart. It was 
 the heart of a young man. It was empty. No human love 
 was there. No previous affection came in to cross or 
 counteract the designs of God in the least degree, or to take 
 possession of even the remotest corner of that heart. Then, 
 finding it thus empty in its purity, thus capacious in its 
 nature, the Son of God filled the heart of the young Apostle 
 with His love. Oh, it was the rarest, the grandest friendship 
 that ever existed on this earth : the friendship that bound to- 
 gether two vu-gin hearts — the heart of the beloved disciple, 
 John J the grand virgin love which absorbed John's affec- 
 tions, filling his young heart, and intellect with the beauty 
 and the highest appreciation of his Lord and Master, filling 
 his senses with the charms ineffable produced by the sight of 
 the face of the Holy One. He looked upon the beauty of that 
 sacred and Divine humanity ; and he saw, with the penetrat- 
 ing eyes of the intellect, the fulness of the Divinity that 
 flashed upon him. He, at least, had listened to the voice ot 
 the Divine Master, and sweeter it was than the music which 
 he heard in Heaven, and which he describes in the Apocalypse, 
 where he says : "I heard the sound of many voices, and 
 the harpers harping upon many harps." Far sweeter than 
 the echoes of Heaven that descended into his soul on the 
 Isle of Patmos, was the noble, manly voice of his Lord and 
 Master, — now pouring forth blessings upon the poor, — now 
 telling those who w^eep that they shall one day be comforted, — 
 now whispering to the widow of Naim, '^ Weep no more ; " 
 now telling the penitent Magdalen, ^' Thy sins are forgiven 
 thee because thou hast loved much ; " — now, thundering in 
 the temple of Jerusalem until the very stones resounded to 
 the God-like manifestation of Him who said : "It is written 
 that My house is a house of prayer ; but you have made it a 
 den of thieves ; " — it was still the loftiest music and melody 
 — the harmonious roll of the voice of God — as it fell upon the 
 charmed ears of the enraptured Evangelist, — the young man 
 who followed his Master and fed his soul upon that divine love. 
 
80 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES, 
 
 Out of this love sprang that inseparable fellowship that 
 bound him to Christ. Not for an instant was he voluntarily 
 absent from his Master's side. Not for an instant did he 
 separate himself from the immediate society of his Loxd. 
 And herein lay the secret of his love ; — for love, be it human 
 or divine, craves for union, and lives in the sight and in the 
 conversation of the object of its affection. Consequently, of 
 all the Apostles, John was the one who was always clinging 
 around his Master — always trying to be near Him — always 
 trying to catch the loving eyes of Christ in every glance. 
 This was the light of his brightness, — the divine wisdom that 
 animated him ! 
 
 How distinct is the action of John, — in the hour of the 
 Passion, — from that of Peter ! Our Divine Lord gave warn- 
 ing to Peter. " Peter," He said, " before the cock crows 
 you will deny me thrice." No wonder the Master's voice 
 struck terror into the heart of the Apostle ! And yet, strange 
 to say, it did not make him cautious or prudent. When our 
 Lord"^ was taken prisoner, the Evangelist expressly tells us 
 that Peter follow- ed Him. Follow^ed Him? Indeed, he fol- 
 lowed Him 5 but he folio w^ed Him '^ afar off." He waited on 
 the outskirts of the crowd. He tried to hide himself in the 
 darkness of the night. He tried to conceal his features, lest 
 any man might lay hold of him, and make him a. prisoner, as 
 the friend of the Redeemer. He began to be afraid of the 
 danger of acknowledging himself to be the servant of such a 
 master. He began to think of himself, when every thought 
 of his mind, and every energy of his heart should have been 
 concentrated upon his Lord." He followed Him ; but at some 
 distance. Ah ! at a good distance ! John, on the other hand, 
 rushed to the front. John wanted to be seen with his Master, 
 John wanted to take the Master's hand, — even when bound 
 by the thongs, — that he might receive the vivifying touch 
 of contact with Christ ! John w^anted to hear every word 
 that might be said, whether it w^ere for or against Him. 
 John W' anted to feast his eyes upon every object which en- 
 gaged the attention of his Lord, and by whose look it was 
 in-adiated ; a type, indeed, of a class of Christian men, seek- 
 ing the society and the presence of their Master, and strength- 
 ened by that seeking and that presence. He is the type of 
 the man who goes frequently to holy communion, preparing 
 himself by a good confession, and so laying the basis of a 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. 81 
 
 sacramental union with God, that becomes a large element 
 of his life ; — the man who goes to the altar every month ; — 
 the man who is familiar with Christ, and who enters some- 
 what into the inner cbambers of that Sacred Heart of infinite 
 love; — the man who knows what those few minutes of rap- 
 ture are which are reserved for the pure, — for those who not 
 only endeavor to serve God, but to serve Him lovingly and 
 well. Those are the men who walk in the footsteps of John ; 
 those are his representatives. Peter is represented by the 
 man who goes to holy communion once or twice in the year; 
 — going perhaps, once at Easter or Christmas, and then 
 returning to the world again. God grant that neither 
 the world, nor the flesh, nor the devil will take posses- 
 sion of the days, or weeks, or years of the rest of his life ! 
 — he who gives,-^twice in the year, perhaps, — an hour or 
 two to earnest communion with God, and, for all the rest, 
 only a passing consideration, flashing momentarily across the 
 current of his life. And what was the consequence ? John 
 went up to Calvary, and took the proudest place that ever 
 was given to man. Peter met, in the outer hall, a little ser- 
 vant-maid ; and she said to him : " Whom seekest thou f — 
 Jesus of Nazareth | " The moment that the child's voice 
 fell upon his ear, he denied his Master, and he swore an oath 
 that he did not know Him. 
 
 Now, we come to the third grand attribute of John ; and 
 it is to this, my friends, that I would call your attention 
 especially. Tender as the love of this man was for his Mas- 
 ter — his friend, — mark how strong and how manly it was at 
 the same time. He does not stand aside. He will allow no 
 soldier, or guard, or executioner, to thrust him aside or put 
 him away from his Master. He stands by that Mastei-'s side, 
 when he stood before His accusers in the Praetorium of Pilate. 
 Christ comes out. John receives Him into his arms, when, 
 fainting with loss of blood. He returns, surrounded by sol- 
 diers, from the ten'ific scene of His scourging. And, when 
 the cross is laid upon the shoulders of the Redeemer, — with 
 the crowd of citizens around him, — at His right hand, so close 
 that He might lean upon him if He would, — is the manly form 
 of St. John the Evangelist. Oh, think of the love that was 
 in his heart, and the depth of his sorrow, when he saw his 
 Lord, his Master, his Eriend, his only love, reduced to so 
 terrible a state of woe, of misery, and of weakness ! This 
 
82 FATHER BUEKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 was tlie condition of our Divine Lord, when they laid the 
 heavy cross upon His shoukler. How the Apostle of Love 
 woukl have taken that painful and terrible crown, with its 
 thorns, from off the brows to which it adhered, and set the 
 thorns upon his own head, if they had only been satisfied to 
 let him bear the pains and sufferings of his Master and his 
 God ! Oh, how anxious must he have been to take the load 
 that was placed upon the unwilling shoulders of Simon of 
 Cj^rene ! Oh, how he must have envied the man who lifted 
 the cross from off the bleeding shoulders of the Divine Vic- 
 tim, and set it on his own strong shoulders, and bore 
 it along up the steep side of Calvary ! With what 
 gratitude must the Apostle have looked upon the face 
 of Veronica, who, with eyes streaming with tears, and on 
 bended knees, upheld the cloth on which the Saviour im- 
 printed the marks of His divine countenance ! Yet, who 
 was this man "? — who was this man^ who received the blow as 
 the criminal who was about to be executed ? Who is this 
 man who takes the place of shame ? Who is this man who 
 is willing to assume all the opprobrium and all the penalty 
 that follo^vs upon it ? He is the only one of the Twelve Apo- 
 stles that is publicly known. We read in .the Grospel that the 
 Apostles were all humble men, — poor men, taken out of the 
 crowd by our Lord, The only one among them who had 
 made some mark, who was noted, who was remembered for 
 something or another, was St. John. And by whom was he 
 known? He was known, — says the Evangelist, — he was 
 known to the High Priest. He was so well known to him, and 
 to the guards and to the officers, and to the priests, that, when 
 our Lord was in the house of Annas, John entered as a matter 
 of course ; and when Peter, with the rest, was shut out, all 
 that John had to do was to speak a word to the officers : — 
 because, says the Evangelist, ^^he was well-known to the 
 High Priest" — w-ell-known to the chief magistrates — well- 
 know to the men in power — well known to the chief senators. 
 " Oh, John ! John ! be prudent ! Remember that you are a 
 noted man, so that you will be set down by the men in 
 power, for shame perhaps, or indignity, or even death. 
 Consult your own interests. Do not be rash. There is no 
 knowing when your aid or your authority may be w'anted." 
 This is the language of the world. This is the language 
 which we hear dav after da v. " Prudence and caution ! ^ 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. 83 
 
 " No necessity to parade our religion ! " " No necessity to be 
 tlirnsting our Catholicity before the world ! " '^ No necessity 
 to be constantly unfnrling the banner on which the Cross of 
 Christ is depicted — the Cross on which He died to save the 
 sonls of men." " No necessity for all this. Let us go peace- 
 fully with the world ! Let us worship in secret. Let us go 
 quietly on Sunday, to divine service; and let the world know 
 nothing about it \ " This is self-love ! This is cowardice ! 
 Oh, how noble the answer of hira whom all the world knew ! 
 How noble the soul of him who stood by his Lord, when he 
 knew that he was a noted man, and that, sooner or later, his 
 fidelity, on that Good Friday morning, would bring him into 
 trouble ! How glorious the action of the man who knew he was 
 compromising himself ! — that he was placing his character, his 
 liberty, his very life in jeopardy! — that he was suffering, per- 
 haps, in the tenderest intimacy and friendship ! — that he was 
 losing himself, perhaps, in the esteem of those worldly men 
 who thought they were doing a wise, a proper, and a prudent 
 thing when they sent the Lord to be crucified. John stands 
 by his Master. He says, in the face of the whole world : 
 '- Whoever is His enemy, I am His friend. Whatever is 
 His position to-day, I am His creatm'e : and I recognize 
 Him as my God ! " 
 
 And so he trod, step by step, with the fainting Redeemer, 
 up the rugged sides of Calvary. W^e know not what words 
 of love and of strong, manly sympathy he may have poured 
 into the afflicted ear of the Eedeemer. We know not how 
 much the drooping humanity of our Lord may have been 
 strengthened and cheered in that sad hour by the presence 
 of the faithful and loving John ! Have you ever been in 
 great affliction, my friends ? Has sorrow ever come upon 
 you with a crushing and an overwhelming weight ? Have you 
 ever lacked heart and power in great difficulty, and seen no 
 escape from the crushing weight of anxiety that was breaking 
 your heart f Do you not remember that such has been the 
 daily experience of your life ? Do you not know what it is 
 to have even one fi'iend — one friend on whom you can rely 
 with perfect and implicit confidence — one friend who, you 
 know, believes in you and loves you, and whose love is as 
 strong as his life? — one friend who, you know, will uphold you 
 even though the whole world be against you ? Such was the 
 comfort, such was the consolation that it was the Evangelist's 
 
84 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 privilege to pay to our Lord on Calvary. No human 
 prudence or argument dissuaded hira. He thought, — and he 
 thought rightly, — that it was the supreme of wisdom to defy, to 
 despise, and to trample upon the workl, when that world was 
 crucifying his Lord and Master. Highest type of the man, 
 saying, from out the depths of his own conscience, '^ I am 
 above the w^orld ! " Let every man ask himself this night, 
 and answer the question to his own soul : " Bo I imitate the 
 purity, do I imitate the love, do I imitate the courage or the 
 bravery of this man, of whom it is said that he was ^ the 
 disciple whom Jesus loved T" He got this reward, exceed- 
 ing great. Ah, how little did he know — great as was his 
 love — how little did he know the gift that was in store for 
 him — and that should be given him through the blood that 
 flowed from that dying Lord ! Little did he know of the 
 crowning glory that was reserved to him at the foot of the 
 Cross ! How his heart must have throbbed with the liveliest 
 emotions of delight, mingled in stormy confusion with the 
 greatness of his sorrow, w^hen, from the lips of his dying 
 Master, he received the command : " Son, behold thy Mother ! " 
 — and, with eyes dimmed with the tears of anguish and of 
 love, did he cast his most pure, most loving, and most 
 reverential glance upon the forlorn Mother of the dying Son ! 
 What was his ecstasy when he heard the voice of the dying 
 Master say to Mary : " Mother, look to John, My 
 brother. My lover, My friend ! Take him for thy son ! " 
 To John he says : '' Son, I am going away. I am leaving 
 this woman, the most desolate of all creatures that ever 
 walked the earth. True, she is to me the dearest object in 
 Heaven or on earth. Friend, I have nothing that I love so 
 much ! Friend, there is no one for whom I have so much 
 love as I have for her ! And to you do I leave her ! Take 
 her as your mother, dearly beloved ! " John advances 
 one step, — the type and the prototype of the new man, 
 redeemed by our Lord ; — the type of the man whose glory it 
 w^as to be that he was Mary's son ; — he advances a 
 step, until he comes right in front of his dying and blessed 
 Lord. John advances one step, — the type — the prototype 
 of the new man, redeemed by the Saviour, — and whose glory 
 it was henceforth to be that he was to be Maiy's son. He 
 advances a step, until he comes right in front of his dying 
 Lord ; and he approaches Mary, the Mother, in the midst of 
 
ST. JOHN THE EVANGELIST. 85 
 
 her sorrow, and flings himself into her loving arms. And 
 the newly-found son embraces his heavenly Mother, while, 
 fi'om the crucified Lord, the drops of blood fall down upon 
 them and cement the union between our human nature and 
 His, and fulfil the promise He had made to His Heavenly 
 Father in the adoption of our humanity. 
 
 The scene at Calvary I will not touch upon, or describe. 
 The slowly passing minutes, of pain, of anguish, and 
 of agony that stretched out these three terrible hours of 
 incessant sufl'ering ; — of these I will not speak. In your 
 estimation and in mine they do not need to be spoken of. 
 But, when the scene was over j — when the Lord of glory 
 and of love sent forth His last cry j — when the terrified heart 
 of the Virgin throbbed with alarm as she saw the Centurion 
 draw back his terrible lance and thrust it through the side of 
 our Divine Lord ;■ — when all this was over, and when our 
 Lord was taken down from the Cross and His body placed in 
 Mary's aims ; — after she had washed away the stains with 
 her tears, and purified His face ; — after she had taken off the 
 crown of thorns from His brow, and when they had laid Him 
 in the tomb — the desolate Mother put her- hands into those 
 of her newly-found child, St. John, and with him returned 
 to Jerusalem. The glorious title of " The Child of Mary " 
 was now his; and with this precious gift of the dying 
 Redeemer he rejoiced in Mary's society and in Mary's care. 
 The Virgin was then, according to tradition, in her forty- 
 ninth year. During the twelve years that she smwived with 
 John, she was mostly in Jerusalem, while he preached in 
 Ephesus, one of the cities of Asia Minor, and founded there 
 a church, and held the chair as its first Apostle and Bishop. 
 He founded a church at Philippi, and a church at Thessalonica, 
 and many of the churches in Asia Minor. His whole life, for 
 seventy years after the death of his divine Lord, was spent in 
 the propagation of the Gospel and in the establishing of the 
 Church. But, for twelve years of it, the Virgin Mother was 
 with him, in his house, tenderly surrounding him with every 
 comfort that her care could supply. Oh, think of the rap- 
 tures of this household that we read of so much ! Every 
 glance of her virginal eyes upon him reminded her of Him 
 who was gone, — for John was like his Divine Master. It 
 was that wonderful resemblance to Christ which the highest 
 form of grace brings out in the soul. Pictm-e to yourselves, 
 
86 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 if you can, that life at Ephesus, when the Apostle, worn down 
 by his apostolic preaching, — fatigued and wearied from his 
 constantly proclaiming the victor}^ and the love of the Re- 
 deemer,— returned to the house and sat down, while Mary, 
 with her tender hand, wiped the sweat from his brow, and 
 these two, sitting together, spoke of the Lord, and of the 
 mysteries of the life in Nazareth ; and from Mary's lips he 
 heard of the mysteries of the thirty years of love in the hum- 
 ble house of Nazareth ; and of how Joseph had died, she hold- 
 ing his head, and the Son of God standing by his side. From 
 Mary's lips he heard the secrets — the wonderful secrets — of 
 her Divine Son ; — until, filled with inspiration, and rising to 
 the highest and most glorious heights of divinely-inspired 
 thought, he proclaimed the Gospel that begins with the won- 
 derful words, '^ In the beginning was the Word," denoting 
 and pointing back to the eternity of the Son of God. Pic- 
 ture to yourselves, if you can, how Mary poured out to John, 
 yeai-s after the death of our Lord, her words of gratitude for 
 the care with which he surrounded her, and of her gratitude 
 to him for all that he bad done in consoling and upholding 
 her Divine Child in the hour of His sorrow! Oh, this sur- 
 passes all contemplation ! Next to that mystery of Divine 
 Love, the life in iSTazaretli vaih her own Child, comes near- 
 est the life she lived in Ephesus with her second, her adopted 
 son, St. John the Evangelist. 
 
 He passed to Heaven, — first among the virgins, says St. 
 Peter Damian, — first in glory as first in love, enshrined to- 
 day in the brightest light that surrounds the virgin choirs of 
 Heaven ! Now, now he sings the songs of angelic joy and 
 angelic love ; — and he leaves to you and to me, — as he stands, 
 and as we contemplate him upon the Hill of Calvary, — the 
 grand and the instructive lesson of how the Christian man 
 is to behave towards his Lord and his God ; living in Chris- 
 tian purity, — in the Christ-given strength of divine love, — and 
 in that glorious, world-despising assertion of the divinity and 
 of the love of Christ, which, trampling under foot all mere 
 human respect, lives and glories in the friendship of God and 
 in the possession of His holy faith and the practice of His holy 
 religion ; — not blushing for Him before man ; and thus gain- 
 ing the reward of Him who says : -^And he that confesses 
 Me before men, the same will I confess before My Father in 
 Heaven." 
 
CHRIST ON CALVARY. 
 
 [J Sermon delivered bij the Very Bev. T. N. Burke, O.P., in the 
 Dominican Church of St. Vincent Ferrer, New York, on Good- 
 Friday, March 29, 1872.] 
 
 "All you that pass this way, come aud see if there be any sorrow 
 like unto my sorrow." 
 
 Dearlt Beloved Brethren : These words are found 
 in the Lamentations of the Prophet Jeremiah. There was a 
 festival ordained by the Almighty God, for the tenth day of 
 the seventh month of the Jewish year ; and this festival was 
 called the "Day of Atonement." Now, among the command- 
 ments that the Almighty God gave concerning the ^' Day of 
 Atonement," there was this remarkable one : " Every soul," 
 said the Lord, "that shall not be afflicted on that day, 
 shall perish from out the land." The commandment that 
 He gave them was a commandment of sorrow, because it was 
 the day of the atonement. The day of the Christian atone- 
 ment is come, — the day of the mighty sacrifice by which the 
 world was redeemed. "And if, at other seasons, we are told 
 to rejoice, — in the words of the Scripture — " Rejoice in the 
 Lord ; I say to you again, rejoice," — to-day, with our holy 
 mother, the Church, we must put off the gannents of joy, and 
 clothe ourselves in the raiment of sorrow. If, at other 
 times, we are told to be glad in the Lord, — according to the 
 words of Scripture, " Rejoice in the Lord and be glad," — to- 
 day the command is that every soul shall be afflicted ; and 
 the soul that is not afflicted shall perish. 
 
 And now, before we enter upon the consideration of 
 the terrible sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ, — all that 
 He endured for our salvation, — it is necessary, my dearly 
 beloved brethren, that we should turn our thoughts to the 
 Victim, whom we contemplate this night dying for our sins. 
 That Victim was our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, the Son 
 of God. When the Almighty God, after the first two thou- 
 sand years of the world's history, resolved to destroy the 
 whole race of mankind, on account of their sins, He flooded 
 
88 FATHER BUBKWS DISCOURSES. 
 
 the earth ; and, in that universal ruin, He wiped out the sin 
 by destroying the sinners. Now, in that early hour of God's 
 first terrible visitation, the water that overwhelmed the whole 
 world, and destroyed all mankind, came from three sources. 
 First of all, we are told, that God, with his own hand, drew 
 back the bolts of Heaven, and rained down water from 
 Heaven upon the earth. Secondly, we are told that all the 
 secret springs and fountains that were in the bosom of the 
 earth itself,"burst and came forth : — ^' The fountains of the 
 great abyss burst forth/' says Holy Writ. Thirdly, we are 
 told that the great ocean itself overflowed its shores and its 
 banks ; ^^ and the sea uprose, until the waters covered the 
 mountain tops." Thus, dearly beloved brethren, in the 
 inundation, the flood of suffering and sorrow that came upon 
 the Son of God made man, we find that the flood burst 
 forth from three distinct sources. First of all, from Heaven, — 
 the Eternal Father sending down the merciless hand of justice 
 to strike His ow^n Divine Son. Secondly, from Christ our 
 Lord himself. As from the hidden fountains of the earth 
 sending forth their springs ; so, from amid the very heart 
 and soul of Jesus Christ, — from the very nature of His being, 
 — do we gather the greatness of His sufiering. Thirdly, 
 from the sea rising, — that is to say, from the malice and 
 wickedness of man. Behold, then, the three several sources 
 of all the suflerings that we are about to contemplate. A 
 just and angry God in Heaven ; a most pure, and holy, and 
 loving Man-God upon earth, having to endure all that hell 
 could produce of most wicked and most demoniac rage against 
 Him. God's justice rose up, — for, remember, God was angry 
 on this Good-Friday; — the Eternal Father rose up in 
 Heaven, in all His power ; — He rose up in all His justice. 
 Before Him was a Victim for all the sins that ever had 
 been committed ; before Him was the Victim of a fallen 
 race ; before Him, in the very person of Jesus Christ 
 himself, were represented the accumulated sins of all the 
 race of mankind. Hitherto, we read in the Gospel, that, 
 when the Father from heaven looked down upon His own 
 Divine Child upon the earth, He was accustomed to send 
 forth His voice in such language as this : — " This is my be- 
 loved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Hitherto, no sin, 
 no deformity, no vileness was there, but the beauty of Heaven 
 itself in that fairest fonn of human bodv. — in that beautiful 
 
CHRIST ON CALVARY. 89 
 
 soul, and in the fulness of the divinity that dwelt in Jesus 
 Christ. Well might the Father exclaim — ^' This is my be- 
 loved Son, in whom I am well pleased ! " But, to-day, — 
 oh, to-day ! — the sight of the beloved Son excites no pleasure 
 in the Father's eyes, — brings forth no word of consolation or 
 of love from the Father's lips. And why I Because the 
 all-holy and all-beloved Son of God, on this Good-Friday, 
 took upon Him the garment of our sins, — of all that His 
 Father detested upon this earth ; all that ever raised the 
 quick anger of the Eternal God ; all that ever made Him put 
 forth His arm, strong in judgment and in vengeance : — all 
 this is concentrated upon the sacred jierson of Him who "be- 
 came the Victim for the sins of men." How fair He seems to 
 us, when we look up to that beautiful figure of Jesus ! — how 
 fair He seemed to His Virgin Mother, even when no beauty or 
 comeliness was left in Him ! — how fair He seemed to the Mag- 
 dalen, again, who saw Him robed in His own crimson blood! 
 The Father in Heaven saw no beauty, no fairness, in His 
 Divine Son in that hour. He only saw, in Him and on Him, 
 all the sins of mankind, which He took upon Himself that 
 He might become for us a Saviour. Picture to yourselves, 
 therefore, first, this mighty fountain of divine wrath that was 
 poured out upon the Lord. It was the Father's hand, — the 
 hand of the Fathei^s justice, — outstretched to assert His 
 rights, to restore to Himself the honor and the glory of 
 which the sins of all men, in all ages, in all climes, had 
 deprived Him ! Picture to yourselves that terrible hand of 
 God drawing back the bolts of Heaven, and letting out on 
 His own divine Son the fury of this wrath that was pent up 
 for four thousand years ! We stand stricken with fear in the 
 contemplation of the anger of God, in the first great punish- 
 ment of sin, the Universal Deluge. And all the sins that 
 in every age roused the Fathei^s anger were actually visible 
 to the Fathei^'s eyes on the person of His Divine Son. We 
 stand astonished and frightened when we see, with the eyes 
 of faith and of revelation, the living fire descending from 
 Heaven upon Sodom and Gomon'ha, — the balls of fire float- 
 ing in the air, thick as the descending flakes in the snow- 
 storai ] — the hissing of the flames as they came rushing dowTi 
 from Heaven, like the hail that comes down in the hail- 
 storm ; the roaring of these flames as they filled the 
 atmosphere j — their terrible, Imid light j — the shrieks of the 
 
yu FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 people, who are being burned up alive ; — the lowing of the 
 tortiu-ed beasts in the fields j — the birds of the air falling, 
 and sending forth thek plaintive voices, as they drop to 
 earth, theh plumage scorched and burned ! All the sins that 
 Almighty God, in heaven, saw in that horn' of His ^Tath, 
 when he rained dowa fii'e, — all these did He see, on that 
 Good-Friday morning, upon His o^\ti Divine Son. All 
 the sins that ever man committed were upon Him, in the 
 hour of His humiliation and of His agony, because He was 
 tnily man ; because He was a voluntary victim for om' sins ; 
 because He stepped in between our nature, that was to be 
 destroyed, and the avenging hand of the Father lifted for our 
 destmction : and these sins upon Him became an argument 
 to make the Almighty God in Heaven forget, in that hour, 
 every attribute of His mercy, and put forth against His son 
 all the omnipotence of His justice. Consider it well j let it 
 enter into yom' minds ; — the strokes of the Divine vengeance 
 that would have iTiined you and me, and smik us into hell 
 for all etemit}^, were rained by the unsparing hand of 
 Omnipotence, in that hour, upon our Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 The second fountain and source from which came forth the 
 deluge of His sorrow and His suffering was His own divine 
 heart, and His own immaculate nature. For, remember that 
 He was as truly man as He was God. From the moment Mary 
 received the Eternal Word into her womb, from that moment 
 Christ, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, was as truly 
 man as He was God ; and, in that hom' of His incarnation, a 
 human body and a human soul were created for Him. Now, 
 first of all, that human soul that He took was the purest and 
 most perfect that God could make, — perfect in every natural 
 perfection ; — in the quickness and comprehensiveness of its 
 intelligence 5 — in the large capacity for love in its human 
 heart 5 in the great depth of its generosity and exalted human 
 spirit. Nay more, the ver}^ body in which that blessed soul 
 M^as enshrined was so formed, that it w^as the most perfect 
 body that was ever given to man. Now, the perfection of 
 the body in man lies in a delicate organization, — in the ex- 
 treme delicacy of fibre, muscle, and nerve ; because they 
 make it a fitting instrument in order that the soul within 
 may inspire it. The more perfect, therefore, the human being 
 is, the more sensitive is he to shame, the more deeply does he 
 feel degradation, the more quickly do dishonor and humilia- 
 
CHRIST OX CALVARY 91 
 
 tion, like a two-edged sword, pierce the spirit. Nay, the 
 more sensitive he is to pain, tlie more does he shrink away 
 naturally from that which causes pain ; and that which would 
 be merely pain to a grosser organization, is actual agony, is 
 actual torment to the perfect man, formed with such a "soul 
 that, at the very touch of his body the sensitive soul is made 
 cognizant of pleasure and of pain, of joy and of solTOw^ What 
 follows from this f St. Bonaventm-e, m his " Life of Clirist," 
 tells us that so delicate was the sacred and most perfect body 
 of Our Lord that even the palm of His hand, or the sole of His 
 foot, was more sensitive than the inner pupil of the eye of any 
 ordinary man ; that even the least touch caused him pain j 
 that every mder air that \'isited that Divine face brought to 
 Him a sense of exquisite pain that ordinary men could scarcely 
 experience. Add to this, that in Him was the fulness of 
 the God-head, realizing all that was beautiful on earth ; re- 
 alizing with infinite capacity the enormity of sin ; realizing 
 every e\dl that ever fell upon natm-e in making it accessible 
 to sin ; and above all, taking in, to the full extent of its eter- 
 nal duration, the curse, the reprobation, the damnation that 
 falls upon the wicked. Oh, how many som'ces of sorrow are 
 hem ! Here is the heaii; of the man — Jesus Christ : — here 
 is the fulness of the infinite sanctity of God, — here, the infi- 
 nite horror that God has for sin. For this man is God! 
 Here, therefore, is at once the indignation, the infinite repug- 
 nance, the actual sense of hoiTor and detestation which, 
 amounting to an infinite, passionate repugnance, absorbed 
 the whole natm'e of Jesus Christ in one act of ^aolence against 
 that which is come upon Him. Now^, every single sin com- 
 mitted in this world comes, and actually efi'ects, as it were, its 
 lodgment in the soul and spirit of Jesus. At other times he 
 may re«t, as He did rest, in the Vu'gin's arms ; — for she <vas 
 sinless • at other times He may allow sin and the sinner to 
 come to His feet and touch Him ; but, by that very touch, 
 that smner was made as pm'e as an angel of God. But to-day 
 this infinitely holy heart, — this infinitely tender heart must 
 open itself to receive, — no longer simply to pmify, but to 
 assuTi^e and atone for, — all the sins of the world. 
 
 The thu'd great source of His sufi"ering was the rage and 
 the malice of men. They tore that sacred body ; they forgot 
 every instinct of humanity ; they forgot every dictate, every 
 ordinance of the old law, to lend to their outrages all the fuiy 
 
92 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 of hell, when they fell upon hnn, as the Scripture says, 
 " Like hung-ry dogs of chase upon their prey." He is now 
 approaching the last sad day of His existence ; He is now 
 about to close His life m sufferings which I shall endea- 
 vor to put before you. But remember that this Good- 
 Friday, with all its terrors, is but the end of a life of thirty- 
 three years of agony and of suffering ! From the moment 
 when the Word -was made flesh in Mary's womb, — from tho 
 moment w^hen the Eternal God became man, — even before 
 He was bom, — the cross, the thorny crown, and all the hor- 
 rors that were accomplished on Calvary were steadily before 
 the eyes of Jesus. The Infant in Bethlehem saw them ; the 
 Child in Nazareth saw them ; the Yoimg Man, toiling to 
 support his mother, saw them ; the Preacher on the moun- 
 tain side beheld them. Never, for a single instant, were the 
 horrors that were fulfilled on Good-Friday morning absent 
 from the mind or the contemplation of Jesus Christ. Oh, 
 dearly beloved brethren, well did the Psalmist say of Him, 
 'i My grief, my sorrow is always before me ; " well the 
 Psalmist said, "I have, dming my whole life, walked in 
 sorrow^ ! I was scourged the whole day ! " That day was 
 the thui;y -three years of His mortal life. Pictm*e to yom'- 
 selves what that life of grief must have been. There was 
 the Almighty God in the midst of men, hearing their blas- 
 phemies, beholding then infamous actions, fixing His all-pure 
 and all-holy eyes on their licentiousness, their ambition, their 
 avarice, their dishonesty, then- impmity. And, so, the very 
 presence of those He came to redeem was a constant source 
 of grief to Jesus Christ. Moreover, He knew well that He 
 came into the world to suffer, and only to suffer. Every 
 other being created into this world was created for some joy 
 or other. There is not, even in hell, a creature whom 
 Almighty God intended, in creating, for a life and eternity 
 of misery j if they are there, they are there by their own act, 
 not by tiie act of God. Not so with Christ. His sacred 
 body was fonned for the express and sole pm-pose that it 
 might be the victim for the sins of man, and the sacrifice for 
 the world's redemption. . " Saciifice and oblation," He said, 
 " Thou w^ouldst not, God ; but Thou hast prepared a body 
 for me." "Coming into the world," says St. Paul, ''He 
 proclaimed, ' for tliis I am come, that I may do Thy will, 
 Father/ " The Fathei^s will was that He should suffer ; and 
 
CHRIST ON CALVARY. 93 
 
 for tliis was He created. Therefore, as He was made for 
 suffeiing, — as that body was given to Him for no purpose of 
 joy, but only of siiiFering, of expiation, and of soitow, — there- 
 fore it was that God made him capable of a soitow equal to 
 the remission He was about to grant. That was infinite 
 Borrow. 
 
 And now, dearly beloved, ha\dng considered these things, 
 we come to contemplate that which was always before the 
 mind of Chi'ist, — that from which He knew there was no 
 escape, — that which was before Him really, not as the future 
 is before us, when we anticipate it and fear it, but which 
 still comes indistinctly and confusedly before the mind. 
 Not so with Christ. Every single detail of His Passion, 
 every sorrow that was to fall upon Him, every indignity that 
 was to be put upon His body, — all, in the full clearness of 
 their details, were before the eyes of the Lord Jesus Christ 
 for the thirty-three years of His life. 
 
 As the sun was sloping doT\Ti towards the western horizon 
 on the evening of the vigil of the Pasch, behold our Divine 
 Lord with His Apostles around Hiin : and there, seated in 
 the midst of them, he fulfilled the last precept of the law, in 
 eating the Paschal lamb ; and He then changed the bread 
 and wine into his ovm. Body and Blood, and fed His Apostles 
 vnth that of which the Paschal lamb was but a figure and a 
 promise. Now they are about to separate in this world. 
 Now, the greatest act of the charity of God has been per- 
 foiTned. Now the Lord Jesus Christ is living and palpita- 
 ing in the heart of each and every one of these twelve. 
 Now, — hoiTor of hon'ors ! — He is gone into the heart of 
 Judas ! Arising from the tables om- Lord took with Him 
 Peter, and James, and John; and He turned cahnly and 
 deliberately to enter the red sea of His Passion, and to wade 
 through His own blood, until He landed upon the opposite 
 shore of pardon, and mercy, and grace, and brought with 
 Him, in His o^vm sacred humanity, the whole human race. 
 Calmly, deliberately, taking his tlu^ee friends with Him, He 
 went out from the supper-hall, as the shades of evening were 
 deepening into night ; and He walked outside the walls of 
 Jemsaleui, where there was a garden full of olive trees, that 
 was called Gethsemane. The Lord Jesus was accustomed to 
 go there to pray. Many an evening had He knelt witliin 
 those groves j many a night had He spent under the shade 
 
94 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 of these trees, filling the silent place with the voice of His 
 cries and petitions, before the Lord, His Father, to obtain 
 pardon and mercy for mankind. Now, He goes there for the 
 last time ; and as He is approaching, — as soon as ever He 
 catches sight of the garden, — as soon as the familiar olives 
 present themselves to His eyes. He sees — what Peter, and 
 James, and John did not see, — He sees there, in that dark 
 garden, the mighty array — the mighty, tremendous array 
 — of all the sins that were ever committed in this world, 
 as if they had taken the bodily fomi of demons of hell. 
 There they w^ere now — waiting silently, fearfully, with eyes 
 glaring mth infernal rage ! And he saw them. And 
 w^as He, the Lord Grod, to go among them ! Among them 
 must He go ! No w^onder that the moment He caught sight 
 of that garden He started back, and tm^ning to the three 
 Apostles, He said : ^^ Stand by Me now, for My soul is sor- 
 rowful unto death." And, leaning upon the virgin bosom of 
 John, who was astonished at this fearful trial of his Master, 
 He munnm-ed unto him : " My soul is soiTowful unto death ! 
 Stand by me," He says, " and w^atch with me — and pray ! " 
 The man ! — the man proving his humanity ! pro\dng his 
 humanity w'liich belonged to him as truly as his divinity ! 
 The man, turning to, and clinging to his fiiends ! Gathering 
 them around Him at that terrible moment w^hen he was about 
 to face His enemies, He cries again and again : — " Stand by 
 me ! stand by me ! and support me, and watch, and pray with 
 me ! " And then, leaving them, alone He enters the gloomy 
 place. Summoning all the com^age of God, — summoning to 
 His aid all the infinite resom'ces of His love, — summoning 
 the gi'eat thought that if He was about to be destroyed, 
 mankind w^as to be saved, He dashes feai'lessly into the depths 
 of Gethseraane ; and when He was as far from His Apostles 
 as a man could cast a stone, — there, in the dark depths of 
 the forest, the Lord Jesus knelt down and prayed. What 
 was His prayer ! Oh, that army of sins w^as closing around 
 Him ! Oh, the breath of Hell was on His face ! There did 
 He see the busy demons marshalling their forces, — drawing 
 closer and closer to Him all the iniquities of men. " Oh, 
 Father ! " He cries — " Oh, Father, if it be possible, let this 
 chalice pass away from me ! " But He immediately added — 
 " Not My ^vill but Thine be done ! " Then tmiiing — for the 
 Father^s will was indicated to him in the voice fi'om Heaven, 
 
CHRIST ON CALVARY. 95 
 
 with the first tone of anger upon it ; the first word of anger 
 that Jesus ever heard from His Father's lips, saying : " It is 
 My will to strike Thee ! Go ! " He turned ; He bared his 
 innocent bosom ; He put out His sinless hands ; and, turning 
 to all the powers of hell, allowed the ocean-wave of sin to 
 flow in upon Him and overwhelm Him. The lusts and 
 wickedness of men before the Flood, the impurities of Sodom 
 and Gomon'ha, the idolatries of the nations, the ingratitude 
 of Israel ; — all the sins that ever appeared under the eyes of 
 God's anger — all — all ! — like the waves of the ocean, coming 
 in and falling upon a solitary man, who kneels alone on the 
 shore, — all fell upon Jesus Christ. He looks upon Himself, 
 and He scarcely recognizes Himself now. Are these the 
 hands of Jesus Christ, scarcely daring to uplift themselves in 
 prayer, for they ai'e red w^ith ten thousand deeds of blood ? 
 Is this the heart of Jesus, frozen up with unbelief, as if He 
 felt — what He could not feel — that He was the personal 
 enemy of God? Is this the sacred soul of Jesus Chi-ist, 
 darkened for the moment with the en'ors and the adulteries 
 of the whole world ? In the halls of His memory nothing 
 but the hideous figm-es of sin ! — desolation, broken hearts, 
 weeping eyes, cries of despair, du"e blasphemies ; — ^these are 
 the things that He sees within Himself, that He hears m His 
 eai'S ! It is a world oi sin around Him. It is a raging of 
 demons about Him. It is as if sin had entered into His blood. 
 Oh, God ! He bears it as long as a suffering man can bear. 
 But at length, from out the depths of His most sacred heart, 
 — from out the very divinity that was in ^ Him, — the foun- 
 tains of the gi'eat deep were moved, and forth came a iTish of 
 blood from every pore ! His eyes can no longer dwell on 
 the teiTible vision ! He can no longer look upon these red 
 scenes of blood and impmity ! A weakness comes mercifully 
 to His relief. He gazes upon the fate that God has put upon 
 Him ; and then He falls to the earth, writhing in His agony ; 
 and forth from every pore of His sacred fi'ame streams the 
 blood ! Behold Him ! Behold the blood as it oozes out 
 through His garments, making them red as those of a man 
 who has trodden in the wine press ! Behold Him, as His 
 agonizing face lies prone upon the earth. Behold Him, as, in 
 the horn- of that tenible agony. His blood reddens the soil 
 of Gethsemane ! — behold Him as he wTithes on the ground, — 
 one mass of streaming blood, — sweating blood from head to 
 
96 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 foot, — cnang out, in His agony, for the sins of the whole 
 world ! A mountain of the anger of God is upon Him ! 
 Behold Him in Getlisemane, Christian man ! Kneel down 
 by His side ! Lie down on that blood-stained earth, and, for 
 the love of Jesus Christ, wliisper one word of consolation to 
 Him ! For, remember that you and I were there; were there; 
 and He saw us, — even as He sees us in this horn-, gathered 
 under the roof of this church. He saw us there, in our qual- 
 ity of sinners, as — with every sin that ever we committed — as 
 if, with a stone in our uplifted hand, we flung it down upon 
 His defenceless form ! When Acan was convicted of a crime, 
 Joshua gave word that every man of the Jewish nation 
 should take a stone in his hand, and fling it at him ; and all 
 the people of Israel came and flung them upon him, and put 
 him to death. So every son of man, from Adam down to the 
 last that was born on this earth, — every son of man — every 
 human being that breathed the breath of God's creation in 
 this world, was there, in that hour, to fling his sins, and let 
 them fall do^vn upon Jesus Christ. All, all, — save one. 
 There was one whose hand was not lifted against Him. 
 There was one who, if she had been there, could be only 
 there to help Him and to console Him. But no help could 
 come, no consolation in that hour ! Therefore Mary, the 
 only sinless one, w^as absent. 
 
 He rises 'after an hom\ No scourge has been yet laid 
 upon that sacred body. No executioner's hand has profaned 
 Him as yet. No nail had been diiven thi'ough His hands. 
 And yet the blood covered His body; — for His Passion 
 began fi'om that source to which I have alluded — His own 
 divine spirit : His Passion — His pain began from within. 
 He rises from the earth. What is this which we heart 
 There is a sound, as of the voices of a rabble. There are 
 hoarse voices filling the night. There are men with clubs 
 in their hands, and lanterns lighted. They come with fire 
 and fmy in their eyes, and the universal voice is, " Where is 
 He ? Where is He 1" Ah there is one at the head of them ! 
 You hear his voice : — " Come cautiously ! I see Him. I 
 will point Him out to you ! There are four of them. There 
 He is, ^vith three of His friends. When you see me take a 
 man in mj arms and kiss him. He is the man ! Lay hold 
 of Him at once, and drag Him away with you; — and do 
 what you please ! " Who is he that says this 1 Who are 
 
cnni.'ST ox calvary. 97 
 
 they that come like hell-hounds, thirsting for the blood of 
 Jesus Christ f that come with the rage of hell in their blood, 
 and in their mouths ? They are come to take Him and to 
 tear Him to pieces. AVho is this that leads them on ? Oh, 
 friends und men ! it is Judas, the Apostle ! Judas, who 
 spent three years in the society of Jesus Clnist ! Judas, 
 that was taught by Him every lesson of piety and viilue, by 
 word and by example ! Judas, who received the priesthood ! 
 Judas, upon whose lips, even now, blushes the sacred blood 
 received in holy communion ! Oh, it is Judas ! And he 
 has come to give up liis Master, whom he has sold for thirty 
 pieces of silver. He went after liis unworthy communion to 
 the Pharisees, and he said : '''■ What will you give me, and I 
 will sell Him to you"? — give Him upf He put no price 
 upon Jesus. He thought so little of his Master, that He was 
 prepared to take any thing they would offer. They offered 
 him thirty small pieces of silver; and he clutched at the 
 money. He thought it was a great deal, and more than 
 Jesus Christ was worth ! Now he comes to fullil his i»ortion 
 of the contract ; and he points the Lord out by going up to 
 him — putting his traitor lips upon the face of Jesus Christ,, 
 and sealing upon that face the kiss of a false-hearted, a 
 wicked, and a traitorous follower. Behold him now. The 
 Son of God sees him approach. He opens his arms to him. 
 Judas flings himself in his Master's anus, and he hears 
 the gentle reproach, — oh, last proof of love ! — oh, last 
 opportunity to him to repent — even in this horn* ! — " J udas, 
 is it with a kiss thou betrayest the Son of Man ! " 
 
 Now, the multitude rush in upon Him and seize Him. 
 A¥e have a supplement to the Gospel naiTative in the reve- 
 lations of many of the Saints, and of holy souls who, in 
 reward for their extraordinary^ devotion to the Passion of our 
 Lord, were favored ^\\i\\ a clbser sight of His sufferings. We 
 are told by one of these, — whose revelations, though not yet 
 approved, are tolerated by the Church, — that when ouu 
 Divine Lord gave Himself into the hands, of His enemies, 
 they boimd His sacred arms with a rope and rushed toward* 
 the city, cb-agging along with them,, forcibly and violently, 
 the exhausted lledeemev. Exhausted,. I say, for His soul 
 had just passed through the agony of Plis prayer, and His 
 body was still dripping with the sweat of blood. Behveeu 
 that spot and J^wsalem flowed the little stream ealled .+he 
 
 \ 
 
 
98 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 Brook of Kedron. ^Mien tliey came to that little stream, 
 om' Saviom' stmnbled and fell over a stone. Tliey, witliont 
 Avaiting to give Him time to rise, pnlled and di'agged Him 
 on with all theii* might. They literally dragged Him 
 through the water, wounding and bmising His body by 
 contact wdth the rocks that were in its bed. It was night 
 when they brought Him into Jerusalem. That night a 
 cohort of Roman soldiers fonned the body-guard of Pilate. 
 They were called "The Archers;" men of the most 
 corrupt and tenible vices ; men without faith in God or man : 
 men whose every w^ord was either a blasphemy or an impu- 
 rity. These men, who were only anxious for amusement, 
 when they found the prisoner dragged into Jemsalem at 
 that horn', took possession of Him for the night ; and they 
 brought Him to their quarters : and there the Redeemer was 
 put sitting in the midst of them. During the whole of that 
 long night, between Holy-Thursday and Good-Friday 
 morning, the soldiers remained sleepless, employed in loud 
 revel, and in their derision and torture of the Son of God. 
 They struck Him on the head. They spat upon Him. 
 They hustled Him, T\-ith scorn, from one to another. They 
 bruised Him. They wounded Him in every conceivable 
 form Here, — silent as a lamb before the shearer, — was the 
 Eternal Son of God, looking out, with eyes of infinite know- 
 ledge and purity, upon the veiy \dlest men that all the 
 iniquity of this earth could bring around Him. 
 
 He was brought before the High Priest. He was asked 
 to answer. The moment the Son of God opened His lips to 
 speak — the moment he attempt to testify — a brawny soldier 
 came out of the ranks, stepped before our Divine Lord, and 
 saying to him : " Answerest thou the High Priest thus ? " 
 drew back his clenched mailed hand, and, with the full force 
 of a strong man, flinging himself forward, stmck Almighty 
 God in the face ! The Saviom- reeled, stmmed by the blow. 
 
 The morning came. Now He is led before Pilate, the 
 Roman Governor, who alone has power to sentence Him 
 to death, if He be guilty, — and who has the obligation to 
 protect Him and set Him at liberty, if He be innocent. The 
 Scribes and Pharisees and the Publicans were there, — the 
 leaders of the people, and the rabble of Jerasalem were 
 with them : and in the midst of them was the silent, innocent 
 Victim who knew that the sad and temble hour of His 
 
CHRIST OX CA L VAR Y. 99 
 
 crucifixion was upon Him. Brouglit before Pilate, He is 
 accused of this crime and that. Witnesses are called ; and 
 the moment they come — the moment they look upon the face 
 of God, — they ai'e unable to give testimony against Him. 
 They could say nothing that proved Ilini guilty of any 
 crime j and Pilate enraged turned to the Pharisees, turned to 
 tlic learned men, turned to the people themselves, and said : 
 " What do you bring this man here for f Why is he bound ? 
 Why is he bruised and maltreated "? What has he done f I 
 find no crime, or shadow of a crime in him." He is not onlv 
 innocent, but the judge declares, before all the people, that the 
 man has done nothing whatever to deserve any punishment, 
 much less death. How is this sentence received? The 
 Phaiisees ai'e busy among the people, whispering their cal- 
 umnies, and prompting them to cry out, and say : <' Crucify 
 Hini ! crucify Him ! We want to have Jesus of Xazareth 
 crucified! We want to do it early, because the evening 
 ^nll come and bring the Sabbath with it ! We want to have 
 His blood shed ! Quick ! Quick ! Tell Pilate he must con- 
 demn Jesus of Nazareth, or else he is no friend to Ca?sar ! " 
 The people cry out : " Let Him be crucified ! If you let 
 Him go, you are no friend of Ca?sar ! " What says Pilate ? 
 " Cracify yom- king ! He calls himself ^ King of the Jews.' 
 You yourselves wished to make Him your king: and you 
 honored Him. Am I to crucify Him whom you would have 
 for king? Am I to crucify your king?" And then, — 
 then, in an awful moment, Israel declared solemnly that God 
 was no longer her king -, for the people cried out*^: " He is 
 not our king ! We have no king but Cgesar ! We have 
 no king but Csesar ! " The old cry of the man who, com- 
 mitting sin, says: "I have no Idng but my own passions; I 
 have no king but this world ; I have no king but the thoughts 
 of money, or of honors, or of indulgence ! " So tlie Jews 
 cried : " He is no king of om's ,• we have no king but Ca?sar I " 
 Pilate, no doubt, in a spiiit of compromise, said to himself: 
 " I see tliis man cannot escape. I see murder in these peoph^'s 
 eyes! They are determined upon the cmcifixion of this 
 man ; and, therefore, I must try to find out some way or 
 another of appealing to their mercy." Then he thought lo 
 himself : " I will make an example of Him. I ^^-ill tear the 
 flesli off His bones. T will cover Him witli bkmd. I will 
 make Him such a pitiable object that not one in all that 
 
100 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 crowd will have the heart to demand fiirtlier punishment, or 
 another blow for Him." So he called his officers, and said : 
 " Take this man, and scourge Him so as to make Him fright- 
 ful to behold ; let Him be so mangled that when I show 
 Him to the people, they may be moved to pity and spare his 
 life : for he is an innocent man." 
 
 In the cold early morning, the Lord is led forth into the 
 court-3^ard of the Praetorium ; and there sixty of the sti'ongest 
 men of the guard are picked out, — chosen for their strength ; 
 and they are told oft into thirty pairs, and every man of the 
 sixty has a new scourge in his hand. Some have chains of 
 iron ; some cords knotted, with steel spurs at the end of 
 them ; others, the green, supple twig, plucked from the 
 hedge in the early morning ; — long, and supple, and temble, 
 armed ^\ith thorns. Now these men come and close around 
 oiu' Lord. They strip Him of His garments j they leave 
 Him perfectly naked, blushing in His infinite modesty and 
 purity, so that He longs for them to begin in order that they 
 may robe Him in His blood. They tie His hands to a 
 pillar J. they tie Him so that He cannot move, nor shrink 
 from a blow, nor tm^n aside. And then the two first 
 advance ; they raise their brawny arms in the air ; and then, 
 with a hiss, down come the scoiu'ges upon the sacred body of 
 the Lord ! Quicker and quicker these arms rise in the air 
 with these tenible scourges. Each stroke leaves its livid 
 mark. The flesh rises into welts. The blood is congealed 
 and shows piu-ple beneath the skin. Presently, the scourge 
 comes down again, and it is followed by a quick spurt of blood 
 from the sacred body of oiu' Lord ; — the blows quickening, 
 and without pause, and without mercy j the blood flowing 
 after every additional blow ; — till these two strong men are 
 fatigued and tired out, — until thek scom-ges are sodden 
 and saturated, and dripping with His blood, do they still 
 strike Him, — and then retire, exhausted, from their terrible 
 labor J then, in comes another pair, — fresh, vigorous; fresh 
 anns and new men come to rain blows upon the defenceless 
 body of the Lord, upon His sacred limbs, upon His sacred 
 shoulders ! Every portion of His sacred body is torn : every 
 bloAV brings the flesh fi'om the bones, and oj)ens a new wound 
 and a new^ stream of blood. Now He stands ankle deep-in 
 His OA\Ti blood, — hanging out from that pillar, exhausted, 
 with head drooping, almost insensible. He is still beaten, — 
 
CHRIST OX CA L VA I! Y. 101 
 
 even when the very men who stiike Ilim tliink, or suspect, 
 tliat they may have killed Him. It was wiitten in the Old 
 Law, '^ If a man be found guilty/' says the Lord in Deuter- 
 onomy, "let him be beaten, and let the measure of his sin 
 be the measure of his punisliment ; yet so that no criminal 
 receive more than forty stripes, lest thy brother go away 
 shatuefully torn from before thy face ! " These w^ere the 
 words of the law. Well the Pharisees knew it ! AVell the 
 Publicans and Scribes knew it ! And there they stood 
 around, in the outer cii-cle, with hate in their eyes, fury up- 
 on then' lips ; and even when the very men who were dealing 
 out their revenge thought they had killed the victim they 
 were scom-ging, still came forth from these hai-dened hearts 
 the words of encouragement : " Strike Him still ! Strike 
 Him still ! " And there they continued their cruel task until 
 sixty men retired, fatigued and worn out with the work of 
 the scourging of our Lord ! 
 
 Now, behold Him as, senseless, He hangs from that pillar, 
 one mass of bmised and torn flesh ! — one open wound, from 
 the cmvm. of His head to the soles of His feet ! — all bathed 
 in the crimson of His own blood, and terrible to behold ! If 
 you saw Him here, as He stood there j if you saw Him now, 
 standing upon that altar, — there is not a man or woman 
 among j^ou that could bear to look upon the teiTible sight. 
 They cut the cords that bound Him to the pillar ; and the 
 Redeemer fell do^\Ti, bathed in His o^\^l blood, and senseless 
 upon the ground. Behold Him again, as at Gethsemanc ; 
 now, no longer the pain from within, but the pain from the 
 tenible hand of man — ^the instrument of God's vengeance. 
 Oh, behold Him ! Mary heard those stripes and yet she 
 could not save her Son. Mary's heart went down with Him 
 to the ground, as He fell from that terrible pillar of His 
 scom-ging ! Behold Him, you mothers ! You fathers, 
 behold the Virgin's Child, your God — Jesus Christ ! The 
 soldiers amused tliernselves at the sight of His sufferings, and 
 scoffed at Him as He lay prostrate. Ilecovering somewhat, 
 after a tim<3 He opened His languid eyes and rose from the 
 ground, — rose, all tora and bleeding. They throw an old 
 ]>urple rag around His shoulders, and they set Him upon a 
 stone. One of them has been, in the meantime, busily 
 engaged in twisting and twining a crown made of some of 
 those thorns, which they had prepared for the sconrg- 
 
102 rATIJER BURKE'S DISCOrnSES. 
 
 ing, — a crown in wliicli seventy-two long tborns were put, so 
 that they entered into the sacred head of our L'»rd. This 
 crown was set upon his brow. Then a man came with a 
 reed in his hand, and struck those thorns deep into the tender 
 forehead. They are fastened deeply in the most sensitive 
 orfi^an, where pain bec^>mes maddening in its agony. He 
 strikes the thorns in, till even the sacred humanity of our 
 L.rd forces from Him the cry of agony ! He strikes them in 
 still deeper ! — deeper ! Oh, ray Gud I Oh, Father of Mercy ! 
 And all this opens up new streams of blood I — new fountains 
 of htve ! The blood streams down, and the face of the Most 
 Hi^h is hidden under its crimson veil. Xow, now, indeed, 
 Pilate, — wise and compromising Pilate, — now, indeed, 
 you have gained your end ! You have proved yourself the 
 friend of Caesar. " Now. there is no fear but that the Jews, 
 when thev see Him, will be moved by compassion ! 
 
 They bring Him back and they put Him standing before 
 the Roman "governor. His rugged pagan heart is moved 
 within him with horror when he sees the fearful example they 
 have made of Him. Frightened when he beheld Him, he 
 turned away his eyes 5 the spectacle was too terrible. He 
 called for water arid washed his hands. " I declare before 
 God," he says, " I am innocent of this man's blood ! *' He leads 
 Him out on the balcony of his house. There was the raging 
 multitude, swaying to and fro. Some are exciting the crowd, 
 nr^ine them to cry out to crucify Him ; some are pre- 
 paring the Cross, others getting ready the hammer and nails, 
 some thinking of the spot where they would crucify Him ! 
 There thev were arguing with diabolical rage. Pilate came 
 f(jrth in his robes of office. Soldiers stand on either side of 
 him. Two soldiers bring forth om- Lord. His hands are tied. 
 A reed is put in His hand in derision. Thorns are on His 
 brow. Blood is flowing from every member of His sacred 
 bodv. An old tattered purple rag is flnng over hiin. Pilate 
 brincfs him out, and looking round on the multitude says : 
 '• Ecce homo ! Behold the man ! Ton said I was no friend to 
 Csesar. Ton said I was afraid to punish Him ! Behold Him 
 DOW ! Is there a man among you who would have the heart 
 to demand more ptmishment?" Oh, Heaven and earth! 
 Oh, Heaven and earth ! The cry from out every lip — from 
 out everv heart is : " We are not vet satisfied ! Give Him 
 to as ! Give Him to us ! We will crucify Him ! " " But/' 
 
CHRIST OX CA L VAR Y. 163 
 
 savs Pilate, '^ I am innocent of His blood ! " And then came 
 a word — and this word lias brought a curse upon tlie Jews 
 from that day to this. Then came the word that brought 
 the conse(]ucnces of their crime on tln^ir hard hearts and 
 blinded intellects. They cried out : " His blood be upon us 
 and upon our children ! 'Crucify Him ! " " But/' says Pihite, 
 *' here is a man in prison ; he i§ a robber and a murderer ! 
 And here is Jesus of Nazereth whom 1 declare to be inno- 
 cent ! One of these I nuist release. Which will you have — 
 Jesus or Barrabas?" And they cried out " BarraV>as ! give 
 us Barrabas ! But let Jesus be crucified ! " Here is the 
 Son of God compared to the robber and the murderer ! And 
 tlie robber and murderer is declared fit to live, and Jesus 
 Christ, the Son of God, is declared fit only to die ! The 
 vilest man in Jerusalem declared in that hour that he would 
 not associate with our Lord, and that the Son of God \Aas 
 not worthy to breathe the air polluted by this man ! So 
 Barrabas "came forth rejoicing in his escape : and, as he 
 mingled in the crowd, he too, threw up his hands and ciied 
 ou^, '' Oh, let Him be crucified ! let Him be cracified ! " 
 
 He is led forth from the tribunal of Pilate. And now, 
 just outsid(! of the Prefect's door, there are men holding up a 
 long, weighty, rude cross, that they had made rapidly ; for 
 tliey took two large beams, put one across the other, fastened 
 them with great nails, and ma<le it strong enough to uphold 
 a full-gTown man. There is the cross ! There is the man 
 with the nails ! And there are all the accompaniments of 
 the execution. And He who is scarcely able to stand, — He, 
 bruised and afflicted, — the Man of Sorrows, almost fainting 
 with infirmity. He is told to take that cross upon his bleed- 
 ing, wounded shoulders, and to go forward to the mountain 
 of Calvary. Taking to him that cross, holding it to His 
 wounded breast, putting to it, in tender kisses, the lips tliat 
 were distilling blood, the Son of God, with the cross upon His 
 shoulders, turns His faint and tottering footsteps towards the 
 steep and painful way that led to Calvary. Behold Him as 
 He goes forth ! That cross is a weight almost more than a 
 man can carry : and it is upon the shoulders of one from 
 whom all strength and manliness and courage are gone ! 
 Behcdd the Bedeemer, as He toils painfully along, amid the 
 shouts and shrieks of the enraged people ! Behcdd Him as he 
 toils along the flinty way, the soldiers driving Him on, the 
 
104 FATHER BURKE'S DISCO LJiSEH. 
 
 people inciting tlieiiij every one rusliing- and liastening- to Cal- 
 vary, to witness the execution. John, the beloved disciple, 
 follows Him. A few of His faithful disciples toil along. 
 But there is one who traces eacli of His blo(xl-stained foot- 
 steps ; there is one who follows Him with a breaking lieart : 
 there is one whose very soul within her is pierced and torn 
 with the sword of sorrow. Oh, need I name the Mother, the 
 Queen of Martyrs? In that hour of His martyrdom, Mary, 
 the mother of Jesus, followed immediately in His footsteps, 
 and her whole soul went forth in prayer for an opportunity 
 to approach Him to wipe the blood from Plis sacred face. 
 Oh, if the}^ would only let her come to Him, and say, '^My 
 child ! I am with you ! " If they, would only let her take 
 in her womanly arms, from oft" the shoulders of her dear Son, 
 that heavy cross that He cannot bear! But no ! She must 
 witness His misery ; she must witness His pain. 
 
 •He toils along: He takes the first few steps up the 
 rugged side of Calvary. Suddenly His heart ceases to beat 5 
 the light leaves His eyes ; He sways, for a moment, to and 
 fro • the weakness and the sorrow of death are upon Him ; He 
 totters, falls to the earth; and down, with a lieavy crash, 
 comes the weighty cross upon the prostrate fomi of Jesus 
 Christ ! Oh, behold Him, as for the third time He embraces 
 that earth which is sanctified and redeemed by His love ! 
 IVIary rushes forward ; Mary thinks her child is dead : she 
 thinks that terrible cross must have crushed Him into the 
 earth. She rushes forward ; but with rude and Ijarbarous 
 words the woman is flung aside. The cross is lifted up and 
 placed on the shoulders of Simon of Cyrene ; and, with 
 blows and blasphemies, the Saviour of the world is obliged 
 to rise from that earth ; and, worn with the sorrows and 
 afflictions of death. He faces the rugged steep on the summit 
 of which is the place destined for His crucifixion. Arrived at 
 the place, they tear off His gamients ; they take from Him 
 the seamless garment which His mother's loving hands had 
 woven for Him ; they take the humble clothing in which the 
 Son of God had robed Himself, — saturated, steeped as it is in 
 His blood ; and, in removing them, they open afresh every 
 wound, and once again the saving blood of Chiist is poured 
 out upon the ground. With rude, blasphemous words tlie 
 God-man is told to lie down upon that cross. Of His own free 
 will He stretches His tender limbs, puts forth His hands, and 
 
CHRIST OX CAL VAIl Y. 105 
 
 ptretclies out His feet at tlieir order. Tlie executioners take 
 tlie liails and the liaminer, and they kneel upon His sacred 
 bosom ; they press out His hands till they bring the palms to 
 where they had made the holes to fit the nails. They stretch 
 Him out upon that cross, even as the Paschal Lamb was 
 stretched out upon the altar ; they kneel upon the cross ; they 
 lay the nails upon the pahns of His hands. The first ])low 
 drives the n;.il deep into his hands, the next blow sends it 
 into the cross. Blow follows blow. They are inflamed with 
 the rage of hell. Earnestly they work, — and hell delights 
 in the scene, — tearing the muscles and the sinews of His 
 hands and feet. Rude, terrible blows fall on these nails, and 
 reecho in the heart of the Virgin, until that heart seems to 
 be broken at the foot of the cross. And, now, when they 
 have driven these nails to the heads, fastening Him to the 
 wood, the cross is lifted up from the ground. Slowly, 
 solemnly, the figure of Jesus Christ, all red with blood, all 
 torn and disfigured, rises into the air, until the cross, attain- 
 ing its full height, is fixed into its socket in the earth. The 
 lianner of salvation is flung out over the world ; and Jesus 
 Christ, the Son of God, and the Redeemer of mankind, ap- 
 pears in mid-air, and looks out over the crowd and over Jerusa- 
 lem, over hill and valle}^, far away towards the Sea of Galilee, 
 and all around the horizon ; and the dying eyes of the Saviour 
 are turned over the land and the people for w^hom He is 
 shedding His blood. Uplifted in mid-air, — the eternal 
 sacrifice of the Redeemer for everlasting, — hanging from 
 these three terrible nails on the cross, — for three hours He 
 remained. Every man took up his position. IMary, His 
 Mother, approaches, for this is the hour of her agony ; she 
 must suffer in soul what He suffers in body. John, the dis- 
 ciple of love, approaches, and takes his stand imderhis ^Mas- 
 tei-'s outstretched hands. Mary Magdalen rashes through 
 the guards, to the feet of her Lord and blaster; they 
 are now bathed with other tears — with the tears of blood 
 that save the world, — the feet which it was her joy to ^\•eep 
 over! • And now she clasps the cross, and pours out her 
 tears, until they mingle with the blood which flows down 
 His feet. There are the Pharisees and the Scribes, who had 
 gained their point ; they come and stand before tlie cross ; 
 they look upon that figure of awful pain and misery; they 
 see tliose thorns sunk deeply into that drooping head ; \\ itli 
 
lOG FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 no love in their hearts, they see the agony expressed in the 
 eyes of the Victim who is dying ; and then looking up exult- 
 iiigly, they rejoice and say to Him: ^^ You said you could 
 destroy the Temple, and build it up in three days ; now, 
 come down from the cross, and we will believe in and wor- 
 ship you." The Roman soldier stood there, admiring the 
 courage with which the man died. The tliird hour is ap- 
 IDroachiiig. The penitent thief on His right hand had received 
 his pardon. A sudden gloom gathers round the scene. 
 
 Before we come to the last moment, I ask you to con- 
 sider Jesus Christ as your God. I ask you to consider the 
 sacrifice that He made, and to consider the circumstances 
 under which He approached that last moment of His life. 
 All He had in the world was some little uKniey : it was kept 
 to give to the poor ; Judas had that, and he had stolen it. 
 Christ had literally nothing but the simple garments with 
 which He had been clothed ; these the soldiers took, and they 
 raffled for them under His d^^ing eyes. What remained for 
 Him I The love of His mother ; the sympathy of John ? But 
 He, uplifted on the cross, said to Mary: "Woman, behold 
 thy son ! " And to John He said ; " Son, behold thy mother ! 
 Thus I give one to the other ; let that love suffice : and leave 
 Me all alone and abandoned to die." What remained to 
 Him ? His reputation for sanctity, for wisdom, and for power. 
 His reputation for sanctity was so great, that the people said; 
 " This man never could do such things if He had not come 
 from God." And as to His wisdom : His reputation for wis- 
 dom was such that we read, not one of the Phansees or Doc- 
 tors of the Law had the courage to argue Avith Him. His 
 reputation for power was such that all the people said : " This 
 man speaks and preaches, not as the Pharisees, but as one 
 having power." Christ had sacrificed and given up His 
 reputation for sanctity, for He was crucified as a blasphemer 
 and a teacher of evil. His reputation for wisdom was 
 sacrificed in the course of His Passion, when Herod declar- 
 ed that He was a fool. Clothed in a white garment, in 
 derision. He was marched through the streets of Jerusalem, 
 from Herod's palace to Pilate's house, dressed as a fool ; and 
 men came to their doors to point the finger of scorn and 
 laugh at Him, and reproached each other for having listened 
 to His doctrine. His reputation for power was gone. They 
 came to the foot of the cross and said : " Now, if you have 
 
CHRIST ON CALVARY. .107 
 
 the power, come down from tliat cross and we will believe 
 you." Now, all tlie man's earthly possessions are gone : HiD 
 few garments are gone; Mary's love and sustaining com- 
 passion are gone ; His reputation is gone ; He is one wound, 
 irom head to foot ; the anger of man has vented itself upon 
 Him. What remains for Him ? The ineffable consolations of 
 His divinity ; the infinite peace of the Godhead, the Father ! 
 Ob, Man of SoiTow ! Oh, Lord Jesus Christ, cling to that ! 
 Whatever else may be taken from you, that cannot be taken 
 away. Oh, Master, lean upon l^hy Godhead ! Oh, cruci- 
 fied, bleeding, dying Lord, do not give up that which is Thy 
 peace and Thy comfort, — Thy joy in the midst of all this suf- 
 fering ! But what do I see ? The dying head is lifted up ; 
 the drooping eyes are cast heavenwards; an expression of 
 agony absorbing all others comes over the dying face ; and a 
 voice breaks fortli from the quivering, agonized lips — " Mv 
 God ! My God ! why hast Thou forsaken Me ! " The all- 
 sufficient comfort of the divinity and the sustaining power 
 of the Father's love are put away from Him in that horn- ! A 
 cloud came between Jesus Christ upon the cross, the victim 
 of our sins, and the Fathei-'s face in Heaven ; and that cloud 
 was the concentrated anger of God which came upon His 
 divine Son, be(;anse of our sins and our transgressions. Not 
 that His divinity quitted Him. No; He was still God ; but 
 by His own act and free will, He put away the comfort and 
 the sustaining powder of the divinity for a time, in order that 
 every element of sorrow, every grief, every misery of which 
 the greatest victim of this eai^th was capable, should be all 
 concentrated upon Him at the hom^ of His death. And then, . 
 having used these solemn words. He waited the moment 
 when the Father's will should separate the soul from the 
 body. 
 
 Now, Mary and John have embraced : Judas is struggling 
 in the last throes of his self-imposed death : Peter has wept 
 his tears. The devil for a moment triumphs : and the man-' 
 God upon the cross awaits the hour and the moment of the 
 world's redemjition. The sun in the Heavens is withdrawn 
 behind mysterious clouds : and though it was but three 
 o'clock in the day, a darkness like that of midnight came 
 upon the land. Men looked upon each other in horror and in 
 terror. Presently a rumbling noise is heard : they look 
 around and see the hills and the mountains tremble on 
 
108 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 their hases : the very ground seems to rock beneath them j 
 it groans as though the earth were breaking up from its cen- 
 tre ; the rocks are splitting up ; and round them strange fig- 
 ures are flitting liere and there ; the graves are opened, and 
 the dead entond^ed there are walking in the dark ways before 
 them. "What is this! Who is this temble man that we 
 have put on that cross 1 " The earth quakes ; darkness is still 
 upon it ; perfect silence reigns over Calvary, unbroken by 
 the cry of the dying Redeemer, — unbroken by the voice of 
 the scoffers, — unbroken by the sobs of the Magdalen. Every 
 heart seems to stand still. Then, over that silence, in the 
 midst of that darkness, is heard the ten-ible cry — " Father, 
 into Thy hands I commend My spirit ! " The head of the 
 Lord Jesus Christ droops ; the man upon the cross is dead ! 
 And the world is saved and redeemed ! The moment the cry 
 came forth from the dying lips of Jesus Ciiiist, the devil, 
 who st(^od there, knew that it was the Son of Go'd who was 
 crucified, and that his day was gone. Howling in despair, he 
 fled from the Redeemei-'s presence into the lowest depths of 
 hell. The world is saved ! The world is redeemed ! Man's 
 sin is wiped out ! The blood that washed away the iniquity 
 of our race has ceased to flow from the dead and pulseless 
 heart of Jesus. Wrapt in prayer, Mary bowled down her 
 head under the weight of her soitows ! the Magdalen looked 
 up and beheld the dead face of her Redeemer. John 
 stretched out his hands and looked upon that face. The 
 Roman soldier lays hold of his lance, under some strange 
 impulse. Word comes "that the body was to be taken down ; 
 they did not know whether our Lord was dead ; there 
 might yet some remnant of life remain in Him. The 
 question was to prove that he w^as dead ; and this man ap- 
 proaches. As a warrior, he puts his lance in rest, rushes for- 
 ward with all the strength of his arm, and drives the lance 
 right into the heart of the Lord ! The heavy cross sways j 
 it seems as if it is about to fall j the lance quivers for an in- 
 stant in the wound j the man draws it forth again j and forth 
 from the heart of the dead Christ stream the waters of life 
 and the blood of redemption ! The soldier drew back his 
 lance, and the next moment, on his knees, before the Cruci- 
 fied, Avith the lance dripping with the blood of the Lord still 
 in his hand, he cried out: "Truly this Man was the Son of 
 God ! " Then the earthquake began again j the dead were 
 
CHIl IS T OX CA L FA R Y. 109 
 
 seen passing in fearful array, turning the eyes of the tomb 
 upon the faces of those Phaiisees who had crucified the Lord. 
 And the people, frightened, became conscious that they had 
 committed a terrible crime, when tliey heard Longinus, the 
 Roman soldier, cry out, — "This Man is truly the SouofG<»d, 
 whom you have crucified." Then came down from- Calvary 
 the crowds, exclaiming — "Yes, truly this is the Son of God," 
 And they went down the hillside, weejung and beating their 
 breasts ! Oh, how much we cost ! Oh, how great was the 
 price that He paid for us ! Oh, how generously He gave 
 all He had — and He was God — for your salvation and 
 mine! It is well to rejoice and to be here; it is well to 
 come and contemplate the blessings which that blessed, gra- 
 cious Lord has conferred on us. It is, also, well to consider 
 what He paid and how nmch it cost Him. And if we con- 
 sider this, then, with Mary the mother, and Mary the Mag- 
 dalen, and John the Evangelist and friend — then will our 
 hearts be afiiicted. For the soul that is not afiiicted on this 
 day sliall be wiped out from the pages of the Book of Life. 
 
THE CATHOLIC CHURCH THE SALVATION OF 
 SOCIETY. 
 
 [ A Lecture delivered hy the Very Rev. T. K Burle, O.P., in the Church 
 of St. Charles Borromeo, Brooklyn, April 2, 1872,] 
 
 My rRiE:NDS : The subject wliich, as you know, lias been 
 announced to you, and which I purpose to treat before you 
 this evening, is the proposition that ^' The Catholic Church 
 is the Salvation of Society/' Perhaps there are some among 
 you who think I am an unusually courageous man to make so 
 wild and so rash an assertion. But it must be acknowledged, 
 indeed, tliat, f(^r the past eighteen hundred years that the 
 Catholic Church has existed, Society has aways endeavored 
 to get away from her grasp and to live without her. People 
 who admit the action of the Chm'ch, who allow it to in- 
 fluence their history, who let it influence their lives — if 
 they rise to the height of their Christian elevation, if 
 they conform themselves to the teachings of what is true,- 
 if they avail themselves of the graces of the Chm'ch, are 
 verv often scoffed at and called a priest-ridden and besotted 
 people. Nowadays, it is the fashion to look upon that man 
 as the best of his class who has succeeded the most completely 
 in emancipating himself from every control of religion, or of 
 the Catholic Church. In one sense, it is a great advantage 
 to a man to have no religitm, — to shake off the influence of 
 the Cliurch. Suck a man remains ^vithout a conscience and 
 without remorse of mind. He saves himself from those 
 moments of uneasiness and self-accusation that come to most 
 men until they completely lose all reverence for Ood ; and 
 the consequence is that, if he is a sinner, and in the way of 
 sin, he enjoys it all the more ) and he can make the more use 
 of his time in every pathway of iniquity, if he has no obstacles 
 of conscience or of religion to fetter him. So far, it is an 
 advantage to be without religion. The robber, for instance, 
 can rob more confidently if he can manage to forget that 
 tliere is a God above liim. The murderer can wash bis 
 
THE ClTURCn THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. Ill 
 
 hands ^vith more serenity, no matter how deeply he stains 
 them, — if there is no condemning record, no accusing voice, 
 no ear to hear the voice of the bh>od that cries out against 
 him for satisfaction, lie can pursue his misdeeds all tlie 
 more at his own ease. And so, for this, among many otlier 
 reasons, the world is constantly trying to emancipate itself 
 from the dominion of God, and from the control of the Church, 
 the messenger of the Saviour of the world. 
 
 It would seem, therefore, at first sight rather a hazardous 
 thing to stand up in the face of the w^orld, and in the face of 
 society to-day — this boasted society — and say to them : 
 " You cannot live, — you cannot get on Avithout the Catholic 
 Church ! She can do without you ! A coterie here ! A 
 tril)e there ! A nation elsewhere ! A race beyond ! Of 
 what account are you to her, speaking humanly? She can do 
 without you. But you, at your peril, must let her in, because 
 you cannot do without her!" Now, this is the pith and 
 substance of all that I intend to say to you here to-night ] but 
 not to say it witliout proof: for I do not ask any man here to 
 accept one iota of what I say, on my mere assertion, until I 
 have proved it. 
 
 My pro])osition, as you perceive, is that the Catholic Church 
 is the salvation of society — and it involves three distinct 
 pro{)Ositions, although it may appear to you to be only one : 
 First, it involves the proposition that society requires to be 
 saved, — that it requires something for its salvation. Then, 
 it involves the proposition that the Catholic Church, so far, 
 has been the salvation of the world in times i)ast; — out of 
 Avhich grows the third proposition : namely, that she is 
 necessary to the world in all future time ; and it is her 
 destiny to be, in time to come, what she has been in time 
 past, — the salvation of society. These are three distinct 
 ])ropositi(^ns. 
 
 The man who admires this centnry of ours and who 
 serenely glories in it, — who calls it "the Age of Progress" 
 — the "Age of Enlightenment;" — who speaks of his own 
 land, — be it Ireland or America, or Italy or France, — as a 
 country of enlightenment, and its people as an enlightened 
 people, — this man stands amazed, when I say to him that 
 this boasted society requires salvation. Somebody or other 
 must save it. For, consider what it has done? What has 
 it produced without the saving influence of the Catholic 
 
11-2 FATUER BUnKE'S DISCOUIiSES. 
 
 Clinrcli ? We mav analyze society, as I iutenrl to view it, 
 IVoiii an intellectual stand-point. Then we shall see the 
 society of learning-, — the society of art and of literatnre. 
 Or we nia}^ view it from a moral stand-point, — that is to say, 
 in the government of the world, and how the wheels of 
 society work in this boasted progress of onrs, — emancipated 
 fiom the Catholic Church, as this society has been mainly 
 for the last three hundred years; in some countries more, 
 in some countries less, in some countries entirely. Now, I 
 ask yon, what has this society pnxluced, intellectually, 
 morally, politically ? Intellectually, it has produced a philo- 
 sophy tbat asks us, at this hour of the day, to believe in 
 ghosts! The last climax of the philosophy of this nineteenth 
 century of ours is " Spiritualism," of which you have all 
 heard. The philosopher of to-day, unlike even the philoso- 
 pher of the Pagan times of old, does not direct his studies, 
 nor the labors of his mind, to the investigation of the truth 
 and of the develojiment of the hidden secrets of nature — of 
 the. harmonies of the soul of man — of the wants of the spirit 
 of man. To none of these does the philosopher of to-day 
 direct his attention. But this man, — this leader of mind in 
 society, — gets a lot of his friends round a table ; and there 
 they sit and listen until ''the spirits" begin to "knock:" that 
 is the pith and substance of his philosophy. Another man — 
 one of another great school • and, indeed, these two schools 
 may be said to have divided the philosophical empire of our 
 age ; — this disciple of another school stands up in our 
 churches and pulpits, and says: "0 man! s<m of the children 
 of men, — since thou hast received a commission to sound the 
 Scriptures — to mend the ' Word of God,' as it is called, — ; 
 believe me when I tell you that our common ancestor was an 
 ape, — and that it was by the merest accident, — the accideiat 
 of progression ; eating a certain kind of food ; endeavoring, 
 by degrees, to walk erect instead of crawling on our hands 
 and feet, — it was by the merest accident, — a congeries of 
 accidental circumstances, — :that we happen to be men, and 
 have not tails ! " This is the philosophy of the nineteenth 
 century ! This is the intellectual grandeur and " Progress 
 of the Age " that says : " I do not require salvation ! " 
 
 The moral progress of this society, which has emancipated 
 itself from the Cathijlic Church, — what is it 1 It has pio- 
 duced, in this our society, sins, of which, as a priest and a 
 
THE CHUllCn THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. 113 
 
 man, I am ashamed to speak. It lias produced in tlie city 
 of New York the terrible insidt to a crucified Lord, — that a 
 woman, pretending to be modest, should have chosen Good- 
 Friday night to advocate impurity ! Just as the " intellec- 
 tual" development of our society, emancipated from the 
 Cliurch, has arrived at the glorious discovery of ^^ Spiritual- 
 ism," so the " moral " deveh^pment of this age of ours has 
 arrived at the deep depth of ^' free love." 
 
 What is the political spirit of society, and the perfection 
 to which it has attained since it has been emancipated from 
 the Cliurch f Why, it has produced the " politician " of our 
 day. It has produced the ruler who imagines that he is set 
 np, .throughout all the nations, only to grasp, — justly, if he 
 can, unjustly, if he has no other means, — every privilege of 
 power and of absolutism. It has produced in the people an 
 unwillingness to obey even just laws. I need not tell you ; 
 you have the evidence of your own senses ; you have records 
 of the daily actions of the world laid before you every morn- 
 ing. This is the issue of the dominant spirit of society, when 
 society emancipates itself from the Church, and, by so doing, 
 endeavors to shake off God. Now we come to the great 
 question : Qu'is medecabltar f Who shall touch society with a 
 scientific and healing hand '? What virtue can we infuse in- 
 to it? That must come, I assert, from God, and from Him 
 alone, of whom the Scriptures say that "He made the people 
 healthy " [fecit populmn sanabilem) ; that He has made our 
 nature so that, even in its worst infirmity, it is capable of 
 cure. He came and found it in its worst infirmity ; society 
 rotten to its heart's core ; and the interior rottenness — the 
 obscurity of the intellect — the corraption of the heart — 
 manifesting itself in the actions and sins of which St. Paul 
 the Apostle says, " Nee nominabitur in vobis" — that they 
 must not be even mentioned among Christian men. Christ, 
 the Son of God, because He was God — equal to the Father 
 — girding Himself up to the mighty work of healing this 
 society, came down from Heaven and cured it, when no other 
 hand but His could have touched it witli healing ; when no 
 other virtue or power save His could, at all, have given life 
 to the dead wc^rld, purity to the corrupt W(jrld, light to the 
 darkened intellect of man. From Him came life to the dead 
 — and that life was light to the darkened and strength to the 
 weak, — because He was God. 
 
Ill FA THEE BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 Then tlio nations of Greece and Kome appeared in the 
 strength of their power, — proud in their mental culture, — 
 proud in the grandeur of their civilization ; — and contemptu- 
 ously put away and despised the message of the Divine Faith 
 which was sent to them ; and for tln-ee hundred long years 
 persecuted the Church of God. This great instructress, who 
 came to talk in a language that they knew not, and to teach 
 them things that they never heard of — both the things of 
 Heaven and the things of earth ; — this great instructress, for 
 three hundred years, lay hid in the caves and catacombs of 
 the earth, afraid to show her face ; for the whole world — all 
 the power of Pagan Rome — was raised against her. There 
 was blood upon her virgin face; there was blood upon* her 
 unspotted bosom — the blood of the innocent and of the pure ; 
 and all the ^vorld knew of Christianity was the strong testi- 
 mony which, from time to time, was given of it, by j^outh 
 and maiden, in the arena of Rome, or in the amphitheatres 
 of Antioch or of Corinth: Then, in punishment for their 
 pride, — as an act of vengeance upon them for their rejection 
 of His gospel, — the Almighty God resolved to break up their 
 ancient civilization ; to sweep away their pow-er ; to bring 
 the hordes of barbarous nations from the North of Europe 
 into the very heart of Rome, the centre of the world's empire, 
 and to crush and destroy it with fire and sword, and utterly 
 to break up all that society which was formed, of old, upon 
 the literature and the philosophy of Greece and of Rome. 
 Consequently, we behold, in the fifth century, all the ancient 
 civilization completely destroyed, and the world reduced again 
 almost to the chaos of barbarism from which the Pagans of 
 (dd had elevated it. Arts and sciences perished, when the 
 Goth and Vandal, Visigoth, and Ostrogoth, and Hun swept 
 down, like a swarm of locusts, over the old Roman Empire, 
 and all the lands subject to Roman sw^^ay. Alaric, at the 
 head of his Visigoths, was swooping over Rome. He was 
 asked to spare the city out of respect to the civilization of 
 the world and the tombs of the Apostles ! " I cannot with- 
 hold," exclaimed the Visigoth, '^ I cannot withhold. I hear 
 within me a mysterious voice v^rhich says : ' Alaric ! Alaric ! 
 On ! on to Rome ! ' " And so he came and sacked the city, 
 burned and destroyed its temples, its palaces, its libraries, 
 and its glories of painting and sculpture — hurled them all 
 into the dust! And the desolation spread world-wide 
 
THE cuuncn the salvation of society, iir, 
 
 wlierever a vestigo of ancient civilization was fonnd ; until, 
 at tlie end of tliat fatal centnrv, the Clinrch of God found 
 herself standing- upon the ruins of a world tliat had passed 
 away. Before her were the countless hordes of the savage 
 children of the North, out of which rugged material it was 
 her destiny and lier office to form the society of modern 
 times. Hard, indeed, w^as the task which she undertook — 
 not only to evangelize them — to teach them the things of 
 God, but, also to teach them the beauties of human art and 
 human science — to soften them with the genial influences 
 and the tender appliances of learning ; — to gain their hearts 
 and soften their souls, and mollify their manners and refine 
 them by every human appliance as w^ell as by every Divine 
 influence. For this task did she gather herself up. She, in 
 that day, collected with a careful and a venerating hand all 
 that remained out of the ruin of ancient literature, of ancient 
 poetry, of ancient history, in the languages of Greece and of 
 Rome. She gathered them lovingly and carefully to her 
 bosom. She laid them up in her sacred recesses, — in her 
 cloisters. She applied diligently to the study of them, and 
 to the diff'usion of them, the minds of the holiest and best of 
 her consecrated children ; until, in a few 3'ears, all that the 
 world had of refinement, of learning, of all that was refining 
 and gentle was concentrated in the person of the lowly monk 
 who, — full of the lore of Greece and Rome — full of 
 ancient learning as well as of that of the time, — an artist — 
 a painter — a musician — a man of letters, — covering all wdth 
 the humility of his profession, and hiding all in the cloister, 
 — yet treasured all up for the society that was to come after 
 him, and. for the honor and glory of God and of His Church. 
 And so, by degrees, the Church was enabled to found 
 schools and, then, colleges, — and thence to form, gradually, 
 universities — and to obtain for them and to ensure unto them 
 civic and municipal rights, as w^e shall see farther on. 
 
 Bv degrees she founded the "Teat mediaeval universities, 
 gathering together all those who wished to learn, and sending 
 forth from her cloisters her Benedictines and Cistercians, 
 her Dominicans, her Franciscans to teach philosophy and 
 theology, while they illustrated the very highest art in the 
 beauty of their paintings and the splendor which they threw 
 around the Christian sciences. Universities were founded by 
 her, into which she gathered the j^outh of various nations; 
 
116 FATHER B CUKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 and tlien seiuling tlieiii home, among tlieir rude and ragged 
 fellow-citizens, she spread- gradually the flame of human 
 knowledge, as well as the fire of divine faith and sanctity. 
 And thus, for many a long centiny, did the Church labor 
 assiduously, lovingly, perseveringly ; and so secm-ed unto us 
 whatever blessings of learning w^e possess to-day. In this wav 
 she saved society for the time, by drawing forth its rude 
 chaotic elements, and by her patient action in creating the 
 light of knowledge where the darkness of ignorance was be- 
 fore, — with patient and persevering effort bringing forth 
 order out of disorder — until her influence over the world was 
 like the word of God, when, upon the first day of creation, He 
 made all things, and made them to exist where n,othing but 
 void and darkness were before. Nor can the history of by- 
 gone times be disputed in this ; nor can any man allege that 
 I am claiming too much for the Catholic Church, when I 
 say that she alone has presented to us all the splendor of the 
 Pagan literature of the ancient times, — all the arts and sci- 
 ences 5 that she alone has founded the great schools and 
 universities of Christendom and of the civilized world — even 
 in Protestant countries to-day j — nay more, that nearly all 
 the great scholars who shone as stare in the firmament of 
 learning were her children, — either consecrated to her in the 
 priesthood, or attached to her by the strongest and the 
 tenderest bonds of faith. Lest my word in this matter be 
 considered exaggerated, let me read for you the testimony of 
 a Protestant writer to what I say. He says to us : 
 
 " If the Catholic Church had done nothing more than to 
 presen'-e for us, by painful solicitude and unrewarded toil, the 
 precepts and intellectual treasiu-es of Greece and Rome, she 
 would have been entitled to our everlasting gratitude. But 
 her hierarchy did not merely preserve these treasures. They 
 taught the modern ^vorld how to use them. We can never 
 forget that at least nine out of every ten of all the great col- 
 leges and universities in Christendom were founded by monks 
 or priests, bishops or archbishops. This is true of the most 
 famous institutions in Protestant as well as in Catholic C(jun- 
 tries. And equally undeniable is the fact that the greatest 
 discoveries in the sciences and in the arts (with the sole 
 exception of Sir Isaac Newton) have been made either by 
 Catholics, or by those who were educated by them. Oar 
 
THE CJiriiCII THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. 117 
 
 ivaders know that Copornicns, tlip autlior of our present sys- 
 tem of astronomy, lived and died a poor parish priest, in an 
 obscnre villao-e ; and Galileo lived and died a Catholic. The 
 great Kepler, althongli a Protestant himself, always acknow- 
 ledged that he received the most valuable part of his educa- 
 tion from the monks and priests. It were easy to add to 
 these illustrious names many equally renowned in other 
 departments of science as well as literature and the arts, 
 including those of statesmen, orators, historians, poets, and 
 artists." 
 
 This is the testimony of a Protestant writer, confiiTned l)y 
 tlie voice of histor}^, to which I fearlessly apjieal, when I lay 
 down the proposition that, if tlie intellectual darkness, if the 
 barbarism of ignorance be a disease in society, then history 
 proves that the Catholic Church has been the salvation of 
 society in the cure of that disease. I might go deeper here. 
 I might show you here, in the beautiful reasoning of the great 
 St. Thomas Aquinas, how, in the Catholic Church alone, is 
 the solid basis of all intellectual knowledge. ^^For," ob- 
 serves the Saint, " every science, no matter how different it 
 may be from others, — every science rests upon certain 
 })rinciples that are taken for granted — certain axioms that are 
 accepted, without, being proved. Kow," he goes on to 
 say, " the principle of acknowledged certainty, of some kind 
 or other, lies at the base and at the foundation of every 
 science, and of every form of intellectual power." But, in the 
 sciences and in the intellectual world, we find the same order, 
 the same exquisite harmony, M'hich, in the works of God, we 
 find in the material and physical creation. The principle, 
 therefore, of all the arts and sciences, each with its respective 
 power, is that all go up in regular order frotn the lowest form 
 of art to the highest of human sciences, — astronomy, — until 
 they touch divine theology, which teaches of God and of the 
 things of God. Upon the certainty of that First Science de- 
 pends the very idea of " certainty," upon which every other 
 science is based. And, therefore, the keynote of all know- 
 ledge is found in the science of divine theolc>gy, which teaclies 
 of God. Now, outside of the Catholic Church, there is no 
 theology, as a science; because science involves certain know- 
 ledge — and there is no certain knowledge of divine things 
 outside the Catholic Church. There is no certain knowledge 
 
118 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSE'S. 
 
 of Divine things where truth is said to consist in the inquiry 
 after truth, as in Protestantism, where religion is reduced 
 from the principle of immutable faith to the mere result of 
 reasoning, amounting to a strong opinion. There is no 
 certainty, therefore, outside of that Church that speaks of 
 God in the very language of God; that gives a message sent 
 from the very lips of God ; that puts that message into the 
 Godlike form of immutable dogma before the minds of His 
 children, and so starts them in the pursuit of all human know- 
 ledge, with the certain light of divinely-revealed tnith, and 
 with the principle of certitude deeply seated in their minds. 
 
 Now, we pass from the intellectual view of society to the 
 moral view of it. In order to understand the action of the 
 Church here as the sole salvation of society, I must ask you 
 to consider the dangers which threaten society in its moral 
 aspect. These dangers are the following : — First of all, the 
 libertinism, the instability, the inconstancy, and the impm'ity 
 of man. Secondly, the absence of the element of holiness 
 and sanctity in the education of childhood. Thii'dly, the sense 
 of irresponsibility, or a personal liberty which not only passes 
 us over from under the control of the law, but cuts off our 
 communication with God, and makes us forget that we are 
 responsible to God for every action of our lives ; and so, 
 gradually brings a man to believe that liberty and freedom 
 mean irresponsible licentiousness and impm'ity. These I 
 bold to be the three great evils that threaten society. The 
 inconstancy of man; — for man is fickle in his friendship, is 
 unstable in his love, is inconstant in his affections, subject to 
 a thousand passing sensations ; — his soul laid open to appeals 
 from every sense, — to the ebb and flow of ever}^ pulse ; 
 and every sense of his for ever palpitating with a quick 
 response to every impression telling the eye to look with 
 pleasure upon this object, as amusing ; to the ear, telling it 
 to drink in with pleasure such and such a sound of melody ; 
 — and so on. Need I tell you, my friends, what your own 
 heart has so often told you — how inconstant we are ; how 
 the thing that captivates us to-day, we Avill look coldly upon 
 to-morrow, and the next day, perhaps wnth eyes of disgust 1 
 Need I tell you how fickle is that love, that friendship of the 
 human heart, against which, and its inconstancy, the Holy 
 Ghost seems to warn us? ^' Pat not thy trust in Princes, nor 
 in the children of men, in whom there is no salvation." To 
 
THE CHURCH THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. 119 
 
 gura'd against this inconstancy, it is necessary to call in divine 
 grace and help from Heaven. For it is a question of confirm- 
 ing the heart of man. in tiie steadiness, in the uncliangeable- 
 ness, and in the purity of the love that is to last all his life 
 long. Therefore it is that the Catliolic Church sanctities the 
 solemn contract by which man promises to his fellow-creature 
 that he will love lier ; that he will never allow that love for 
 her to grow cold in his bosom ; that he will never allow exaw 
 a thought of any other love than hers to cross his imagination 
 or enter his soul, that he will love her in the days of her old 
 age as he loves her to-day in the freshness of her beauty as 
 she stands by his side before the altar of God, and puts her 
 virgin hand into his. And she swears to him a corresponding 
 love. But ah! who can assure to her that heart wtich 
 promises to be hers to-day — who can insure to her that 
 love, ever inconstant in its own nature, and acted upon by a 
 thousand influences, — calculated, first to alienate, then to 
 destroy it ? How can she have the courage to believe that 
 the word that passes from that man's lips, at the altar, 
 shall never be regretted — never be repealed ? I answer, 
 the Catholic Church comes in and calls down a special sac- 
 ramental grace from Heaven ; lets in the very blood of the 
 Saviour, in its sacramental foiTn, to touch these two hearts, 
 and by purifying them, to elevate their affection into some- 
 thing more than gross love of sense, and to shed upon those 
 two hearts, thus united, the rays of divine grace, to tinge 
 their livos somewhat with the light of that ineffable love that 
 binds the Lord to His Church. And so, in that sacrament 
 of matrimony, the Church provides a divine remedy for the 
 inconstancy of the heart of man ; and she also provides a 
 sanctifying influence which, lying at the very fountain-head, 
 and source, and spring of our nature, sanctifies the whole stream 
 of society that flows from the sacramental and sanctifying 
 love of Christian marriage. 
 
 Do you not know that this society, in separating itself 
 from the Church, has literally destroyed itself? If Protest- 
 antism, or Unitariauism, or any other form of error, did 
 nothing else than simply to remove from the Sacrament of 
 Matrimony its sacramental character — its sanctifying grace 
 — by that very act, that error' of religious unbelief, it 
 destroys society. The man who destnjys, in the least degree, 
 the firmness of the bond that can never be broken, — because 
 
120 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 it is honnd by tlie hand of God, and sealed M'ith the sacra- 
 mental seal, — the man that touches that ])ondj the man that 
 takes from that Sacrament one single iota of its grace, makes 
 himself thereby the enemy of society, and pollutes the very 
 fountain-head from which the stream of our life comes. 
 When the prophet of old came into the city of Jericho, they 
 showed him the stream that ran by the city walls ; and 
 they told him : ^' Here is a stream of water : whoever drinks 
 of that water dies ; our people are dying either of thirst or 
 of the poisoned waters." He did not attempt to heal the 
 stream as it flowed thereby; but he took to himself salt^ 
 and he blessed that salt, and he said to the people — " Bring 
 me to the fountain out of which this river cometh.'^ And 
 they brought him up into the mountain; and they showed 
 him the fountain-head of the stream. "Here," he said, 
 " here must we heal it." He put the blessed salt into 
 the fountain, the spring from which the stream came, and he 
 said : "■ Thus saith the Lord, I have healed these waters, 
 and there shall no more be in them death or bitterness.*' 
 Thus he purified the fountain-head of the spring of the 
 waters of Jericlio. Such is the Sacrament of Marriage 
 to human society. The future of the world, the moral 
 future of mankind — of the rising generations — depend upon 
 the purity and the sanctity of the matrimonial tie. There 
 does the Church of God throw, as it were, her sacramental 
 salt of grace into the fountain-head of our nature, and so 
 sanctifies the humanity that springs from its source. 
 
 The next great moral influence of society which requires 
 the Church's action, is Education. "The child," as you 
 know, " is father to the man ; " and what the child is to-day 
 the man will be in twenty or thirty years' time. Now, the 
 young soul of the child is like the earth in the Spring sea- 
 son. The time of childhood is the time of sowing and of 
 planting. Whatever is put into that young heart in the 
 early days of childhood, will bring up, in the Summer of 
 manhood, and in the Autumn of old age, its crop, either of 
 good or e^dl. And, therefore, it is the rnost important time 
 of life. The future of the world depends upon the sanctity 
 of education. Now, in ordjer that education may be bad, it 
 is not necessary, my friends, to teach the child any thing bad. 
 Ill order to make education bad, it is quite enough to neglect 
 the element of sanctity and of religion. It is quite enough 
 
THE CHURCH THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. VZl 
 
 to neglect tlie relio-ions portion of the education. By that 
 very defect the education becouics bad. And why ? Because, 
 Buch is our nature, such the infiraiity of owx fallen state, such 
 is the atmosphere of the scenes in which we live iu this 
 world, such the power of the infernal agencies that are busily 
 at work for our destmction, tliat, educate the child as care- 
 fully as you may, surround him with the holiest influences, 
 fill him with the choicc^st graces, you still run great risks that, 
 some day ©r other, the serpent of sin will gain an entrance 
 into that young soul, in spite of you. How much more if 
 that y()ung heart be not replenished with divine gi'ace ! 
 How much more if that young soul be not fenced around 
 by a thousand appliances and a thousand defences against 
 its enemies ! And thus do we see that the principle of bad 
 education is established the moment the strong religious 
 element is removed. Hence it is that, out of the sanctity of 
 marriage, springs the sanctity of education in the Catliolic 
 Church. And wdiy f Because the Church of God proclaims 
 that the marriage bond no man can dissolve ; that that mariiage 
 bond, — so hmg as death does not come in to separate tlu^ 
 man and wife, — that that maniage bond is the one contract 
 which no power on this earth can dissolve. Consecpiently, 
 tlie Catholic woman, married to the Catholic man, knows 
 that the moment their lips mutually pronounce their maiTiao-e 
 vows, her position is defined and establislied for evennon^ : 
 that no one can put her dowii fnmi the holy eminence of 
 wife or of mother, and that the throne which she occupies in 
 the household, she never can live to see occupied by another ; 
 that her cliildren are assured to her, and that she is left in her 
 undisputed empire and control over them. She knows that 
 — no matter how the word may prosper or otherwn'se with her 
 — she is sure, at least, of her position as a wife, and of her 
 claims to her husband's love, and of the allegiance of his . 
 worship. She knows that even though she may have wedded 
 him in the days of poverty, and that should he lise to some 
 great and successful position, — even if he became an emperor, 
 — she must rise with him, and that he can never discard her ; 
 and, consequently, she feels that her pc^sition and her children 
 are her ow'n for ever. Now, the element <>f sanctity in the 
 family, even when the husband is a good man, — even when 
 he is a sacrament-going man, as every Catholic man ought to 
 be, — vet the element of eanctitv in the familv, and for the 
 
 6' * 
 
122 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 family, lies ^vith the woman. It is the duty and privilege 
 of the mother. She has the children under her eye and 
 under her care the livelong day. She has the formation 
 of them, — of their character — their first sentiments, thoughts, 
 and works, either for good or evil. The seed to be 
 planted, — the formation of the soul, — is in the mother's 
 4iands; and therefore it is that the character of the child 
 mainly depends on the formation which the mother gives 
 it. The father is engaged in his office, in keeping his 
 business, or at his work all the day long. His example, 
 whether for good or bad, is not constantly before tlie eyes — 
 the observant eyes — of the child, as is the example of the 
 mother. And so it is, my friends, that all depends upon the 
 mother j and it is of vital importance that that mother should 
 blend in herself all that is pure, hol}^, tender, and loving, and 
 that she be assured of the sanctity of her position, of which 
 the Church assures her by the indissoluble natm-e of the 
 marriage tie. 
 
 Again the Church of Grod follows the child into the school, 
 aud she puts before the young eye, even before reason has 
 opened — she puts before the young sense the sight of things 
 that will familiarize the mind of the chikl with Heaven and 
 with heavenly thoughts. She goes before the world, antici- 
 pates reason, and tries to get the start of thai '' mystery of 
 iniquity" which, sooner or later, lying in the world, shall be 
 revealed to the eyes and the soul of this young child. Hence 
 it is that, in her system of education, she endeavors to mix up 
 sacramental graces, lessons of good, pictures of divine things, 
 holy statues, little prayers, singing of hymns, — all these 
 religious appliances, — and endeavors to mingle them all, con- 
 stantly and largely, with every element of human education, 
 that the heart may be formed as well as the mind, and that 
 the will may be strengthened as well as the intellect and the 
 soul of man. If, then, the evil of a bad education be one of 
 the evils of society, I hold that the Church, in her scheme 
 and plan of edncation, proves that she is the salvation of 
 societ}^ by touching that evil with a healing hand. 
 
 The next great evil aftecting the morals of society, is the 
 sense of iiTesp(jnsibility. A man outside the Catholic 
 Church is never expected to call himself to account for his 
 actions. If he speaks evil words, if he thinks evil thoughts, 
 if he does wrong things, the most that he aspires to is a 
 
THE CHURCH THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. VSi 
 
 momentary thought of God. Perliaps he forms a kind (.f 
 resolution not to do these things any more. But there is no 
 excruciating self-examination j there is no humiliating con- 
 fession ; there is no care or thought upon motives for sorrow ; 
 there is no {)ainstaking to acquire a finn resolution ; there 
 are none of tlie restraints against a return to sin with which 
 the sacramental agencies of the Catholic Church, especially 
 through the Sacrament of Penance^ have made us all familiar. 
 The Catholic man feels that the eye of God is upon him. 
 He is told this every time the Catholic Church warns him to 
 prepare for confession. He is told this every time his eves, 
 wandering through the church, rest upon the confessional. 
 He is U>\(\ this every time he sees the priest standing there, 
 with his stole on, and the penitent going in with tearful e\es, 
 and coming forth with eyes beaming with joy and witii 
 the delight of forgiveness. He is told this in'^a thousand 
 ways ; and it is brought home to him by the precepts and 
 Sacraments of the Chm'ch at stated times in the year. Tlie 
 consequence is that he is made to believe that he is responsi- 
 ble to Almighty God ; and therefore this obligation, creating 
 a sense of responsibility, arouses and excites this watchful- 
 ness of his own conscience. The man who feels that the eye 
 of God is upon him will also feel that the eye of his own 
 conscience is upon him. For watchfulness begets watchful- 
 ness. If the master is looking on while a servant is doino- 
 any thing, the servant will endeavor to do it well, and he 
 -will keep his eye upon the master while the master is 
 present. So, a soldier, when he is ordered to charge, turns 
 his look upon his superior officer, while he dashes "into the 
 midst of the foe. And so it is with us. Conscience is cre- 
 ated ; conscience is fostered and cherished in the soul by a 
 sense of responsibility which Almighty God gives us throuo-h 
 the Church and through her Sacraments. What follows 
 from this? It follows that the Catholic man, although in 
 conscious freedoTu, is conscious that he must always exercise 
 that freedom under the eye of God and under the domini<.n 
 of His law J so that in him, even although he be a sinner for 
 a time, the sense of freedom never degenerates into positive 
 recklessness or license. 
 
 Finally, — in the political \'iew of society, — the dangers tliat 
 threaten tiie world froru this aspect, are, first of all — a]>so- 
 lutism and injustice, and oppression in rulers; and, secondly. 
 
1^4 FATIIEK BURKES DISCOURSES. 
 
 fi p})irit of rebellion, even against just and established 
 government, among the governed. For the well-ordering of 
 society lies m this : That he who governs respects those 
 whom he governs ; and that those who are governed by him 
 recognize in him only the authority that comes to him fi'om 
 God. I ssij/rom God. I do not wish here, or now, to enter 
 into the question as to the source of power, and how far the 
 popular element may or may not be that source ; but I do 
 Bay that where the power exists, — even where the niler is 
 chosen by the people, — that he exercises that power, 
 then, as an official of the Almighty God, to whom 
 belongs the government of the whole system which He 
 has created. If that ruler abuses his power, — al)uses it 
 excessively; — ^if he despises those whom he governs; — if 
 he has not respect for their rights, their privileges and their 
 ctmsciences, — then the balance of power is lost, and the 
 great e\'il of political society is inaugm'ated. If, on the other 
 liand, the people, — fickle and inconstant, — do not recognize 
 any sacredness at all in their ruler ; if they do not recog- 
 nize the principle of obedience to law as a divine principle, " 
 — as a necessary principle, without which the world cannot 
 live ; if they tliink tliat among the rights of man — of indi- 
 vidual man — is the right to rise in rebellion against authority 
 and law, — the second great evil of political society is devel- 
 oped, and the whole machinery of the world's government is 
 broken to pieces. What is necessary to remedy this ? A 
 power — mark my words — a power recognized to be greater 
 than that of the people or than that of the people's govern- 
 ment. A power, wielded not only over the subject, but over 
 the mrmarch. A power, appealing with equal force and 
 equal authority to him who is upon the throne, to him who 
 is at the head of armies and empires, and to the meanest and 
 the poorest and the lowest of his subjects. What power bas 
 that been in history I Look l)ack for eighteen hundred 
 years. What power is it that has been exercised over baron 
 and chieftain, king and ruler, no matter how dark the times, — 
 no matter how convulsed society was,-— no matter how con- 
 fused every element of government was, — no matter how 
 rude and barbarous the manners of men, — no matter how 
 willing they were to assert themselves, in the fulness of their 
 pride and savage power, in field and in council ? What 
 power was it that was acknowledged and obeyed by them, 
 
THE CHURCH THE SALVATIOX OE SOCIETY. 125 
 
 diiriiig twelve liuiulred years, h^om tlio close of the Roinau 
 pcrsec'uti.oiis till the outbreak of Protestantism f AVhat 
 power was it that told the monarchs of the middle a<(es that, 
 it they imposed an oppressive or unjust tax upon the people, 
 they were excommunicated"? What power was it that arose 
 to tell Philip Auo-ustns of France, in all the lust of his 
 g'reatness and his undisputed sway, that, if he did not respect 
 the rights of his one wife, and adhere to her chastely, he 
 would be excommunicated by the Oliurch, and abandoned 
 by his peo}d-e ? What power was it that confronted the 
 voluptuous tyrant seated on the Tudoi-'s throne in England, 
 and told him that, unless he were faithful to the poor perse- 
 cuted woman, Catherine of Arrag-on, his lawful wife, he 
 should be cut ofi" as a rotten branch, and cast — by the 
 sentence of the Church — into hell-tire 1 What power was it 
 that made the strongest and most tyrannical of these rude 
 mediaeval chieftains, kings, and emperors, tremble before it ? 
 Ah, it was the power of the Vatican. It was the voice of 
 the Church, upholding the rights of the people ; sheltering 
 them with its strong arm, proclaiming that no injustice 
 should be done to them ; that the rights of the poorest man 
 in the comnmnity were as sacred as the rights of him who 
 sat upon the throne ; and, tlierefore, that she would not 
 stand by and see the people oppressed. An ungrateful 
 world is this of ours to-day, that forgets that the Catholic 
 Church was the power that inaugurated, established, and 
 obtained all those civic and municipal rights, all those 
 rights, respecting communities, which have formed the 
 basis of what we call our modern civilization ! Ungrate- 
 ful age ! that rellects not, or chooses to forget, that the 
 greatest freedom the people ever enjoyed in this world, 
 they enjoyed so long as they were under the aegis of 
 the Church's protection j that never were the Italians so free 
 as they were in the mediaeval Republics of Genoa, Pisa, 
 Lucca, and Florence ; that never were the Spaniards so free 
 as when their Cortes, as the ruling voice of the nation, was 
 heard resounding in the ears of their monarchs, and respected 
 l)y them j that never were the English so free as when a 
 Saint was their ruler; or, that when a demon in mortal shape 
 clutched the sceptre, an Archbishop of Canterbury, with the 
 knights of the realm closed around him, told him they would 
 abandon him and dei)ose him, unless he gave to the people 
 
126 FATHER BVRKES DISCOURSES. 
 
 tliat charter wliicli is tlie foundation of the most glorions 
 constitution in the world. And thus, I answer, the Church 
 maintained the rights of the people, whenever those rights 
 were unjustly invaded by those who were in power. 
 
 But, to the people, in theii' turn, this Church has always 
 preached patience, docility, obedience to law, legitimate 
 redress, when redress was required. She has always 
 endeavored to calm their spirits, and to keep them back, even 
 under great and sore oppression, from the remedy which the 
 world's Instory tells us has always been worse than the 
 disease wliich it has attempted to cure — viz. : the remedy of 
 rebellion and revolution. 
 
 Such is the history of the Church's past. Have I not 
 said with truth, that the Church is the salvation of society ; 
 that she formed society ; that she created what we call the 
 society of our day ; and that, if it had not been for her, a 
 large percentage of all that forms the literature of our time, 
 would not now be in existence? The most powerful 
 restraints, the most purifying influences that have 
 o|)erated upon society for so many centuries, w^ould 
 not have sent down their blessings to us ; Idessings 
 that liave been inherited, even by those who under- 
 stood them so little that their very first act, in separating 
 from the Church, was to lay the axe at the very root of 
 society, by depriving the Sacrament of Matrimony of its 
 sacramental and indispensably necessary force. In like 
 manner, have I not proved that, if there be a vestige of free- 
 dom, with the proper assertion of right, in the world to-da}^, 
 it can be traced distinctly to the generating and forming 
 action of the Catholic Church during those ages of faith 
 when the world permitted itself to be moulded and fashioned 
 by her hands? And, as she was in the past, so must she be 
 in the future. Shut vour eyes to her truths : every principle 
 of human science will feel the shock ; and the science of 
 sciences will feel it first, — the science of the knowledge of 
 God, and of the things which He has given us. What is the 
 truth '? Is it not a mere matter of fact, known by personal 
 observation to many among us, that the Protestant idea of 
 sin involves infidelity, — that is to say, a denial of the divinity 
 of Christ, of the inspiration of the Scriptures, and of the 
 existence of God? What is the Protestant idea of the 
 sinner? We have it, for instance, in iheir own description 
 
THE CHURCH THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. 127 
 
 of the Elder's death-bed. His son was a sinner. He comes 
 to the fatlier^s bedside. He is broken with grief, seeing that 
 his father is dving before his eyes. The father seizes the 
 o]iportunity to tell the erring son : " RememV>er that Christ 
 died for our sins, and that Christ was the son of God." He 
 begins tben to teach what a Catholic would consider the very 
 first elements of the catechism. But to him they were the 
 conclusions of a long life of study ; and he has aiTived, now, 
 at the end of his days, at the very point at wliich the little 
 Catholic child starts when he is seven years of age. Now, 
 in the Catholic Church, these things, — which are the result of 
 careful inquiry, hard study, the conclusions of years, perhaps. 
 — lieing admitted as first princi})les, the time which is lost 
 by the Protestant in arriving at these principles, is employed 
 by the Catholic in applying them to the conduct and the 
 actions of his daily life, — in avoiding this danger or that, 
 repenting of this sin or that, praying against this evil or 
 that, — and so on. Shut your eyes to the truths of Catholic 
 teaching, and the divine Scriptures themselves, on which you 
 fancy, perhaps, that you are building up your religion, are 
 shaken from their pedestal of a sure definition, and nothing 
 remains but her reassuring power — even to the inspiration of 
 (iod's written word. Is not this true? Where, during the 
 fifteen hundred years that preceded Protestantism, — where 
 do we read of the inspiration of the Scriptures being called 
 in question ? Where do we read of any theologian omitting 
 this phrase, leaving out that sentence, because it did not 
 tally with his particular views 1 He knew that he might as 
 well seek to tie up the hands of God as to change one iota or 
 syllable of God's revealed truth. But what do we see during 
 the last three hundred years ? Luther began by rejecting the 
 Epistle of St. James, calling it ^^ an epistle of straw,'' because 
 tliere were certain doctrines there that did not suit him. 
 From his time, every Protestant theologian has fouud fault 
 with this passage or that of Scripture, as if it was a thiug 
 that could be changed and turned and forced and shaped to 
 answer this purpose or that ; — as if the word of God could be 
 made to veer about, north, east, south, and west — according 
 to human wishes; — until at length, in our own day, they 
 have undertaken a new version of the Scriptures altogether. 
 And this is quietly going on in one great section of the 
 Church of England ; while another great section of the 
 
128 FATHER BURKES DISCOURSES. 
 
 Clmrcli of England dispntes its antliority altogetlier, and 
 tells you that the doctrinal part of it is only a rule to guide, 
 and that the historical part of it is nothing more than a 
 myth, like the history of the ancient Paganism of Greece and 
 of Rome! They discard the Church's acticm upon the 
 morality of society; tell her that they do not believe her 
 when she says : '' Accursed is the man or woman that puts 
 a divorce into his or her partners hand." They tell her that 
 they do not believe her when she says : " No matter what 
 the' conduct of either party is, I cannot break the bond that 
 God has made ; — no matter what may be the difference of 
 disposition ; — no matter what the weariness that springs from 
 the union, I cannot dissolve it, I cannot alter it." If you 
 dissolve it, I ask you in all earnestness to what you reduce 
 yourselves ? To what does the married woman reduce her- 
 self? She becomes (I blush to say it,) a creature living 
 mider the sufferance and the caprices of her husband. You 
 know how easy it is to trump up an accusation ! You have 
 but to defame that w^hich is so delicate and so tender as a 
 w^oman's name ; — a gentle and a tender and a pure woman's 
 good name is tainted and destroyed by a breath. No matter 
 how unfounded the calumny or the slander, how easy it is 
 first to defame and then to destroy it ! At the time 
 when the Protestant Church was called upon by the 
 people in England to admit the law^fulness of divorce, the 
 Catholic Church raised up her voice in defence of truth, 
 and wai-ned England that she was going into " a deeper 
 abyss, — warned the people that they were going to de- 
 stroy whatever sanctity of society remained among them, 
 — \vamed them that there was an anathema upon the measure 
 — upon those who proposed it — upon those who aided it. I 
 remember at that time a poor woman in Ireland, — indeed she 
 was almost a beggar in her poverty, — asking of me ] " Is it 
 true, your Reverence, they are going to make a law in 
 England to let the husband and wife separate from one 
 an(>ther and go and many other people ? " " Yes, " I said. 
 "Well, I hope," she said, "we will not be included in 
 that law?" "Oh, no; not at all," I said. "You are 
 all right." "Glory 'be to God!" she said, "I never 
 knew ^before the happiness of being a Catholic. I would 
 rather be manied to my Jimmy, and be sure of him, than 
 to the fii'st nobleman in England: for he might come to 
 
THE CHURCH THE SALVATION OF SOCIETY. 1L>9 
 
 nie to-morrow and tell me to go out and take the cliildreii 
 with me!" 
 
 Such is the Clnirch's action on the morale of society. 
 Tell her to shut up her confessionals ; tell her that her priests, 
 sitting- in those tribunals, are blasphemous usuri)ers of a 
 }»o\ver that God has never given to man. What follows from 
 tliisf O my friends, do you tliink that you, or that any of 
 yiMi would be better men if you were absolved to-morrow 
 from all obligation of ever going to confessicm again I Do 
 you think you would draw nearer to God? Would you look 
 more sharply after yourselves ? Do you not think that even 
 those very human agencies — the humiliation, tlie painstaking 
 of preparation, the violent effort to get out whatever we must 
 confess, — do vou not think all these thing-s are a "-reat re- 
 straint upon a man, and that they help to keep him pure, in- 
 dependent altogether of the higher argument of an offended 
 God, — of the crucified Lord bleeding again at the sight of 
 our sins f Most assuredly they are. Most assuredly that 
 man will endeavor to serve God with greater purity, with, 
 greater carefulness, — will endeavor to remember the precept 
 of the Saviour, ''You must watch and })ray, that you enter 
 not into temptation," — when he is called from time to time to 
 sweep the chambers of his own soul, to wash and purify 
 every corner of his own heart, to analyze his motives, call 
 himself to account, even for his thoughts and words ; — 
 examine his relations in regard to honesty, in regard to charity 
 with his neighbor ; — examine himself how he fulfils his 
 duties as a father, or as a husband, as the case may be ; — 
 that the man, who is obliged to do this, is more likely to 
 sei-ve God in purity and. watchfulness, than the man who 
 never, from the cradle to the grave, is asked even to consider 
 the necessity of taking a few minutes' thought and asking 
 himself, " How do I stand with God ? " Remove this action 
 of the Church upon the good conduct of society; and then 
 you will have, indeed, the work which was accomplished, 
 and which is reaping its fulfilment to-day, — the work of the 
 so-called great lleformer, Martin Luther, who has brought it 
 to this pass, that the world itself is groaning under the 
 weight of its own iniquities ; and society rises up and ex- 
 claims that its very heart within it is rotted by social evil. 
 
 Disturb the action of the Church upon political society, 
 and what guarantee have you for the future "l You may see 
 
130 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 from the past what is to be in tlie future ; for, when Luther 
 broached his so-called ^-Reformation," the principle upon 
 which he went was that the Catholic Church had no busi- 
 ness to be an universally Catholic body ; that she should 
 break herself up into national Churches, — the Church of 
 Germany, the Church of England, the Church of France, the 
 Church of America, and so on. And, in fact, Protestantism, 
 to this day, in England, is called the Church of England. — 
 The necessary consequence that immediately foHowed was that 
 the King, if it was a Kingdom, or the President, if it was a 
 Republic, — no matter wholiemay be, — became the liead of the 
 Church — if it was a national Church — as well as the head of 
 the nation. The two powers were concentrated in hiui — one 
 as Governor — head of the State ; the other as the head of the 
 national Church. He became king over the consciences of 
 the people, as well as ruler of their external actions. He 
 was to make laws for the soul as well as for the body. 
 He was to tell them what they were to believe and how 
 they were to pray, as well as to tell them their duties as 
 citizens. He was to lead them to Heaven ! The ri'ian 
 who led his armies in the battle-field was then to per- 
 suade his people that the way to Heaven lay through rapine 
 and through blood! But so' it was. And, strange to say, in 
 every nation in Europe that accepted Protestantism, the 
 monarch became a tyrant at once. The greatest tyran-t that 
 ever governed England was the man who introduced Protest- 
 antism. So long as Henry the Eighth was a Catholic, — 
 although he was a man of terrible passions, — still, the 
 Church, reminding him of his soul, bringing him occasionally 
 to the Confessional, trying to shake him out of his iniqui- 
 ties, — had some control over him; and he conquered his 
 passions, and kept himself honorable and pure. The moment 
 that this man cast ofi'his allegiance to the Church, — the very 
 day he proclaimed that he was emancipated from the Pope, 
 and did not believe in the Pope or acknowledge him any 
 more, — that very day he turns to Anne Boleyn, takes and 
 proclaims her his wife, — Catherine, his rightful wife, still 
 living; and, in a few days, when his heart grew tired of 
 Anne, and his eyes were attracted by some other beauty, he 
 sent Anne to the block, and had her head cut off; — and he 
 took another lady in her place : and, in a short time, he cut 
 off her head, also". And so, Gustavus Vasa, of Sweden, when 
 
THE CHURCR TUE SALVATLUN OF SOCIETY. 131 
 
 he became a Protestant, at once assumed and became the 
 bead of an al)Solute monarchy. The very kings of the 
 Catholic countries imitated their Protestant confreres in this 
 respect ; for we find the Catholic monarchs of Spain cutting 
 off the ancient privileges of the people in the Cortes, say- 
 ing : — " I am the State j and every man must obey ! " It is 
 quite natural. The more power you give into a man's hand, 
 the more absolute he becomes. The more you concentrate 
 in him the spiritual as well as the temporal power, the more 
 audaciously will he exercise both tenip(n-al and spiritual 
 power, and the more likely is it that you are building up in 
 that man a tyrant — and a merciless tyrant — to 0})j)ress you. 
 From the day that society emancipated itself, by Protestant- 
 ism, from the action of the Church, revolution, rebellion, 
 uj)rising against authority, became the order of the day ; 
 until at length society is honeycombed with secret associa- 
 ti(ms which swear eternal enmity, not only to the altar, but 
 to the throne. 
 
 And so, my dear friends, we see that we cannot move 
 without the Church of God; that nations may go on for a 
 time, and may be upheld by material prosperity ; but with- 
 out a surer basis they will certainly be overthrown. The 
 moments are coming, and coming rapidly, when all the 
 society of this world, that wishes to be saved, will have to 
 cry out with a mighty voice to the Catholic Church. Per- 
 secuted, despised, to-day, sbe will yet come, — with her light 
 of truth — with her sanctifying influences, — with her glorious 
 dominion over king and subject, — to save them from the ruin 
 which they have brought upon their own heads. Then -svill 
 be the day of grace for man, — the day of the world's neces- 
 sity. And when that day comes, — and I behold it now in 
 my mental vision, — this uprising of the whole world in the 
 hands of the Church, — it will bring peace, security, and joy 
 to society. I see thee, glorious spo\ise of Christ ! — 
 Mother Church, I see thee seated once more, in the councils 
 of the nations, guiding them with a divinely-infused light 
 — animating them with thy spii'it of justice! 1 see, mother, 
 as, of old, I saw a glorious city rise out of the ruins 
 of the Goth and Visigoth and Vandal: so out of the 
 men of this day, — rela[)sing into chaos through neglect of 
 thee, — do I behold thee forming the glorious city that shall 
 be; a society in which men shall be loyal and brave, truth- 
 
132 FATHEii BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 fill, pure, and holy ; a city in which the people shall grow up 
 formed by thee for God ; a city in which all men, governors 
 and governed, shall admit the supremacy of law, the sanctity 
 of principle, the omnipotence of justice ! And, Mother, 
 in the day when that retribution comes — in that day of the 
 world's necessity — the triple crown shall shine again upon 
 the brows of tby chief, — Peter's successor and the Vicar of 
 Christ ; upon that honored brow shall shine forth again the 
 triple crown, — the most ancient and the holiest in the world ; 
 the Prince of Peace shall extend his sceptre over the nations j 
 and every man shall rejoice in a new life ! 
 
THE RESURRECTION. 
 
 [J sermon preached hy the Very Rev. T. N. BurTce, O.P., in the church 
 of St. Vincent Ferrer, New York, on Easter Sunday, April 1 , 1872. ] 
 
 '' And when the Sabbath was past, Mary Magdalen, and Marj, the 
 mother of James and Salome, bought sweet spices, that, coming, they 
 might anoint Jesus. And vei^ early in the morning, the first day of 
 the week, they came to the sepulchre, the sun being now risen. And 
 they said one to another, Who shall roll us hack the stone from the 
 door of the sepulchre? And, looking, they saw the stone rolled back; 
 for it was very great. And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a 
 young man sitting on the right side, clothed with a white robe. And 
 tliey were astonished. And he said to them : Be not aiirighted. You 
 seek Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He is risen ; He is not 
 here. Behold the place where they laid Him. But, go; tell His dis- 
 ciples and Peter, that He goeth before you into Galilee. There you 
 shall see Him, as He told you." 
 
 Dearly Beloved Brethren: We are told, in the 
 history of the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, which we 
 have been considering during the past few days, that, after 
 our Saviour had yiehled up His spirit upon the cross, Joseph 
 of Arimathea went to PiLate and demanded the body of the 
 Lord. Pilate was sui-prised to hear that our Divine Lord 
 was already dead. And yet, if he had only consulted his 
 own memory, and remembered how the life was almost 
 scourged out of the Saviour by the hands of the soldiers, it 
 would not have seemed to him so wonderful that the three 
 hoins of agony should have closed that life. He sent to inquire 
 if He was already dead ; and gave orders that, in case He 
 was dead, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus were to 
 take possession of His body. They came, sorrowing, and 
 again climbed the Hill of Calvary ; and, lest there might 
 be any doubt that the Master was dead, the soldier 
 drove his lance once through the heart of our Lord 
 Jesus Christ. Then the body was taken down from the 
 crojpjs. They took out the nails, gently and tenderly; 
 and they handed them down, and they were put into 
 the hands of the Virgin Mother. They took the body 
 reverently from its high gibbet, and laid the thorn-crowned 
 
134 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 head upon the bosom of the Virgin, who waited to receive it. 
 With her own hands she removed these thorns from His 
 brow ; and the fountain of tears, that had been dried up be- 
 cause of the greatness of her sorrow, flows now, and rains 
 the Virgin's tears upon the stained and disfigured face of 
 her child. Then they brought Him to a garden in the 
 neiii'hborliood ; and there tliey laid Him in the tomb. It 
 was^anotlier man's grave j and He, the Lord, had no right 
 to it. But He died so poor, that, even in death. He had 
 no place whereon to lay His head, until charity opened 
 another man's tomb for Him. There they laid Him down ; 
 covered with blood and with wounds — all disfigured and 
 deformed, they laid Him down, like the patriarch of old, 
 with a stone for His pillow ; and upon that stone they laid 
 the wounded and the blessed head of the Lord. They closed 
 the sepulchre. Mary, the mother, gathered up the thorns, the 
 nails, tlie instruments with which her child was so cruelly 
 maimed and put to death; and with them pressed to her 
 heart, and leaning upon her newly-found son, John, she 
 returned to her sad home in Jerusalem; and all, having 
 adored, silently dispersed; fur the evening was coming that 
 brought the Sabbath. One only remained. The heart- 
 broken Magdalen lay down outside the tomb, and laid her 
 head upon the stone which they had rolled against the Mas- 
 ter's grave. There, she knew. He lay ; and the instinct of 
 her love, and of her sorrow, was so strt)ng that she could 
 not 20 away from the tomb of her Lord, but remained there, 
 weeping and alone. Whilst she wept, evening deepened into 
 nio-ht; and alone, the heart-broken lover of Jesus Christ 
 saVv that she must rise and depart. She rose. She kissed, 
 again and again, that great stone that enclosed her Divine 
 Saviour; and, turning to the city, she heard the heavy, 
 measured tread of the soldiers, who came with the night to 
 guard the tomb. They closed around the tomb. With nide- 
 ness and with violence they drove the woman away — wonder- 
 ing at her tears, and the evidence of her broken heart. And 
 then, piling their arms and their spears, they settled down to the 
 nio-ht- watch, cautioned not to sleep — cautioned to take care not 
 to let a human being come near that grave until the morning- 
 light. Excited by their own superstitious fears and emotions 
 (for it was, indeed, a strange office for these warriors to be set 
 on guard over a dead man), agitated by the strangeness of their 
 
THE BESUL'RECTIOK 135 
 
 pcsition, excited by their fears, tliey slept not, but, waiting 
 the night, watchfully, diligently, and with vigilance, they 
 guard on the right hand and on the left ; scarcely knowing 
 who was to come ; fearing with an undefined fear; thinking 
 that, perhaps, it was to be a phantom, a spirit, an evil thing 
 of the night coming upon them ; and ever ready to grasp 
 their arms, and put themselves on their defence. 
 
 The night fell, deep and heavy, over the tomb of Jesus 
 Christ. The whole of that night, and of the following day, 
 they kept their watch. Mary, the mother, was in Jerusalem. 
 Kneeling before these instruments of the passion, she spent 
 the whole of that night, and the whole of the following Sab- 
 bath-day, weeping over those thorns and over those nails ; 
 contemplating them, examining them, and seeing, from the 
 evidence of the blood that was upon them, how deeply they 
 had been struck into the brow, and into the hands and feet 
 of Jesus, her divine child ; her heart breaking within her, as 
 every glance at these terrible instruments of the Passion 
 brought up all the horrors which siie had witnessed on tliat 
 morning of Friday, on the Mount of Calvary. The women 
 kept watch and ward round her ; and so terrible was the 
 raothei-^s grief, that even the Magdalen was silenced and 
 hushed, and dared not obtrude one word of consolation upon 
 tbe Virgin's ear. 
 
 The Sabbath passed away. Dull and heavy the black 
 cloud that had settled over Calvary and over Jerusalem, was 
 lifted up. Men walked about with fear and with trembling. 
 The sun seemed to have scarcely lisen that Sabbath morning. 
 The dead who started from their graves the moment Jesus 
 gave his last cry on the cross, flitted in the darkening niglit 
 to and fro in the silent streets of Jerasalem. Men beheld the 
 awful vision of these skeleton bodies that rose from the 
 grave. A fire, as of vengeance and of fury, seemed to glare 
 in the empty sockets in their heads. They showed their 
 white teeth, gnashing, as it would seem, over the crime that 
 the people had C(mimitted. They flitted to and fro. All 
 Jerusalem was filled with fear and terror. No man sjioke 
 above lis breath, and all was silent during that long Sabbath 
 day, that brought no joy, because the people had called down 
 the blood of the Saviour upon their heads. 
 
 The Sabbath day and evening had closed ; and again 
 night was recumbent upon the earth. The guard is relieved. 
 
136 FATHER BUUKE'S DFSCOUIiSES. 
 
 Fresh soldiers are pnt at the doors. They are again cau- 
 tioned that this is the important night when they nnist "watch 
 with redoubled vigilance, because this night will seal the 
 Redeemei-'s fate. He said : '' I will rise again in three days;" 
 and, if the morning sun of the first day of the week — the 
 Sunday — rose upon the undisturbed grave of the dead man, 
 then ail that He had preached was a lie, and all the wonders 
 that He wrought were a deception upon the people. There- 
 fore the guards were trebly cautioned to keep watch. Then, 
 filled with fear and with an undefined alann, they close 
 around the sepulchre, resolved that so long as hand of theirs 
 can wield a spear, no human being shall approach that 
 grave. 
 
 The Magdalen lingered round, fascinated by the knowledge 
 that her Redeemer and her Lord was there in that tomb which 
 she was not allowed to approach. And the guards watched 
 patientl}^, vigilantly, with sleepless eyes ; and the night 
 came down, and all the city was silent and darkened. Hour 
 followed hour. Slowly and silently time rolls away. The 
 night was deepening to its deepest gloom. The midnight 
 hour approaclied. The moment comes when the third day 
 in the tomb is accomplished. The moment comes when the 
 Sabbath was over — the Sabbath of which it was written, that 
 " the Lord rested on the seventh day from all his works." 
 That Sabbath had Jesus Christ made in that drear}^, silent 
 tomb. Wounds and blood were upon Him. The weakness 
 of death had fastened upon Him. Those lifeless limbs can- 
 not move. The sightless eyes cannot open to behold the 
 light of day. Death, indeed, seems to have rioted in its 
 triumph over the Eternal Lord of life, and hell appears 
 victorious in the destruction of the victim. The midnight 
 hour approaches.' The guards hear the rustling of the com- 
 ing storm. They see the trees bow their heads in that 
 garden, and wave to and fro, as by a viol^^t trembling. 
 They see them bending as if a storai was sweeping over them. 
 They look. What is this orient light that blushes upon the 
 horizon ? What is this light which bursts upon them, bright, 
 bright as the sun of heaven, bright as ten thousand suns ? 
 And while the light flashes upon them, and, dazzled, they 
 close their eyes, they hear a riot of voices : " Gloria in excel- 
 sis ! Allefnia to the risen Saviour ! " What is this that 
 they behold ? The great stone comes rolling back from the 
 
THE llESURRECTIOK. 137 
 
 montli of the monmiient into the midst of them ! Save your- 
 selves, men ! Save yourselves, or it will crush you ! The 
 men are frightened and alarmed. Is it the power of Heaven ? 
 Or is it a force from hell 'I Presently, forth from that tomb 
 bursts the glorified and risen Saviour. Their eyes are 
 dazzled with the spectacle of the Man that lay in that cold, 
 dark, silent grave. A voice was heard : '' Arise, for I am 
 come for thee ! " And the glorified soul of the Saviour, en- 
 tering, that moment, into His body, bursts triumphant from 
 the grave ! Death and hell fly from before His face. Fly, 
 for a power is here that you cannot command ! Fly, you 
 demons, who rejoiced in your triumph, for death and hell 
 are conquered. Arise, glorious sun, from the tomb ! Oh, 
 what do I behold ? Where, O Saviour, is the sign of Thy 
 agony I Where is the disfigurement of blood ? Where is 
 the sign of the executioners hand upon Thee ? It is gone — 
 gone ! No longer the bloodstained thorn defiles Thy brows ! 
 No longer Thy sacred flesh hangs torn from the bones ! 
 No ! But now, triimiphant, glorified, incorruptible, impassi- 
 ble. He has resumed the grandeur and the glory which He 
 put away frc»m Him on the day of His Incarnation ; and He 
 rises from the tomb, the conqueror of death and hell, the 
 God and Redeemer of the world ! 
 
 Behold, my brethren, how sorrow is changed into joy ! 
 Bursting forth in the light of His divinity, He went His 
 way — the way of His eternity. The mountains, the hills of 
 Judea — of Jerusalem — bowed down before Him. The moun- 
 tains moved and rocked on their bases before the assertion 
 of Thy sovereignty, God ! He went His way, and left 
 behind Him an empty grave, and the clothing in which His 
 disfigured body had been wrapped up. An empty grave ! 
 But all the angels in Heaven were looking on at that 
 moment. At that moment, when the form of the glorified 
 Saviour burst from the grave, all the angels of Heaven put 
 forth alleluias of joy and of praise. The heart of the Father 
 in Heaven exulted. Rising upon His eternal throne, He 
 sent forth a cry of joy over the glory of His Son. All the 
 angels in Heaven exulted ; and, triumphing, they came down 
 to earth, and gazed upon the sacred spot wherein their Master 
 and their God had lain. 
 
 The morning came, and the dark clouds had disappeared. 
 The very brows of Olivet seemed to shine with a solemn 
 
138 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 gladness, and the cedars of Lebanon seemed to lift their 
 heads with a new instinct of life — almost of love and joy. 
 Calvary itself seemed to rejoice. The morning rose, and the 
 sun gladly came up from his home in the east, and his first 
 rays fell upon the empty grave. And behold the Magdalen, 
 and the other pious followers of our Lord, coming with oint- 
 ment and sweet spices to anoint Him. They came ; and 
 questioning — as we have seen — questioning each other. How 
 could Mary, with nothing but her woman's strength, how 
 could Mary move that stone 1 But see j it is moved. And 
 beneath they behold an angel of God. His light fills the 
 tomb. There is no darkness there, no sign of sadness, no 
 sign of death. Robed in transparent white — even as the 
 garments of our Lord shone upon Tabor — so did the Angel 
 shine as he kept guard over the death-bed of his Lord and 
 Master. Then, speaking to the woman, he says : " Woman, 
 whom seekest thou ? " '' Jesus of Nazareth, who was cruci- 
 fied." "Why seekest thou the living among the dead? 
 He is not here. He is risen ! " And then their hearts were 
 filled with a mighty joy ; for the Master is risen ; while the 
 soldiers, frightened and crestfallen, went into Jerusalem, 
 proclaiming the ajipearance to the Pharisees and to the 
 ])eople, and that He whom they were set to guard was the 
 Lord of light and life, and the Son of God. 
 
 The eyes that were oppressed with the weariness of death 
 are now lifted up, shining in the glory of His resurrection. 
 The hands that were nailed helplessly to the cross, wield 
 again the omnipotence of God. The heart that was broken 
 and oppressed, now enters into the mighty ocean of the ages 
 of His divinity, undisturbed, unfettered, unencumbered by 
 any sorrow. " Christ, risen from the dead, dies no more. 
 Death has no more dominion over Him." He died once, 
 and He died for sin. " Therefore," says St. Augustine, " by 
 dying on Calvary, He showed that He was man ; by rising 
 from the grave. He proved that He was God." 
 
 If, therefore, dearly beloved brethren, dunng the past 
 forty days, the Churcli. has called u])on us for fasting and 
 mortification, has called upon us to chastise our bodies and 
 humble our souls {^^ humilkibam in jejanio anunam meani,^') 
 " In my fast I will humble my soul" — if the Church during 
 the past weeks called upon us to be afflicted, and to shed 
 our tears at the feet of Jesus crucified — if we have done 
 
THE RESUBRECTIOX. 139 
 
 tills — above all, if we have purified our souls so as to let Ilis 
 light, and His glory^ and His grace into onr hearts, — to-day 
 have we a right to rejoice : and the message ^\hicll I bring 
 to you is a message of exceeding great joy. Christ is risen ! 
 The Crucilied has risen from the grave ! Weakness has 
 clothed itself \\ith strength. Ignominy has clothed itself 
 with glory. Death has })een absor})cd in victory ; and the 
 powers of hell are crushed and confounded for evermore. Is 
 not this a message of great joy and triumph ? And truly I 
 may say to you, in the words of St. Paul, '^ Gaudete in 
 Bom'nio ; iterum clico. gmidefe^' — " Rejoice, therefore, in the 
 Lord ! I say to you again, rejoice ! " 
 
 Two reasons have we for our Easter joy and gladness. 
 Two reasons have we for our great rejoicing. First of all, 
 that of the friend to behold the glory of his friend : the joy 
 of a disciple to see the glory of his master : a joy centering 
 in Jesus Christ — rejoicing in Him and with Him, for His 
 own sake. Was it not for His own sake we sorrowed ? 
 Was it not because of His grief and sufferings we shed our 
 teai-s and cast ourselves down before Him! So, also, for 
 His own sake let us rejoice. We rejoice to behold our God 
 reassuming the glory of His divinity, and so participate in 
 that glory to His sacred humanity, that the sunshine of the 
 eternal light of God streams out from every member, sense, 
 and limb of the sacred body of Jesus Christ our Lord. Pure 
 light it seemed. With the transparency of Heaven it as- 
 sumed all its splendor. All the glory was \^ntliin Him in 
 Almighty affluence, and sent itself forth, so that He was 
 truly not only the light of grace for the world, but the light 
 of glory. For this must every true believer in Jesus Christ 
 rejoice. 
 
 But the second cause of our joy is for our own sake ; for, 
 although we grieve for Him and sorrow for Him, for His 
 own sake, upon Calvary, we also grieve for ourselves. And 
 it is, for us, the keenest and the bitterest sorrow, that the 
 work of Calvary was the work of our doing by our sins ; 
 that if we were not what we were. He would never have 
 been what He was on that Friday morning. That for us 
 He bared His innocent l)Osom to receive all the sorrows and 
 all the agonies of His Passion ; that for us did He expose 
 His virgin body to that fearful scourging and terrible cruci- 
 fixion ; that for our sins did He languish upon the cross j 
 
140 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 that tliey put upon Him the burden of tlie iniquities of us 
 all ; and " He was afflicted for our iniquities and was bruised 
 f<jr our sins.'' It is for our own sorrows and for our own sins that 
 the very deepest sorrow^ has a place in the Crucitixion. Well 
 did He— He, who permitted that we should be the cause of 
 His sorrow — wish us, also, for our own sake, to participate in 
 His joy. And why '? Because the resurrection of Christ 
 from the dead was not only the proof of His divinity, the 
 establishment of His truth, the conviction of His miracles, 
 the foundation of His religion, but it was, moreover, the type 
 and model of the glorious resurrection that awaits every man 
 wLo dies in the love, and fear, and grace of Jesus Christ. 
 Every man who preserves his soul pure, and every man who 
 restores to his soul the purity of repentance, — to every sucli 
 man is promised the glory of the resurrection, like unto that 
 of our Lord Jesus Christ. For as Christ rose from the dead, 
 so shall we rise ; and as He clothed Himself with glory, so shall 
 we pass from glory unto glory — to see Christ in the air — to be 
 like unto Him in glor\^ ; and so shall we be with the Lord for 
 ever. And tliat glory which comes to our Lord to-da}^, comes 
 not only to His grand soul, retm'ning surrounded by the 
 Saints whom He had delivered from their prison, but it comes 
 also to His body, wiping away and erasing every stain, every 
 defilement, every wound, and communicating to that body 
 the attributes of the Spirit ; for " that which was laid down 
 in dishonor rose in glory" — that which was laid down in 
 weakness rose in power — that which was laid down subject 
 to grief, if not to corruption, rose a spiritual and incorruptible 
 body. Even so shall we rise : — for I announce to you a 
 w^onderful thing, that when the Angels sound the trumpet, 
 and call the dead to judgment, they that are in Christ shall 
 rise first. And as the soul of the Redeemer went back to 
 the tomb, and entered into His body, to make that body 
 shine in its spiritual glory, — so shall our souls return from 
 the heights of heavenly contemplation, to find these bodies 
 again — to reenter them — and to make them shine with the 
 gTory of God, if w^e only consent to live and die in the grace 
 and favor of Jesus Christ. The eyes that now cannot look 
 upon the sun in heaven without being blinded, these very 
 eyes can gaze upon the face of God and not be blinded by 
 His majesty. The ears that are now weary of the music of 
 earth shall be so attuned to the music of Heaven, that the 
 
THE li^S UB RECTI OX. 1 1 1 
 
 rapture of its liearing shall continue in all' the ecstasy of de- 
 ligljt, so long as God is God. The heart, now so'circum- 
 scri]»ed as scarcely to be able to rise to tlie dignity of the 
 highest form of human love, will then be so purified and 
 exuhed that it will be filled with the fairest forms of divine 
 love — ])urified, sanctified, animating every natural sentiment, 
 every affection, until the body, growing into the soul's essence, 
 shall all become spiritual and, as it were, divine. In a word, 
 this gross, coiTuptible, material body of ours shall be so 
 spiritualized — so glorified — so refined, as to be capable of the 
 most exquisite pleasure of every spiritual sense j and yet 
 pleasiu-es purifying to the soul, in which every thought and 
 every power of the soul and body shall be wrapped up into 
 God. 
 
 But mark, dear brethren ; the resun-ection of our Lord is 
 the pledge and promise that every soul shall realize ; but 
 two things are necessary in order to arrive at this glory. 
 Two conditions are laid down in order to attain to this won- 
 derful fulfilment of all the love of the redemption of Jesus 
 Christ. And these two things are : First of all, we must 
 keep a pure soul and a pure c«jnscience. Mark how Jesus 
 Christ came to His glory. He took a human heart, He took 
 a human soul. He took a human conscience, — for He was 
 true man. But He took every element of His humanity 
 from a source so pure, so limpid, so holy, that in heaven or 
 on earth nothing was ever seen, or ever shall be seen, until 
 the end of eternity, that shall be compared with the Blessed 
 Virgin's Son. Throughout His wh<de life of thirty-three 
 years, nothing in it could have the slightest shadow of sin ; 
 —nothing that could have the slightest feature of sin npon 
 it, ever was allowed to come near the blessed and most im- 
 maculate soul and heart of Jesus Christ. When, at last, 
 He permitted the appearance of the sin that was not His 
 own to come upon Him — to touch Him nearly — it so fright- 
 ened Him — it so horrified Him — that the blood burst, as we 
 know, from every pore of His body. It seemed as if His 
 body, as it were, could not stand the sight. His was the 
 grace of pmity. Oh, my beloved brethren, that we might 
 attain to that self-same purity, as far as our nature vn]\ per- 
 mit us, that we might only know the beauty of that puritv 
 beaming from Him, as its author and creator! Christ ouV 
 Lord laid out in His Chmch the path of purity — the path of 
 
142 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 innocence. But, for all those who fall, or stumble, or turn 
 aside for a moment. He has built another royal road to sal- 
 vation, namely, the road of penance. One or other of these 
 must we tread; whether we tread the way of purity or the 
 way of penance, we must suffer with Christ if we wish to be 
 purified ^\ith Him. But, mark ! All pure and holy as He 
 was — infinite purity and holiness itself — no passion to disturb 
 Him — no evil example to exercise its influence over Him — 
 no secret emotion of pleasure, — even of that purely human 
 pleasure, to come and interfere in the remotest degree with 
 the perfect union with His divinity — yet with all this, He 
 mortified that sacred body ; He fasted ; He humbled 
 Himself; He prayed; and He ended by giving tliat body to 
 be scourged and to be crucified ! He slied His blood. 
 What an example was this ! That body of Jesus Christ 
 was no impediment to His holiness. It only helped Him ; 
 for it was the instrument of His divine will in the salvation 
 of men. Our bodies, on the other hand, impede us every 
 day, and put between us and God. Every passion that 
 dwells within us, rises from time to time to separate us from 
 God. Every appetite that clamors for enjoyment would 
 fain destroy the soul for ever, for a momentary pleasure. 
 Every sense that brings thought and idea to the spirit, brings 
 also in its train the imminent, the dangerous, the poisonous 
 image of the evil example of sin. That which, with Christ, 
 was a work of pleasure, is, with us, a work df toil. It is toil 
 to deny ourselves somewhat ; to put the sign of the cross, in 
 penance and mortification, upon this flesh ; to enter some- 
 Avliat into the sufierings of our Lord — into His fasting — into 
 His prayer — into His mortification — in order that our bodies 
 may be chastened ; for it is only chastened bodies that can 
 contain pure and sinless souls. Tiiose who are pure must 
 chastise their bodies somewhat — must deny themselves — in 
 order to preserve their purity. Those who are penitent must do 
 it in order to appease the justice of God upon that bod}'' which, 
 some time or other, has led them away from God by sin, and 
 so tended to destroy the soul. And this is the reason why the 
 Catholic Church commands us to fast : that it tells us we 
 must not enjoy overmuch the pleasures of the theatre ; the 
 pleasures of gay and festive reunions. It tells us that w^e 
 must, from time to time, be hungry, and yet not taste food, 
 — that we must be thirsty, and yet refuse to refi-esh ourselves 
 
THE RESURRECTION. 143 
 
 for a time with drink. And this, not only that these bodies may 
 be chastened for a time, but that they msCy be transformed into 
 fitness for the glory of Heaven. And here I would remark 
 that, while every other religion, while every false religion 
 puts away sadness and sorrow, puts away the precept of fast- 
 ing, and says that men may pander to, and feed, and cherish 
 their bodies, — the Catholic Church alone, from the very first 
 day of her existence, drew the sword of tlie spirit — the sword 
 of mortification — and declares through her monks, through 
 her hermits, through her virgins, through her priesthood, that 
 the body must be subdued, it must be abased, it must be 
 chastened, in order that the soul may rise to God by purity 
 and grace here, and through them, to the spiritual glory of 
 the resurrection hereafter. 
 
 I say that there is a third motive for our joy this morn- 
 ing, and it is this : May I, dearly beloved, in this, which I 
 may call the closing day of our Lent — may I congratulate 
 those whom I see before me ? The constant attendance of 
 many amongst you, during the last forty evenings of Lent, 
 has made your faces familiar to me. Over these Catholic 
 countenances have I seen from time to time the expression — 
 now of sorrow, now of delight,; — but, whether of sorrow or 
 of joy, always of sympathy with Jesus Christ. Of this am I 
 a witness ; and on this do I congratulate you. If it be true 
 that the Christian man is, indeed, a man in whom Christ 
 lives, according to the words of the Apostle : '^ I live no 
 hmger, I, but Christ lives within me," — then, according to 
 his words, you are lost to yourselves ; you are dead ; and 
 your life is hidden with Christ in God. If, then, the Chris- 
 tian man be the man in whom Christ lives, well may I con- 
 gratulate you upon every emotion of joy and of sorrow that 
 has passed through your hearts and over your faces during 
 these forty blessed days that you have passed ; because these 
 emotions were the gift of Christ, and the evidence of the life 
 of Christ in you, and of your familiarity with Christ's image. 
 
 May I congratulate you on a good confession and a fer- 
 vent communion ? May I, in heart and spirit, bow down 
 before every man among you to-day, as a man wdio holds 
 in his bosom Jesus Christ ; as a' man whose heart is not an 
 empty tomb, like that in the garden outside Jerusalem ; not 
 occupied merely by an Angel ; but whose heart is the sanc- 
 tuary wherein tlie risen and glorified Saviour dwells this 
 
144 FA THEB B URKWS DISCO URSES. 
 
 morning? May I congratnlate yon on this? I hope so. 
 I hope that the word^ that have been heard here have not 
 been spoken in vain. It would fill me with fear if I thought 
 there was one among the audiences who filled this church 
 during the last Lent, whose hardened heart refused to make 
 Ill's Easter confession and communion j and to make it as the 
 beginning of a series of more frequent — and, if possible^ of 
 monthly confessions and communions. It would fill me 
 with fear if I thought there was such a one here ; because 
 then there would come upon me the conviction that it was 
 my own un worthiness — my own unfitness — my own weakness 
 that made the Word fall fruitless on my lips, and might, 
 })erhaps, make me a reprobate whilst I was preaching the 
 Word. But, no. Nay, I will rather presume that God Jias 
 done His own work — that the Divine Husbandman, who 
 placed the seed of His Word in such hands as mine — most 
 unworthy — that He has made that Word spring up j and 
 that the fairest fiowers of grace and sanctity already crown 
 it in your hearts to-day. Upon this, therefore, I congratulate 
 you as the third gi'eat motive of your joy ; that not only is 
 the Saviour glorified in Jerusalem, but He is glorified in 
 your hearts. Not only has He conquered death in the 
 Garden of Gethsemane, but He -has cont^uered death in your 
 souls. Not only has He driven the devil and all tlie powers 
 of hell before Him, as He burst from the tomb, but He has 
 driven him from your hearts, into which He has entered this 
 morning. Oh, brethren, keep Him! Keep Him as your 
 best and only friend ! Keep Him as you would keep the 
 pledge of that future glory which is to come, and of which, 
 says the Apostle: ''Eye hath not seen and ear hath not 
 heard ; nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive 
 — what things the Lord God of heaven hath prepared for 
 those who cease not to love Him ! " 
 
THE CATHOLIC MISSION. 
 
 {A Sermon delivered ly the Verij Rev. T. N. BxirJce, O.P., on 
 Sunday, April 7, 1872, in the Chapel of the " Xavier Alumni 
 Sodality," attached to the Church and Collcje of St. Francis Xavier, 
 JS'ew York.'} 
 
 "Now, when it was late that same day, being the first day of the 
 week, and the doors were shut, where the disciples were gathered to- 
 gether, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came, and stood in the midst, and 
 eaid to them: 'Peace be to yon.' * * * * The disciples, therefore, 
 were glad w^hen they saw the Lord : and He said to them again : 
 'Peace be to you.' Now, Thomas, the son of Didymus, was not with 
 them. * * * Jesus came and stood in the midst of them, and said : 
 ' Peace be to you !' " John xx : 19-31. 
 
 This mode of salutation was adopted b}^ our Divine Lord 
 after His resuiTection and not before. Invariably, for the 
 forty days that He remained with His own, after he had risen 
 unto His glory, He saluted them with the words — '' Peace be 
 to you," as He had said elsewhere^ " My peace I leave unto 
 you ; My peace I give unto you." After His resmTection, I 
 say, He said these words. Before His Passion He could 
 scarcely say them -uith truth ; for, up to the moment that He 
 sent fortli His last cry upon the Cross, — saving us, — there 
 was war between God and man ; and how could the Son of 
 God say, ^^ Peace be to you?" But now, when He has 
 reconciled all in Himself — omnia reconciliavif, et in scmct ipso 
 pacem faciens, — creating peace — that, wliich He Himself 
 produced. He gave to His Apostles in the words which I 
 have just read fur you. 
 
 And now, my dear friends, let us consider what is that 
 peace of which our Saviour speaks ; what is that peace which 
 He declares to be the inheritance of the elect, — the great leg- 
 acy that He left to the world, — " the peace of God that sur- 
 passeth all understanding." In what does it consist ? Do 
 we know the meaning — the very definition — of it? It is a 
 simple word, and familiar to us, this word peace ; but I ven- 
 ture to say that it is one of those simple words that men do 
 
 7 
 
146 FATHER BUBKWS DISCOURSES. 
 
 not take the trouble to seek to intei-pret or to understand. In 
 order, tlien, that we may understand wliat is tliis "peace of 
 God wliicli surpassetli all understanding-," and in order that 
 in our understanding- of it by the light of faith, we may dis- 
 cover our own mission as Christian men, I ask you to con- 
 sider what the mission of the Divine Son of God was, when 
 He came and " was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Vir- 
 gin Mary and was made man." What did He come for ? 
 What work did He have to do ? I answer in the language 
 of Scriptm-e : " He came to effect many works of peace and 
 reconciliation." In the day that man sinned and rebelled 
 against God, he declared war against the Almighty ; and 
 God took up the challenge, and declared war against sin- 
 ners. This war involved separation between God and man ; 
 and in this state of warfare did Christ oiu- Lord find the 
 world. He found the world separated from God, first of all 
 by error and ignorance. " There is no truth and there is no 
 knowledge of God in the land," was the complaint of the 
 Prophet Isaiah. " Truth is diminished among the children 
 of men," exclaimed, with sorrow, the royal Psalmist. " No- 
 where is God known." 
 
 Before the Son of God came upon the earth, the nations 
 had wandered away into a thousand forms of idolatry and 
 of error. Every man called his own form of eiTor by the 
 name of " Religion." Some were " Epicureans ; " sensual- 
 ists — beasts — were made gods by them. They canonized 
 the principle of impurity, and they called it by the name of 
 a goddess ; and they declared that this was their religion ! 
 Others there were, brutalized in mind, who worshipped their 
 own passions of strife; and they canonized the principle of 
 revenge and of bloodshed, and they worshipped it under the 
 name of Mars. This thing went so far that even thieves, 
 robbers, the dishonest, had their own god ; — and the principle 
 of dishonesty and of thievery was canonized, or, rather, dei- 
 fied, and called religion, and embodied under the name of the 
 god Mercury ! It is a trick of the devil, and it is a trick of tlie 
 world, — to take up some form of error — some form of unbelief 
 — and to call that "Religion." When He came who was 
 "the Way, the Truth, and the Life," there was darkness 
 over the whole earth. The world was " civilized " enough, 
 Ai'ts and sciences flourished. It was the " Augustan Era," 
 which has given a name to the very highest civilization 
 
THE CATHOLIC MISSION. 147 
 
 among the nations, from that day to this. But \\liat was 
 the awful want of their civilization ? They ignored God ; 
 they took no account of God in their kn(Jwledge. They 
 thought they could be wise without God. God nullitied their 
 wisdom, and al)andoned them to a reprobate sense. Thus did 
 mankind declare war against the God of Truth and of Wis- 
 dom. "What followed from this? Another kind of war, 
 more terrible, if you will, — the effect — the natural and 
 necessary effect — of that separation of the human intellect 
 from God. What was tliis f Every fonn of sin — nay, the 
 vilest, the filthiest, the most abominable sin — was found 
 among men. Not as an exception ; not as a thing to be hid- 
 den J but as a thing to be acknowledged, as a matter of 
 course. The husband was not faithful to the wife, nor the 
 wife to the husband. Juvenal tells us that, in that flourish- 
 ing society of paganism, as a man saw his wife growing old 
 — and, accordingly, as the bloom of her youth passed away 
 from her, — he began to despise her j until, in tlie words o*f 
 the satirist, the day came when she saw a fair, blooming 
 maiden come into the house, and herself, the mother of chif- 
 dren, summoned to go out 5 because her eyes had lost their 
 lustre, and her features the roses and the* lilies of beauty ; 
 and a stranger was there to take her place. There was no 
 piinciple of fidelity. There was no principle of honesty. 
 No man could trust his fellow-man. No man knew who was 
 to be tmsted. Even the ancient, rugged virtues that the 
 early Republics of Greece and Rome" produced, had passed 
 away. The world was over-civilized for them. They were 
 the rough forms, with some semblance of that \iitue upon 
 them that the rugged, half-civilized man possessed, and were 
 utterly laughed at, and scorned, and scoffed at by the civil- 
 ized pagan, who was the very embodiment of sensuality and 
 impurity. 
 
 Thus did the world declare war against God, and for sen- 
 suality. The God of Purity, — they knew Him not, — and 
 therefore, they could 'not believe in Him. '^ Tliere is no 
 truth, and there is no knowledge of God in the land," says 
 the Prophet. Then he immediately adds: "Cursing, lying, 
 theft, and adultery have ovei-thrown and blotted out much 
 love : because my people, saitli the Lord, have no grace." 
 
 The second kind of war which our Lord found upon the 
 eai'th was the war between men : for they who had ceased to 
 
148 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 know God, had ceased to love or respect one another. Split 
 up into a multitude of sects, — nation against nation, province 
 ao-ainst province, tlie very history of our race was nothing but 
 alii story of war, and strife, and bloodshed. Then came the 
 Son of God Incarnate, with healing hand and powerful touch, 
 to restore the world, and to renew the face of the earth. How 
 did He do this ! It could only be done by Him ; and by 
 Him could it be only done by His instituting, and leaving, 
 and declaring the truth of God Himself, and lea\nng it in 
 the midst of men ; the unchangeable truth, the eternal truth, 
 tbe pure, unmixed, briglit light of truth as it beamed forth 
 from the eternal wisdom of God. It was only thus that He 
 could restore mankind to peace with the God of eternal truth. 
 Then it was necessary that, having thus established the truth, 
 He should wipe out the sin, by the shedding of His own 
 blood, as a victim, and that He should leave behind Him, for 
 ever in the world, the ranning stream of that sanctifying 
 blood '^ unto the cleansing of the sinner and the unclean, — 
 unto the strengthening of the weak, unto the encouraging of 
 the strong, unto the revivifying of the dead." Did Christ do 
 this^ Yes, He lifted up His voice and spoke; and the voice 
 of the Saviour was the voice of the eternal God. And mark, 
 that, before He saved the world by the shedding of His 
 blood, — before He redeemed the sin, — for tliree long years, 
 nio-ht and day, in season and out of season, He was preaching 
 and teaching ; dispelling error, letting in the light ; for man- 
 kind could not be prepared for redemption except through the 
 light and through the truth of God. Wherefore we find Him, 
 now on the mountain side, now on the lake ; now among the 
 Pharisees, now in the desert ; now in the temple of Jerusa- 
 lem, now in the by-ways of Judea ; now in tlie little towns 
 and villages; but everywhere — ^' quofidie clocens" teaching 
 every day, for three years; preparing the world for its 
 redemption ; reconciling the human intelligence with the 
 light of God's truth ; oj)ening up the minds, and letting the 
 stream of pure light from God into theuntellect. Then, w hen 
 the three years' preparation was over; then, when He had 
 formed His disciples, and established His Apostolic College; 
 — then did the eternal Victim go upon the Cross, and puur 
 out His blood : and the shedding of that blood washed away 
 the sins of the world, and left open those streams from His 
 sacred wounds that were to flow through the sacramental 
 
THE CATHOLIC MISSION. 149 
 
 channels, and that were to find every human sonl, with all 
 its spiritual wants, here, there, and everywhere, nntil the end 
 of time, — according to that promise relating to the Church of 
 the Lord : '' You shall draw waters of joy from the fountains 
 of soiTow ! '^ He purified the world by the shedding of His 
 blood. But well did He know our natiu'e. ^^ Et naturam 
 nosfram ipse cofjiwuitJ' He made us, and He knew ns. Well 
 did He know that the stream that He poiu'ed forth from His 
 wounds on Calvary should flow for ever; because the sins 
 which that blood alone could wipe away would be renewed, 
 and renewed again, as long as mankind should be upon this 
 earth. " For,'' — and He said it with sorrowing voice — ^' it 
 needs must be that scandal conieth." 
 
 Thus, in the Divine Tnith and the sacramental grace 
 which He gave, did He reconcile mankind to His Heavenly 
 Father, and restore peace between God and man. Then, 
 touching the other great warfare. He proclaimed the principle 
 of universal charity — declared that no injuries, no insult, 
 must obstruct it, or break it, or destroy it — declared that we 
 must do good for evil, — declared that we must live for man ; 
 take an interest in all men, try to gain tlie souls of all men ; 
 and that this love, tliis fraternity, this charity must reign in 
 our hearts at the very same time that we are upholding, with 
 every power of our mind — and, if necessary, of our body, 
 the sacred piinciples of Divine Truth, and of Divine grace. 
 
 Beholll, then, my dear friends, the peace ''that passetli all 
 understanding;'^ the peace that He came to leave and to give. 
 Peace means union. When nations are at war, they are 
 separated from each other into two hostile camps ; and they 
 look upon each other with scowling eyes of hatred and 
 anger ; — but when the war is over, they come forth — they 
 meet — and they join hands in peace. So, the meeting of the 
 intellect of man with the truth of God — the admission of 
 that divine truth into the mind — the opening of the heart to 
 the admission of the gi'ace of God, and of om' Lord Himself 
 by the Sacraments, establishes the meeting of peace between 
 God and man. The cliarity of which I have spoken — the 
 nobleness of Christian forgiveness, which is the complement 
 of Christian humility — the grandeur of Christian patience 
 and forbearance — establishes peace among all mankind. It 
 was the design of Christ that that eternal peace of wdiich I 
 speak should also be represented by unity; — that all men 
 
150 FATHER BUIIEE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 sliould be one by the unity of tlionglit in one common faith, 
 by the unity oi heart in one connnon charity. And it is 
 wortliy of remark that, just as our Lord saluted His Apostles 
 Avith the words, " My peace be with you," — after His llesur- 
 rection — so, before JSis Passion — on the night before He 
 suffered — He put up His prayer to God — and over aiid over 
 again, to the Father in Heaven — that all men might be one, 
 even as He and the Father were one. " Father," He says, 
 *' Keep them one even, as thou and I are one." That is to 
 say, a union of faith — a recognition of one undivided and 
 unchanging truth, — a bowing do^vn of all before one idea — 
 and, then, a union of hearts springing from that union of 
 faith. This was the design of Christy and for this He labored. 
 And this the Church has labored to effect. For this she has 
 labored two thousand years. She has succeeded, in a great 
 measure, in doing it; — but the work has been upset and 
 destroyed in many lands by the hands of those who were 
 the enemies of God in spoiling and breaking up the fair 
 design of our Lord and Saviour. 
 
 Now, in this eternal and immutable truth preached to all 
 men — recognized by all men — gathering in every intelli- 
 gence — respecting all honest deviations — yet uniting all in 
 faith ; — in this truth and in this sanctifying peace which is in 
 the Catholic Church, lies the salvation of the world — the sal- 
 vati(jn of society — the salvation of every principle which 
 fonus this highly commended and oft-praised civilization 
 of ours. The moment we step one inch out of the Catholic 
 Chm'ch and look around us, what do we find? Is there any 
 agency on earth, — even though it may call itself a religion, — 
 that will answer the purposes of society ! Is there any of 
 these sects — or religions, as they call themselves, that can 
 make a man pure? No. They are unable to probe and 
 sound the depths of the human heart. They do not pretend 
 to legislate for purity of thought. Practically, they reduce 
 the idea of purity to a mere saving of appearances before the 
 w^orld, — to a mere external respect and decorum. Are they 
 able to shake a man out of his sins ? No ; there is no real- 
 ity about them. They have no tribunal of conscience, even, 
 to which they oblige a man to come after careful self-exam- 
 ination. They have no standard of judgment to put before 
 him. They have no agency, divinely appointed, to crush a 
 man, — to humble a man, — to break the pride in him, — ^to 
 
THE CATHOLIC MISSION. 151 
 
 make liim confess and avow his sin j — and then, lifting the 
 sacramental Land over him, — by reason of his humility, his 
 sorrow, and his confession, — to send him forth renewed and 
 converted by the grace of God. There is no such thing. 
 There is nothing so calculated to enable a man to keep his 
 word faithfully. No. Tlie first principle of fidelity' — Iji^o 
 at the root of all society — the great fundamental piinciple 
 of fidcdity — is the Sacrament which makes the sanctity of 
 maiTiage, — by which those whom it unites are sealed with 
 the seal of God, and sanctified with the truth of God's Church. 
 The man is saved fi'om the treachery of his own passions. 
 The woman is saved from the inconstancy of the heart of 
 man. The family is saved in the assertion of the mother's 
 rights, — in the placing on her head a crown that no hand on 
 earth, can touch or take away. The futm'e of the world is 
 saved by ennobling the Clnistian woman, and wife, and 
 mother, with something of the purity of the Yhgin Mother 
 of God ! Do they do this ? Oh, I feel the heart within me 
 indignant, — the blood almost boiling in my veins when I 
 think of it ! — when I see under the shadow of the Crucified, — 
 nineteen hunched years after He had sanctified the world, — 
 when I see men deliberately rooting up the Yevy foundations 
 of society, loosening the keystone in the arch, and pulling 
 it down, in the day when they went back to theh paganism, 
 — in the day when they threatened that the bond that God 
 had tied should be unloosed by the hands of men, — in the 
 day when they gave the lie to the Lord Himself, who de- 
 clared — '^ What God hath joined let no man separate ;" — 
 in the day when man is so flung out into his o-«ti tempta- 
 tions ; and the woman, no matter who she may be, — crowned 
 queen or lowly peasant, — the first or the last in the land, — 
 is waiting in trepidation, not knowing the horn" when, upon 
 some infamous accusation, the wiit of divorce may be put 
 into her hand, and she, the mother of childi'en, be ordered to 
 go forth, that her place may be given to another ! 
 
 Is there any agency to make men honest ? No ; they can- 
 not do it. A man plunders, to-day j steals with privy hand ; 
 enriches himself unla-vx-fulh^, unjustly, shamefully ; — and, to- 
 morrow, he goes to some revival, or some camp-meeting, and 
 there he blesses the Lord in a loud voice, proclaiming to his 
 admiring friends that he " has found the Lord ! " But is 
 there any agency to stop him, and say : ** Hold,*my friend, 
 
152 FA TREE B UREE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 wait for a moment ! Have you made restitution to the last 
 farthing for what you unjustly acquired ? Have you shaken 
 out that Judas purse of yours, until the last dime — the very 
 last piece of silver for which you sold your soul to hell — has 
 gone back again to those from whom it was taken f If not, 
 speak not of finding Christ ! — speak not of leaning upon the 
 Lord ! Blaspheme not the God of justice ! " Is there any 
 agency outside of the Catholic Church to sift a man like this'^ 
 Is there any such agency at all ? No : we live in an age of 
 shams — of pretences ; and the worst shams of all — the vilest — 
 the foulest pretences of all — are those we find in the so-called 
 '^ religious world." Take up yoiu' religious newspapers ; take 
 up your religious publications, outside of the Catholic Chvu'ch. 
 I protest it is more than common sense or human patience 
 can bear ! If the great Clun-ch of the living God were not 
 in the midst of you, unchanging in truth — ever faithful in 
 every commission — clothed in the freshness of her first sanc- 
 tity, and sanctif}dng all who come within her sacramental 
 influence ; — if she were not here as the city of God, this so- 
 called '' religious world " would bring down the TVTatli of God, 
 calculated, as its antics are, to bring the Lord Himself into 
 contempt ; exciting the pity of angels, the anger of heaven, 
 and the joy of hell. 
 
 A recent writer, wdio has devoted some attention to the 
 consideration of the question of religious indilierence, asks — 
 " Why are the chm'ches empty ? How is it that the intellec- 
 tual men of the day do not like to listen to sermons ? How is 
 it that they take no interest in the things of the Church ? 
 How is it that they have no belief?" And a wise voice — a 
 pious voice — answers : " Because, my friend, you do not know 
 how to preach to them. If you want to captivate the intel- 
 lect of the men of our day ; — if you want to interest them — if 
 you want to convince them — do not be clinging to antiquated 
 traditions ; — do not rest upon these so-called doctrines of a 
 bygone tiuie. Eead scientific books. Find there the pro- 
 blems that are bursting up continually from modern science, 
 and try to reconcile your ideas of religion with those ; — and, 
 then, preach to them ! Thei> will you show yourself a man of 
 the age — a man of progress ! " And so, henceforth, the sub- 
 ject-matter of our semions is to be electric telegraphs, sub- 
 marine cables, and flying ships. " If you want to learn how 
 most efi"ectively to preach/' adds this wise and able voice, 
 
THE CATHOLIC MISSION. 153 
 
 ^^read the latest novels, and try to learn from them all the 
 by-ways and high-ways of the Imman heart." See how deli- 
 cately they follow all the chit-chat of society, — all the little 
 gossipings, and love-makings and the thousand-and-one in- 
 fluences that act upon the adulterous and depraved heart , of 
 man — the wicked passions of man. This is the text from 
 which the preacher of to-day is to preach if he wishes to at- 
 tract the intellect of the world. And all this in the very 
 sight, and under the shadow of the Cross of Christ, who died 
 for man ! Was ever blasphemy so terrible ? And this is 
 what is called " religion " by the world ! Not a word about 
 Divine truth 5 not a word about Divine grace ! In one of 
 the leading journals of New York — an able papex — a well- 
 written paper — in a leading article of that paper, this very 
 morning, I read a long dissertation on this very question of 
 preaching and preachers j — and the word " truth " appeared 
 only once in that article ; — and then it came under the title of 
 " scientific truth." The word '' grace " did not occur even 
 once. But never, even once, did simple ''truth" occm' — or 
 even " religious trutli " flash across the mind of the able, 
 temperate-minded, judicious man that TVTote it ! And I do 
 not blame him, — for he was wTiting for the age ! He was 
 giving a very fair idea of what the world is, and what the 
 world is sure to come to, if the Almighty God, in His mercy, 
 does not touch the hearts of men, and give them enough of 
 sense to turn to the Catholic Church, and hear the voice of 
 God — the Divine spouse of Christ in her teachings. With- 
 out this voice they cannot hear the voice of God. Without 
 her teaching, this hardened, dried-up heart of man will never 
 grow into purity or love. 
 
 Now we come to the mission that you and I have. Grand 
 as is the vision that rises before our eyes, when we contem- 
 plate the heavenl}'- beauty and graces of otir great and 
 mighty Mother, the Church, who has never told a lie, nor 
 ever compromised or kept back the least portion of the eter- 
 nal and saving tnith which mankind shotild know j who 
 has never tolerated the slightest sin, but to king and peasant 
 has said alike : ''Be pure, be faithful, or I will cut you off 
 as a rotten branch, and cast you into hell," — grand, I say, as 
 is the spectacle of this gloiious Church, — wonderful and cim- 
 vincing as are her claims to every man's faith and every 
 man's obedience, — if the advocacy of these claims were left 
 
154 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 to me, and to such as I am, and to the Fathers, the world 
 would scarcely ever be converted. You have your niisision, 
 my dear young friends, — children of the Church of God j 
 you have your mission, — not as preachers, indeed j yet, far 
 move eloquent than the voice of any preacher, in the silent 
 force of example, — the example that you must give to those 
 around you ; forcing the most unwilling and reluctant to look 
 upon you and to see in 3'ou, shining forth, the glories of your 
 divine religion. " Sic lux Iticeat omni nmndo" He did not 
 say to all, ^' Go and preach " : only to the Twelve. But to 
 all of them He said : '^ Let your light so shine before men, 
 that, seeing your work, they may give glory to God who is 
 in Heaven.'' And so I say to you, let your light shine 
 calmly but brightly, that all men may see you, and thus 
 give glory to your Mother the Church, triumphant in Heaven 
 and militant for you on earth. It is your mission to avow, 
 bravely, manfully, — however temperately, yet firm as the 
 adamantine rock, — every sacred principle of Catholicity, and 
 every iota of the teaching of that Chm'ch, w^hen she teaches 
 a law ; because her destiny is to be the embodiment of truth 
 in this world. ^' With the heart we believe unto justice.'' 
 But that is not enough ; with the mouth we must make loud 
 confession unto salvation : — loud confession ! Why ? Be- 
 cause the devil is making a loud act of Ms faith, filling the 
 world vni\i it, bringing it out everywhere, in books, in news- 
 papers, in speeches, in associations, in schools, in the public 
 academies, in the univei^sities, in the halls of medicine and of 
 law ; in the courts, in the senate ; — it is the one cry — the harsh, 
 grating cry by which the devil makes his act of detestable 
 faith in hmiself, and denial of God ; — an act of diabolical 
 faith that meets us at every turn, — strikes and offends every 
 sense of ours with its temble language. We cannot take 
 up a book that, if we do not find a satyr peering out from its 
 pages, is not the bald, stark daub of some fool, who flings his 
 smut or his infidelit}^ into the sight of God. We cannot 
 turn to a public journal that is not a record of plundering, of 
 villany, of robbeiy, and murders and thefts and defalcations. 
 Why, what would a dictionary of this day of ours look like? 
 It would be filled with modern names, — page after page, — 
 for these modern sins, of which our honest forefathers scarcely 
 knew anything j — these sins, the embodiment of the practical 
 immorality of the apostate monk of Wmtemburg. We must 
 
THE CATHOLIC MISSION. 155 
 
 oppose this terrible exliibitioii of evil whicli the devil makes 
 ill our p\iblic streets, and throughout every organ that comes 
 before us, not only by the strong assertion of our holy faith, 
 but by the silent and eloquent example of our purity of life, 
 our uprightness and cleanliness of heart. And therefore it is 
 that, in truth, never perhaps before was the Word of the Lord 
 so well fulfilled in the children of the Catholic Chm'ch, as to- 
 day, ^\hen He said: ^^ You are the salt of the earth.'' And so 
 they are the salt of the earth throughout the world. How 
 much more in this great country, where we are, as it were, 
 in the Spring-time, only breaking up the ground and throw- 
 ing in the seed from which, one hundred-fold, the fiiiit mil 
 come when we are lying in our cold, forgotten graves. The 
 seedlings that we sow to-day of Catholic faith, of Catholic 
 purity, of Catholic truth, will grow up into a fruit and an 
 abundance so grand, so magnificent, that, perhaps, it is given 
 to us that the ultimate glory of the Church of God shall be 
 the work of our hands and of om' lives to-day. It is a great 
 thing to Ifve in tlie Spring-time of a nation; it is a great thing 
 to find one's self at the fountain head of a stream of mighty 
 national existence that will swell -wHith -every age, gaining 
 momentum as it rolls on with the flood of time. It is a great 
 thing to lie at the fountain-head of that stream. It is said 
 with truth — 
 
 " The pebble on the sti'eamlet's brink 
 
 Has changed the course of many a river; 
 The dew-di'op on the acorn-leaf 
 May warp the giant oak for ever." 
 
 The river of America's nationality and existence is only 
 beginning to flow to-day ; and we should endeavor to direct 
 it into the current of Catholicity. The young oak which is 
 pLanted to-day, and which will, in all probability, overshadow 
 and overspread the whole earth, was but lately hidden in. 
 the acorn-cup. Ah, let us remember, that even a pebble in 
 the hand of the youth David, hurled against Goliah, struck 
 down the giant. Let us be the pebble in the hand of God 
 that shall strike down this demon — this proud, presum})tuous 
 demon of infidelity that has entered into the land, and taking 
 '' seizing" of the whole continent of Anierica, says: ''This 
 soil must be mine." Let us be as the pebble in the mountain 
 brook, which turns the stream that will one day be a mighty 
 river, into the frreat bed of Catholic truth and Catholic 
 
156 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 pnrity, that alone can save this land. Let us be as the 
 dew-drop on the acorn leaf, — the dew-drop of Catholic faith, 
 of Catholic intelligence, and Catholic morality ; the tear, as 
 it were, flowing- from the pitying eye of tlie Saviour, upon the 
 young, sprouting oak of human existence, training it towards 
 heaven — sending it to heaven in the national aspiration, in 
 the national action, and not permitting it to be dragged and 
 warped, in this way and that, until it lies a stunted and mis- 
 begotten plant, clinging to the earth, into which it will fling 
 its leaves 5 its tnuik stunted and Avithered, conveying no sap 
 but the sap of religious bigotry and intolerance, and the 
 bitterest juices of foolish sectarianism; of absurd, blind folly, 
 exciting the laughter of all sensible men upon the earth, the 
 indignation of God, and the joy of hell. This is om' mission. 
 Say, will you fulfil it ? Say,"^ Catholic young men, will 
 you fulfil it ? You cannot fulfil it without being thorough- 
 going Catholics ; you cannot fulfil it without being joined, 
 heart and soul, with the Church, through the Churcli's head 
 — through the immutable rock — the supreme governor — the 
 infallible teacher of God's infallible Church. You cannot 
 fulfil this mission until you join, with that rivalry of Chris- 
 tian self-denial, the rivalry of Christian purity, and a holy 
 horror of every thing hollow and pretentious — a holy horror 
 of shams. There are no shams in the Catholic Church; 
 there is nothing but shams — religious shams — outside of her. 
 You cannot fulfil this mission unless you seek to sanctify 
 3^our hearts and your lives, and to sweeten those lives by 
 prayer, by confession, and communion ; and I congratulate 
 you, that, in facing this mission, which lies before every 
 Catholic man, you do it, not as individuals, but as a body, 
 as an organization. We live in an age of organizations. 
 There is nothing everywhere but organizations, for this thing, 
 or for that : and nearly all of them belong to the devil. It 
 is fitting that Christ, our Lord, should have His. It is fitting 
 that the Church should have hers. You are banded 
 together in the name of our Lord and Saviour. You remem- 
 ber that, in the Gospel of last Sunday, the Evangelist tells 
 us — "These things are written that all men may believe 
 that the Lord Jesus is Christ, the Son of God ; and that, 
 believing, they may have life in His name." In His name 
 you are assembled together, bound by common hopes, by 
 a common purpose, which, without interfering at allwithyour 
 
THE CATHOLIC MISSION. 157 
 
 daily duties, or your individual liberty, still binds you together 
 in a unity of thouo'lit, of opinion, and of purpose, to act on 
 this great mass of society, in which our mission lies — yours 
 and mine ; — mine in the Word, mine in labor, mine in undi- 
 vided thought, for that and nothing but that, — or else I also 
 would be a sham ; — yours in the manner of which I have 
 spoken to you. And you are banded together under the 
 guidance of those religious men whom the Church honors by 
 pemiitting them to take the glorious name of Jesus as their 
 own; — of those men who, for three hundred years, have led 
 the van of the Holy Catholic Church in that mighty warfare 
 that is going on, which makes the Church a militant church; 
 — of those men whose ffithers before them — the Saints — 
 received fii'st every blow that was intended to strike at the 
 heart of the Chiu'ch ; — of those men who are known among 
 the religious Orders of the Church, and represent the Saviour 
 in His risen glory ; for they rose again at the command of 
 the Sovereign Pontiff; — of those men whose name is kno\vn 
 in every land ; — loved with the ardor of Catholic love; hated 
 and detested with the first and most intense hatred of every 
 man that hates the glorious and immaculate Chm'ch of 
 Christ ; — of those men who, for three hundred years, have 
 trained and led the young intellect of Christendom^ — have 
 stamped upon eveiy young heart that ever came under their 
 hands, the sacred name and the sacred love which is their 
 own title and their most glorious crown. And, therefore, I 
 congratulate you with hope, — and a high and well-assured 
 hope, — that all that God intends, all that the Church expects 
 at your hands, in this glorious missionary Society ; — that — 
 all that — you will give to God and to His Church, so as to 
 enable Him to repay you, ten thousand-fold, in glory, in the 
 kingdom of His everlasting joy. 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CATHOLIC 
 CHURCH. 
 
 I A Lecture delivered by Very Rev. T. N. BurTce, O.P., in the Academy of 
 Music, Brooklyn, April 24, 1872.] 
 
 We are assembled tliis evening, mj^ dear friends, to con- 
 template tlie greatest work of all the works that the Almighty- 
 God ever created— namely, " The Constitution of the Holy 
 Catholic Chm'ch." In every work of God it has been well 
 observed that the Creatoi^'s mind shows itself in the wonder- 
 ful harmon}^ that we behold in it. Therefore the poet has 
 justly said that ^^ Order is Heaven's firet law." But if this 
 be true of earthly things, how much more does the harmony 
 of God, — in the order which is the very expression of the 
 Divine mind, — come forth and appear when we come to 
 contemjdate the glorious Chm'ch which Christ fii'st founded 
 npon this earth. The glorious Chm'ch I call her, and in using 
 those w^ords I only quote the inspired Scriptures of God : 
 for we are told that this Church, which Christ, the Lord, 
 established, is a glorious Church, ^^ithont spot or wiinkle, or 
 defect of any Idnd ; but all-perfect, all-glorious, and fit to be 
 what He intended her to be — the Immaculate Spouse of the 
 Son of God. 
 
 Now, that our Divine Redeemer intended to establish 
 such a Chm'ch upon the earth is patent from the repeated 
 words of the Lord Himself ; for it will a[)pear that one of 
 the strongest intentions that was in the mind of the Re- 
 deemer, and one of the primary conceptions of His Tvisdom, 
 Mas to establish npon this earth a Chm'ch, of w^iich He speaks, 
 over and over again, sajdng : " I will build My Chm^ch so 
 that the gates of Hell shall never prevail against it : " " He 
 that will not hear the voice of the Church, let him be as if 
 lie were a heathen or a publican." And so throughout the 
 Gospel, we find the Son of God again and again alluding 
 to His Church, proclaiming what that Chm'ch was to be, 
 and setting upon her the signs by wliich all men were to 
 
THE COXSTITUTIOX OF THE CHURCH. 159 
 
 know her as a patent and self-evident fact among tlie nations 
 of the world, until the end of time. And -what idea does our 
 Lord give us of His Church ? He tells us, first of all, — and 
 tells us over and over again, — that His Church is to be a 
 kingdom,- and He calls it — ^^ My -kingdom." And else- 
 where, in repeated portions of the Grospel, He speaks of it as 
 *' the kingdom of God." One time He says, "The king- 
 dom of God is like unto a city, which was built upon the 
 mountain side, so that all men might behold it." And 
 again : '• The kingdom of God is like unto a candle set up- 
 on a candlestick, so that it might shed its light throughout 
 the whole house, and that every one entering the house might 
 behold it." And again : " The kingdom of God is like un- 
 to a net cast out into the sea, and sweeping in all that come in 
 its way — both good and bad." And so, throughout, Christ 
 always speaks of His Chm'ch as a Kingdom that He was to 
 establish upon this earth. Wlien, therefore, any meditative, 
 thoughtful man reads the Scriptures reverently, dispassion- 
 ately, Anthout a film of prejudice over his eyes, he must come 
 to the conclusion that Christ, beyond all, founded a spiritual 
 kingdom upon this earth; and that that kingdom was so 
 founded as to be easily recognized by all men. 
 
 Now, if we once let into our minds the idea that the Church 
 of Christ is a kingdom, we must at once admit in the Church 
 an organization which is necessary for every kingdom upon 
 this earth. And what is the first element of a nation I I 
 answer that the first element of a nation is to have a head or 
 ruler, — call him what you will — elect him as you will. Is 
 it a Republic ? it must have a President. Is it a Monarchy? 
 it must have its King. Is it an Empire ? it must have its 
 Emperor : and so on. But the moment you imagine a state 
 or kingdom of any kind W'ithout a head, that moment you 
 destroy out of your mind the very idea of a State united for 
 certain purposes and governed by cei-tain laws. That head 
 of the nation must be the supreme tribunal of the nation. 
 From him, in his executive office, all subordinate officers liold 
 their power ; and, even, though he be elected by the people 
 and chosen from among the people, the moment he is set at 
 the head of the state or nation, that moment he is the repre- 
 sentative or embodiment of tlje fountain of authority. Every 
 one wielding power within that nation must bow to him. 
 Every one exercising jurisdiction within the nation must 
 
160 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 derive it from him. He, I say again, may derive it, even 
 from the choice of the people ; but, when he is thus elevated, 
 he forms one unit, to which every thing in the State is bound 
 to h)ok up. This is the very first idea and notion which the 
 word State or Kingdom involves. 
 
 It follows, therefore, that, if the Church founded by Christ 
 be akingd(mi, the Church must have a head; and, if you can 
 imagine a Church without a head, yet retaining its consistency, 
 its strength, its unity, and its usefulness, for any purpose for 
 wdiich it was created, you can imagine a thing that it is im- 
 possible to my mind, or to the mind of any reasonable man, 
 to conceive. Luther imagined it, when he broke up the 
 nations of the earth with his Protestant heresy ; when he rent 
 asunder the sacred garment of unity that girded the fair form 
 of the holy Church, the spouse of God. Yet even he, when 
 he broke up the Church, was obliged to maintain the prin- 
 ciple of headship. The Cliurch of England had her head; 
 the Church of Denmark had her head; that is to say, her 
 fountain of jurisdiction, her ruling authority, the existence 
 of which, in all these States, we see, with at least the appear- 
 ance of religion, kept up — the phantasm of a real Church. 
 It is true, my friends, when yon ccmie to analyze these differ- 
 ent heads that spring up in the different Protestant Churches 
 in the various countries of Europe, we shall find some 
 amongst them, that I believe here, in America, would be 
 called '^ sore-heads." Henry the Eighth was a remarkable 
 sore-head. Perhaps, if he had got a good combing from the 
 Almighty God, in this world, he would not get so bad a 
 combing as he is, in all probability, receiving where he 
 now is. 
 
 We next come to the question : Who is the head of the 
 Church of Christ? Who is the ruler? Before I answer this 
 question, my friends, I will ask you to rise, in imagination, 
 to the grandeur of the idea that fills the mind with the thought 
 of the unfathomable wisdom of God, when He was la3nng, 
 and sinking deeply into the earth, the foundations of His 
 Church. What purpose had Christ, the Son of God, in view, 
 that He should establish the Chm'ch at all ? He answers, 
 and tells us plainly, that He had two distinct purposes in 
 view, and that it was the destiny of the Church which He 
 was about to found, to make these purposes known and cany 
 them out, and with the extension of them to spread herself, 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CHURCH. IGl 
 
 and be faithful to them unto the consummation of the world. 
 What -were these })urposes? The first of tliese was to en- 
 ligliten the world and dispel darkness by tlie lig-lit of her 
 teaching's. Wherefore He said to His Apostles : *' You are 
 the liii'ht of the world. Let your light so shine bef )re men, 
 that all men may see yom* works, and seeing yon may give 
 glory to your Father, who is in heaven.'^ '^ You are the light 
 of the world," He says. "A man does not light a candle 
 and put it under a bushel ; but sets it upon a candlestick, 
 that it may illuminate the whole house, and that all men 
 entering may behold it. So I say unto you, you are the 
 light of the world and the illumination of all ages." 
 
 This was the fii'st purpose for which Chiist founded His 
 Cliurcli. The world was in darlvuess. Every light had 
 beamed upon it, but in vain. The light of pagan philosophy, 
 even the highest human knowledge, had beamed forth from 
 Plato, and from the philosophers ; but it was unable to pene- 
 trate the thick veil that overshadowed the intellect and the 
 genius of men, and to illumine that intelligence with one ray 
 of celestial or divine truth. The light of genius had beamed 
 upon it. The noblest works of art this earth ever beheld 
 were raised before the admiring eyes of the pagans of the 
 world. But neither the pencil of Praxiteles, nor the chisel 
 of Phidias, bringing forth the highest forms of artistic beauty, 
 was able to elevate the mind of the pagan to one pure 
 thought of the God who made him. Every human light had 
 tried in vain to dispel this thick cloud of darkness. The 
 light of God alone could do it j and that light came with 
 Jesus Christ in heaven. W^herefore He said : ^' I am the 
 light of the world." And " in Him," says the Evangelist, 
 " was Life, and the Life was the light of men." 
 
 The next mission of the Church was not only to illumine 
 the darkness, but to heal the coiTuption of the world, which 
 had grown literally rotten in the festering of its own spiritual 
 ulcers, imtil every form that human crime can take was not 
 only established amongst men, but acknowledged amongst 
 them, — crowned amongst them j not only acknowledged and 
 avowed, but actually lifted up upon their altars and deified in 
 the midst of them ; so that men were taught to adore as a 
 god, the shameful impersonation of their own licentiousness, 
 debauchery, and sin. Terrible was the moral condition of the 
 world when the hand of an angrj God was forced to draw 
 
162 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 back the flood-gates of heaven and sweep awa}^ the corruption 
 which prevailed through the flesh, until the spiritual God 
 beheld no vestige of His resemblance left in man ! Terrible 
 was the corruption when the same hand was obliged once 
 more to be put forth, and down from heaven came a rain of 
 living fire, and burned up a whole nation, because they were 
 corrupt ! Terrible was the corraption when the Almighty 
 God called upon every pure-minded man to draw the sword, 
 in the name of the God of Israel, and smite his neighbor and 
 friend, until a whole nation was swept away from out the 
 twelve tribes of Israel! Christ was sent as our head; and 
 He came and found the .world one festering and corrupt 
 ulcerous sore ; and He laid upon it the saving salve of His 
 mercy, and declared that He was the purifier of society. 
 And to His disciples He said : " You are not only the light of 
 the world, to dispel its darkness ; but you are the salt of the 
 earthy to heal and sweeten and to preserve a corrupt and a 
 fallen race and nature." 
 
 This is the second great mission of the Church of God, to 
 heal with her sacramental touch, to purify with her holy 
 grace, to wipe away the corruption of the world, and to pre- 
 vent its return by laying the healing influence of Divine 
 grace there. This is the mission of the Church of God — 
 which was Christ's — to be, unto the end of time, the light of 
 the world and the salt of the earth. 
 
 Now, from this twofold ofiice of the Church of God, I argue 
 that God Himself — the God who founded her, the God who 
 established her in so much glory and for so high and holy a 
 purpose, the God who made her and created her, His fairest 
 and most beautiful work ; — that God must remain with her, 
 and be her true head unto the end of time. And why ! Who 
 is the light of the world! ''I am," says Christ. Who is 
 the pmifier of the world ? " I am," responds the same Christ. 
 If then, thou, Clirist, be the purifier of the earth and the light 
 of the world, tell us, Master, can light, or grace, or purity 
 come from any other source than Thee f He answers : " No ; 
 the man who seeks it in any but in Me, finds, for his light, 
 darkness; and for his healing, corruption and death. The 
 man who plants upon any other soil than Me, plants indeed, 
 but the heavenly Fathei-'s hand shall pluck ,out what he 
 plants." Christ, therefore, is the true head of His Church, 
 the abiding head of His Church, the unfailing, ever- watchful 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CHURCH. 163 
 
 head of His Church ; and is as much to-day the head of the 
 Church as He was eighteen hundred years ago. Christ to- 
 dav is the real head, the abiding head. He arose from the dead 
 after He had lain three days in darkness. He had said to His 
 Ajiostles : ^' I am about to leave you ; but it will only be for 
 a little ; a little while and you shall not see Me any more ; 
 but after a very little while you shall see me again. I will 
 not leave you orphans ; 1 will come to you again ; and I will 
 remain with you all days unto the consinnmation of the 
 world." Oh !' my friends, what a consoling thought is this 
 unfailing promise of the words of the Redeemer ! Oh ! 
 what a consolation has this world in Him who said: 
 *' Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My Words ' 
 shall never pass away: I am with you all days unto 
 the consummation of *the world." And how is He with 
 us? Is He with us visibly? No. Do we behold Him 
 with our eyes? No. Do we hear His own immediate 
 voice ? No* Have any of you ever seen or heard Him, 
 immediately and directly, as John the Evangelist saw Him 
 when He was upon the Cross ; as Mary Magdalen heard Him 
 when He said to her : ^' I am the resuiTection and the life ! " 
 No. Yet He founded a visible kingdom — a kingdom which 
 was to be set upon the earth, as a candle set upon a candle- 
 stick. Therefore, if He is at the head of that kingdom,-— if 
 he is to preside over it, — if He is to rule and govern it, a 
 visible kingdom. He must show Himself visibly. This He 
 does not. In His second and abiding coming He hides Him- 
 self within the golden gates of the" Tabernacle j and there 
 He abides and remains: but when it was a question of 
 governing His Chm'ch, Christ, our Lord, Himself appointed 
 a visible "head. And who was this? He called twelve men 
 around Him; He gave them power and jurisdiction; He 
 gave them the glorious mission of His Apostles ; He gave 
 them a communication of His own spirit; He gave them 
 inspiration. He breathed His Holy Sj)irit, the Third Person 
 of the Blessed Trinity, upon them ; and He took one of the 
 twelve, and He spoke to that one man three most imi)ortant 
 words. Tliey were meant lor that (me man alone ; and the 
 proof is that on each occasion when Christ spoke to them, 
 He called the twelve around Him, and He spoke to that one 
 man alone in the presence of the other eleven, that there 
 might be eleven witnesses to the privileges and the powers of 
 
164 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 the one. Who was that one man ! St. Peter. St. Peter was 
 chosen among the Apoe.tles ; St. Peter, not up to that time 
 the one that was most loved ; for John was *' the disciple 
 whom Jesus loved:" St. Peter who, more than any of 
 the others, was reproved by his Lord, in the severest terms ; 
 St. Peter, who, more than any of the others, who were faith- 
 ful, — showed his weakness until the confinning power of 
 the Holy Ghost came upon him; — Peter was the one chosen ; 
 and here are the three words which Christ spoke. First of 
 all He said: ^' Thou art Peter, and upon this Rock I shall 
 hm'ld My Church." Christ heard the people speaking of 
 Him, and He said: ^^ Whom do they say I am?" And the 
 Apostles answered : " Lord, some of them say you are Ellas 
 or Jeremias, and some of them say you are John the Baptist, 
 and some say you are a prophet." Then Christ asked them 
 solemnly: ''Whom do you say I am?" Down went Peter 
 on his knees, and cried out : " Thou art Christ, the Son of 
 the living God." Then Christ, our Lord, said to him : 
 " Blessed art thou, Simon, son of John, because flesh and 
 blood hath not revealed it to thee, but My Father who is in 
 Heaven. And I say to thee, thou art Cephas, and upon this 
 rock I will build my Church." The man who denies to 
 Peter the glorious and wonderful privilege of being the 
 visible foundation underlying the Church of God and uphold- 
 ing it, is untrue to Christ, the head of the Church, 
 
 The second word the Son of God spoke to Peter was this : 
 " To thee, Peter," he said, in the presence of the others, 
 " To thee, Peter, will I give the keys of the kingdom of 
 heaven. Whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth shall be 
 bound in heaven, and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth 
 shall be loosed, also, in heaven." He gave His promise to 
 them all ; but to Peter, singly, He said : " To thee do I give 
 the kej^s of the kingdom of heaven." That is, the supreme 
 power over the Chm'ch. On another occasion, Christ, our 
 Lord, spoke to Peter ; and the others were present ; and He 
 said to him : " Simon, Simon, the devil has asked for thee, 
 that he might sift thee as wheat. But I have prayed for 
 thee, that thy faith fail not; and thou, being once converted, 
 confirm thy brethren." Now, any man who denies to Peter, 
 in the Church, that eternal kingdom that is never to come to 
 an end, and, to Peter and his successors, the power over his 
 brethi-en, to confinn them in the faith which shall never fail, 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CHURCH. 165 
 
 — in the faith which was the subject of tlie prayer of the Son 
 of God to His Father 5 — any man wlio denies tliis supremacy 
 of Peter gives the lie to Jesus Christ. 
 
 On another solemn occasion, tlie Son of God spohe to Peter, 
 when He was preparing to hid His Apostles and disci}des a 
 last farewell. They had seen Him crucified ; they had seen 
 liim lie disfigured, mangled, in the silent tomh. From that 
 tomb, with a power which was all His own. He rose, like the 
 lightning of God, to the heavens, sending before Him, howl- 
 ing and shrieking, all the demons of hell, conquered and 
 sulxhied. Now, His Apostles were gathered together. 
 Suddenly a flash lights up the heavens, and He appears 
 in their midst. Then He goes straight to Peter, and He 
 "Says : Simon Peter, do you love Me more than these ? Peter 
 said: "Yea, Lord,^Thou knowest that I love Thee.'^ Then 
 He said to Him : " Feed my lambs." A second time, after 
 a pause, tlie Son of God said : ^' Simon, son of John, lovest 
 thou Me?" Peter said: " Lord, Thou knowest that I love 
 Thee." Again He said to him: "Feed my lambs." Another 
 pause, and a third time He said to him : " Simon, son of 
 John, lovest thou IMe more than these ? " And then Peter, 
 bursting into tears, said : " Lord, Thou knowest all things — 
 Thou knowest that I love Thee." Then said the Redeemer, 
 "Feed My sheep." Elsewhere the same Redeemer had said, 
 " There shall be one fold and one shepherd," and He laid 
 His hand on the head of Peter and said : " Thou art Peter, 
 the son of John, be thou the shepherd of the one fold : — feed 
 My lambs ] feed My sheep." He who denies, therefore, to 
 Peter, and to Peter's successor, whoever he is, the one head- 
 ship, the one office of shepherd in the one fold of God, gives 
 the lie to Jesus Christ, the God of Truth. 
 
 The day of the Ascension came. For forty days did Christ 
 remain discoursing with His Apostles, instructing them con- 
 cerning the kingdom of God. And when the forty days were 
 over, He led them forth from Jerusalem, into the silent, 
 beautiful mountain of Olives ; and there, as they were gathered 
 around Him, and He was speaking to them and telling them 
 of things concerning the Kingdom of God — that is, the 
 Church, — slowly, wonderfully, mjijestically, they beheld His 
 figure rise from the earth ; and as it rose above their heads it 
 caught a new glory and splendor that was shed down upon it 
 from the broken and the rent heavens above. They followed 
 
166 FA THEB B UBKE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 Him with their eyes. They saw him pass from ring- to 
 ring of light. Their ears canght the music of the nine choirs 
 of heaven, of millions of angels, who, from the clonds, saluted 
 the coming Lord. They strained their eyes and their hands 
 after Him. They lifted up their voices, saying, as Eliseus 
 did of old to Elias j " Oh ! Thou chariot of Israel, and its 
 charioteer ! wilt Thou leave ns ? " And from the clouds that 
 were surrounding Him He waved to them His last blessing,- 
 and their streaming eyes canght the last lustre and brightness 
 of His figure, as it disappeared in the empyrean of heaven, 
 and was caught up to the Throne of God. Then an Angel 
 flashed into their presence, and said : '' Ye men of Galilee, 
 why stand }'e here looking up to heaven ? This Jesus, who 
 is taken up into heaven, shall so come as you have seen Hin> 
 going into heaven." And the other disciples bent theu' knees 
 to Peter, the living representative of the supremacy, the 
 truth, and the purity of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Henceforth the life of Peter, and of Peter's successors, 
 became the great leading light around which, and towards 
 which, the whole history of the world revolved. It became 
 the central point to which every thing upon this earth must 
 tend 5 because, in the designs of God, the things of time are 
 but for the things of eternity ; and Peter, in being the repre- 
 sentative and viceroy of the Son of God upon earth — in the 
 external headship and government of the Chm'ch — was the 
 only man who came nearest to God, who had most of God in 
 him, and most of God in his power — in the distribution of 
 His grace, in the attributes that belong to the Saviour — and, 
 consequently, became the first and highest and greatest of 
 men, and the only man that w^as necessary in this world. 
 
 For many long and w^eary years Peter labored in his 
 Master's cause, watering the way of his life with the tears of 
 an abiding sorrow, because, in an hour of weakness, he had 
 denied Jesus Christ ; until, at length, many years after the 
 Savioui-'s ascension into heaven, an old man was brought 
 forth from a deep dungeon in Rome. There were chains 
 upon his aged limbs, and he was bowed down, with care and 
 austerity, to the very earth. The few white hairs upon his 
 head fell upon his aged and drooping shoulders. Meekly 
 his lips moved as in prayer, while lie toiled up the steep, rug- 
 ged side of one of the seven hills of Rome. And when he 
 had gained the summit, lo ! as in Jerusalem, many years 
 
THE COXSTITUTION OF THE CHVRCH. 167 
 
 before, there was a cross and there were three nails. They 
 nailed the aged man to that cross, straining his time-wora 
 limbs, until tliey drove the nails into liis hands and feet. 
 And then, when they were about to lift him, a faint prayer 
 came from his lip?, and the crucified man said : " There was 
 One in Jerusalem whose royal head was lifted towards 
 heaven, ui)on a cross. And He was my Lord and my God, 
 Jesus Chi'ist. I am not worthy," he said, '' to be made like 
 Him, even in suffering ; and therefore, I pray you, that you 
 crucify me with my head towards the earth, from which I 
 came." And so, thus elevated, he diedj and the First 
 Pope passed away. 
 
 For three huncked years Pope succeeded Pope. Peter had 
 no sooner left the world than Linus took his sceptre and 
 governed the Church of God. Though, down in the Cata- 
 combs of Rome, he governed the Chm-cb of God, every 
 Bishop in the Church, every power in the Church recognized 
 him and obeyed him as the representative of God — the living 
 head, the earthly viceroy of the invisible but real Head — 
 Jesus Christ. For three hundred years, Pope after Pope died, 
 and sealed his faith in the Church of God with a martyr's 
 blood. And then, after thi'ee hundred years of dii-e perse- 
 cution, the Church of God was free, and she walked the earth 
 in' all the majesty and purity of her beauty. 
 
 In the fifth century, the Roman Empire yet preserved the 
 outward fonn of its majesty and power. All the nations of 
 the earth bowed to Rome. All conquered peoples looked 
 to Rome as their mistress, and as the centre of the W(u-ld ; 
 when, suddenly, from the forests and snows of the North, 
 poured do'AU the Huns, the Goths, and Visigoths, in count- 
 less thousands and hundreds of thousands. The barbarian 
 hordes sallied from their fastnesses, and, led by their sav- 
 age kings, broke in pieces the Roman Empire, and shattered 
 the wliole fabric of Pagan civilization to atoms. They rode 
 rough-shod over the Roman citizens and their nilers, burned 
 their palaces, and destroyed their cities, leaving them a 
 pile of smouldering ruins. Every vestige of ancient Pagan 
 civilization and power, glory, and art, and science, went dow^n 
 and disappeared ^under the tramp of the horses of Attila. 
 One power, alone, stood before these ruthless destroyers; 
 one power alone opened its ai'ms to receive them ; one 
 power arrested them in their cai-eer of blood and victoiy; 
 
168 FA THEE B UEKE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 — and tliat power was the Catholic Church. "In that 
 day," says a Protestant historian, "the Catholic Church 
 saved the world, and out of these rude elements fonned 
 tlie fouudatiou of the civilization, the lil)ei-ty, and the glory 
 which is our portion in this nineteenth century." 
 
 In the nieantiuie, Rome was destroyed. The fairest pro- 
 vinces of Gaul, Spain, Italy, and Germany were overrun by 
 the harharians. The people were oppressed. Fathers of 
 families were cut off, hearth-fires extinguished, and the blood 
 of the young ravished maiden and of the weeping mother 
 was wantonly shed. The people, in their agony, cried out 
 to the only nian whom the barbarians respected,— one whom 
 the whole world recognized as, in a manner, tinged with 
 divinity, — the Pope of Rome. The cry of an anguished 
 peopleNvent forth from end to end of Italy ; and in that hour 
 of peril the cry was,.—" Save us from ruin ! Cover us with 
 the mantle of your protection ! Be thou our monarch and 
 king ! and then, and then only, can we expect to be saved." 
 Then did the Pope of RoAe clothe himself with a new power 
 independent of that which he had received already, and which 
 was recognized from the beginning, — namely, that temporal 
 power and so\'ereignty, that crown of a monarch, that place 
 in the council chambers of kings, that voice in the guidance 
 of nations and in the influencing of the destinies of ^ the 
 material world which, for century after century, he exercised, 
 but which we, in our day, have seen him deprived of by the 
 hands of those who have plucked the kingly crown from his 
 aged and venerable brow. How did he exercise that power? 
 How did he wear that crown ? What position does he hold 
 as his figure rises up before the vision of the student of his- 
 tory, looking back into the past and beholding him as he 
 passes among the long file of kings and warriors of the 
 earth ? my friends, no sword dripping with blood is seen 
 in the hands of the Pope-king, but only the sceptre of jus- 
 tice and of law. No cries of a suffering and afflicted people 
 resound about him, but the blessings of peace and of a 
 delighted and consoled world surround him. No blood follows, 
 floating in the path of his progress. That patli is strewn 
 with the tears of those who wept with joy at his approach, 
 and with the flowers of peace and of contentment. He used 
 his power — and history bears me out when I say it — the 
 power which was providentially put into his hands, by which 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CHURCH. 169 
 
 he was made not only a king among kings, but the first re- 
 cognized monarch in Christendom ; the king, higliest among 
 kings ; the man whose voice governed the kings of" the earth, 
 convened their councils, directed their course, reproved them 
 in their errors, and restrained them i'rtmi shedding the blood 
 of their people, and from the commission of every 
 other injustice ; — all these powers he used for the good 
 of God's people. lie used that power for a thou- 
 sand years for purposes of clemency, of law, of justice, and 
 of freedom. When Spain and Portugal, in the zenith of their 
 power, each commanding mighty amiies, were about to draw 
 the sword and devastate the fair plains of Castile and 
 Andalusia, the Pope came in and said: ^'Mighty kings 
 though you be, I will not permit you to shed the blood of 
 your people in an unnecessary war." When Philip Augustus, 
 of France, at the height of his power, — when he was the 
 strongest king in Christendom, — wished to repudiate his law- 
 ful wife, and to take another one in her stead, the injured 
 woman appealed to Rome ; and from Rome came the voice 
 of Rome's king, saying to him : " O monarch, great and 
 mighty as thou art, if thou doest this injustice to thy mar- 
 ried wife, and scandalize the world by thine impurity, I \nll 
 send the curse of God and of His Chm'ch upon you, and cut 
 you of!" like a rotten branch from among the community of 
 kings." AVhen Henry VIII, of England, wished to put away 
 from him the pure and high-minded and lawful mother of his 
 children, because his licentious e\'es had fallen upon a 
 younger and fairer form than hers, the Pope of Rome said 
 to him : '^ If you commit this iniquity ; if you repudiate your 
 lawful wife ; if you set up the principle that, because you are 
 a king, you can violate the law j if no power in your own 
 country is able to bring you to account for it, my hand will 
 come down upon you ; and I will cut you off from the com- 
 munion of the faithful, and fling you, with the curse of God 
 upon you, out upon the world." And I say that in such 
 facts as these — and I might multiply them by the hundred 
 — the Pope of Rome used his temporal sovereignty and his 
 kingly power among the nations in establishing the sacred 
 cause of human liberty. I speak of liberty — I speak of 
 human liberty; I thank my God that 1 am breathing the air in 
 which a free man may speak the language of freedom. I 
 have a right to speak of freedom ; for I am a child of a race 
 
 8 
 
170 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 that for eight hinidrecl years have been martyred in the sacred 
 cause of freedom. Never did a people love it, since the 
 world was created, as the children of Ireland, who enjoy if 
 less than any other nation. I can speak this night, but 
 rather with tlie faltering voice of an infant, than with the 
 full swelling tones of a man. For I have loved thee, O 
 Mother Libeiiy ! Thy fair face was veiled from mine eyes 
 from the days of my childhood. I longed to see the glisten- 
 ing of thy pm-e eyes, Liberty ! I never saw it until I put 
 my foot upon the soil of glorious young Columbia. And 
 there, rising out of this great Western ocean, likie Aphrodite 
 of old from the foam of the rolling billows, I beheld the 
 goddess in all her beauty j and as a priest, as well as an 
 Irishman, I bowed down to her. 
 
 But what is liberty ? Does it consist in every man liaving 
 a right to do as he likes ? No, my friends, this is not liberty. 
 The quintessence of freedom lies, not in the power of every 
 man to do wliat he likes, but that quintessence of freedom 
 and liberty lies in every man having his rights clearly de- 
 fined. No matter who he is, from the first to the last, from 
 the humblest to the highest in the community, let ever}'- man 
 know his own rights ; let him know what power he has and 
 what privileges 5 give him every reasonable freedom and 
 liberty, and secm'e that to him by law; and then, when you 
 have secured every man's rights and defined them by law, 
 make every man in the State, from the highest to the lowest, 
 from the President do^vu to the poorest, — the greatest and 
 the noblest, as well as the humblest and the meanest — let 
 every man be obliged to bow down before the omnipotence 
 of the law. A people that know their rights, a people that 
 have their rights thus defined, a people that are resolved to 
 assert the omnipotence of those rights — that people can 
 never be enslaved. Now, this being the definition of liberty 
 — and I am sure that it comes home like conviction to every 
 man in this house — what is true freedom ? That I know 
 what rights I have, and that no man will be allov/ed to 
 infringe them. Give me every reasonable right, and when 
 I have these, secure them to me, and keep away from me 
 every man that dares to impede me in the exercise of them, 
 so that I may exercise them freely. 
 
 Now, I ask you, who is the father of this liberty that we 
 enjoy to-day? — who is the father of it, if not the man who 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CHURCH. 171 
 
 stood between the barbarians, coming downi to waste, with 
 fire and sword, to abolish the law, to abolish governments 
 and destroy the peoples — the man that stood between those 
 destroyers and the people, and said : '' Let us make laws, and 
 you respect them, and I will get the people to. respect them." 
 That man was the Pope of Rome. Who was the man that, 
 for a thousand years, as a crowned monarch, was the very 
 impersonation of the principle of law, but the Pope ? Who 
 was^the man that was equally ready to crush the poor man 
 and the rich man, the king and the people — to crush them 
 by the weight of his authority — when they violated that law 
 and refused to recognize that palladium of human liberty ? 
 It was the Pope of Rome. Who was the man whose genius 
 inspu'ed and whose ability contributed to the foundation and 
 the very institutions of the Italian Republics, and of the an- 
 cient liberties of Spain in the early 3Iiddle Ages ? Who was 
 the man that protected them from the tyranny of the cruel, 
 lawless barons, fortified in their castles t He was the man 
 whose house was a sanctuary for the weak and persecuted, 
 and who surrounded that house with all the censures and 
 vengeance of the Church against any one who would violate its 
 sanctity. Who labored, by degrees, patiently, for more than 
 a thousand years, until he at length succeeded in elaborating 
 the principles of modern freedom and modern society from 
 out the chaotic ruin and confusion of these ages of barbar- 
 ism ? Who was he ? — the father of civilization — the father 
 of the world ? History asserts, and asserts loudly, that he 
 was the royal Pope of Rome. And now the gratitude of the 
 world has been to shake his ancient and time-honored throne, 
 and to pluck the kingly crown from his brow in his old age, 
 after seventy years of usefulness and of glory ; and to con- 
 fine him, a prisoner, practically, in the Vatican Palace in 
 Rome. A prisoner, I say, practically ; for how can he be 
 considered other than a prisoner, who cannot go out of his 
 palace into the streets of the city, without hearing the 
 ribaldry, the profanity, the obscenity, and the blasphemy, to 
 which his aged, pure, and virgin ears had never lent them- 
 selves for a moment of his life. Yes — he is dethroned, but 
 not dishonored ; uncrowned, but not dishonored ; not un- 
 crowned by the wish of his own people, 1 assert, for I have 
 lived for twelve years amidst them, and I know he never 
 oppressed them. lie never drove them forth — the youth of 
 
172 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 his subjects — to be slaughtered on the battle-field, because 
 he had some little enmity or jealousy against his fellow-mon- 
 arch. He never loaded them with taxes, nor oppressed them 
 until life became too heavy to bear. Uncrowned, indeed, but 
 not dishonored, though we behold him seated in the desolate 
 halls of the once glorious Vatican, abandoned by all human 
 help, and by the sympathy of nearly all the world ! But 
 upon those aged brows there rests a crown — a trij)le crown, 
 — that no human hand can ever pluck from his brow, because 
 that crown has been set on that head by the hand of Jesus 
 Christ, and by his Church. That triple crown, my fi'iends, 
 is the crown of spiritual supremacy, the crown of infallibility, 
 and the crown of perpetuity. In the day when Christ said 
 to Peter, " Confirm thou thy brethren ; feed my lambs, feed 
 My sheep ; to thee do I give the keys of the Kingdom of 
 Heaven," — in that day he made Peter supreme among the 
 Apostles. His words meant this or meant nothing. Peter 
 wielded that sceptre of supremacy; and nothing is more 
 clearly pointed out in the subsequent inspired history of the 
 Church, as recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, than the 
 fact that, when Peter spoke, every other man. Apostle or 
 otherwise, was silent, and accepted Peter's word as the last 
 decision, from which there was no appeal. Never, in the 
 Church of God, has Peter's successor ceased to assert broadly, 
 emphatically, and practically this primacy. Never was a 
 Council convened in the Catholic Church, except on the com- 
 mands of the Pope. Never did a Council of Bishops pre- 
 sume to sit down and deliberate upon matters of faith and 
 morals except under the guidance and in the presence of the 
 Pope, either personally there, or there by his ofiicers or 
 legates. Never was a letter read at the opening of any 
 Council, — and they were constantly sent to each succeeding 
 Council, — that the Bishops of the Church did not rise up and 
 proclaim ; ^' We hear the voice of the Pope, which is the 
 voice of Peter ; and Peter's voice is the echo of the voice of 
 Jesus Christ." Never did any man in the Church of God 
 presume to appeal from the tribunal of the Pope, even to the 
 Church in Council, without having the taint of heresy affixed 
 to him, and the curse of disobedience and schism put upon 
 • him. For centuries it has been the recognized principle of 
 the Catholic Church that no man can lawfully appeal to aiiy 
 tribunal from the decision of the Pope in matters spiritual 
 
THE COXSTITUTIOX OF THE CHURCH. 173 
 
 or in matters touching faitli and morality, hecanse there is no 
 tiibunal to appeal to above him save that of God. He re- 
 presents (as the visible head of the Church) the Invisible 
 Head, who is none other than Jesns Christ. Tlie conse- 
 quence is tliat the Church, as a kingdom, like every other 
 State, has its last grand tribunal, just like the House of 
 Lords in England, or the High Court of Justice in Washing- 
 ton, from which there is rio appeal. What follows from 
 this? There is no appeal from the Pope's decision. There 
 never has been. Is the Church bound to abide by that de- 
 cision ? Certainly ; because the Church is bound in obedience 
 to her head ; one man alone can command the obedience of 
 the Church and the duty of submissicm ; and that man is the 
 Pope. He has always commanded it ; and no one has dared 
 to appeal from his decision, because, as I said before, he is 
 the Viceroy, the visible head of the Church, in wdiom, offi- 
 cially, is the voice of Jesus Christ present with His Clim'ch. 
 What follows from this, my friends ? If it be true that the 
 Church of God can never believe a lie j if it be true that 
 she can never be called upon by a voice that she is bound 
 to obey, to accept a lie ; if it be true that nothing false in 
 doctrine or unsound in morality can ever be received by the 
 Church of God, or ever be imposed upon her ; — for He who 
 founded her said : ^' The gates of hell shall never prevail 
 against My Church ;" — then it follows that, — if there be no 
 appeal from the Pope's decision, but only submission on the 
 part of the Church, — it follows that the Pope, when he 
 speaks as the head of the Church, when he preaches to the 
 whole Church, when he bears witness to the Church's belief 
 and the Chm-ch's morality, when he propounds a certain 
 doctrine to her — upon a body that can never believe a lie, 
 that can never act upon a lie, whose destiny it is to remain 
 pure in doctrine and in morality — pure as the Son of God 
 who created her ; — it follows that when the Pope propounds 
 that doctrine to the Church, he cannot propound a lie to her, 
 or force that lie upon her belief — it follows that the same 
 spirit of Divine Truth that preserves the body preserves also 
 the head, and that the Pope, as head of the infallible Church, 
 must be infallible. In other words, the Pope may make a 
 nnstake. If he write a book, as a private author, he 
 may put something in it that is not true. If he pro- 
 pound certain theories, unconnected with faith and morals, 
 
174 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 he may be as mistaken as you or I. But the moment the 
 Pope stands up before the holy Chnrch of God, and says : 
 ^' This is the Church's belief ; this has been from the begin- 
 ning her belief; this is her tradition ; this is her truth ;" then 
 he cannot, under such circumstances, teach the Catholic Church • 
 — the spouse of Jesus Christ — a lie. Consequently, he is 
 infallible. I do not give the Church's infallibility, as the 
 intrinsic reason of Pa{)al infallibility ; but I say this, that if 
 any reasoning man admits that Clirist founded an infallible 
 Church, it follows of necessity that he must admit an infalli- 
 ble head. It was but three or four days ago that I was dis- 
 puting with an Unitarian minister, a man of intelligence and 
 of deep learning, as clever a man, almost, as I ever met j and 
 he said to me : ^' If I once admitted that the Church was in- 
 fallible, that she could not eiT, that moment I would have 
 to admit the infallibility of the Pope ; for how on earth can 
 you imagine a Church that cannot err, bound to believe a 
 man that commands her to believe a lie ! It is impossible; it is 
 absurd upon the face of it." And so, ray friends, it has ever 
 been the belief and faith of the Catholic Church that the 
 Pope is preserved by the same spirit of truth that preserves 
 the Church. 
 
 But, you will ask me, " If this be the case, tell me how is 
 it that it was only three or four years ago the Church declared 
 that the Pope was infallible V^ I answer that the Catholic 
 Church cannot — it is not alone that she will not,. but she can- 
 not — teach any thing new, any thing unheard of. She cannot 
 find a truth, as it were, as a man would find a guinea under 
 a stone. She cannot go looking for new ideas and saying : 
 " Ah ! I find this is new ! Did you ever hear of it before f '' 
 The Church cannot say that. She has from the beginning 
 the full deposit of Catholic truth in her hand ; she has it in 
 her instinct; she has it in her mind; but it is only now and 
 then, when a sore emergency is put upon her, and she cannot 
 help it, that the Church of God declares tliis truth or that, or 
 the other, which she has always believed, to be a revelation 
 of God, and crystallizes her faith and belief and tradition in 
 the form of dogmatic definition. Which of us doubts that 
 the very foundation of the Catholic Church rests upon the 
 belief that Christ, our Lord, the Redeemer, was the Son of 
 God 1 It is the very foundation-stone of Clu'istianity. This 
 has been the essence of all relio-ion since the Son of God 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CHURCH. 175 
 
 became raan. And yet, ray friends, for three hundred years 
 the Catholic Chui-ch had not said a single word about the 
 divinity of Christ j and it was only after three hundred years, 
 when a man named Arius rose up and said : " It is all a mis- 
 take ; the Son of Mary is not the Son of God. He who 
 suffered and died on the Cross was not the Son of God, 
 but a mere man j " — then after three hundred years the 
 Church turned round and said: ''If any man says that 
 Jesus Christ is not God, let that man be accursed as an infidel 
 and a heretic.'^ Woiild any of you say : " Then it seems that 
 for three hundred years the Church did not believe it?" She 
 always believed it j it was always her foundation-stone. 
 " If she did believe it, why did not she define it ? " I answer, 
 the occasion had not arisen. It is only when some bold 
 invader, when some proud, heretical man, when some bad 
 spirit manifests itself among the people, that the Church is 
 obliged to come out and say — '- Take care ! take care ! Re- 
 member this is the true faith j" and then, when she declares her 
 faith, it becomes a dogmatic definition, and all Catholics are 
 bound to bow to it. Need I tell you, Irish maids, Irish 
 mothers, and Irish men — ^need I tell you how St. Patrick 
 preached of the woman whom he called Muire 3UiafJiaire, 
 " Mary Mother," the woman whom he called the Virgin of 
 God ? Need I tell you that the Church always believed that 
 that woman was the Mother of God ? And yet you will be 
 surprised to hear that at the time that St. Patrick preached 
 to the Irish people, the Church had not yet defined it as an 
 article of faith. It was only in the fifth century that the 
 Church, at Ephesus, declared dogmatically that Mary was the 
 Mother of God. Did not she believe it before? Certainly! 
 It was no new thing; she always believed it; but there was 
 no necessity to assert it till heretics denied it. Then, to guard 
 her children from the error which was being -asserted, she 
 had to define her faith. Did not the Church always believe 
 iu the presence of Christ transubtantiated in the Euchai'ist? 
 Most certainly. All history tell us that she believed it. 
 Her usages, her ceremonies, every thing in her, point to that 
 di\dne presence as their life and centre ; but it was sixteen 
 hundred years l)efore the Church defined tran substantiation 
 as an article of faith ; and then only because Calvin denied 
 it. He was the first heretic to deny it. It was denied by 
 Berengarius, a learned man, in the thirteenth century ; but he 
 
176 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 immediately repented, and burned his book, and there was an 
 end of it. But the first man to preach a denial of the real 
 presence of Christ was Calvin. Luther never did. The 
 Church of God declared that Christ was present, and 
 that the substance of bread and wine was changed 
 into the body and blood of the Lord. And so, in 
 our dav, the Chiu'ch, for the first time, found it necessary 
 to declare that her head, her visible head, cannot teach 
 her a lie. It seems such an outrage upon common sense to 
 deny this, — it seems so palpable^and plain, from the very 
 constitution of the Church, that it seems as if the definition of 
 this dogma were unnecessary. Yet in truth it was to meet the 
 proud, self-asserting, cavilling, questioning spirit of our day 
 that the Chm'ch was obliged to do this. It was because, 
 guided by a wise Providence, — scarcely knowing, yet fore- 
 seeing that which was to come, — that the Pope was to be de- 
 prived of all the prestige of his temporal power ; that all 
 that suiTounded him in Rome was to be lost to Him for a 
 time ; that, perhaps, it was his destiny to be driven out and 
 exiled, and a stranger among other men on the face of the 
 earth ; so that he might be unknown, lost sight of, — that the 
 Church of God, with her eight hundred Bishops, rising up in 
 the strength of her guiding spirit, fixed upon the brow of her 
 Pontift' the seal of her faith in his infallibility, that wherever 
 he goes, wherever he is found, whatever misfortunes may be 
 his lot, he will still have that seal upon him which no other 
 man can bear, and which is the stamp of the head of the 
 Catholic Chunih. 
 
 And now, my dear friends, we come to the last circle of that 
 spiritual tiara that rests upon the brow of Pius the Ninth. 
 It is the crown of perpetuity. There is no man necessary 
 in this world but one. We are here to-day 5 we die to- 
 morrow, and others take our places. The kings of the earth 
 are not necessary. Sometimes, Lord knows, it would be 
 as well if they did not exist at all. The statesmen and 
 philosophers of the earth are not necessary. My friends, the 
 politicians of to-day are scarcely a necessity. AVe might 
 manage by a little engineering — and above all by a little 
 more honesty — to get on without them, and find perhaps a 
 few dollars more in our pockets. One alone was necessary 
 to this world from the beginning, and that was He whom 
 we beheld upon the cross on Good-Friday morning — He 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CHURCH. 177 
 
 alone. ^ Without Him we were all lost ; no grace, bnt sin j 
 DO purity, but corruption ; no heaven, hut hell. He was 
 necessary from the heginning ; and the only man that is now 
 necessary upon the earth is the man that represents Him. 
 "We cannot get on without him. The Church must liave her 
 head ; and He who declared that the Church was to last un- 
 to the end of time will take good care to keep her head. He is 
 mider the hand of God ; and under the hand of the Ruler of 
 the Church we can well afford to lea\-e him. He will take 
 good care of him. As a temporal ruler I assert still that 
 the Pope is the only necessary ruler on the face of the 
 earth. He is necessary, because, not establishing his power 
 by the sword j not preserving it by the sword j not en- 
 larging his dominions by the sword, or by injustice; as 
 a monarch, as a king, he represents the principle of 
 right unprotected by might, and of justice and law en- 
 throned by the common consent of all the nations. In the 
 day when might shall assume the place of right; in the dav 
 when a man cannot find tAvo square feet of earth on which to 
 build a throne, without bloodshed and injustice ; in that dav, 
 when it comes, the Pope will no longer be necessarv as'a 
 temporal sovereign ;— but pray God, that before that dav 
 comes, you and I may be in our graves ; for when that day 
 comes, if ever it comes, life will be no blessing, and existence 
 upon this earth will be a curse rather than a joy. The 
 Pope is necessary because some power is needed to stand 
 betw een ^ the kings and the people ; some power before 
 which kings must bow down; some voice recognized as 
 the voice ^ not of a subject, not of an ordinary man, 
 or an ordinary bishop; a voice as of a king amongst 
 kings ; some voice which will confound the jealousies, a^nd 
 passions, and scandals of the riders of the earth, which only 
 serve as so many means to shed the blood of the people. 
 Our best security is tlie crown that rests upon the brow of a 
 peaceful king. Our best security is the crown that rests upon 
 the brow of a man who w'as always and ever ready to shield 
 the weak from the powerful, and to save to woman her 
 honor, her dignity, her place in the family, her maternity, 
 from the treachery, and the villany, and the inconstancy of 
 man; to strike off the chains of *the slave, and to prepare 
 him before emancipation for the glorious gift of freedom. 
 This power is the Pope's, and he Las exercised it honestly 
 
178 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 and well. Protestant historians will tell you that the Pope 
 was the father of liberty; that he was the founder of mod- 
 em civilization : and that the crown that was upon his head 
 was the homage paid by the nations to clemency, and mercy, 
 and justice, and law. *And therefore he must come back; 
 he must come and seat himself upon the throne again. ^ The 
 day will come when all the Christians in the world will be 
 desirous of this. And when that day comes, and not till then, 
 justice shall be once more tempered by mercy; absolutism 
 shall be once more neutralized by the constitutional lib- 
 erties and privileges of the people. When that day comes, 
 the people on their side will feel the strong yet quiet re- 
 straining hand enforcing the law ; while the kings, on their 
 side, will behold once more the now-hated and detested 
 vision of the hand of the Pontiff brandishing the thunders 
 of the Vatican. That day must come, and with it ^\all 
 come the dawn of a better day, a day of peace. And I 
 believe, even now, in this future day, in this coming year, 
 when we shall behold the Pope advancing at the head of all 
 the rulers of the earth, and pointing out, with sceptred 
 hand, the way of justice, of mercy, of truth, and^ of 
 freedom. We shall behold him, when all the nations 
 of the earth shall greet his retm:n to power, shall 
 greet his entry into the council-chambers of their sovereigns, 
 even as the Jews greeted the entry of Christ into Jerusa- 
 lem, and hailed Him king. I behold him, when foremost 
 among the nations that shall greet him, in that hour, — a 
 sceptred monarch and crowned king, a temporal ruler, and, far 
 more, a spiritual father, — amongst these nations, the mighty, 
 the vouno;, the glorious, and Ihe free America shall present 
 herself. ""When this land, — so mighty in its extent and the 
 limits of its powder, that it cannot afford to be any thing else 
 tlian Catholic, — for no other faith can be commensurate with 
 so mighty a nation ; — when this land, this glorious America, 
 developing her resources, rising into that awful majesty of 
 power that wall shake the w'orld and shape its destinies, will 
 find every other religious garb too small and too miserable 
 to cover her stately form save the garb of the Catholic faith, 
 the Chrisrian garinent in which the Church of God will en- 
 velop her ; and she, strong in her material power, strong in 
 her mighty intelligence, strong in that might that will place 
 her at the front of the nations, shall be the first to hail her 
 
THE CONSTITUTION OF THE CHURCH. 179 
 
 Pontiff, her father and her king, and to establish him npon 
 his mighty throne as the emblem and the centre of the faith 
 and the glorious religion of an united people, Avhose strength 
 — the strength of intellect, the strength of faith, the strength 
 of material power — will raise up, before the eyes of a won- 
 dering and united world, a new vision of the recuperative 
 power and majesty and greatness of the Almighty God, as 
 reflected in His Chui'ch. 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC CHARITY. 
 
 {A Lecture delivn-ed by Very Bev. T. N. BurJce, O.P., in St. Mary's 
 Church, Hohoken, N. J., April 25, 1872, for the benefit of the Hospital 
 under the charge of the Sisters of the Poor.'] 
 
 My Dear Friexds : We all read the Scriptures ; but of 
 the many who read them, how few there are who take the 
 trouble of thinking profoundl}^ on what they read. Any one 
 single passage of the Scriptures represents, in a few words, a 
 portion of the infinite wisdom of the Almighty G-od. Conse- 
 quently, any one sentence of those inspired writings, should 
 furnish the Christian mind with sufficient matter for tliought 
 for many and many a long day. Now, we, Catholic priests, 
 are obliged, every *day of our lives, in our daily "Office," to 
 recite a large portion of the divine and inspired Word of 
 God, in the form of prayer. Never was there a greater mis- 
 take than that made by those who think that Catliolics do 
 not read the Sriptures. "^ All the prayers that we, priests, have 
 to say — seven times a day approaching the Almighty God, 
 — are embodied in the Mords of the Holy Scriptures ; and 
 not only are we obliged to recite them as prayers, but we 
 are also obliged to make them the sulject of our daily and 
 our constant thought. I purpose, therefore, in approaching 
 this great subject of the "Attributes of Christian Charity," 
 to put before you a text of Scripture which many of you 
 have, no doubt, read over and over again; viz. : the first 
 verse of the fortieth psalm, in which the Psalmist says: 
 "Blessed is the man that understandeth concerning the 
 needy and the poor." 
 
 Now, if you reflect, my dear friends, you will find that, at 
 first sight, it seems strange to speak of that man as " bless- 
 ed " that understandeth concerning the needy and the poor ; 
 there seems to be so little mystery about them. They meet 
 us at every corner : put their wants and their necessities 
 before us ; they force the sight of their misery upon our eyes j 
 — and the most fastidious and the most unwilling are obliged 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATSOLIC CHARITY. 181 
 
 to look upon their sorrows, and to hear the voice of their 
 comphiint and their sufferings. What mystery is there, then, 
 in the needy and the poor f What mystery can there be? 
 And yet, in the needy, and the poor, and the stricken, there 
 is so profound a mystery that the Almighty God declare«l 
 that few men understand it ; and " blessed" is he that is able 
 to fathom its depths. What is this mystery f AVhat is this 
 s\ibject, — the one which I have come to explain to you I A 
 deep and mysterious subject; — one that presents to us far 
 more of the wisdom of the designs of God, than might appear 
 at first. What is the mystery which is hidden in the needy 
 and the poor, and in which we are pronounced " blessed " if 
 we can only understand it thoroughly, and, like true men, 
 act upon that understanding? Let me congratulate you, 
 first, that, whether you imderstand this mystery or not, your 
 presence here to-night attests that you wish to act upon it ; 
 that yours are the instincts of Christian chaiity, that the 
 needy and the poor, and the stricken ones of God have only 
 to put forth their claims to you, at the pure hands of these 
 spouses of our Lord ; and you are ready, in the compassion 
 and the tenderness of heart which is the inheritance of the 
 children of Christ, to fill their hands, that yom' blessings may 
 find their way to the needy and the poor. 
 
 And yet, although so })rompt in answering the call of 
 chanty, perhaps it will interest you, or instruct you, that I 
 should invite your consideration to this mystery. What is 
 it? In order to comprehend it, let us reflect. The Apostle, 
 St. Paul, writing to his recently converted Christians, lays 
 down this great rule for them : That, for the Christian man, 
 there are three virtues which form the very life and essence of 
 his Cliristianity ; and these are, — not the virtues of prudence, 
 nor of justice, *nor of high-mindedness, nor of nobleness, nor 
 of fortitude: no; but they are the supernatural virtues of 
 Faith, Hope, and Love."^ ^'Now, there remain to you, 
 brethren," he says, "Faith, Hope, and Charity, — tliese 
 three; but the greatest of these is Charity." The life of 
 the Christian, therefore, must be the life of a believer — a 
 " man of Faith." It must be a hopeful life, — an anticipative 
 life — a life that looks beyond the mere horizon of the pre- 
 sent time into the far-stretching eternity that goes beyond 
 it; — a life of Hope; but, most of all, it must be a life of 
 divine love. Those are the three elemeutsj of the Clnistian 
 
182 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCOUBSES. 
 
 character. Nowadays it is tlie fasliion to pervert these 
 tliree virtues. The man of faith is no longer the simple 
 believer. Faith means a bowing-down of the intellect to 
 things that we cannot understand, because they are mysteries 
 of God. But the idea of religion, nowadays, is to reason 
 and not to believe. The Apostle, if he were writing to the 
 men of this nineteenth century, w^ould be obliged to say : 
 '^ Brethren, now there remain to you argument and reason," 
 but not faith 5 for faith means, in words of the same Apostle, 
 the humbling, unto full humiliation, of intelligence before 
 the mj^stery which was hidden for ages with Christ in Grod. 
 "Faith," says St. Paul, "is the argument of things 
 that appear not." The Catholic Chm-ch, nowadays, is 
 called the enslaver of the intelligence — the incubus upon the 
 mind of man. And why ? Because she asks him to believe. 
 Mind, — men of intelligence who listen to me, — because she 
 asks man to believe 5 because she says to him, " My son, I 
 cannot explain this to you ; it is a mystery of God ; " and 
 there is no faith, where there is no mysteiy. Where there is 
 the clear vision, the comprehensive conviction of the intelli- 
 gence, arising from argumentation and reason, there is no 
 sacrifice of the intellect ; — there is no Faith. 
 
 Hope, nowadays, has changed its aspect altogether. 
 Men put their hopes in any thing rather than in Christ. It 
 was only a few days ago T was speaking to a very intel- 
 lectual man. He was an Unitarian — a man of deep learning 
 and profound research. Speaking with him of the future, he 
 said to me : " Oh, Father, my future is the ennoblement of the 
 human race ; the grandeur of the ^ coming man ' ■ — the perfect 
 development, by ever}^ scientific attainment, by every grand 
 quality that can ennoble him, of the man who is to be formed 
 out of the civilization and the progress and the scientific 
 attainments of this nineteenth century." That was his 
 language ', and I answered him and said : " My dear sir, my 
 hope is to see Cluist, the Son of God, shining forth in all my 
 fellow-men here, that He may shine in them for ever here- 
 after. I have no other hope." 
 
 The Charity of to-day has changed its aspect. It has 
 become a mere human virtue. It is compassionate, I grant 
 yon; but not ^dth the compassion that our Lord demands 
 from His people. It is benevolent, I am willing to grant you. 
 We live in an age of benevolence. I bow down before 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC CEABITY. 183 
 
 tbat human virtue ; and I am glad to behold it. I was 
 prond of my fellow-men, seeing the readiness and generosity 
 with wliich, for instance, they came to the relief of the great 
 bnmed city on the sliores of the northern lake. I am proud, 
 when I coine here, to hear New York and Jersey City and 
 Hoboken called " cities of charities." It is the gTandest title 
 that they could have. But when I come to analyze that 
 charity— when I come to look at that charity through the 
 microscope that the Son of God has put in my hands, viz. : 
 — the light of divine faith, — I find all the divine traits dis- 
 appear ; and it remains onl}'- a human virtue j relieving the 
 poor, yet not recognizing the virtue that reposes in them ; 
 alleviating their sufferings, touching them with the hand of 
 kindness or of benevolence ; but not with the reverential, 
 loving hand of faith and of sacrifice. 
 
 On the other hand, loudly protesting against this spirit of 
 om' age, which admits the bad and spoils the good ; which 
 lets in sin, and then tries to deprive of its sacramental nature 
 the modicum of virtue that remains ; — protestiDg against all 
 this, stands the great Catholic Church, and says ; — " Children 
 of men, children of God, Faith, Hope, Charity must be 
 your life: but yoirr Faith and your Hope must be the 
 foundation of your Charity ; for the greatest of these virtues 
 is Charity." 
 
 And why ? What is Faith ? Faith is an act of human 
 intelligence ; looking up for the light that cometh from on 
 high — from the bosom of God, from the Eternal Wisdom of 
 God. Recognizing God in that light. Faith catches a gleam 
 of Him and rejoices in its knowledge. 'Hope is an act of the 
 will, striving after God, clinging to His promises, and trying, 
 by realizing the conditions, to realize the glory wdiich is the 
 burden of that promise. Charity, alone, succeeds in laying 
 hold of God. The God of whom Faith catches a glimpse, — 
 the God after whom Hope strains, — Charity seizes and makes 
 its own. And, therefore, ^^ the greatest of these is Charity." 
 When the veil shall fall from the face of God, and M'hen we 
 shall behold Him in heaven, even as He is and as He sees 
 us, there shall be no more Faith : it shall be absorbed in 
 vision. When that which we strain after and hope for to- 
 day shall be given us, there shall be no more Hope : it shall 
 be lost in fmidon. ' But the Charity that seizes upon God 
 to-day, shall hold for all eternity. Charity, alone, shall 
 
184 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 remain, the very life of the elect of God. And, therefore, " the 
 greatest of these is Charity." 
 
 Are there among you, this evening, any who are not 
 Catholics I If there be, you may imagine that, because I 
 come before you in tiie garb of a Dominican friar of the 
 thirteenth century, — with seven hundred years not only of 
 the traditions of holiness, but even of historic responsibility 
 on my shoulders, in virtue of the habit 'that I wear, — you 
 may imagine that I come among you, perhaps, with an alien- 
 ated heart and embittered spirit for those without the pale 
 of my holy, great, loving mother, the Church of God — for 
 which, some day, God grant that it may be my privilege to 
 die. But, no. If there be one here to-night, who is not a 
 Catholic, I tell him that I love in him every virtue that he 
 possesses. I tell him, '• I hope for you, that yon will draw 
 near to the light, recognize it, and enter into the glorious 
 halls illuminated by the Lamb of God — the Jerusalem of 
 God upon earth, which needs not the sun nor the moon ; ' for 
 the Lamb is the lamp thereof.' " And most assuredly I love 
 him. But I ask you, my friends, have you Faith I Have 
 you simple belief, the bowing down of the intelligence to the 
 admission of a mystery into your minds, acknowledging 
 its truth, — while you cannot explain it to your reason"? 
 Have you Faith, my beloved? — the Faith that humbles 
 a man — the Faith that makes a man intellectually as a 
 little child, sitting down at the awful feet of the Saviom', 
 speaking to that child, through His Church ? If you have 
 not this Faith, but if you go groping for an argument here 
 or an argument there, trying to build upon a human foun- 
 dation the supernatural structm'e of divine belief, — then, I 
 ask you, how can you have Hope, — seeing that Almighty 
 God stands before you and says : '^ AVithout Faith it is im- 
 possible to please Me ; without Faith it is impossible to ap- 
 proach Me ; without Faith you must be destroyed ; for I 
 have said it, — and My word cannot fail, — he that believeth 
 not shall be condemned." And if you have not Faith and 
 Hope, — the foundation, — how can you have the superstrac- 
 ture of divine Charity ? How can we believe God, unless 
 we know Him "? How can we love Him, unless in proportion 
 as we know Him ? '' God," exclaimed the great St. 
 Augustine, " let me know Thee, and know Thee well, that 
 1 may love Thee and love Thee well." 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC CHARITY. 185 
 
 Now, these being the three virtues that belong to the 
 
 Christian character, let us see how far the mystery which is 
 in the needy and the poor, enters into tliese considerations of 
 Faith, Hope, and Love. Certain it is that the Charity which 
 the Ahniglity God commands us to have; — that is to say, 
 tiie love which He commands us to have for Himself, — is 
 united to the other commandment of the love that the Chris- 
 tian man must have for his neighbor. Certain, also, it is, that 
 the poorer, the more prostrate, the more helpless that neigh- 
 bor is, the strong^er becomes his claim upon our love. Third- 
 ly : it is equally certain from the Scriptnres, that the Charity 
 must not be a mere sentiment of benevolence, a mere feeling 
 of compassion ; but it must be the strong, the powerful hand 
 extended to benefit, to console, and to uplift the stricken, the 
 powerless, and the poor. " For," says St. John, " let us not 
 love in word or in tongue ; but in deed and in truth." And 
 he adds : " If any man among you have the substance of this 
 world, and shall see his brother needy, and poor, and in w^ant, 
 and shall give him not of those things that he hath, how doth 
 the Charity of God abide in him "l " Therefore your Charity 
 must be a practical and an earnest Charity. 
 
 Such being the precept of God with respect to the needy and 
 the poor, let us see how far Faith and Hope become the sub- 
 stratum of that Charity which must move us towards them. 
 What does Faith tell us about these poor ? If we follow the 
 example of the world, building up great prisons, paying 
 physicians, paying those whom it deems worth while to pay 
 for attending the poor, the sick, and the sorrowful — if we 
 consult the world, building up its workhouses, immuring the 
 poor there, as if poverty were a crime, — separating the hus- 
 band from the wife, and the mother from her children, — we 
 see no trace here of divine Faith. And why? Because 
 divine Faith must always respect its object. Faith is the 
 virtue by which we catch a gleam of God. Do we catch a 
 gleam of Him in His poor ? If so, they enter into the 
 arrangement of divine Charity. Now, I assert, that the poor 
 of God, the afflicted, the heart-broken, the sick, the sorrow- 
 ful — represent our Lord Jesus Ciirist upon this earth. Christ, 
 our Lord, declared that He would remain upon the earth and 
 would never leave it. '^ liehold," He said, "I am with you 
 all days unto the consummation of the world." Now, in 
 three ways Christ fulfilled that promise. First of all, He 
 
186 FATHER BUEKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 fulfilled it in remaining wdth his Ohiircli — the abiding Spirit 
 of Truth and Holiness — to enable that Church to be, until 
 the end of time, the infallible messenger of divine truth ; that 
 is to say, the light of the world — the unceasing and laborious 
 sanctifier of all mankind. ^' You are the light of the world," 
 says Christ; "you are the salt of the eaiih. You are not 
 only to illumine, but you are to save and to purify. In order 
 that you may do this, I will remain with j^ou all days." 
 Therefore, is He present in the Church. Secondly, He is 
 present in the adorable Sacrament of the, altar, and in the 
 tabernacles of the Church — really and truly — as really and 
 truly as He is upon the right hand of His Father, There- 
 fore He said, " I will remain." And He indicated how He 
 was to remain when, taking bread and wine, He transub- 
 stantiated them into His body and blood, saying, over the 
 bread, " This is My body," and over the wine, " This is My 
 blood." But in both these ways Christ, our Lord, remains 
 invisibly upon the earth. No man sees Him. We know 
 that He is present in the Church ; and, therefore, when the 
 Church of God speaks, we bow down and say, " I believe, 
 because I believe and I know that the voice that speaks to 
 me reechoes the voice of my God, the God of Truth." When 
 Christ, om' Lord, is put upon that altar, and lifted up in the 
 hands of the priest — lifted up in holy benediction, we bow 
 down and adore the present God, saying : " I see Thee not, 
 O Lord, but I know that behind that sacramental veil Thon 
 art present upon Thv altar, for Thou hast said : Lo, I am 
 here ! This is My body ! This is My blood ! " 
 
 But, in a third way, Christ om' Lord remains upon earth 
 — ^^dsibly, and no longer invisible. And in that third way 
 He remains in the persons of the poor, the sick, and the 
 afflicted. He identifies Himself with them. Not only 
 dining the thirty-three years of His mortal life, when He was 
 poor with the poor, when He was sorrowful and afflicted with 
 the sorrowful, when He bore the burden of their poverty and 
 the burden of our sins on His owm shoulders ; — not only was 
 His place found among the poor, — He who said: "The 
 birds of the air have their nests, the beasts of the field and 
 the foxes have their holes ; — but the Son of Man hath no 
 ])lace whereon to lay His head ! " Not only was He poor 
 from the day that He was born in a stable, until the day 
 when, dying naked upon the cross, for pure Charity, He got 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC CHARITY. 187 
 
 a place in another man's grave ; — but He also vouchsafed to 
 identify Himself with His poor until the end of time, as 
 though He had said : " Do you wish to find Me? Do you 
 wish to touch ]\Ie with your hands ? Do you wish to speak 
 to Me words of consolation and of love? Christian man, 
 go seek the poor and the naked, the sick, the hungry, and 
 the famishing ; — seek the afflicted and the heart-broken 5 and 
 in them you wall find Me. For, amen, I say unto 3'ou, what- 
 soever you do unto them, that you do also unto me !" Thus 
 does Christ, our Lord, identify Himself with the poor and 
 the Chm'ch. He remains in the world, in His Church, com- 
 manding that we shall obey her : — for He is God. In His 
 sacramental presence we may adore Him : He is God. In 
 His poor, — in the afilicted, naked, hungry, famishing, we may 
 bend down and lift Him up : He is God still. A most 
 beautiful example of how the Saints were able to realize this, 
 do we find recorded in the life of one of the beautiful saints 
 of our Dominican Order — a man who wore tliis habit. He , 
 was a Spanish friar. His name was Alvarez of Cordova. 
 He was noted among his brethren for the wonderful earnest- 
 ness and cheerfulness with which he always sought the poor 
 and the afflicted, to succor and console them. Well, it hap- 
 pened upon a day that this man of God, absorbed in God and 
 in prayer, went forth from his convent to preach to the people, 
 and, as he journeyed along the high-road, he saw, stretched 
 helplessly by the roadside, a man covered with a hideous 
 leprosy, — ulcerated from head to foot, — hideous to behold ] — 
 and this man turned to him his languid eyes, and, with faint 
 voice, appealed to him for mercy and succor. The sun, in all 
 its noonday fervor, was beating down fiercely upon that 
 stricken man's head. He was unable to move. Every man 
 that saw him fled from him. The moment the Saint saw him 
 he went over to him and knelt down by his side, and he 
 kissed the sores of the leprous man. Then, taking ofi" the 
 outer portion of our habit — this black cloak — he laid it upon 
 the ground, and he tenderly took the poor man and folded 
 him in the cloak, lifted him in his arms, and returned to his 
 convent. He entered the convent. He brought the leper 
 to his own cell, and laid him on his own little conventual 
 bed. And, having laid him there, he went off to find some 
 refreshments fur him, and such means as he could for consol- 
 ing, him. He returned wdth some food and drink in his 
 
188 FATHER BUEEE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 hands, laid them aside, went over to the bed, and there he 
 fonud the sick man. He unfokled the chjak that was 
 wrapped around him. Oh ! ^\ hat is this that he behokls f 
 The man's liead A\ears a crown of thorns ; on his hands and 
 his feet are the marks of nails j and forth from his wounded 
 side streams the fresh blood ! He is dead ] but the marks 
 of the Saviour are upon him ; and then the Saint knew that 
 the man whom he had lifted up from the roadside was Christ 
 his Lord and his God ! And so, with the eyes of fiiith, do 
 we recognize Christ in His poor. 
 
 What follows from this ? It follows, my friends, that the 
 man who thus sees his God in the poor, who looks upon 
 them with the eyes of Faith, who recognizes in them some- 
 thing sacramental, the touch of which will sanctify him who 
 approaches them j — that that man wdll approach them with 
 tenderness and with reverence : that he will consult their 
 feelings — that he will seek to console the heart while he re- 
 , vives the body ] and while he puts meat and drink before 
 the sick man, or the poor man, he will not put away from 
 his heart the source of his comfort. He will not separate 
 him from the wdfe of his bosom or the children of his love. 
 He will not relieve him with a voice unmindful of compassion ; 
 bending down, as it were, to relieve the poor. No ; but he 
 will relieve him in the truth of his soul, as recognizing in 
 that man one who is identified, in the divinity of love and 
 of tenderness, with his Lord and Master. 
 
 This explains to you the fact, that wdien the high-minded, 
 the highh^-educated, the noblest and best of the children of 
 the Catholic Church — the young lady with all the prospects 
 of the world glittering before her; with fortune and its enjoy- 
 ments aroimd her ; with the beauty of nature and of grace 
 beaming from her pure countenance ; — when the young Jady, 
 enamored of heaven, and of the things of heaven, and dis- 
 gusted with the world, comes to the foot of the sanctuary, 
 and there, kneeling, seeks a place in the Church's holy places, 
 and an humble share in her ministrations, the Church takes 
 her — one of these — her holiest, her best, her purest, and she 
 considers that she has confeiTed the higliest honor upon the 
 l»est of her children, when she clothes her with the sacred 
 habit of religion, and tells her to go and take her place in 
 the hospital, or in the poorhouse, or in the infirmary, or in the 
 orphanage, and sit down and minister to the poor; not as 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC CHARITY. 189 
 
 relieving tliem, but as humbly serving them ; not as com- 
 passionating them, but as approaching them with a>i almost 
 infinite reverence, as if she were approa(;hing Christ himcelf. 
 
 Thus, do we see how the Catholic virtue of Charity springs 
 from heaven. All tenderness of heart, all b'-.'n('Volence, all 
 conipassion, nmst be there, — as no doubt it is, — in the hearts 
 of the consecrated virgins, who, in order that they might love 
 Christ and His poor all the more tenderly, all the more 
 strongly, vowed to the Saviour, at His altar, that no love 
 should enter into their bosoms, no eni()ti(ms of affection 
 should ever thrill their hearts, except love for Him ; for Him, 
 Avherever they found Him : and they have foimd Him in 
 His poor and in His sick. All the tenderest emotions of 
 human benevolence, of human compassion, of human gen- 
 tleness may be there. All that makes the good Protestant 
 lady, — the good infidel lady, if you will, — so compassionate 
 to the poor; — yet whilst the worldling, and those without 
 the Church bend down to an act of condescension in their 
 charity, these spouses of the Son of God look up to the poor, 
 and in their obedience seek to serve them ; for their com- 
 passion, their benevolence, their divinely tender hearts, are 
 influenced by the divine faith which recognizes the Son of 
 God in the pers(ms of the poor and the needy, the stricken, 
 and the afflicted. 
 
 This is the Catholic idea of Charity in its associations. 
 What follows from this! It follows, that when I, or the 
 like of me, who, equally with these holy women, have given 
 our lives, and our souls, and our bodies to the service of the 
 Son of God and of His Church, when we come before our 
 Catholic brethren to speak to them on this great question of 
 Catholic; Charity, we do not come as preaching, praying, 
 beseeching, begging. Oh, no ! But we come with a strong 
 voice of authority, as commanding you, " If you would see 
 the Father's brightness, remember the })oor, and, at your peril, 
 surround them with all the ministrations of charity and of 
 mercy." 
 
 And how does Hope enter into these considerations ! Ah, 
 my friends, what do you hope for at all f What are your 
 hopes? I ask the Christian man, the benevok'ut brother, 
 — I do not care what religion you are of: Brother, tell me 
 your hope; because Hope from its very nature goes out into 
 the future ; Hope is a realizing, by anticipation, of that which 
 
190 FA THEB B UBKE'S DISCO UESES. 
 
 will one day come and be in our possession. What are your 
 hopes? ^E very man has Lis hopes. No man lives without 
 them. Every man hopes to attain to some position in this 
 world, or to gain a certain happiness. One man hopes to 
 make money and become a rich man. Another man aspires 
 to certain dignities, hopes for them, and labors assiduously 
 until he attains them. Another man centres his hopes in 
 certain passions, and immerses himself in the anticipation of 
 sensual delights. But I do not care what your hopes are ; 
 this I ask you : are your hopes circumscribed by this world, 
 or do they go beyond the tomb 1 Is all Hope to cease when 
 the sad hour comes that will find each and every one of you 
 stretched helpless on his bed of death, and the awful Angel, 
 beaiing the summons of God, cries out, " Come forth, soul, 
 and come with me to the judgment seat of Christ!" Is all 
 Hope to perish then ? No ; no ! but, for the Christian, the 
 realization of Hope begins then. No, this life is as nothing 
 compared with that endless eternit}^ that awaits us beyond 
 the grave j and there all our hopes are ; and the Hope of the 
 Christian man is that, when that hour comes that shall find 
 his soul trembling before its impending doom, awaiting the 
 sentence — that that sentence will not be, "■ Depart from me, 
 accursed," but that it will be, '' Come, my friend, my blessed 
 one, come and enjoy the happiness and the delight wdiich 
 were prepared for thee ! " Tliis is our Hope. Accursed is 
 the man who has it not. Miserable is the wretch that has it 
 not ! What would this life be — even if it were a life of ten 
 thousand years, replete with every pleasure — every enjo^^ment 
 . — unmixed 1)}^ the slightest evil of sickness or of sorrow, — if 
 we knew that, at the end of those ten thousand years, the 
 eternity beyond, that should never know an end, was to be for 
 us an eternity of sorrow and of despair ? We should be, of 
 all men, the most miserable. '' For," says the Apostle, " if 
 in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are, of all men, 
 the most miserable. But," he adds, " Christ is risen from 
 the dead, — our hope ; " and our hope is to rise with Him j 
 translated from glory unto glory, until we behold His face, 
 unshrouded and unveiled, and be happy for ever in the con- 
 templation of God. 
 
 This is our Hope : yours and mine. But remember that, 
 although the Almighty God has promised this, and our Hope 
 is built upon the fidelity with which He keeps His word, no 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC CHARITY. 191 
 
 man can expect the reward, nor can build up liis Hope on a 
 solid foundation, unle'ss lie enters into the designs of God, 
 and complies with the conditions that God has attached to 
 His promises of glory. What are these conditions ? Think 
 how largely the poor and the afflicted enter into them ! 
 " Come," the Redeemer and Judge will say, " Come unto me, 
 ye blessed of my Father ! Tliis is not the first time that you 
 have seen me. I was hungry, and you gave me to eat ! I 
 was thirsty, and you gave me to drink ! I was naked, and 
 you clothed me ! I was sick, and you visited me and con- 
 soled me ! " And then the just shall exclaim : '^ Lord ! when 
 did we ever behold Thee — O powerful and terrible Son of 
 God ! when did we behold Thee naked, or hungry, or sick f "' 
 And He, answering, will call the poor, — the poor to whom 
 we minister to-day ; the poor whom we console to-day ; 
 whose drooping heads we lift up to-day, — He will call them, 
 and say : " Do you know these ? " And they will cry out : 
 " Oh, yes J these are the poor whom we saw hungry, and we 
 fed them ; whom we saw naked, and we clothed them ; whom 
 we saw sick, and we consoled and visited them. Tliese are 
 the poor that we were so familiar with, and that we employed, 
 Thy spouses, Christ, to minister unto, and to console ! " 
 Then He will answer, and say : '' I swear to you that, as I 
 am God, as often as you have done it to the least of these, 
 you have done it unto Me ! " But if, on the other hand, we 
 come before Him, glorying in the strength of our Faith, — 
 magniloquent in our professions of Christianity, — splendid in 
 our assumption of the highest principles, — correct in many of 
 the leading traits of the Christian character, — but with hands 
 empty of the works of mercy ; if we are only obliged to say 
 with truth : " Lord, I claim heaven ; but I never clothed the 
 naked ; I never lifted up the drooping head of the ^ick and 
 the afflicted — '' Christ, our Lord, will answer and say : 
 ^' Depart from me ! I do not know you ; I do not recognize you. 
 I was hungry, and you would not feed me in my hunger j I 
 was naked, and you would not clothe me in my nakedness ; 
 I was thirsty and sick, and you would not relieve me, or con- 
 sole me in my sickness." And the unjust will answer: 
 '' Lord, we never saw Thee hungry, or naked, or sick." 
 And then, once more, will He call the poor, and say: 
 '^ Behold these ; to these did you refuse ycur mercy, your 
 pity, your charity j and I swear to you that, as I am God, in 
 
192 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 the day that you refused to comfort, and to succor, and to 
 console them, Vou refused to do it nnto ihe. Therefore, there 
 is no Heaven for you." The goklen key that opens the gate 
 of Heaven is the key of mercy 5 therefore, He will say : 
 "As often as you are^nerciful to the poor, you are merciful 
 to ^[e. I have said : blessed are the merciful, for they shall 
 find mere}'." 
 
 Who, therefore, among you, believing in these things, does 
 not Recognize that there is no true Faith that does not recog- 
 nize Christ in His poor, and so succor them with veneration j 
 who does not see that his Hope is built upon the relations 
 which are established between him and the poor of God, 
 Thus, out of this Faith and out of this Hope, springs the 
 Charity with which we must relieve them. 
 
 Now, mark how beautifully all this is organized in the 
 Catholic Church! There is 'a curious expression in the 
 Scriptures. It is found in the Canticles of Solomon, where 
 the Spouse of the King — that is to say, the Church of God 
 — among other things, says : ^' My Lord and my King has 
 organized charity in me " — " OnVmavit in me caritatemP 
 Thus it is not the mere temporary flash of enthusiasm ; it is 
 not the mere passing feeling of benevolence, touched by the 
 sight of their misery, that influences the Catholic Church ; 
 but it is these promises and these principles of the Christian 
 Faith, recognizing who and what the poor are, and our 
 Christian Hope, building up all the conditions of its futiu'e 
 glory upon this foundation. Therefore it is that, in the 
 Catholic Church alone, is found the grand, organized Charity 
 of the world. Nowhere, without her pale, do you find 
 Charity organized. You may find a fair and beautiful 
 ebullition of pity, here and there ; as when a rich man dies 
 and leaves, perhaps, half-a-million of dollars to found a 
 hospital. But it is an exceptional thing, my dear friends ; 
 as when some grand lady, magnificent of heart and mind — 
 like, for instance, Florence Nightingale — devotes herself to 
 the poor ; goes into the hospitals and the infirmaries for the 
 wounded. It is an exceptional case, I answer. If you travel 
 out of the bounds of that fair and beautiful compassion that 
 runs in so many hearts, and if you go one step farther into 
 the cold atmosphere of politicafor State charity, there is not 
 one vestige of true Charity there ; it becomes political 
 economy. The State believes it is more economical to pick 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC CHARITY. 193 
 
 up tlie poor from the streets and lanes, to take them from 
 their sick beds, transferring them into poorhonses and 
 hospitals, and, while there, overwhelming them with the 
 miserable pity that patronizes, making its gifts a cm'se 
 and not a blessing, l)y breaking the heart while it 
 relieves the body. Such is " State charity." I remember 
 once, in the city of Dublin, I got a sick call. It was 
 to attend a poor woman. I went, and found, in a ]>ack 
 lane in the city, a room in a gaiTet. I climbed up to the 
 place. There I found, without exaggeration, four bare walls, 
 and a woman seventy -live years of age, covered with a few 
 squalid rags, and lying on the bare floor : not as much as 
 a little straw had she under her head. I asked for a cup 
 to give her a drink of water. There was no such thing to 
 be had ; and there was no one there to give it. I had to go 
 out and beg among the neighbors, until I got a cupful of 
 cold water. I put it to her dying lips. I had to kneel down 
 upon that bare floor to hear that dying woman's confession. 
 The hand of death was upon her. What was her story ? 
 She was the mother of six children, a lady, educated in a lady- 
 like manner ; a lady beginning her career of life in afiluence 
 and in comfort. The six children grew up. Some married ; 
 some emigrated ; some died : the weak and aged mother was 
 alone, abandcmed, and forgotten : and now^, she was literally 
 dying, not only of the fever that was upon her, but of starva- 
 tion ! As I knelt there on the floor, and as I lifted her aged, 
 greyhaired head upon my hands, I said to her: "Let me, for 
 God's sake, have you taken to the workhouse hospital ; at 
 least, you will have a bed to lie upon ! " She turned and 
 looked at me. Two great tears came from her dying eyes, 
 as she said : " Oh, that I should have lived to hear a'Catho- 
 lic priest talk to me about a poorhouse ! " I felt that I had 
 abnost broken this failing heart. On my knees I begged 
 her pardon. " No," she said, " let me die in peace ! " And 
 there, whilst I knelt at her side, her afiiicted and chastened 
 spirit passed away to God : but the taint of the '' charity of 
 the State " was not upon her. 
 
 Now, passing from this cold and wicked atmosphere of 
 political economy into the purer and more genial air of 
 benevolence, charity, and tenderness — of wdjicli there is so 
 much, even outside the Church, — we enter into the lialls of 
 the Catholic Church. There, among the varied beauties, 
 
194 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 among the ^^consecrated forms of loveliness" with which 
 Christ adorned His Chm'ch — we find tlie golden garment of 
 an organized charity. We find the highest, the best, and 
 the pm:est, devoted to its service and to its cause. We find 
 every form of misery which the hand of God, or the malice 
 of man, or their own errors can attach to the poor, provided 
 for. The child of misfortune wanders through the streets of 
 the city, wasting her young heart, polluting the very air that 
 she breathes, — a living sin ! The sight of her is sin — the 
 thonglit of her is death ! — the touch "of her hand is pollution 
 unutterable ! No man can look upon her face and live ! 
 In a moment of divine compassion, the benighted and the 
 wicked heart is moved to turn to Grod. With the tears of the 
 penitent upon her young and sinful face, she turns to the 
 portals of the Church; and there at the very threshold of 
 the sanctuary of God, she finds the very ideal of purity, — 
 tlje highest, the grandest, the noblest of the Church's chil- 
 dren. The woman who has never known the pollution of a 
 wicked thonglit, — the woman wlK>se virgin bosom has never 
 been crossed by the shadow of a thought of sin, — the womau 
 breatljing purity, innocence, grace, receives the woman whose 
 breath is the pestilence of hell ! Extremes meet. Mary, the 
 Virgin, takes the hand of Mary, the Magdalene; and, in the 
 organized charity of the Church of God, the penitent enters 
 in — to be saved and sanctified. 
 
 The poor man, worn down and broken by poverty, exposed 
 in his daily labor to the winds and rains of Heaven, with 
 failing health and drooping heart, lies down to die. There 
 by his bedside stands the wife, and round her, her group of 
 little children. They depend upon his daily labor for their 
 daily bread. Now, that hand that labored for them so long 
 and so lovingly, is palsied and stricken by his side. Now his 
 dying eyes are grieved with the sight oi their misery. His 
 ears are*^ filled with the cry of the little ones for bread. The 
 despair of their doom comes to embitter his dying moments. 
 He looks from that bed of death out upon the gloomy world. 
 He sees the wife of his bosom consigned to a pauper's cell, to 
 await a pauper's grave ; and, for these innocent faces that sur- 
 round him, he sees no future but a future of ignorance and of 
 crime ; — of punishment without hope of amendrnent — and of 
 the loss of their souls in the great mass of the world's crimes 
 and misdeeds. But, while he is thus mournfully brooding with 
 
THE ATTRLBUTES OF CATHOLIC CHARITY. 195 
 
 sacl and despairing tlionglits, what figure is this that crosses 
 the threshold and casts its shadow on the floor of the house f 
 Who is this, entering noiselessly, modestly, silently, shrouded 
 and veiled, as a being of Heaven, not of earth '] He lifts his 
 eyes and he beholds the mild and placid face of the Sister of 
 Mercy, beaming purity mixed with divine love upon him. 
 Now the sunshine of God is let in upon the darkness of his 
 despairing soul. Now he hears a voice almost as gentle, 
 almost as tender, almost as powerful as the voice of Him who 
 whispered in the ear of the Widow of Naim : ^^ Oh, woman, 
 weep no more ! " And she tells him to fear not ; that her 
 woman's hand will ensure protection for his children — and 
 education, grace, virtue. Heaven and God ! I once remember 
 I was called to attend a man, such as I have endeavored to 
 describe to you. There were seven little children in the 
 house. There was a woman, the mother of those children, 
 the wife of liim who was dying there. Two years before 
 this man had fallen from a scaffold, and was so shattered that 
 he was paralyzed ; and for two years he had lain upon that 
 bed starving as well as dying. When I was called to visit 
 this man, I spoke to him of the mercy of God. He looked 
 upon me with a sullen and despainng eye. " This is the first 
 time," he said, ^^ that you have come to my bed-side." Said I, 
 " 3Iy friend, this is the first time that I knew ycm were sick. 
 Had I known it, I would have come to you before." ^^ No 
 one " — this was his answer — '' no one cares iov me. And 
 you come now to speak to me of the mercy of God ! I have 
 been on this bed for more tlian two years. I have seen that 
 woman and her children starving for the last two years. 
 And do you tell me that there is a God of Mercy above me"?" 
 I saw at once it was a case with which I could not deal. I 
 left the house on the instant, and went straight to a convent 
 of the Sisters of Mercy that was near. There I asked the 
 Mother Superior, for God's sake, to send one or two of the 
 Nuns to the house. They went. Next day I visited him. 
 Oh, what a change I foun<l ! No longer the dull glance of 
 despair : he looked up boldly and cheerfidly from his bed of 
 sorrow. No longer raurmiuing against the mercy of God, — 
 but with the deep thankfulness of a grateful heart : '' Oli,'^ 
 said he, '' I am so liappy. Father, that I sent for you, — not so 
 much for any thing you can do for me; but you sent me two 
 angels of God from Heaven ! They came into my house ) 
 
196 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 and, for the first time, in two long years, I learned to hope j 
 to be sorry for my want of resignation 5 and to return with 
 love to that God whom I dared to doubt !" Then he made 
 his confession, and I prepared him for death. Patient he 
 was, and resigned ; and, in his last moments, when his 
 voice was faltering, — when his voice became that of the de- 
 parting spirit, — his last words were: ^^You sent tome the 
 angels of God, — and they told me that when I should be in 
 my grave they would be mothers to my children !" 
 
 O fair and beautiful Church, that knows so well how to 
 console the afflicted, to bind up the wounds of the breaking 
 heart, to lift up the weary and drooping head ! Every fomi 
 of human misery, every form of wretchedness, whether sent 
 from God as a warning or a trial, or coming from men's own 
 excesses and folly, and as a punishment for theh sins, — 
 every form of human misery and affliction, as soon as it is 
 seen, is softened and relieved by the gentlest, the tenderest, 
 the sweetest agency, — the touch of God through His con- 
 secrated ones. And it seems to the sufferer as if the word of 
 the promise to come were fulfilled in time, — the word which 
 sa^^s : " The Lord Himself will wipe away every tear from 
 the eyes of His elect, and will bind up every bleeding and 
 wounded heart." 
 
 And thus, my friends, we see how beautifully charity is 
 organized in the Catholic Church. Not one penny of your 
 charit}'^ is wasted. Ever}^ farthing that you contribute 
 will be expended wisely, judiciously; and extended to its 
 fai'thest length of usefulness in the service of God's poor 
 and of God's stricken ones. And lest the poor might 
 be humbled, while they are relieved ; lest they might be 
 hurt in their feelings, while consoled with the tem- 
 poral doles that are lavished upon them, the Church of 
 God, with a wisdom more than human, appoints as her 
 ministers of the poor, those who, for the love of Christ, 
 have become poor like them. Behold these nuns ! They 
 are the daughters of St. Francis. Seven hundred years ago 
 now, almost, there arose in the city of Assisi, in Umbria, in 
 Italy, a man so filled with the ineffable love of Christ, — so 
 impregnated with the spirit of the Son of God, made man, — 
 that, in the rapture of his prayer, the stigmata — the marks of 
 the nails upon the hands and feet, of the thorns upon the 
 brows, of the wounds upon the side of the Redeemer, — were 
 
TEE ATTRIBUTES OF CATHOLIC CHAETTY. 197 
 
 gi\^en to Francis of Assisi. Men beheld him and started from 
 the sight, giving glory to God that tliey had caught a gleam 
 of the glory of Christ' upon earth. He was the only Saint of 
 whom we Vead, that, without opening his lips, but simply 
 coming and walking through the ways of the city, all eyes 
 that l)eheld him were melted into tears of tenderness and 
 divine love : and he '^ preached Christ and Him crucified,'' by 
 merely showing the mortification, and the spirit, and the love 
 of Christ which was upon him and in him. These are the 
 daughters of this Saint, inheriting his spirit; and he, in the 
 Church, is the very ideal Saint of divine and religious 
 povertv. He would not have a shoe to his foot. He would 
 not have a second coat. He would not have in liis bag pro- 
 vision even for to-morrow ; but waited, like the Prophet of old, 
 that it should come to him from God, at the hands of his 
 benefactors, — the very ideal Saint of poverty; and, there- 
 fore, of all others, the most devoted in himself, and in having 
 his children minister unto God's poor. When there was a 
 question of destroying the religious Orders in Italy,_ and of 
 passing a law that would not permit me, a Dominica,n, or 
 these nuns, Franciscans, to dwell in the land,— just as if we 
 were doing any harai to anybody ; — as if we were not doing 
 our best to save and serve"^ all the people ; — when it was a 
 question before the Parliament, Caesare Cantu, the celebrated 
 historian, stood up in the assembly and said : '^ Men ! before 
 you make this law, abolishing all the religious men and 
 women in the land, reflect for an instant. If an}'-^ man 
 among you, by some reverse of fortune, become poor, — if any 
 man among you, in this enlightened age, be obliged to beg 
 his daily bread ; would not you feel ashamed — would not 
 you feel degraded to have to go to your fellow-man to ask 
 him for alms'? For me, if God should strike me with 
 poverty, I would feel it a degradation. But I would not 
 feel it a degradation to go to a Dominican or Franciscan, 
 and ask him, a brother pauper, to break his bread with me." 
 It is fitting that the voice which speaks to you this even- 
 ings — although it comes from one wearing the habit of St. 
 Dominic,— should speak to you in the language of Saint 
 Francis of Assisi, who was the bosom friend of the great 
 Dominic of Guzman. United in life and in love as they 
 were, their children are united in that spiritual love which is 
 the inheritance of God's consecrated ones on earth. And, 
 
198 FATHEB BUBEE'S DISCOUBSES. 
 
 therefore, it is a privilege and a glory to me to speak to 3^ou 
 tliis evening on behalf of my Franciscan sisters. Yet, not 
 in their behalf do I speak, but in behalf of the poor ; nor in 
 belialf of the poor, but in behalf of Christ, who identifies 
 Himself with the poor ; nor in behalf of Him, but in your 
 own behalf; seeing that all your hopes of tlie glory of 
 Heaven are bound up with the poor of whom I speak. It 
 is your ghjry, and the glory of this special charity, that it 
 -^\as the first hospital founded in this State ,' that at a time 
 when men, concentrating their energies to amass wealth, 
 immersed in their business, trying to heap up accumulations, 
 and gather riches and large possessions, never thought of 
 their poor ; or, if the poor obtruded themselves, brushed them 
 out of their path, and told them to begone 5 then there came 
 the Church of Christ into the midst of you. She sought not 
 money, nor land, nor possessions. She brought these poor 
 nuns,* vowed to poverty, despising all the things of the world, 
 and leaving them beliind them ; she built up her hospital 
 for the sick ; she brought her children of St. Francis of 
 Assisi, to minister to them, in mercy, in faith, and hope, 
 and in the gentleness of divine charity. Do they not say to 
 you : " Blessed is the man that understandeth concerning 
 the needy and the poor " ? 
 
 I hope I may have thrown some light into the minds of even 
 one amongst you, this evening, and let him see how blessed 
 is the man who know^s his position concerning the needy and 
 the poor. I hope that those to whom my words give no light, 
 may, at least, be given encouragement to persevere. Per- 
 severe, Catholics o£ Hoboken and Jersey City, in maintain- 
 ing these Sisters, in filling their hands with your bene- 
 factions ; in enabling them to pursue their calm but glorious 
 career of charity and of mercy. I know^ that in thus encourag- 
 ing you, I am advancing the best interest of your souls ; and 
 that the mite that you give to-day, which might be given for 
 pleasure or sinfulness, — that that mite shall return to you 
 one day in the form of a crowai, the crowni of glory which 
 will be set upon your heads, for ever and for ever, before the 
 Throne of God, by the hands of the poor of Christ. .Again, 
 I say to you, will you hear the voice from tlie Throne : 
 "Whatever you do to the poor, you do it unto Me" f Oh, 
 may God send down His angel of mercy ! — may the spirit 
 of * His mercy breathe amongst us ! — may the charity 
 
THE ATTRIBUTES OF CJTffOLIC CHARITY. 199 
 
 Mliich guides your mercy, the cliarity springing from 
 an enliglitened and pure faith, and from a true and sub- 
 stantial hope, — l[)ring your reward: — that so, in the day 
 when Faith shall ^lerish with time — when Hope shall be lost, 
 either in joy or in sorrow — either in the fruition of Heaven, 
 or in the despair of hell, — that on that day, you may be able 
 to exclaim, when you first catch sight of the unveiled glory 
 of the Saviour : '^ Christ, of all the beauties of God, it is 
 true, Hhe greatest is Charity.' '^ 
 
THE OATHOLIC CHURCH THE TRUE 
 EMANCIPATOR. 
 
 lA Lecture delivered ly Very Bev. T. N. BurJce, O.P., in St. Stephen's 
 Church, New York, April 30, 1872; for the benefit of the Mission to the 
 Colored Bace in America.^ 
 
 My Dear Friends : I come before you this evening to 
 assert a proposition wliicli would require no proof, if all men 
 were of one mind regarding tlie claims of the Catholic 
 Church to be the Chuvch of Christ. I assert for the Catholic 
 Church that she is the true emancipator of the slave ; and I 
 say again, that, if men were of one mind touching her claims 
 to* be the true Christian Church, this proposition would re- 
 quire no proof ; for any man who believes in the agency of 
 Christ, as perpetuated in His Church, must at once conclude 
 that one of the highest and greatest of the duties of that 
 Church is the duty which her Divine Founder Himself came 
 to accomplish, viz: the work of emancipation. He came and 
 found, not this race, or that, — not this class or order of men, or 
 tluit,— but all mankind, and all races of men, enslaved in the 
 direst form of slavery ; — a slavery that entered into their very 
 souls; a slavery that not only destroyed their freedom of 
 will, but also clouded, and thereby destroyed, the clearness 
 of tlieir intelligence ; a slavery that bound them helpless at 
 the feet of the most cruel of all masters ; — for that master was 
 no other than the devil, the prince and ruler of all mankind, 
 the enslaver of the intellect,*of the will, and of the soul of 
 man. The Prophet of old had foretold of our Divine Lord 
 and Redeemer, that He came to break the chains of man's 
 slavery, to emancipate him, to take him from out that deep 
 and temble servitude into which he had fallen, and to endow 
 him once more with •' the freedom of the glory of the chil- 
 dren of God.'' Therefore He came. Among all the other 
 titles that belonged to Him is that, preeminently, of the 
 emancipator of an enslaved and fallen race. And, if His 
 action is to continue in the Church, — if His graces are to How 
 
THE CHURCH THE TRUE EMANCIPATOR. 201 
 
 on tlironi^-h tliat Chnrcli, and His lii^'lit is to come forth, ])iire 
 and blight and radiant in the Church which He founded, — 
 all we have to do iwS to find that Church ; and, bound to hor 
 brows, we shall find the crown of the emancipator of the 
 human race. That Church we Catholics know and believe 
 to be the ^Mother that has begotten us unto God, through the 
 Gospel. . 
 
 Now, my friends, how did Christ effect the work of His 
 emancipation? I answer that He emancipated or freed the 
 intelligence of man from the slavery of the intellect, which 
 is error j and that He emancipated the will of man from the 
 slavery of the will, which is sin. And He carefully defined 
 what manner of freedom He came to found and confer, when 
 He said to a benighted race, whom He enlightened: ^^You 
 shall know the tiuth, and the truth shall make you free ! " 
 And, to a degraded and corrupt race, He said : " I am come 
 that, where sin hath abounded, grace might abound still more;" 
 and, in the abundance of His grace, He called us ^^unto the 
 freedom of the children of God." 
 
 Behold, then, the elements of emancipation, as found in 
 the actions and in the words of the Son of God, the Re- 
 deemer, the Saviour, and the Emancipator. Truth ! Truth 
 broadly diffused ; truth borne upon the wings of knowledge 
 unto every mind. Not speculation, but truth ; not opinion, 
 but knowledge ; not study of the truth, but possession of the 
 truth. There, says the Son of God, lies the secret of 
 your intellectual freedom. Therefore He lifted up His voice ; 
 He flung abroad the banner of His eternal truth j He called 
 all men to hear the sound of His voice, and to rally round 
 the standard of His truth and of His knowledge. And the 
 word which He spoke was borne upon the wings of the An- 
 gels for all future time, unto the farthest ends of the earth, 
 upon the lips of the preaching and infallible Church which 
 He founded. I say the ^'preaching Church," which He 
 founded, for "Faith conies by hearing;" and the knowledge 
 which emanci})ates the intelligence must come by a living 
 voice. But I add : — as no other knowledge save that of the 
 pure truth, as it is in the mind of Jesus Christ, thus delivered 
 l)y a living voice, can emancipate the intelligence of man, 
 therefore the voice which He commanded to teach the world, 
 must bear the unfailing, and infallible, and uninixed message 
 of the truth of the Linxl Jesus Christ. For, if that voice can 
 
202 FATHER BUBEE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 admit the slightest blending of error, — if that voire can fal- 
 ter in the delivery of the truth, or mix up the slightest distortion 
 of error with that truth, — it ceases to he the voice of Jesus 
 Christ, and it only, in its teachings, suhstitutes one form of 
 slaverv for another. Oh, if the men of our day would only 
 understand this ! if the men who boast of their civilization 
 would only understand this, — that whatever is not the truth 
 is not the voice nor the message of God ; — whatever, by any 
 possibility can be untrue, cannot be the voice of God ; — if 
 men would only understand this, that there is no greater in- 
 sult than we can offer to a God of Truth than to take a reli- 
 gions lie — a distorted view — a false idea, — put it into our 
 minds, and say ; "• This is the truth of God ; this is religious 
 truth ! " ButJ no ! We boast to-day of our liberality ; we 
 boast to-day of the multitude of our sects and of our religious 
 institutions'; we boast to day of an open Bible from which 
 every man drawls — not the word of God, — for I deny that it 
 is the Word of God ;— it is the Word of God only when it is 
 taken from that page as it lies in the mind of God ; — we 
 boast to-day that that Bible is open to every man to look in 
 it for the canonization of his own eiTor, lying in the distorted 
 meaning which he gives to that divinely-inspired page ; — 
 and then we pretend that all this is a mark of religion : and 
 the man who would indignantly resent a lie, told him in the 
 ordinary avocations and social duties of life; — the man who 
 Mould resent, as a deep injury, being taken in in a matter of 
 business, in the furnishing of an account, or any such transi- 
 tory thing, — that man is precisely the one that is most indif- 
 ferent, and careless, and most easily reconciled, when it is a 
 matter that lies between him and the God of Truth, whether 
 he possesses that truth or not. Yet, I say again, it is a dis- 
 reputable thing to be taken in by a lie — to believe a lie. 
 It is a mark of intellectual and moral imbecility to cling to a 
 lie, and to uphold it as the truth. And remember that, when 
 it is a matter between us and God — the interpretation of the 
 message of God — the tone that the voice of God 'takes in 
 falling upon our ear, — remember that whatever is not true as 
 God, "is the worst form of untruth^or, a lie ; and that the 
 truth of God is declared, by the Saviour of the world, to be 
 the essential, primary element of that emancipation with 
 M-hich Jesus Christ came down to free us. 
 
 But, dear friends, grand and magnificent as is the possession 
 
THE CHURCH THE TRUE EMANCIPATOR. 203 
 
 of that trath, — luminous as is tlie light which is poiu-ed 
 into the soul from Almighty God, through the eyes of 
 the mind, opening, as it were, to the illumination of 
 Divine truth, — it is not enough to accomplish the free- 
 dom of man. The soul of freedom lies not only in the 
 mind possessing truth, and thus shaking off the chains of in- 
 tellectual slavery, which is error ; but it also lies in the will, 
 sanctified, strengthened, and purified by the divine grace of 
 Jesus Christ. Of what avail wcjuld it be to you, my fellow- 
 men, or to me, that we should know all knowledge — that 
 we should have all knowledge — if a man is a slav^e to liis 
 own passions — if every degrading passion and inclination of 
 a base or an inferior nature has only to crv out imperiouslv 
 to be instantly served and gratified at the expense of the 
 soul's nobility and life, and at the expense of God's friendship 
 and His grace ! Of what avail is knowledge to a man, if 
 that man be impure? Of what avail are the soundest prin- 
 ciples or examples, moral ot divine, to that man who, holding 
 them, does not act up to them, but is dishonest ? And there- 
 fore, there is another and a more terrible slavery, even than 
 that of the intellect j and that is the slavery of the will. 
 Now, to meet this, Christ our Lord, the divine healer, the 
 divine physician of our souls, established certain means by 
 which His grace, His strength. His purity, were to be com- 
 municated to us, to our wills, just as, by the preaching of the 
 Gospel in the Church, her light is communicated to our in- 
 telligence. And these means are the sacred morality of the 
 Church's laws ; the sacred bamers that she uprears between 
 the soul and sin ; the sacramental graces that she pours forth 
 to heal the soul, and purify it, and cleanse it again, if it be 
 tainted and sullied by sin ; the agencies that she holds in her 
 hands to preserve that soul from a relapse into sin, strength- 
 ening it so that it is able to command all its passions, to 
 repress all undue and corrupting inclinations, to give a tri- 
 umph to the spirit over matter — to the soul over the body ; 
 — until the Lord Jesus Christ, who is not ouly the fountain 
 of all truth, but the Creator of all.h(diness, and its representa- 
 tive, be reproduced in the souls of all His children, and a 
 perfect people be reared up in sanctity to God. 
 
 Without this grace of the heart and the will, there is no 
 freedom. Without the agency of the Church, I say, as a rule, 
 there can be no grace. Without her Sacranients, the will of 
 
204 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 man — the will of man A\liicli may be enslaved — ^the will of 
 man which is enslaved whenever man is in sin — can never be 
 touched ; for the sacramental hand of the Church alone can 
 touch it. And, here, again, as the word of the Church's 
 teaching must be no other than the word of Jesus Christ 
 Himself, — not only as it is written in the inspired volumes, but 
 as it lies in the mind of God, and, therefore, as the Church is 
 l)Ound to explain it 5 — so, also, the graces of the Church, and 
 the agency that she has in her hands to touch the will, must 
 be no other than the very power, the very action, the very 
 grace of Jesus Christ. No other hand but His, no other 
 power but His — no other inHuence but His — ^the Lord, the 
 Hedeemer, the Saviour, — coming home to every individual 
 man, — can pmify that man's soul, and strengthen him to gain 
 the " victory which conquereth the world," the flesh, and the 
 devil — the victory of Divine faith ! For, of what avail to 
 me, I ask you, of what avail to me is it that a priest should 
 lift up his hand and say, " I absolve thee from thy sin," 
 unless that word, that grace, that power to do it, come to that 
 priest from Jesus Christ ? Of what avail to me that a man pour 
 water on my head and say, " I baptize thee in the name of 
 the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost," unless 
 that baptism, that water had sacramental influence instituted 
 })y the Lord, endowed with a peculiar power for this purpose, 
 — the cleansing of the soul, — and be tinged mystically with 
 the saving blood of the Hedeemer 1 Of what avail to me, 
 if I come to this altar, open my mouth, and receive what 
 appears to be a morsel of bread, unless the Redeemer of the 
 world had said : '^ Without Me you can do nothing. And 
 now I will come to you. Take ye — and eat of this j — for 
 this is My body and My blood." Therefore, it is the action 
 of Jesns Christ that must remain as powerful, as pure, as 
 merciful in the dispensation of the Church's grace, as her 
 words must be pure from error, and immixed with error upon 
 the lips of the Church's preaching ? 
 
 Beliold the two great elements of man's emancipation. 
 Wherever these are not, there is slavery. He that believes 
 a lie, — and, above all, a religious untruth, — is a slave. He 
 that commits sin is the slave of sin. What avails it that you 
 emancipate a maji — strike the chains off' his hands — send him 
 forth, in name a free man, — send him forth with every con- 
 stitutional right and civic privilege upon him, — send him 
 
THE CHURCH THE TBTJE EMAXCIPATOE. 205 
 
 fortli, glorying in his freedom, without understanding it, and, 
 perhaps, unprepared to use it as he shouUi ? If you leave 
 that man's intelligence under the gloom of ignorance, — if you 
 leave that man's will under the dominion of sin and of his 
 own passions, have you made him a free man '? You call him 
 a free man. But God in Heaven does not so regard him j 
 and, unfortunately, the devil in hell laughs and scoffs at 
 your idea of freedom. 
 
 And, now, my friends, this being the mission, declared and 
 avowed by our Divine Lord, — this, consequently, being the 
 mission confided into the hands of the Church to be fulfilled 
 by her, let us turn to the Church's history and see whether 
 she has been faithful to her duty in thus applying the ele- 
 ments of emancipation to man. It is a historical question, 
 and one that I must deal with, principally, historically. Now, 
 in order to understand it, we are, first of all, to consider, what 
 was the state of the world when the Church began her mis- 
 sion 1 How did she find society ? Was it barbarous or 
 civilized! I answer that the Churcli's mission, when she 
 tii-st opened her lips to preach the Gospel, was to a most 
 civilized and highly intellectual people. Augustus was in his 
 grave ; but the " Augustan era," the proudest, the highest, and 
 most civilized, yet shed its infliience over the world. All the 
 wisdom of the ancients, all the learning of Pagan philosophy, 
 was represented in that august assembly before which, upon 
 the hill of Athens, Paul tlie Apostle, stood up to preach " the 
 ResuiTection and the Life." All the light of ancient philo- 
 sophy was there. All the glory of art was there in its 
 bio-hest perfection. All the resources then attained to in 
 science were tliere. Men were glorying in that day, as they 
 are in this, in their material progress and in their ideas. But, 
 how was this society constituted with regard to slavery"? 
 Why, my friends, in that ancient Pagan world, we read that, 
 at the time when there were sixty thousand inhabitants in 
 the city of Athens, the capital of Greece, there were forty 
 thousand slaves, and only twenty thousand freemen. We 
 read how, in the society of Sparta, another city of Greece, the 
 slaves had so multiplied that the masters lived in constant 
 fear lest their servants — their bondsmen — should rise up in 
 their i)ower and destroy them. We read of Rome, that the 
 shives were in such numbers, that, when it was proposed in 
 the Senate that thev should wear a distinct dress, it was 
 
206 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 immediately opposed on the ground tbat, if they wore a dis- 
 tinct dress/tbey would come to recognize their own numbers 
 and strength, and would rise and sweep the freemen from the 
 soil. 80 much for the civilized nations. What do we know 
 of the Larbarous nati(jns ? Why, Herodotus the historian tells 
 us, that, on one occasion, a nation of Scythians went forth and 
 invaded Medea ; and, when tiiey returned, after a successful 
 war, flushed with triumph and with victory, such was the 
 number of the slaves that they had enslaved, — from the 
 misfortunes of war and other causes, — that actually, when 
 they returned in all their might, they found that, in their 
 absence, their slaves had revolted ; and they were chased by 
 their own servants — their own slaves — from their own coun- 
 try. How were these slaves treated! They were treated 
 thus: We read that when a certain Prefect of Rome, 
 Pedanius Secundus, was murdered by one of his slaves, as 
 a matter of com\se, following the law, there were four hundred 
 of that man's bondsmen taken, and they were all put to death 
 without mercy, without pity : — four liundred innocent men 
 for the fault and the crime of one. Had the slave any rights? 
 None whatever. Had the slave any privilege or recognition 
 of any kind"? None whatever. His life and his blood were 
 accounted as of no value ; and what was still worse, the 
 highest philosophers of ancient Greece and Rome, writing on 
 this subject, laid down as a principle, that these men were 
 created by the gods, as they called them, for the purpose of 
 slavery j that they came into this world for no other purpose j 
 that they had no souls capable of appreciating any thing 
 spiritual, no feelings to be respected, no eternal, or even 
 temporal, interests to be consulted ; so that a man who had 
 the misfortune to fall into slavery, found himself not only 
 enslaved but degraded. 
 
 Such was the state of the world when the Catholic Church 
 began her mission. And now, what was the first principle 
 that the Church preached and laid down ? The first emanci- 
 pating principle that the Catholic Church announced was 
 this: She proclaimed that slavery was no degradation ; that 
 a man might be enslaved, and yet not be degraded. This was 
 the first principle by which the Church of God recognized the 
 nobility of the souf of man,— no matter fi'om what race he 
 sprang 5 no matter what misfortune may have fallen upon 
 him J — that he might be enslaved 3 nay, more, that his very 
 
THE CHUnCH THE TRUE EMAXCIPATOJi. 207 
 
 slavery might bring its own specific duties upon him ; but 
 that slavery, in itself, was no degradation. You may say to 
 me, perhaps, this was a false principle. I answer, no ; it is 
 not a false principle. I am a slave ; yet I am not a degraded 
 man. I am a slave ; for, many years ago, I swore away, at 
 the foot of the altar, my liberty, my freedom, and my will, 
 and gave them u}) to God. Am I therefore degraded? No. 
 We are all slaves in this sense — that the Scnptures tell us that 
 " we have been bought at a great price" by our Lord Jesus 
 Christ ; and, therefore, that we are the servants and bonds- 
 men of Him who redeemed us. But who will say that such 
 slavery as this is degradation f Xo, my friends. You may, 
 ])erhaps, say to me, that we all admit our servitude to God. 
 Well, this is preciseU' the point ; and St. Paul, proclaiming 
 the first elements of the Church's laws and doctiines touch- 
 ing slavery, declared that even a man w^lio was enslaved by 
 his fellow-man was no longer a slave, — that is, in the sense of 
 a degraded slave ; because Almighty God, through His 
 Church, recognized that man's soul, — recognized his feelings, 
 — and commanded him to be faithful, even as a slave, — not 
 to the master as to a man, but to the master for the sake of 
 Jesus Christ, and as reflecting authority and power over him. 
 These are the express w^ords of the Apostle; and mai'k how 
 clearh' they bnng out this grand })rinciple. He says: 
 " Whosoever are servants under the yoke, let them account 
 their masters worthy of all honor, lest the name of the Lord 
 and His doctrines be blasphemed." He goes on to say : 
 '• You, slaves, obey those that are your masters according to 
 the flesh, with fear and trembling, in the simplicity of your 
 hearts, as to Jesus Christ Himself; not serving to the eye, 
 as it were, pleasing men, but as the servants of Christ; doing 
 the will of God from the heart, with a good will ; serving as 
 to the Lord, not to man." This was the first grand element 
 of the Church's emancipation. She removed from the slave 
 the degradation of his slavery, by admitting that, slave as he 
 was, he could, in obeying his master, obey God ; — transfer his 
 allegiance, as it were, from the man to the principle of God's 
 authority reflected in that man ; and thus serve, not as to the 
 eye of man, but to the eye of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Secondly, the Aj)ostle declares that slavery ceased to be a 
 degradation when the master and owner was as much a 
 slave as his bondsman. And this he declares in this principle : 
 
208 FATHER BVBKKS DISCOURSES. 
 
 "And yon, masters," be says, "do tlie same tiling as 
 your slaves ; forbearing threatening, knowing that the Lord 
 both of them and of you is in heaven, and that there is 
 no respect of persons with Him." " Masters," he adds, " do 
 to vour servants that which is just and equal, knowing that 
 you also have a Master who is in heaven." The pagan idea 
 was that the master was the absolute governor and ruler of 
 his slave, — the lord of life and death ; — that that slave was 
 created to do his will ; and that, for his treatment of his servant, 
 he was not responsible before God. The Apostle, in the 
 name of the Church, imposes upon the master and slave the 
 common servitude to the one God ; and then he lays down 
 the third gTeat element, by wdiich he relieves slavery of its 
 degradation, when he says: "There is, in Christ, neither 
 bondsman nor freeman, neither Jew nor Gentile, neither Bar- 
 barian nor Scythian ; but Christ, the Lord, in all ; and ye 
 are all one in Jesus Christ." 
 
 These, my friends, were the first words of consolation, of 
 hope, of manly sympathy with his fellows-men in slavery, that 
 ever came from tlie lips of a teacher, religious or otherwise, 
 from the world's creation. And these came from the lips of 
 the Catholic Church, speaking through her divinely-inspired 
 Apostle. Therefore I claim for her that, in the beginning, 
 she was faithful to her mission ; and that she proclaimed that 
 she came to console the afflicted in his slavery, and to lift 
 from him the weight of the degradation which was upon him. 
 Then the history of the Church began. You all know, my 
 dear friends, how, five centuries after the Church was estab- 
 lished, the barbarians — the Goths, the Vandals, the Alans, 
 and all these terrible nations fi'om the north, swept down over 
 the Iloman empire, and destroyed every thing; broke up 
 society ; reduced it to its first chaotic elements : and slavery 
 was the universal institution, all the world over. Every 
 nation had it. The captive that was taken in war lost his 
 liberty, not for a day, but for ever. The man who was 
 oppre*ssed with debt 'was taken for his debt and sold into 
 slavery. The Church of God alone was able to meet these 
 barbarians, to confront them, and to evangelize to them lier 
 gospel of liberation ; and to soften, and gradually to dimiii-. 
 ish, until, at length, she all but destroyed, the existence of 
 this unjust slavery. The Church of God— the_ Catholic 
 Church — was the only power that these barbaric nations 
 
THE CHURCH THE TRVE EMAXCIPATOli. 209 
 
 would respect. The Pope of Rome was the great ii[)liol(]er 
 of tlie principles of liberty; because liberty means nothing 
 ra<tre nor less than the assertion of light for every man, and 
 tlie omnipotence of the law, which insures liim his right, and 
 defines that right. 
 
 And how did the Pope act? How did the Church carry 
 out her mission? My friends, we find that, from the 
 fifth century, — from the very time that the Church V)egan 
 to be known, and commenced to make her influence 
 felt among the nations, — among the very first ordinances 
 tliat she made, were some for the relief of the slave. She 
 connnanded, for instance, under pain of censure, that no mas- 
 ter was to put his slave to death; and you may imagine 
 under what depths of misery society was plunged, and from 
 what a state of things the Catholic Church has saved the 
 world, when I tell you that one of the ordinances of a Coun- 
 cil in the sixth century was, that if any lady (now just imag- 
 ine this to yourselves !) — being offended by any of her slaves, 
 or vexed by them, put the slave to death, that she was to 
 undergo several long years of public penance for the crime 
 she had committed. What a state of society it was, when a 
 delicate lady, arraying herself, perhaps, for an evening meet- 
 ing, — a ball or a party, — with her maiden slaves around her, 
 dressing her, adding ornament to ornament, — that, if one of 
 them made a slight mistake, the delicate lady was able to 
 turn round, — as we read in the Pagan historians, and as 
 Roman ladies did, — and thrust iier ivory-hilted dagger into 
 the heart of her poor slave, striking her dead at her feet. 
 The only power tliat was recognized on the earth, to make 
 that lady responsible, — the only power that she would listen 
 to, — the only representative of the law that was thus to fling 
 its protection over the unhappy slave, was the power of the 
 mighty Church, that told that lady, if she committed herself 
 to sucli actions as these, that outside the Church's gates she 
 should kneel, in sack(doth and ashes ; that she should kneel 
 far away from the altar and the sacrifice ; that she should 
 kneel there until, after long years of weeping and penitence, 
 as a public penitent, she was to be permitted to crawl into 
 the Church, and take the place of the penitent, nearest the 
 door. 
 
 And so, in like manner, we find the Church, in the })ro- 
 gress of ages, making laws, that, if any slave offended his 
 
210 FA THEE HUBKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 master, and, if tlie master wished to pimish him then and 
 there, by some terrible form of aggravated punishment, and 
 if that slave fled from his master, there was only one place 
 where he could find security, and that was the Clmrch. For 
 the Church declared ^ that the moment a shave crossed her 
 door and entered into her sanctuary, that moment the mas- 
 ter's hand was stayed, and the slave was out of his powder, 
 until the case was fairly tried, and a proportionate and just 
 punislnnent imposed, as would be imposed on any other man 
 who committed the "same offence. 
 
 Again : we find the same Church, in the course of ages, 
 imposing a threat of excommunication upon any man who 
 should capture a manumitted or emancipated slave, and re- 
 duce him to slavery again. Further on, we find the same 
 Church making a law that, when a Bishop, or a Cardinal, or 
 a gi-eat ecclesiastic died, all those who were in servitude to 
 him should be immediately freed. These were the freedmen 
 of the Church, as they were called. 
 
 But you may ask, why did she not abolish slavery at once ? 
 And this is the accusation that is made against the Catholic 
 Church, even by such a man as Guizot, the great French 
 statesman and '^iDhilosopher, who says : ^^ I adujit that the 
 Catholic Chiu-ch, in her action, in her genius, ahvays tried to 
 preach the subject of emancipation ; but wdiy did she not do 
 it. at once ?" I answ^er, the Church of God is the only power 
 upon earth which, at all times, has known how to do good, 
 and to do it wisely and justly. It is not enough to do a good 
 thins: because it is good : it must be well done ; it must be 
 wisely done ; there must be no injury accompanying the do- 
 ing of it; nor no injustice staining the act. The Church of 
 God could not, from the very beginning, have emancipated 
 without doing a grave injustice to the society which she 
 would disturb, to Ihe owners of these slaves against whom 
 she might be accused of robbery ; but the greatest injustice 
 of all to the poor slaves themselves, wdio were not prepared 
 for the gift of freedom. And therefore, taking her own 
 time, proclaiming her principles, acting upon them strongly 
 yet sweetly, and drawing to iier every interest ; conciliating 
 men's minds ; creating public opinion among society ; trying 
 to save every man from injustice; and in the meantime, pre- 
 paring mankind, by faith and by sanctity, for the gift of free- 
 dom, — she labored slowly, patiently, but most efficaciously 
 
TEE CUrRCE TEE TRUE EMAXCITATOE. 211 
 
 in the great work of emancipation. For, my friends, there 
 are two injnstices, and grave injustices, which may accom- 
 pany this great act of emancii)ation. There is the in- 
 justice whic^i may affect the whole of society, may break up 
 l)uhlic order, may ruin interests ; and that is the injustice 
 which a smhleu and a rash emancipation inflicts upon the 
 society upon uhich it falls. For instance, as in Europe in 
 the early middle ages, slaves who, according to St! Augustine, 
 were enslaved, not from any inherent right of man over his 
 fellow-man, but in punishment for their own sins, — these 
 slaves formed a great portion of the public property. Nearly 
 one-half of mankind were enslaved to the other half. The 
 consequence was that the disposition of property was affected 
 by them ; that the tillage and cultivation of the land depended 
 upon them; that in fact the status and condition of the half 
 who owned the slaves would be affected ; so that, by a sudden 
 and rash emancipation, the freeman of to-day would become 
 a slave, in the pt)verty and in the unh)oked-for privation and 
 misery that would come upon him by the loss of all that he 
 possessed in this world. AYas that injustice to be done? 
 No 5 because it would defeat its own end. The end of all 
 society is peace and hap})iness. The end of all society is 
 concord and mutual straining to one end ; each man helping 
 lis fellow-man : and the Church was too wise to throw such 
 an element of universal discord among all tbe other dissen- 
 i>ions that were tearing the heart of the world in those days — 
 to throw in the element of dissension, and to set one half 
 the world against the other. 
 
 But far greater is the injustice which is dime to the poor 
 slave himself, by a sudden, an unexpected, and a sweeping 
 emancipation. For, my friends, next to Divine grace and 
 faith, the highest gift of God to man is freedom. Freedom ! 
 sacred liberty ! — within these consecrated walls, — even as a 
 priest, I say that sacred freedom is a high gift of God : but 
 the history of our race tells us that it is a gift that has at all 
 times been most fatally abused; and the poet says, with 
 bitter truth, that at an early age he was left 
 
 " Lord of himself— tliat heritage of woe." 
 
 Liberty, — lordship over one's self, — unfettered freedom is, in 
 most cases, a '^ heritage of woe," and es[)ecially when a man 
 dues not understand what it means, and is not prepared for 
 
2V> FATHER BURKE'S DISCOUBSES. 
 
 its leo-itimate exercise. Wliat is liberty 1 that sacred word 
 so oiten used, so frequently abused, so little understood 1 
 All ! my friends, what is liberty 1 In our days men Ml into 
 two most fatal errors : they have a false idea of religious 
 liberty, and they have a false idea of civil liberty. The 
 false 'idea of religious liberty is, that it consists in unfettered 
 freedom for every man to believe whatever he likes. A 
 nation is said to have religious liberty when every man 
 bebeves whatever notion of religion conies into his head ; 
 and consequently there are as many sects as there are religions. 
 Men say, " Grand ! glorious ! this is religious liberty ! " 
 But yesterday there was only one faith in Italy, for instance ; 
 to-day we hear men boasting : " Thirty thousand hearers, 
 ten thousand preachers," of some new creed ; and in twenty 
 years' time, if this goes on, we shall have Italy broken^ up 
 into Quakers, and Shakers, and Baptists, and Anabaptists, 
 and all sorts of religious sects. Is this religious liberty ? 
 Men sav it is. Well, if this be religi(ms liberty, all I can 
 say is," that the definition that Christ our Lord gave of 
 religious liberty is wrong ; for He said : ^' You shall know 
 the truth, and the truth shall make you free." Truth is one, 
 and only one : it cannot contradict itself. You shall know 
 the truth, and have it ; and in that you shall find your free- 
 dom. It will follow from this that the more any nation or 
 people approach to unity of thought, they approach to liberty, 
 provided that one thought represent the truth of Jesus 
 Christ. 
 
 Civil liberty is also misunderstood. Many imagine, nowa- 
 days, that the essence of civil liberty is the power to rise 
 up" at any time and create a revolution, — to rise up against 
 the rulers and governors — against the fixed form of constitu- 
 tional law,— and upset every thing. That is the idea,_ for 
 instance — the popular idea, unfortunately — now in the minds 
 of many in Europe. In France, for example, nearly every 
 man that knows how to read and write has a copy of a con- 
 stitution in his pocket, which he has drawn out himself to 
 be the future constitution of France ; and he is prepared to 
 go out and stand on the barricades, and fight for his constitu- 
 tion, and kill his neighbor for it. The idea of liberty, too, 
 which has taken possession of the minds of many, seems to 
 lie in this, — that every man can do as he likes, and what he 
 likes. Ah ! if this were brought home to us ; if it were 
 
THE CHURCH THE TRUE EMANCIPATOR. 213 
 
 bronglit Lome to us that every man could do as lie liked ; 
 that we could be assaulted and assailed at every hand's turn ; 
 that every man should go out with his life in his hand j that 
 there was no protection for a man against his neighbor who 
 was stronger ; and any man who, boasting of his power, 
 says : " I want your money ; I want your means ; I am able 
 to take it, and I am at liberty to take it ; because liberty 
 consists in every man doing as he likes;" — how would you 
 like this liberty, my friends I No; the essence of liberty 
 lies here : the essence of liberty lies in recognizing and defin- 
 ing every man's light, no matter what he is, from the high- 
 est to the lowest in the State. Let every man know his own 
 rights, be they great or small, be they limited or otherwise ; 
 let every man liave the rights that ave just and reasonable ; 
 let him know his rights ; do not keep him in ignorance of 
 them ; define them for him by law, no matter what position 
 lie holds in society : and when every man's rights are defined 
 and recognized, and incorporated in law, let that law be put 
 up on high : put it, if you will, upon the very altar ; and let 
 every man in the State, — President, Eang, Emperor, General, 
 soldier, civilian, — ^let every man, high or low, bow dow^n 
 before the omnipotence and the supremacy of that law. Let 
 that law be there to define every man's rights, and to secure 
 them to him, and let every man know that, as long as he 
 keeps himself within tbe exercise of his own rights, as defined 
 by law, no power can toucli him, no man can infringe upon 
 him. Leave him free in tlie exercise of these rights : that is 
 liberty ; the supremacy of the law, the omnipotence of the 
 law, — the law which is the expression of matured reason and 
 of authority, respecting and defining every man's rights. 
 Far more free is the man who is only able to do this thing 
 or that, but knows that he can do them, — that knows that 
 these are his rights, and that no man can prevent him from 
 exercising them, — than the man who has an undefined free- 
 dom, which is not preserved or secured to him by any form 
 of defined law. 
 
 This is civil liberty. And so it is as great a mistake to 
 say, " I can do what I like ; therefore 1 am free ; I have 
 civil liberty," as it is to say, "I can believe what I like; 
 theref(»re t have religious liberty." No, it is not true. 
 Dogma, — the truth of God, — does not leave us at liberty. 
 It appeals to us, and we are bound to open our minds to let 
 
214 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 into our intelligence the truth of God. Any man who refuses 
 it commits a sin. We are not at liberty to refuse it. The 
 law appeals to us ; we are not at liberty to disobey it. The 
 quintessence of cIa^I freedom lies in obeying the law ; the 
 quintessence of religious freedom lies in acknowledging tbe 
 trutli. 
 
 And now, my friends, this being the case, I ask you what 
 greater injustice can you do to a man than to give him that 
 liberty, that unlimited freedom, Avithout first telling him his 
 rights, defining his rights, establishing those rights by law, 
 and without teaching that man that he must respect the law 
 that protects him ; that he must move w'ithin the sphere or 
 circle of his rights, and content himself in this? What greater 
 injustice can you do to society or to a man himself, than to 
 give him freedom without defining what his rights are ? lu 
 other words, is not tlje gift of liberty itself a misnomer! Is 
 it not simply an absurdity to say to a man, " You are free," 
 when that man does not know what is meant by the word free- 
 dom I Look at the history of emancipation, and will you not 
 find this to be the case"? The States have emancipated just 
 as the Church has emancipated ; but with this difference — 
 that the Church prepared the slave before she gave him free-, 
 dom ; taught him his rights, taught him his responsibilities, 
 taught him his duties ; and then, taking the chains off his 
 haiids, said : ^' You are a fi'ee man. Respect your rights ; 
 move in the sphere of your duties, and bow dowai before the 
 law that has made you free." The State has not said tbis. 
 A few years ago England emancipated the black population 
 of Jamaica; — a sweeping emancipation. The negroes were 
 not prepared for it ; they did not understand it. What was 
 the first use they made of their liberty ? The first use that 
 they made of their liberty was to fling aside the hoe, the 
 sickle, tlie spade, every implement of labor, and sit down 
 idly, to famish and starve in the land. Now, among the 
 duties of man, defined by every law, the first duty is labor, 
 — work. The only respectable man in this world is the man 
 who works. The idler is not a respectable man. If he were 
 seated upon great Caesars thone, and there he would be an 
 idler, I would have no respect, but only contempt for him. 
 This was the first v.se that the negro population of Jamaica 
 made of their freedom. What was the consequence ? That 
 their state to-day, after many years of emancipation, is one 
 
THE CHURCH THE TRUE EMANCIPATOR. 215 
 
 of absolute misery ; wliile, during the time tliey were slaves, 
 tbev were livin<]^ in comparative comfort ; because, small as 
 the circle of their rights was, strictly defined as it was, still 
 it had its duties : they knew their duties, tliey knew the law ; 
 they were protected in the exercise of their duties ; and the 
 consequence was they were a thriving pe()})le. 
 
 Look to the Southern States of this Union. You have 
 emancipated your negro population, with one sweeping act 
 of emancipation. I need not tell you that by so doing (I do 
 not wish to speak politics ; I do not wish to enter npiju this 
 question in any way that would be, perhaps, insolent in a 
 stranger; — but this I do say) — tliat in that sweeping 
 emancipation, though you did what the world may call 
 a grand and a glorious thing, you know well how many 
 you deprived of the very means of subsistence by it, and 
 what misery and poverty you brought upon many families 
 by it, and how completely, for a time, you shattered the 
 framework of society by it. Have you benefited the slave 
 population by it ? — by this gift of freedom, — a glorious gift, 
 a grand gift, provided that the man who receives it knows 
 what it is; provided that the man who receives it is pre- 
 pared to receive it and use it as he ought. But, either to 
 the white man or the colored man, the gift of freedom is a 
 fatal gift, unless he knows how to use it. Did you prepare 
 these men for that freedom before you gave it to them '? Did 
 you tell them that they should be as laborious as they were in 
 slavery? that labor was the first duty of every man? Did 
 you tell them that they were to respect the rights of their 
 fellow-men, to whom, slaves yesterday, they are made equals 
 to-day ? Did you tell them that they were not to indulge in 
 vain, idle dreams of becoming a privileged class in the land, 
 to govern and rule their fellow-men to whom the law only 
 made them constitutionally and politically equal? Did you 
 tell them that they were not to attempt instantly, forcibly, to 
 overstep certain bamers that. the God of nature set between 
 them ; l)ut that they were to respect the race that manumitted 
 and emancipated them ? I fear you did not. I have had 
 evidence of it. "What use have they made of this gift of 
 freedom ? Ah ! children as they were, though grown into 
 the fulness of material manhood, — children as they were, 
 withojit education, without kiiowledge, — what use could they 
 make of their freedom l What use do you and I make of 
 
216 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 our freedom ? we who are born free, we wliose education and 
 everv thing suiTounding ns from our infancy, all tend to make 
 'us respect and use well that freedom. Is there that purity, 
 that self-respect, that manly restraint over a man's passions, 
 — is there that assertion of the dominion of the soul over 
 the inferior nature stamped upon the Christian society 
 and the white society of the world to-day, that would lead 
 them to imagine that it is so easy for a poor child of slavery 
 to enter into the fulness of his freedom ? I fear not. 
 
 Well, my friends, still they are there before us. The 
 dreams of the political economist will not teach them to use 
 their freedom. The vain, ambitious, and I will add, impious 
 pui-poses and theories propounded by those who would in- 
 sinuate that the colored man was emancipated for the purpose 
 of a commingling of races, will not teach them to use their 
 freedom. The ambitious hopes of ascendency held out before 
 them, will not teach them to use their freedom. The political 
 parties that would make use of them for their own ends will 
 never teach them to use their freedom. You have emanci- 
 pated them 5 and I deny that they are free. I say that they 
 are slaves. You have emancipated them. Tell me, what 
 religious freedom have yon given them ? You have put an 
 open Bible into the hand of a man who only learned to read 
 yesterday ; and you have told him, with bitter sarcasm, to go 
 and find the trutb of God in a book that has puzzled the 
 greatest and wisest of the earth's philosophers. You have 
 sent him in search of religion in a book that has been quoted 
 by every false teacher, from the day that it was written, by 
 prostituting that sacred, inspired word, and twisting it to lend 
 a color to his arguments. You have sent teachers to them, 
 teachers who began thek lesson, began their teaching, by 
 dcclaiing that, after they had labored all . day, they might 
 have been mistaken all through ; and that they had no fixed, 
 . immutable truths to give to the poor emancipated mind. You 
 know it. What religious freedom have you given them ? 
 Have you touched their hearts with grace 1 You have given 
 them, indeed, forms of religion, which you boast are suited to 
 them, because you allow these overgrown, simple children to 
 bellow and to cry out what seems to be the word of praise 
 and of faith. Ah, my friends, it is not this corporeal exercise 
 that will purify their* hearts, strengthen their souls, subdue 
 their passions, and make them, first of all, respect themselves 
 
THE CHUnCR THE TRUE EMANCIPATOR. 217 
 
 ai d then respect their fenow-citizens of tlie hand. Yon have 
 emancipated them ; bnt you liave not freed them. They shall 
 he free only in the day when these poor darkened intelli- 
 gences shall have been led into the full light of GckVs know- 
 ledge, and when the strong animal passions of a race that, 
 from whatever cause it be, seems to have more of the animal 
 than many other races of mankind ; when their strong pas- 
 sions are subdued, their hearts purified, their souls cleansed, 
 graces received to be prized and to be retained; — then, 
 aad only then, will you have emancipated the negro. You 
 have not done it as yet. But it is the Church's work to do 
 it. It is her mission and her duty. She knows that He who 
 came and died upon the cross, died not only for you but for 
 these children of the mid-day sun. She knows"^ that every 
 soul of these colored people "is as dear to the heart of God 
 as the proudest and the best, the most learned and the most 
 refined among you. She knows that if she can onlv make 
 a truly ftiithful Catholic Christian out of the humblest of 
 these children of the desert, that she will have made some- 
 thing more noble — grander and greater — than the best 
 among you, if you be sinners ; and "she, therefore, sends to 
 them her clergy, her consecrated children — priests and nuns. 
 She says to the noblest and the best in the la.nd : " Arise ; go 
 forth from house and home, from father and friends; go, 
 seek a strange land and strange people; go in among 
 them ; go, seek the toil and the burning heat and the burden 
 of the day ; go seek the man whom many men despise ; kneel 
 down at his feet, and offer him Jesus Christ. " We have 
 been told by a higli authority that this is an act of justice 
 Mhich England offers, — an act of reparation which Catholic 
 England offers to America ; for, great as has been the crisis 
 of the late war, the slavery which was in America, — the 
 highest ecclesiastical authority in England tells us, sanctioned 
 by the voice of history, — has not been your creation, my 
 American friends : it was England's creation. It was forced 
 upon you ; and, from having begun, it became a necessity. 
 And, therefore, England to-day sends her children ; and they 
 come Avith humility, but with earnestness and zeal, and theV 
 say to you — to you, Catholics, — many — perhaps, a vast major- 
 ity among you — of Irish parentage or Irish descent, — they 
 say to you, — children of a faithful nation, children of a 
 race that has always been intellectual enough to recognize 
 
 10 
 
218 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 the one truth, keen enough to know its value, energetic 
 enough to grasp it with a firm hand, — lovers as you have been 
 of freedom, worshippers at the shrine of your religious and 
 your national liberty, — they ask you, children of a race of 
 doctors, of martyrs, of apostles, to lend a helping hand to 
 the Catholic Chm'ch to-day, and to aid her to emancipate 
 truly those who have obtained only freedom in name, and to 
 complete that work which can only be done by a touch of 
 the hand of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Your presence here this evening expresses your sympathy 
 with the high and noble purpose that has brought these chil- 
 dren, the consecrated ones of the Church of God, to this coun- 
 try ; and they appeal to you, through me : — and they have a 
 right to appeal to you, through me, and I have a right to 
 speak to you in this cause of freedom ; for my brother, wear- 
 ing this same habit, the venerable and holy Bartholomew Las 
 Casas, the first Dominican that ever landed in America, in 
 the very train of Christopher Columbus himself, — was the first 
 man that raised his voice to proclaim to the poor Indian the 
 birthright of that higher freedom that consists in the know- 
 ledge and the grace of Jesus Christ. We only ask you to 
 help us to difi"use that knowledge and that grace — that know- 
 ledge which is the freedom of the intellect — that grace which 
 is the freedom of the will, and without which double freedom 
 there is no emancipation ; for the fetters may fall from the 
 hand, but the chain is still riveted upon the soul. Freedom 
 is a sacred thing ; but, like every sacred thing, it must be 
 seated in the soul of man. Bodily freedom is as nothing 
 unless the soul be emancipated by the holy Chm'ch of God. 
 Your presence here this evening attests your sympathy witli 
 this great work j and, my friends ! as you have contributed 
 materially, I ask you to contribute also intellectually and 
 spiritually 5 — intellectually, by the sympathy of your intel- 
 ligence with the labor of those holy priests ; and spiritually, by 
 pra^dng to God, who came to emancipate the world, that He 
 might make perfect the weak and inefiicient action of man- 
 kind and of the State, by pouring forth His spirit of light and 
 grace among these poor children and strangers who are in 
 the land. 
 
THE MONTH OF MARY. 
 
 I A Sermon delivered hij Very Rev. T. N. Burke, O.P., in the church of 
 SL Vincent Ferrer, New York, May 1, 1872.] 
 
 We are commencing this evening the devotions to the 
 Blessed Virgin, to which the Chm-ch invites all her children, 
 during the month of May. The faithful, at all seasons, in- 
 voke the mercy of God through the intercession of the Blessed 
 Virgin Mother. But more especially during this sweet month, 
 the opening of the beautiful year, does our Holy Mother in- 
 vite our devout thoughts and prayers to the Mother of God, 
 and put before us the Blessed Virgin's claims and titles to 
 our veneration and love. Guided by this Catholic instinct 
 and spirit, we are assembled here this evening, my dear 
 brethren, and it is my pleasing duty to endeavor to unfold 
 before your eyes the high designs of God which were matured 
 and can-ied out in Mary. And, first of all, I have to remark 
 to you, as I have done before — that in every work of God 
 we find reflected the harmony and the order which is the 
 infinite beauty of God Himself. The nearer any work of 
 His approaches to Him in excellence, in usefulness, in neces- 
 sity, the more does that work reflect the beauty and harmony 
 of God who created it. Now, dearly beloved, the highest 
 work that ever God made — that it ever entered into His 
 mind to conceive — or that He ever executed by His omnipo- 
 tence — was the sacred humanity, or the human nature of Jesus 
 Christ; and, next to Him, in grandeur, in sanctity, necessity, 
 is the institution of, or the creation of, the Catholic Church of 
 God. When, therefore, we come, as pious children of the 
 Church, to examine her doctrines, to meditate upon her pre- 
 cepts, to analyze her devotions, we naturally find ourselves 
 at once in the kingdom of perfect harmony and order. 
 Every thing in the Church's teaching harmonizes with 
 the works of the hinnan intelligence ; every thing in the 
 Church's moral law harmonizes with the wants of man's 
 soul. Every thing in the Church's liturgy, or devotions 
 
220 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 harmonizes with man's imagination and sense, in so far as 
 that imagination and sense help him to a union with 
 God. And so, every thing in the Church's devotion 
 harmonizes with the nature around us, and within us, 
 and with that reflection of nature in its highest and most 
 beautiful form, which is in the spirit and in the genius of the 
 Blessed Virgin Mary. I remember once speaking with a 
 very distinguished poet — one of world-wide reputation and 
 honorable name, — a name which is a household word wher- 
 ever the English language is spoken ; — and he said to me : 
 '^ Father, I am not a Catholic ; 3^et I have no keener pleas- 
 ure or greater enjoyment than to witness Catholic ceremo- 
 nial, to study Catholic devotion, to investigate Catholic 
 doctrines; nor do I find," said he, ^^in all that nature or the 
 resources of intellect open before me, greater food for poetic 
 and enthusiastic thought than that which is suggested to me 
 by the Catholic Church." And, so, it is not without some 
 beautiful, harmonious reason that the Church is able to ac- 
 count for every iota and every tittle of her liturgy and of 
 her devotions. 
 
 And, now, we find the Church, upon this the first of May, 
 calling all her pious and spiritual-minded children, and tell- 
 ing tliem that this month is devoted, in an especial manner, 
 to the Blessed Virgin 3Iary. What month is this, my dearly 
 l)eloved ? It is the month in the year when the Spring puts 
 forth all its life, and all the evidences of those hidden 
 powers that lie latent in this world of ours. You have all 
 seen the face of nature at Christmas time, diu-ing Lent, even 
 at Easter-time, this year : and, looking around you, it seemed 
 as if the earth was never to produce a green blade of grass 
 again. You looked upon the trees : no leaf gave evidence 
 there of life ; all was lifeless, all was ban-en, all was dried 
 up. And to a man who opened his eyes but yesterday, with- 
 out the experience of past years, and of past Summers, it 
 would seem as if it were impossible that this cold, and baiTcn, 
 and winter-stricken earth could ever burst again into the life, 
 Ihe verdure, the beauty, and the promise of Spring. But the 
 clouds rained down the rain of heaven : the sun shone forth 
 with the warmth of Spring ; and, suddenly, all nature is in- 
 stinct with life. Now the corn-fields sprout, and tell us that 
 in a few months the}" will teem with the abundance of the 
 harvest. Now, the meadow, dried up, and bmned, and 
 
THE MONTH OF MARY. 221 
 
 witliered, and yellow, and leafless, clotlies itself witli a green 
 mantle, robing hill and dale with the beauty of nature, and 
 refreshing the eye of man, and every beast of the field 
 that feeds thereon. Now the trees that seemed to be utterly 
 dried and sapless, — leafless and motionless, save so far as they 
 swayed sadly to and fro to every wintry blast that passed 
 over them, — are clothed with the fair young buds of Spring, 
 most delicate and delightful to the eye and to the heart of 
 man, promising in the little leaf of to-day the ample spread 
 and the deep shade of the thick Summer foliage that is to 
 come upon them. Now the birds of the air, silent during 
 the Winter months, begin theii' song. The lark rises on his 
 wing to the upper air ; and, as he rises, he pours out his song 
 in ether, until he fills the whole atmosphere with the thrill of 
 his delicious harmony. Now every bud expands, and every 
 leaf (jpens, and every spray of plant and tree sends forth its 
 Spring-song, hailing with joy the Summer j and all nature is 
 instinct wdth life. How beautiful is the harmony of our de- 
 votion and our worship : how delicate, how natural, how 
 beautiful the idea of our Holy Mother the Church, in select- 
 ing this month — this month of promise — this month of Spring 
 — this month of gladness — of serene sky and softened tem- 
 perature — this month opening the Summer, the glad time of 
 the year, and dedicating it to her who represents, indeed, in 
 the order of grace, the Spring-time of man's redemption ; 
 opening the Summer of the sunshine of God, the first sign of 
 the purest life that this earth was able to send forth under the 
 eyes of God and man ! Oh, how long and how sad was the 
 Winter ! — the w^inter of God's wrath — the winter of four 
 thousand years, during which the sunshine of God's favor was 
 shut out from this world by the thick clouds of man's sin 
 and of God's anger ! How sad was that Winter that seemed 
 never to be able to break into the genial Spring of God's 
 grace, and of His holy favor and virtue again ! No sunbeam 
 of divine truth illumined its darkness. No smile of divine 
 favor gladdened the face of the spiritual world for these four 
 thousand years. The earth seemed dead and accursed, in- 
 capable of bringing forth a single flower of promise, or send- 
 ing forth a single leaf of such beauty that it might be fit to 
 be culled by the loving hand of God. But, when the Sunt- 
 mer-time was about to come — when the thick clouds began 
 to part — the clouds of anger, the clouds of sin — the cloud of 
 
222 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 the CTirso was broken and rent asunder, and gave place to tlie 
 purer cloud of mercy and of grace, that bowed down from 
 heaven, overladen with the rain and dew of God's redemption. 
 Then the earth moved itself to life in the sunshine, and the 
 first flower of hope, the first fair thing that this earth produced 
 for four thousand years, in the breaking of winter, before the 
 Summer, in the promise of spring, was the Immaculate Lily, 
 the fairest flower that bloomed upon the root of Jesse, and in 
 its bloom sent forth pure leaves, so fragrant, that their sweet 
 odor penetrated heaven, and moved the desires of the Most 
 High God to enjoy them, according to the word of the 
 Prophet : '' Send forth flowers as the lily, and yield a sweet 
 odor, and put forth leaves unto grace.'' So bright in its 
 opening was this spiritual flower — the first flower of earth — 
 that even the eye of God, looking down upon it, could see 
 no speck or stain upon the whiteness of its unfolding leaves. 
 " Thou art all fair, my Beloved ! " He exclaimed, "and 
 there is no spot or stain upon thee." And this flower — this 
 Spring flower — this sacred plant — ^that was to rear its gentle 
 head, unfold its white leaves, and show its petals of purest 
 gold, was Mary, who was destined from all eternity to be 
 the mother of Jesus Christ. She was the earth's Spring, full 
 of promise, full of beauty, full of joy ; she was the earth's 
 Spring that was to be the herald of the coming Summer, and 
 of the full, unclouded light of God's own sun beaming upon 
 her. And, just as the little leaf that comes forth in the corn- 
 field to-day, holds in its tiny bosom the promise of a full ear 
 of wheat, bending its rich, autumnal head, the staff of life to 
 all men, so Mary's coming, from^ the beginning, was a herald 
 and a promise of His appearance upon the earth, — was the 
 announcement that that little plant was to grow and endure, 
 until it was to be crowded with the purity of God, and to 
 bring forth the bread of life, the manna of heaven, the 
 bread of angels, Jesus Christ, the world's Redeemer, the 
 Word made flesh. 
 
 How well, therefore, dearly beloved brethren, how well 
 does not this fair Spring month of May, this opening of the 
 Summer of the year, testify in nature what Mary was in the 
 order of grace. And, just as the Almighty God clothes this 
 month, in the order of nature, with every beauty, fills the 
 fields with fragrance, clothes the hillsides with the varied 
 garb of beauty that nature puts forth, — so tender, so fair in 
 
THE MONTH OF MART. 223 
 
 its early promise ;— so, also, the Almighty God clothed the 
 spiritual Spring of man's redemption, which was Maiy, in 
 every form of spiritual beauty, and robed her in eyery richest 
 garb of divine loveliness of which a creatme was capable; 
 so that every gift in God's hand that a human creature was 
 capable of rec^eiving, Mary received. For in her the word 
 of my text was to be fulfilled. It was a strange promise, 
 beloved ; a strange and a startling word that came from the 
 inspired lips of the Psalmist, as he said, speaking of His 
 chosen : " I have said, you are God's, and all of you the 
 sons of the Most High!" That word was never fulfilled 
 until the Son of the Most High became the son of a woman. 
 This was the meaning of St. Augustine, when he says: '^God 
 came down from heaven, in order that He might bring man 
 from earth to heaven, and make him even as God." Thus 
 it was that man, in the Child of Mary, united with God, 
 became the son of the Most High. Thus it was that, in 
 virtue of the union of the human and divine which took 
 place in Mary, we have all received, by the grace of adop- 
 tion, the faculty to become children of God. ''But to as 
 many as received Him," says St. John, " to them did He 
 give the power to be made the sons of God." And this was 
 the essential mission, the inherent idea of Christianity, — to 
 make men the sons of God ; to make you and me the sons of 
 God, by infusing into us the spirit of Jesus Christ, and 
 bringing forth, in our lives, and in our actions, and in our 
 thouo-lits, and in our inner souls, as well as in the outer man, 
 the graces and glorious gifts that Jesus Christ brought down 
 to our humanity in Mary's womb. 
 
 Never has tliis idea been lost to the Catholic Church. My 
 friends and brethren, you are living now in the midst of 
 strangers. You hear the ^\dldest theories propounded every 
 day, in philosophy, in science ; but in nothing are the theo- 
 ries or the vagaries of the human mind so strange as when 
 they take the form of religious speculation or religious doubt. 
 The notion prevalent among all men outside of the Catholic 
 Church, nowadays is, that man has within him, naturally, 
 without the action of God, without the action of Christ, the 
 seeds of the perfection of his life ; that, by his own etiorts, 
 and by his own study, and by what is called the spirit of 
 progress, a man may attain \o the perfection of his own 
 being without God, and become all that God intended him to 
 
f24 FA THE n BVBKE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 become. That notion is antagonistic to and destrnctive of 
 the very first vital principle of Christianity. The vital 
 principle of Christianity is this : the Son of God came down 
 from heaven and btcame man, and the child, the true child, 
 of a woman, in order that mankind, in Him and through Him, 
 might be able to clothe itself with His virtues, and so become 
 like to God. And in that likeness to God lies the whole 
 perfection of our being j and the end of Christianity is to 
 bring every sufficient agency to bear upon man ; to make 
 that man like to God ; to make him as the Son of God. " I 
 have said, ' Ye are God's, and all of you sons of the Most 
 High!'" 
 
 God is a God of truth. Man must be a man of truth in 
 order to be like to God. God possesses the tnith. He does 
 not seek for it. He has it. He does nof go groping, 
 sophisticating, and thinking, and arguing in order to come at 
 the trath. Truth is God Himself. And so, in like manner, 
 man, to be a child of God, must have the trath, and not look 
 for it. God is sanctity and purity in Himself. Man must 
 be holy and pure, in order to be made the son of God. He 
 must be free from sin, in order to be like to God, the Father. 
 He must have a power over his passions to restrain them, 
 to be pure in thought, in w^jrd, and in action, in soul and in 
 body, before he can be made like to the Son of God. And 
 that religion alone which has the truth and gives it; which 
 has grace and gives it ; which touches sin and destroys it ; 
 which enables the soul to conquer the body; which holds up 
 in her sanctuaries the types of that purity which is the high- 
 est reflection of the infinite purity of Jesus Christ ; — that 
 religion alone can be the true religion of God. Eveiy other 
 religion is a lie. But the world is unable to believe this. 
 Men compromise with their passions. Men go to a certain 
 extent in satisfying their evil inclinations. Men refuse 
 to accept the truth because the truth humbles them. 
 Hence the Protestant maxim : " Read the Bible, read the 
 Bible, and do not listen to any priest! These Catholics 
 are a priest-ridden people ! Whatever the priest says in 
 the Church is law with the Catholics." They refuse the 
 humility of this. They will not take the truth. They 
 must find it for themselves; and the man who seeks it, by 
 the very fact of seeking it, shows he is not the son of God. 
 I say this much because, my dear friends, I wish you to 
 
THE MONTH OF MARY. 225 
 
 guard against the wild, reckless spirit that is abroad in the 
 world to-day ; I wish to guard you in your fidelity to tlie 
 Church of God, your mother, in your fidelity to her teaching, 
 in your fidelity to lier Sacraments ; that word that she puts on 
 my lips and on those of such as 1 am — that sacramental grace 
 that she puts into the hands of the priest for you ; these are 
 the elements of your salvation ; tliese are the means by which 
 every one of you may become the chikl of God: and there 
 is no perfection, no scheme of perfection, no secret of success, 
 no plan of progress outside of this that is not an institution 
 of the eneni}^, '' a delusion, a mockery, and a snare." And 
 all this we get through Mary, because Mary was the chosen 
 instrument in the hands of God to give to Him that human 
 nature in which man was made even to the Son of God. 
 
 ]\Iary's coming upon the earth, therefore, was a Spring-time 
 of grace. Mary's appearance in this world was like the 
 morning star when, in the morning, after the darkness and 
 tempest of the night, the sailor, standing on the prow of the 
 ship, looks around to find the eastern point of the horizon, 
 and he sees, suddenly rising out of the eastern wave, a silver 
 star, beautiful in its pure beauty, trembling as if it were a 
 living thing. And he knows that there is the east, for this 
 is the morning star. He knows that precisely in that point, 
 in a few moments, the sun will rise in all his splendor ; and 
 he knows that that sun is coming, because the herald that 
 proclaims the sun has risen. The raoming star proclaims to 
 the wild wanderer on the deep,, in the eastern horizon, the 
 advent of the coming day. So with us, upon the wild and 
 angry waves of sin and of error, and of God's auger and curse. 
 Our poor humanity, shipwrecked in the garden of Eden ; our 
 poor humanity, without even the wreck left to us of the Sac- 
 rament of Penance; our poor humanity, groping in the 
 sacrifices and in the oblations of the world, for the love of 
 God, the Redeemer, the day-star whose light was to illumine 
 the darkness of the world ; — behcdd, suddenly, the Morning 
 Star rises, the pale, trembling, silver beauty of Mary ! Then 
 it was known that speedily, and in a few years, the world 
 would behcdd its Redeemer, and mankind would be saved in 
 the fulness of Mary's time. Therefore it is that she enters 
 so largely into the scheme and plan of redemption, that the 
 Almighty God willed that, even as the name of Jesus Christ 
 was to be made known to all men, was to be glorified of all 
 
226 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 men, was to "be proclaimed as the only name under heaven 
 by which man was to he saved ; so, also, side by side with 
 this purpose of God's declaration of the glory of His divine 
 Son, came the prophecy of ^Mary, from the same spirit, that, 
 wherever the name of Jesus Christ was heard and revered, 
 there, and to the ends of the earth, all generations were to 
 call her blessed. ''He that is mighty hath wrought great 
 things in me," she says: ''wherefore, behold, henceforth 
 all generations shall call me blessed." 
 
 And now, ni}^ friends, going back to the fountain-head of 
 om' Christianity, going back to the earliest traditions of the 
 Church of God, examining, with the light of human scrutiny, 
 her spirit, as manifested in the earliest ages of her being, in 
 the earliest documents she presents us with, does not every 
 man find that wherever the true religion of Christ was propa- 
 gated, wherever there was the genius and the instinct of faith 
 that adored Jesus Christ, there came the fellow-instinct and 
 genius that loved, and revered, and venerated, and honored 
 the woman who was His mother. If every other proof of this 
 was wanting, there is one proof — a most emphatic proof — and 
 it is this : that while the blessed Virgin Mary was yet living, 
 during the twelve years that elapsed before her assumption 
 into heaven, a religious Order was organized in the Catholic 
 Church, devoted to the veneration, and the love, and the 
 honor of the Blessed Virgin. A religious Order dating from 
 the early times of the prophets — a religious Order founded by 
 the sons^ of the prophets, under the Jewish dispensation, was 
 converted to Christianity, and at once banded itself together 
 and called itself "The Brethren of Our Lady of Mount 
 Carmel." No sooner was Our Lady assumed into heaven, 
 than these men spread themselves through Palestine and 
 through the East ; and the burden of their teaching and their 
 devotion was the glory of the Mother of God ; the woman 
 who brought forth the Man-God, Jesus Christ. No sooner 
 was the Gospel preached than the devotion to the Blessed 
 Virgin Mary spread with the rapidity of thought, of senti- 
 ment, and of love, through all distant parts j and when, five 
 hundred years later, a man rose up and denied that Mary was 
 the Mother of God, we read that when the Church assembled 
 at Ephesus, in General Council, the people came from all the 
 surrounding countries, and the great city of Ephesus was 
 overcrowded with the anxious people, all waiting for the 
 
THE MONTH OF MARY. 227 
 
 result of the deliberations, and all praying ; and when, at 
 last, the Council of the Holy Church of God put forth its 
 edict, declaring that 3Iary was the true ^Mother of God, we 
 read of the joy that came from the people's hearts, the cry of 
 delight that rang from their lips; the '' All Hail ! " that they 
 gave to you, Mother in Heaven, spread throughout the uni- 
 versal Church ; and, never, among the many conclusions of 
 her Councils, for eighteen hundred years, never did the h(jly 
 Catholic Church give greater joy to her children, than when 
 she proclaimed, in the fifth centmy, that Mary was the Mother 
 of God, and, in the nineteenth century, that Mary was con- 
 ceived without sin. 
 
 But as we are entering upon this May's devotions, I wish, 
 dearly beloved, to bring unto your notice this very devotion 
 of the Month of Mary as a wonderful instance of the rapidity 
 with which this devotion to the Mother of God spread 
 throughout the Catholic Church. 
 
 It was at the beginning of this present century that this 
 devotion of the Month of Mary sprang up in the Catholic 
 Church: and the circumstances of its origin are most wonderful. 
 Some seventy years ago, or thereabouts, a little child — a poor 
 little child scarcely come to the use of reason, — on a beautiful 
 evening in May, knelt down, and began to lisp with childish 
 voice the Litany of the Blessed Virgin before the image of 
 the Child in the anns of the Madonna, in one of the streets 
 in Rome. One little child in Rome, moved by an impulse 
 that we cannot account for — apparently a childish freak — 
 knelt down in the public streets and began saying the Litany 
 that he heard sung in the church. The next evening he was 
 there again at the same hour, and began singing his little 
 Litany again. Another little child, a little boy, on his 
 passage, stopped, and began singing the responses. The 
 next evening, three or four other children came, apparently 
 for amusement, and knelt before the same image of the 
 Blessed Virgin, and sang their Litany. After a time — 
 a few evenings — some phms women, the mothers of the chil- 
 dren, delighted to see the eai'ly piety of their sons and 
 daughters, came along with them, and knelt down, and 
 blended their voices in the Litany ; and the jjriest of a neighbor- 
 ing church, said : '* Come into the clnu'ch, and I will light a 
 few candles on the altar of the Blessed Virgin, and we will 
 all sing the Litany together." And so they went into the 
 
228 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 church ; they lighted up the candles, and knelt ; and there 
 they' sang the Litany. He spoke a few words to them of 
 the' Blessed Virgin, about her patience, about her love for her 
 Divine Sun, and about the dutiful veneration in which 
 she was held by her Son. From that horn* the devotion of 
 the month of May spread throughout the whole Catholic 
 world ; until, within a few years, wherever there was a 
 Catholic church, a Catholic altar, a Catholic priest, or a 
 Catholic to hear and respond to the Litany, the month of 
 May became the Month of Mary, the month of devo- 
 tion to the Blessed Virgin. Is not this wonderful! Is 
 not this perfectly astonishing? How naturally the idea 
 came home to the Catholic mind ! With what love it has 
 been kept up ! How congenial it was to the soil saturated 
 Tv^th the Di\nne grace through the intelligence, as illumined 
 by Divine knowledge and Divine faith ! Does it not re- 
 mind you of that wonderful passage in the Book of Kings, 
 where the prophet Elias went up into the mountain-top, 
 when for three years it had not rained on the land, and 
 the land was dried up ; and he went up on the solitary 
 summit of the mount, there to breathe a prayer to God to 
 send rain upon the land ? While he was praying, in a cave 
 in the I'ock, he told his sei'vant to stand upon the summit 
 of the mountain, and to watch all round, and to give him 
 notice wlien he saw a cloud. The seiwant watched, and 
 returned 'seven times: " And at the seventh time, behold a 
 
 little cloud arose out of the sea, like a man's foot 
 
 And while he turned himself this way and that way, be- 
 hold the heavens grew dark with clouds and wind, and 
 there fell a great rain." 
 
 The word, '^ Mary," means the sea — the Star of the Sea. 
 A few years ago, a cloud of devotion, no larger than the foot 
 of a little chihl, in Rome, was seen ; and while men looked 
 this way and that way, it spreads over the whole horizon of 
 the Church of God, and over the whole world; and then, 
 breaking in a rain of grace and intercession, it brings an 
 element of purity, and grace, and dignity, and every gift of 
 God to every Catholic soul throughout the world. Oh ! 
 when I think of the women that I have met in the dear old 
 land of Faith ! — the women oppressed from one cause or 
 from another ! — some with sickness in the house ; some with, 
 perhaps, a dissolute son ; some with a drunken husband ; 
 
THE MONTH OF MARY. 229 
 
 some with tlie fear of some great calamity, or of poverty, 
 coming upon tliem ; some apprehensive of bad news from 
 those that they hjve ; — how often have I seen them coming 
 to me in the 'month of May, just in the beginning, and, 
 briirhtening up, thank God, and say: '^The month is come ! 
 I know she in Heaven will pray for me, and that my prayers 
 will be heard ! " And I have seen them so often coming be- 
 fore the end of the month, to tell me with the light of joy in 
 their eyes, that the Mother heard their prayer, and that their 
 petitions were granted. Then was I reminded of tliat mys- 
 terious cloud that broke out in the heavens, and rained down 
 the saving rain. One have I before me — one whom I knew 
 and loved — a holy nun who, for more than fifty years, had 
 served God in angelic purity and in heroic sacrifice. For 
 seven months she was confined to a bed of pain and of 
 snffering that deepened into agony. And during those seven 
 months, her prayer to God was, \vhile suffering, to increase 
 those siiffei-ings ] — not to let her leave the world until one, 
 whom she loved dearly, and who was leading a bad and 
 reckless life, should be"^ converted unto God. Weeks passed 
 into months, and month followed month ; and most frequently 
 did I sit at the bedside of my holy friend. Month 
 followed month, for seven long, dreary months, and she 
 spent that time upon the cross, truly with Jesus Christ. 
 But when the first day of May came — the "Month of 
 Mary," — I came and knelt down by her bedside, to cheer 
 her \vith prayer and sjmipathy. She said to me : '^ I 
 feel that the month is come that will give me joy and relief. 
 It is Mary's month ; and it is the month when prayer grows 
 most powerful in Heaven, because it is the month in which 
 the Mother will especially hear our prayers." Before that 
 month was over, he for whom she prayed was converted to 
 God, with all the fei-vor of a true conversion ; and when the 
 month was drawing to a close, the sacrifice of pain an«l 
 suffering was accepted; and she who began the month in 
 soiTow, ended it with the joys of Jesus Christ and his Virgin 
 Mother. So it is, all the world over. His secret graces are 
 l)oured out at the instance of Mary's prayer. And even as 
 she was tlie Spring-time of grace upon earth, so is she, even 
 now in Heaven, by h(?r prayers for us, the Spring-time of 
 holy grace, obtaining for us the grace of repentance, the 
 "•race of prayer, the grace of tejuperance, the grace and 
 
230 FAIRER BURKES DISCOURSES. 
 
 power of self-restraint 5 — in a word, whatever grace we 
 demand, that, springing up in our souls, will produce to-day 
 the flower and leaf of promise — to-morrow, the fruit of 
 maturity — and for eternity, the reward of grace which is the 
 everlasting crown of God's glory. 
 
THE POSITION AND DIGNITY OF THE MOTHER 
 OF GOD. 
 
 [A Sermon delivered by Very Rev. T. N. BurTce, O.P., in the Church of 
 St. Vincent Ferrer, New York, May 2, 1872. ] 
 
 " And to the disciple Jesus said : Son, behold thy mother." 
 
 Deaelt Beloved : On last evening I endeavored to 
 descnbe to you tlie beautiful hannony and analogy between 
 the tilings of nature and the spiritual things of grace, so 
 admira))ly developed and illustrated in the dedication of the 
 month of May to the Blessed Vijrgin Mary j and I told you 
 then that on this evening I should endeavor to unfold to you 
 the place and the position which the mother of our divine 
 Lord holds in the plan of man's redemption. Now, there are 
 two great classes that occupy the world to-day, — two classes 
 of men, who differ in their apprehension of the design of God 
 as revealed in the redemption of man. The first are those 
 who say, or seem to say, that we did not stand in need of 
 redem})tion at all. They deny the fall of manj they deny 
 the inherent sinfulness of man ; — consequently, they deny 
 the necessity of the Incarnation of Almighty God. They 
 deny the necessity of the Sacraments, or their efficacy; and 
 they say that man's constitution is such, that, — within himself, 
 in the very elements of his nature, — by the mere development 
 of his natural powers, he may attain to all the purposes of 
 God, and to the full perfection of his being. 
 
 Such, for instance, is the doctrine of the wide-spread sect 
 of Socinians. Such, in a great measure, are the ideas of a 
 number of other sects; the Unitarians, the Humanitarians, 
 believers in human nature alone ; Progressists, men who 
 look to this world and to its scientific attainments, and to its 
 great developments as eflected by man, and reflected in the 
 spirit and in the intelligence of man, for all the perfection of 
 Innnanity and of society. This class takes in all those who re- 
 ject any definite form of religion at all j who put away from 
 
232 FATHFR BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 them all idea of the necessity of any fixed faith. This idea re- 
 presents the vast multitude of mankind, to be found every- 
 where, and nowhere more numerous than here, in this very land, 
 — the men who, with the most accurate ideas on business, on 
 commercial transactions, on law, on politics, are only found 
 to be following- an inaccurate comprehension ; careless, in- 
 definite, and not only ignorant of, but willing to be ignorant 
 of every specific form of defined faith, or belief in revelation 
 at all. The}^ do not give enough to God in theu' thoughts, 
 in their minds, in the acknowledgments of their souls upon 
 this question of man's redemption. 
 
 There are, on the other band, a vast number who profess 
 Christianity, who, if you will, give too much to God in this 
 matter of redemption ; who say that when the Son of God 
 became man. He effected the redemption of mankind so com- 
 pletely, — that He wiped away the world's sin so utterly, — 
 that all we have to do is to lean upon Him, to govern our- 
 selves by faith, together with His justification, His merits ; 
 and that, without any concurrent labor of our own, without 
 any work on our part, but only the easy operation of ^^ believ- 
 ing in Christ/' as they put it — that we can be saved. Hence 
 we hear so much about justification by faith, and we hear so 
 much ribald abuse of the Catholic Sacraments, of fasting, of 
 the Holy Mass, of all the exterior usages and sacramental 
 appliances of the Holy Catholic Church ; all mocked at, all 
 derided as contrary to the spirit of true religion, which simply 
 is, according to them, to believe with all your soiil in Jesus 
 Christ, in His redemption, in His atonement, — and all your sins 
 are cleansed ! A man may have a thousand deeds of murder 
 upon his soul : a man may have loaded himself with every 
 most hideous forai of impurity j a man may have injm'ed his 
 neighbor on the right hand and on the left, and may have 
 enriched himself upon the spoils of his dishonesty — there is no 
 law either of the relations of God to man, or of man to his 
 fellow-man ; but onty '4)elieve in God and you are saved!" 
 
 Hence, we hear of so many who go out to ''camp-meetings" 
 and ''prayer-meetings," and there work themselves into a 
 state of excitement, and say, " Oh, I have found the Lord 
 Jesus ! I have found him ! " There is no more question 
 about that ; they are confirmed ; they are " the elect ;" they 
 are the "perfect;" they are the "regenerated;" and there is 
 an end to all their previous sins. They need not shed a tear 
 
THE DIG XI TV OF THE MOTHER OF GOD. 233 
 
 of soiTow ; l»nt only l»elievc in tlie Lord. Tliey need not 
 make an act of contrition, they need not mortify their bodies, 
 but only believe in the Lord. It is a smooth and a very easy, 
 a remarkably easy, doctrine ; and, if it only led to Heaven, it 
 Avould be, indeed, a sweet and an easy way, by which Me 
 could enjoy ourselves here as long as we liked, in the in- 
 dulgence of every vile passion; and afterwards turn and '^lean 
 upon the Lord," and thus get into Heaven. 
 
 Between these two extremes, — the extreme of unbelief, 
 and the mistaken view and zeal of what appears to be an 
 over-feixent faith, but which in reality is not faith at all, — be- 
 cause faith means the apprehension of the truth, and not a dis- 
 torted view of this text or that of Scripture ; — between these 
 two extremes stan(}s the Holy Catholic Church of God ; and 
 she tells us as against the first class, — the " Humanitarians," — 
 that we are a fallen race ; that sin is in our blood ; that sin 
 is in our nature ; that that nature is deformed, disfigured by 
 sin ; that the very fountain-head of our humanity was cor- 
 rupted in Adam ; and just as, if you disturb the fountain-head 
 of the stream, — if you poison it, — the whole current that 
 ilows from is muddy and disturbed, or poisonous; so the 
 \\ hole stream of our humanity that flows from the sin of Adam 
 is tainted and disfigured and poisoned by sin ; consequently 
 that we stood in need of a Redeemer, who would atone for 
 our sins, and would, by sacrificing Himself, and making Him- 
 self a victim, wipe away the sin of mankind. 
 
 On the other hand, the Holy Catholic Church teaches us, 
 as against the second class, that two wills, two actions are 
 necessary for man's salvation ; namely, the w'ill of God 
 and the will of the man who is to be saved ; that w'e 
 must unite our will with God, and determine to be 
 saved ; otherwise that the will of God, which is never wanting, 
 will not alone avail for the sanctification or the salvation of 
 any man. That we must not only, with God, will our sal 
 vation, but that we must work with God in the work of our 
 salvation, according to the words of St. Paul : " Li fear and 
 trembling we must work out our salvation." That althouo-h 
 the gift of salvation comes from God, and is His, yet that He 
 will not give it exce})t to the man who strains himself to lay ' 
 hold of it, according to that other word of the Apostle : ''Lay 
 hold of eternal life." God is amply sufiicient to save us ; 
 God is willing to save us. We can only be saved by His 
 
234 FA THEE B URKE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 graces. But if we do not lay 4iold of tliese graces, and cor- 
 respond with them, there is no salvation for us. Just as if 
 you saw a man who had fallen into the sea, and you threw 
 him a rope, by which, if he lay hohi of it, you can take him 
 into yom' boat, or draw him on to the land ; — you are willing to 
 save him 5 you are anxious to save him ; you have actually put 
 into his hands the means by which he may be saved j but if 
 he refuses to lay hold of that means of salvation, if he refuses 
 the gift of life that you offer him, you cannot force him ; and 
 so he is lost by his own fault. 
 
 Now, as it requires, for the salvation of every man among 
 us, two wills, two distinct actions, — the will and the action of 
 God, our will and our action corresponding with His, — so also, 
 in the Redemption, two things were necessary in order that 
 man might be saved. First of all, it was necessary to find 
 some victim whose very act was of such infinite value in the 
 sight of God, that he might be available for the salvation of 
 mankind, and capable of atoning to God's infinite honor and 
 glory, which w^as outraged by sin. A victim must be found 
 whose very act is of infi.nite value. And why ? Because the 
 atonement which he comes to make is infinite ; because no 
 creatm'e of God, acting as a creature, with finite merit and 
 power, and the circumscribed action of a creature, could ever 
 atone to Almighty God for sin, which is an infinite evil. 
 The first thing, therefore, that is necessary is an infinite 
 power of atonement, an infinite power of merit in the \'ictim 
 for man's sin. The second thing that is necessary for 
 redemption is a willingness and capability on the part of the 
 atoner to suffer, and by his sufferings, and by his saciifices, 
 and by his atonement, to wash away the sin. Where shall 
 this victim — of infinite merit, yet a victim, — be found ! If 
 we demand the first condition — namely, the power of restor- 
 ing to God that infinite honor and glory wliich was outraged 
 by sin j if we demand this, we may seek in vain throughout 
 all the ranks of God's creatures; we may mount to the 
 heaven of heavens, and seek throughout the choirs of God's 
 holy angels ; we shall never find him, because such a one is 
 seated upon the throne of God Himself. God alone is infin- 
 ite in His sanctity, in His graces; and, if He will consent to 
 be a victim, in His power of atonement, God alone can do 
 it. Man could place the cause there, — man could commit 
 the sin J the hand of God alone can take that sin 'away by 
 
THE DIGNITY OF THE MOTHER OF GOD. 235 
 
 atonement. And yet, strange to say, dearly beloved brethren, 
 God alone cannot do it ; becanse God alone cannot furnish 
 us with the second privilege of the atoner, — namely, the 
 character of a victim. How can God suffer? How can God 
 be moved ? How can God bleed and die ! He is happiness, 
 glory, honor, and greatness itself; how can He be humbled 
 who is above all things — infinitely glorious in His owti 
 essence? How can He be grieved who is the essential 
 hap})iness of Heaven! He must come down from Heaven, 
 and He must take a nature capable of suffering and pain and 
 of the shedding of blood : He must take a nature capable of 
 being abused and crashed and victimized, or else the world 
 can never find its Redeemer. Yet He must take that nature 
 so that every thing that He does as a victim, and every thing 
 that He suffers as a victim, in that nature, must be attributed 
 to God. It must be the action of God ; it must be the 
 suff'ering of God, or else it never can be endowed with 
 the infinite value which is necessary for the atonement of 
 man's sin. 
 
 Behold, then, the two great things that we must find, that 
 God found in the plan of His redemption. God furnished 
 one; the earth fm'uished the other. God furnished the 
 infinite merit, the infinite grace, the infinite value of the 
 atonement in His own divine and uncreated Word, the Second 
 Person of the Holy Trinity ; but when it was a question of 
 finding a victim — of finding a nature in which this Word 
 should operate, in finding the nature in which this Word was 
 to be grieved, and to be bruised, and to bleed, and to weep, 
 and to pray for man, — God was obliged to look down from 
 Heaven and find that nature upon the earth. 
 
 Therefore, my dearly beloved brethren. Heaven and Earth 
 united in producing Jesus Christ ; and it is as necessary for us 
 to believe in the reality of the divinity that, coming down from 
 Heaven, dwelt in Him, as it is for us to believe in the reality 
 of the humanity Avhich was assumed and absorbed by Him 
 into His Divine person. A man may exalt the divinity at 
 the expense of the humanity, and may say : '^ He was divine, 
 this man, Jesus Christ ; but remember He Avas not a true 
 man ; He only took a human body for a certain purpose ; and 
 then, casting it from Him, went up into the high heaven of 
 God." Tlie man who says this is not a Christian ; because 
 he does not believe in the reality of the human nature of 
 
036 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 Jesus Christ. Heretics have said tliis : and the Church cut 
 them off with an anathema. Or we may exalt His humanity 
 at the expense of His divinity, and say : "He was a true 
 man, but lie was not united to God by personal union ; 
 He was not a divine person but a human pers<ni : He was a 
 true man, this man who was crucified for our sins — true and 
 holy and perfect, — but not God." Heretics have said this, 
 and say it to-day. Even Mahomet acknowledged that the 
 Lord Jesus Christ was the most perfect of men, but He was 
 not God. The man who says this is ni^t a Christian ; be- 
 cause he does not believe in the Divinity of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Now, I think that, from wliat I have said, you must at 
 once conclude that, in the plan of man's redemption, the 
 di\dnity was as necessary as the humanity ; that the human- 
 ity was as necessary as the divinity : that the world could 
 never be redeemed without the divinity; that man alone 
 C(juld not do it : that the world could never be redeemed 
 without the humanity 5 for God alone could never suffer. 
 What follows fnjm all this f It follows, my dearly beloved, 
 in logic and in truth, that, for the world's redemption, Mary 
 on earth was as necessary as the Eternal Father in heaven. 
 That in the decrees and councils of God — in the plan of 
 God, — the Mother of His humanity was as necessary as the 
 Father of His divinity ; and that she rises at once, in the 
 designs of God, to the magnificent part that was assigned to 
 her in the plan of redemption, namely : that the world could 
 not be redeemed without her, because she gave the human 
 nature of" Jesus Christ, without which there was no redemp- 
 tion for man. Who died upon the Cross? The Son of God. 
 Whose hands were these that were nailed to that hard wood ? 
 The hands of the Son of God. What person is this that I 
 behold, all covered ^ith wounds, and bleeding and crowned 
 with thorns ? Who is this sorrow-stricken person f That is the 
 Second Person of the adorable Trinity ; the same God, begot- 
 ten in Him, consubstantial to the Father, who was from the 
 beginning, and by whom all things were made. And, if this 
 be the Son of God, what right has that woman to look up to 
 Him with a mothei-'s eyes ? What right have these dying lips 
 to address her as mother ? Ah ! because, dearly beloved, He 
 was as truly the Son of Mary as He was the Son of God. 
 
 And now, as I wish to take my o\\ti time, and to enter 
 fully into all these things in successive meditations, let me 
 
THE DiaXITY OF THE MOTHER OF GOD. 237 
 
 conclude \\\i\\ only one remark. Since I came to the use of 
 reason, and learned my catecliism, and mastered the idea 
 tliat was tano-lit me of liovv God in heaven planned and 
 designed the redem})tion of mankind, — the greatest pnzzle 
 in my life — a thing that I never could understand — has been, 
 how any one, believing what I have said, could refuse their 
 veneration, their honor, and their love to the Blessed Virgin, 
 Mother of Jesus Christ. For it seems to me that nothing is 
 more natural to the heart of man than to be grateful ; and 
 that in proportion to the gift which is received from any one, 
 ill the same proportion do we find our hearts springing with 
 gratitude within us, and a strange craving, a strange, 
 dissatisfied feeling to find out how we can express that 
 gratitude that we feel. And is this a sacred feeling ? Most 
 sacred 5 natural, but most sacred. We find in the Scriptures 
 the loud tone of praise, honor, and veneration, and the 
 gratitude which the inspired writers poured forth towards 
 those who were great benefactors of mankind, and espe- 
 cially to the women of the Old Testament. How loud, for 
 instance, are the praises the Scriptures give to the daugh- 
 ter of Jephtha, because she sacrificed herself, accord- 
 ing to her father's vow, for the people. How loud the 
 praises which celebrated the glorious w<mian, Deborah, 
 who, in the day of distress and danger, headed the army of 
 Israel, drew the sword, and the Scriptures say that all the 
 peoi)le praised her for evemiore, and they sang, ^' Blessed 
 be God, because a mother has arisen in Israel." How loud 
 are the praises of Esther, of whom the Scriptures tell us that 
 the Jews celebrated an annual festival in her honor, be- 
 cause she interceded with the King Ahasueiiis, and saved 
 the people from destruction. How loud the praises of 
 Judith, who, coming forth from the city upon the rocky sum- 
 mit of the mountain, with her womanly hand slew the enemy 
 of Israel and of Israel's God, Holoferues ; and, returning in 
 triumpli, the ancients of the citv came forth and cried out, 
 " Blessed be the Lord God of Israel ; and thou — thou art the 
 glory of Jerusalem : thou art the joy of Israel; thou art the 
 honor of our people." And yet, what did Deborah, or Es- 
 ther, or Judith — what <]id any of these, or any other man 
 or woman on the, face of the earth, do for us comj)ared with 
 what Mary did? Judith cut off the head of Ht)lofernes : 
 Mary set her heel on the head of the serpent that was the 
 
238 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 destruction of onr race. Esther pleaded for the people he- 
 fore the Assyrian monarch, and saved them from temporal 
 rnin : Mary pleaded, and pleads, to the King of kings, to the 
 King of Heaven, and saves the people from destruction. 
 Jephtha's daughter gave her life : Mary brought down '' the 
 Life." indeed, "from Heaven, and gave it to us. Yet, strange 
 to say, those who are constantly talking about '^ the Bible j 
 the open Bible ; the Bi))le free to every man ; " those who 
 call themselves Bible men 5 those in whose oily mouths this 
 Bible is always, — every text of it coming forth as if you 
 taught a paiTot in its cage to recite it, — understanding it as 
 much as the bu'd would ; these are the very people who tell 
 us that we may join with the Jews of old in the praises of 
 Esther and of Deborah ; we may ciy out in tones of admiration 
 for Mary, the sister of Moses, or for Rachel 5 but we must 
 not say a word to express our gratitude, our love, our vener- 
 ation, and our honor for the woman, the woman amongst 
 women, the spiiitual mother of all our race, because her child 
 was our first-born brother ; the woman that gave us Jesus 
 Christ ; the woman that gave to Him the blood that flowed 
 from His veins upon Calvary, and saved the world ! For this 
 woman no word, save a word of reproach, an echo of the 
 hisses of hell, an eclio of the sibilation of the infernal ser- 
 pent that was crushed by God ! Clirist honored her ; yet we 
 must not unite with Him in her honor ! Christ obeyed her ; 
 yet we must not unite with Him in obeying her ! Christ 
 loved her ; yet we must not let one emotion of love for her 
 into our hearts. 
 
 AYlio are the men that say this 1 I have heard words 
 from their lips which they would not permit any man to say 
 of their own mothers ; and yet they had the infernal hardi- 
 hood to say these words of the Mother of Jesus Christ, of the 
 Mother of the Son of God ! 
 
 And, now, my friends, I believe we can in nowise better 
 employ this month of May, and its devotions, than in making 
 reparation to our Lord and Sa^dour, and to His holy Mother, 
 for the insults that fall upon Him when tliey are put upon 
 her. The deepest insult that you could offer to any man 
 would be to insult his mother ; and the more perfect the 
 child is, and the more loving, the more keenly will lie feel 
 that insult. He, with His dying lips, provided for Mary, 
 His Mother, a second son, the purest and the most loving 
 
THE niGXITY OF THE MOTHER OF GOD. 239 
 
 amono'st men. It ^liows how He thought of her at His last 
 moments li^>^' ^^^e was the dearest object that He left upon 
 this earth. And that which is dear to the heart of Jesus 
 Christ should always he dear to your hearts and minds. 
 Next to the love, eternal, infinite, essential, that bound Him 
 in His divinity to His eternal Father, — next to that in 
 strength, in intensity, in tenderness, was the love that hound 
 Him to the Mother who came into closest relations with Him. 
 And, Lord Jesus Christ ! teach us to love what Thou 
 lovedst, and so revere and honor that which Thou didst 
 condescend to honor. 
 
MARY, THE IMMACULATE MOTHER QF GOD. 
 
 I A Sermon delivered by Very Rev. T. N. Burke, O.P., in the Church of 
 St. Vincent Ferrer, New YorJc, May 'S, 1872.] 
 
 ^' Thou art all fair, O my beloved, and there is no spot or slightest 
 stain in thee." 
 
 These words, beloved brethren, are found in the Canticles 
 of Solomon ; and the Holy Catholic Churcli applies them 
 to tlie soul and body of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In the 
 Scriptures, the King addresses his spouse by these words. 
 The King represents no other than the Almighty God. And, 
 surely, if, among all the daughters of men, we ask ourselves, 
 who \vas the spouse of Almighty God ? we must immediately 
 answer, the Virgin Mother who brought forth the eternal 
 God made man. -Wherever, therefore, the Scriptures and 
 the inspired writings of the Old Law speak words of love, 
 and denote attributes belonging to a spouse, these are directly 
 applicable to the Blessed Virgin Mary. 
 
 Now, among the many gifts and graces which the Prophet 
 beheld in her, — and upon which he congratulates her, — are 
 these ; he tells us that he saw her " at the King's right hand, 
 in golden garb, siuTounded with variety;" that every thing 
 of beauty and loveliness was upon her ; but, in addition to 
 this, he tells us that a vision of such perfect purity, such per- 
 fect immaculateness rose before his eyes, that, filled with the 
 Holy Ghost and the joy of God, he exclaimed : ^' Thou art 
 all fair, my beloved! and there is no spot or slightest stain 
 in thee." Behold, then, dearly beloved, the first great grace 
 that the Virgin of vu'gins received at the first moment of her 
 existence. 
 
 When we reflect upon the relationship which the Incar- 
 nation of our Divine Lord established between the Blessed 
 Virgin Mary and the Almighty God — namely, that she 
 should be the Mother of God, — that He, taking His sacred 
 humanity from her, should be united to her, so as to be 
 the flesh of her flesh, and the bone of her bone ; — that He 
 
THE IMMACULATE MOTHER OF GOD. 241 
 
 was to be altogether hers, as the child belongs to the mother 
 at birth, — and in this new relation of His humanity He was 
 not to suffer the slightest diminution of the infinite sanctity 
 which belonged to Him as God ; — when we reflect upon all 
 this, and see the awful proximity in which a creature is 
 brouglit to Almighty God in this mystery of man's redemp- 
 tion^ — the very first thought that strikes the mind is, that 
 God must have forfeited something of His holiness, or else 
 the creature that He selected for His mother must have been 
 all pure, all holy, and, so, fit to be the Mother of God ; — 
 either God must have forfeited some of His holiness, coming 
 to one personally a sinner, taking tainted blood, — the natm*e 
 that belonged to us that He took in her, and which was a 
 broken, a disfigured, and a deformed nature, tainted with 
 sin, and steeped, if you will, in sin; — for what, after all, is 
 the record of man's history but a record of sin ?-^r, else, 
 Mary must have been sinless. 
 
 But, if the Almighty God took that nature from one who 
 bore in her own blood the personal taint of the universal sin, 
 we must conclude that He thereby compromised His own 
 infinite holiness ; — ^nay, that He did more than this ; that He 
 contradicted His own word : for the word of God is, that 
 nothing defiled, nothing tainted shall come near to Almighty 
 God. The soul that departs from this world with the slight- 
 est taint of sin on it must pay to the last farthing, and purge 
 itself into perfect purity before it can catch a glimpse of God 
 in heaven. And if this immaculateness and purity be neces- 
 sary in order even to behold God, think of the purity, think 
 of the immaculateness that must have been necessary to 
 Mary, in order to fit her not only to behold God, but to take 
 Him into her bosom; to give Him the very human life 
 that He lived ; to give Him the very nature that He took 
 and united to Himself in the unity of His own divine 
 person ; — to give him that humanity that He literally made 
 Himself! 
 
 What infinite puiity, what perfect innocence and immacu- 
 lateness did these involve : unless, indeed, we are willing to 
 conclude that tlie Almighty God came into personal contact 
 with a sinner, and so allowed something not undefiled to 
 come into contact with Him. But no ; the mystery which 
 brought so much suffering, so much humiliation, so much sad- 
 ness and sorrow to the eternal Son of God, brought to Him 
 
 11 
 
242 FATHEB BUBKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 no compromise "\\itli sin ; brought to Him no defilement of 
 His own infinite sanctity ; did not in the least lower Him 
 from that standard of infinite holiness which is His essence 
 and nature as God. And, therefore, it was necessary that, 
 coming to redeem a sinful race, the individual of that race 
 froni whom He took His most sacred humanity should be 
 perfectly pure and immaculate. 
 
 ;More than this, we know that the Almighty God never 
 yet called any creatm'e to any dignity or to any office with- 
 out bestowing upon that creature graces commensurate with 
 the greatness, the magnificence, and the duties which He 
 imposed upon him. Hence it is that we find when He was 
 about to create the Prophet Jeremiah, — when He was about 
 to make him a prophet, to put His divine inspiration into his 
 mind ; — when He was about to send this man to announce His 
 vengeance to the people 5 — the Scriptures expressly tell us 
 that He sanctified that man in his mother's womb, before he 
 was bom, and that the infant prophet came into this world 
 without the slightest taint of sin. Hear the words of Scrip- 
 ture : — " The word of the Lord came to me, saying : Before 
 I formed thee in thy mother's womb, I knew thee ; and 
 before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, 
 and made thee a prophet unto the nations." So, in like 
 manner, wdien the Almighty God created the man who was 
 to arrive at the highest dignity of the prophets — namely, not 
 onl}^ to proclaim the coming .of God, but to point out God 
 amongst men in the person of our Saviour, — John the Bap- 
 tist, created for the .high and holy purpose, — created to be 
 amongst men what Gabriel, the Archangel, w^as to Mary, — 
 namely, the revealer of the Divine counsels, — God sanctified 
 him in his mother's w^omb ; and John the Baptist was born 
 without sin. 
 
 If the Almighty God sanctifies a man before his birth, 
 anticipates the sacramental regeneration of circumcision, 
 sanctifies him before the sacrament, as in the case of Jeremiah 
 and John the Baptist, simply because that man was called 
 to the ofiice of proclaiming the word of God, surely there must 
 have been some distinctive sanctity, some especial grace in- 
 reserve for Mary, as much higher than the grace of the 
 Prophet or of the prevision of the Baptist, as Mary's office 
 transcends theirs. Jeremiah had but to announce the Word 
 of God revealed to him : Mary it was who was to bring forth 
 
THE IMMACULATE MOTHER OF GOD. 243 
 
 the Word of God incarnate in her immacnlate womb. John 
 the Baptist was to point Him ont and say, '^ Behold the Lamb 
 of God : " Mary was to h(dd Him in her arms and say to the 
 worhi, "This Lamb of God, who is to save all mankind, is 
 my Son." And, therefore, it is that, — as her office exceeded 
 that of prophet, preacher, and precnrsor, as her dignity so far 
 transcended any thing that heaven and earth could ever know 
 or imagine in a creature, — so the Almighty God reserved her 
 alone among all that He created upon this earth, that she 
 should be conceived, as well as boni, without sin : — that the 
 stream of sin which touched ns all, and in its touch defiled 
 us, should never come near nor soil the immaculate Mary ; — 
 that the sin, which mixed itself up in our blood in Adam, 
 and. upon the stream of that blood, found its way into the 
 heart, into the veins, of every child of this earth, could never 
 flow in the immaculate veins that furnished to Jesus Christ 
 the blood in which He washed away the world's sin. There- 
 fore, the Almighty God for this took thought and forethought 
 from all eternity. " The Lord possessed me," says the 
 Scripture, '^ in the beginning of His ways, before He made 
 any thing from the beginning." That is to say, in the divine 
 and eternal counsels of Almighty God, Mary arose in all the 
 splendor, in all the immaculate whiteness of her sanctity and 
 purity, the first, the grandest, and the greatest of all the 
 designs of the eternal wisdom of God ; because in her was 
 to be accomplished the mystery of mysteries, the mystery that 
 was hidden from ages with Christ in God, — namely, the 
 Incarnation of the Eternal Word. 
 
 Thus did the Prophet behold her, as she shone forth in 
 the eternal counsels of God, when he looked up in that 
 inspired moment at Patmos, and saw the heavens opened 
 and all the glories of God revealed, there in the midst of 
 the choirs of God's angels, there in the full blaze and efi'ul- 
 gence of the light descending from the Father of Light; and 
 he exclaimed : " I beheld, and lo ! a great sign appeared in 
 Heaven; a Woman clothed with the sun, and the moon 
 beneath her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars." 
 Who was this woman ? ^Lirk what follows, and you will 
 know for yourselves. " And she brought forth a man-child, 
 who was to rule all nations with an iron rod ; and her son 
 was taken up to God and to His throne." Who can she 
 be but the woman that brought forth the man-child, Jesus 
 
244 FA THEB B UBKE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 Christ, the Son of God ? Thus did the Prophet behold her, 
 the sign of promise, of victory, and of glory. And how 
 significant are the mysterious words that follow : — " And 
 the Serpent cast out of his mouth, after the Woman, water, 
 as it were a river, that he might cause her to be carried 
 away by the river. And the earth helped the Woman ; and 
 the Earth opened her mouth and swallowed up the river 
 which the Dragon cast out of his mouth.'' The earth, 
 indeed, swallowed up those fatal waters ; the whole world 
 was saturated with them ; but they never touched the 
 Woman : and we behold in this the mystery of the Immaculate 
 Conception, for I can call it nothing else than a mystery of 
 divine grace, which is a triple triumph, namely, the triumph 
 of God, the triumph of human natui'e, and Mar^^'s own 
 triumph and glory. 
 
 Consider these things, my friends. First of all, let us 
 consider God's triumph in Mary. Recollect, dearly beloved, 
 the circumstances that attended the fall and the sin of man. 
 God made as in a perfect nature j — |:)erfect in its organization, 
 perfect in its beautiful harmony, perfect in its origin, perfect 
 in its eternal destiny, perfect in the freedom and the glory 
 with which He crowned the unfallen man. '^ Thou hast 
 made him little less than the angels ; thou hast crowned him 
 with honor and glory.'' Then came sin into this world, and 
 spoiled the beautiful work of God. All the fairest work of 
 God was destroyed by Adam's sin. The integrity of our 
 nature was injured. The harmony of creation was disturbed. 
 Bad passions and evil inclinations were let loose j and the 
 soul with its spiritual aspirations, its pure love and unshackled 
 freedom, became their slave. But although the devil 
 triumphed over God, in thus breaking, destroying, defiling, 
 and spoiling God's work in man, yet his triumph was not 
 perfect. God wished still to vindicate Himself. God would 
 not give His enem^^ a total and entire triumph over Him, in 
 the destruction and spoiling of His work. God set Mary 
 aside and said : " For her, let there be no sin ; for her, no 
 soiling influence ; for ber, no taint." He took her, in His 
 eternal designs, into the bosom of His own infinite sanctity 
 and omnipotent power ; and, while all our nature was 
 destroyed, in her it retained its original purity, integrity, and 
 beauty, in the one soul and body of the Blessed Virgin 
 Maiy. 
 
THE IMMACULATE MOTHER OF GOD, 245 
 
 Thus we see God's triumph. And here it is worthy of 
 remark, dearly beloved, that, although in Scripture we often 
 read of God's desig-ns being frustrate*!, of God's work being 
 overturned and spoiled by sin or some evil agency j — yet it 
 is never totally spoiled. God never gives a complete triumph 
 to His enemy.* Thus, for instance, in the beginning, at the 
 time of the Deluge, all mankind were steeped in sin j and 
 God, looking down from Heaven, said : " I am sony that I 
 created this race ) for My spirit is no longer among them." 
 Yet, even then, did the Almighty God reserve to Himself 
 Noah and his children; and, out of the whole race of 
 mankind these were saved in purity and sanctity, that God 
 might not be utterly conquered by the devil. Again, when 
 the Almighty God prepared to rain down fire upon Sodom, 
 He could not find ten holy men in the land. And yet, in 
 the universal coriTiption, Lot and his family were saved. 
 They were holy, where all else was unholy, and they pre- 
 served God in their hearts. Again, when the tribe of Benjamin 
 was destroyed from among the other tribes of Israel, a few 
 were saved, that God's work might not be utterly destroyed. 
 And so the Prophet, speaking of the Jewish people, says : " If 
 tjie Children of Israel were as the sands of the sea, yet a rem- 
 nant shall be saved." Thus it is that we find, invariably, that 
 the Almighty God allows, in His wisdom and in His ven- 
 geance, the devil to go to a certain point, and to revel in 
 destiTLction so far ; but yet, suddenly He stays him : God 
 stretches out His hand and says : ''Thus far shaJt thou go, 
 and no farther." 
 
 This ought to be a good lesson to us in our day. True, 
 it seems to us, in this our day, that this devil of pride, this 
 devil of infidelity, this devil of revoluti(m, this devil of self- 
 assertion, is let loose-among the nations, to play riot with the 
 Church of God, to strike the crown from oflf the Pontitt'^s 
 head, to pervert the ancient, faithful nation which has upheld 
 him for centuries, and make it the bitterest enemy of the 
 Church, and to deprive the Head of the Church, for the time, 
 of power. To-day, this devil rims riot in the world, shut- 
 ting up Catholic churches, expelling Jesuits, tainting the 
 fountains of education, h)osening the sacred bonds of mar- 
 riage and of society, blaspheming Christ in the Eucharist, 
 persecuting His priests and bishops and representatives upon 
 eailh. But we know that, at some moment or other, and 
 
246 FATHER BURKES DISCOURSES. 
 
 when we least expect it, — perhaps right in the mid career of 
 its apparent ghory, — the terrible, invisible hand will be put 
 forth, and a voice will be heard : " No more — back ! So 
 far in My vengeance, and so far even in My mercy, I 
 have allowed yon. Back ! Let there be peace." So the 
 Aliniglity God triumphed even in the fall of Adam, which 
 brought death into the world, polluted our blood, stirred up 
 tlie passions, destroyed the equilibrium and hannony of 
 human nature, and caused the very beasts of the forest to 
 assume the savageness that they have to this day. All 
 nature was tainted except that of Mary. Her the hand of the 
 Omnipotent Lord held high above all attacks and attempts 
 of her enemies : and in Mary God has triumphed, in that, in 
 her His glory has been preserved, she never having been 
 tainted with or spoiled by sin. 
 
 It is, also, the triumph of our nature, my friends. If Mary 
 had not been conceived without sin, we might have been 
 redeemed, we might have saved our souls, as we hope to do 
 now J we might have gone np into the glory of Heaven;, 
 but a perfect human being we never could have seen. 
 Heaven would be a congregation of penitents if Mary were 
 not there : tears upon their faces ; but no tears upon thine, 
 O Immaculate Mother ! the blood of Christ upon the hand^ 
 of all J but no blood of thy divine Son upon thy immaculate 
 hands, Mary ! The unfallen man would have been 
 a thing of the past. Even in Heaven, the representative of 
 what God had made in Adam would be wanting if Mary 
 were not there. And, therefore, our nature has triumphed in 
 her. We may all look up to her in Heaven 5 we may all con- 
 template her ; and we may glorify our humanity in Mary 
 without the slightest fear of pride or blasphemy against God, 
 because the humanity that is in Mary, being conceived with- 
 out sin, is worthy of all honor and of all glory. 
 
 I will not compare her in her Immaculate Conception with 
 sinners} I will compare her with the Saints, and behold 
 how she towers above them. All sanctity, — whether it be 
 wrought out by years of penance, by fasting and mortifica- 
 tion, by laborious efforts for the conversion of souls, by 
 ntter consecration and sacrifice to G(jd, by martyrdom, by 
 any form of sanctity, — attains to but one thing 5 and that 
 is perfect sinlessness and perfect purity of soul. Perfect 
 sinlessness and perfect purity of soul mean perfect union 
 
THE IMMACULATE MOTHER OF GOD. 2A7 
 
 by the highest form of divine love with Almighty God. 
 God so loves us, dearly beloved, that He wishes to have us 
 all together united to Him by that intimate union of the 
 strongest and most ardent love. How is it that that 
 union is not effected ? Because of some little imperfection, 
 some little sinfulness, some little crookedness in oiu' souls, 
 which keeps us from that perfect union of love with 
 God. Now, the aim of all the Saints is" to attain to that 
 ai'dent and perfect union with God, by pm'ging from their 
 souls, from their bodies, from their affections, and from their 
 senses, eveiy vestige or inclination or even temptation to sin. 
 When they have attained to that, God crowns their sinless- 
 ness with a perfect union of love ; and they have attained to 
 the acme or summit of their desires. It is here — precisely 
 where all the Saints have ended — ^here, precisely where all 
 the Saints, tired and fatigued with the labors of their upward 
 journey, knelt down in blessed rest, on the summit of Chris- 
 tian perfection — that Mary's sanctity begins ; for, in her Im- 
 maculate Conception, she was conceived without sin. No 
 thought, or shadow of thought "to sin allied," was ever 
 allowed to fall upon the pure sunshine of her soul. No temp- 
 tation to sin was ever allowed to quicken the pulsations of 
 her sacred heart. Nothing of sin was ever allowed to 
 approach her. Entrenched in the perfect sinlessness of her 
 Immaculate Conception, the moment she was conceived, she 
 surpassed in sanctity, — that is to say, in perfect sinlessness, 
 and, consequently, in perfect union of love with God, — all of 
 the Saints and Angels in heaven. This is the meaning of 
 the words in Scripture, where the Prophet says : " Wisdom 
 built unto itself a house ; and the foundation thereof is laid 
 upon the summits of the holy mountain. The Lord loveth 
 the threshold of Sion more than the palaces and tabernacles 
 of Judah." You know that every word of Scripture has 
 a deep and Godlike meaning. What meaning can these 
 words have? Apply this to Mary's sanctity; we find the 
 first moment of her existence upon the summit of the holy 
 mountain : that is to say, her very first step in life is dearer 
 to the Lord than the palaces and tabernacles of Judah ; that 
 is, than all the edifices of sanctity that were ever built up on 
 this earth. This was the beginning — the conception — of the 
 woman who was destined to be the Mother of God made 
 
248 FATHER BUEEE'S DISCOURSES. . 
 
 But, you may ask me, in that case, if she never sinned, 
 even in Adam,* surely she stood in no need of a Redeemer; 
 surely she was the only one for whom it was not necessary 
 that God should become man. God became man to redeem 
 sinners — to save them j if this woman did not require redemp- 
 tion or salvation, why does she say in the '' Magnificat : " 
 ''^Iv soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced 
 in God, my Saviour''! Well, my friends, she owes as much- 
 to the blood of Christ, shed on Calvary, as we do, and more. 
 He was more her Saviour than om\s. Whence came the 
 grace of her immaculate conception ? — whence came the power 
 that kept her out of the way wdien all the rest of mankind 
 w^ere swept away into the current of sin ? It was her divine 
 Son, foreseen in the years of His humanity — foreseen by the 
 eye of God's justice in the agony of His crucifixion j it w^as 
 the blood that was shed upon Calvary to save us that saved 
 Mary from ever being tainted with sin. Do you not know 
 that the Almighty God may save in any way he likes ? Do 
 you not know, my friends, that the Almighty God is not 
 bound to save this soul or that in this or that particular way ? 
 For instance, the Almighty God appointed cu'cumcision as - 
 the only way by which original sin was to be removed under 
 the Old Law. And yet we know that He saved and sancti- 
 fied Jeremiah and John the Baptist without circumcision, and 
 before; because, although circumcision was the ordinary 
 way. Almighty God did not tie His own hands, nor oblige 
 Himself never to apply an extraordinary way. And so, 
 wherever there is a human spirit that is saved and made fit 
 for Heaven, that saving and fitness are equally purchased by 
 the blood of Christ, and by that alone. It saved Mar}^, as 
 it saved us ; only in a different manner. It saved us by 
 falling upon our sinful heads in Baptism ; — literally washing 
 away the stain that was already there ; it saved Mary by 
 anticipating Baptism, by removing her from the necessity of 
 the Sacrament, by anticipation. In us this bloody of Christ 
 is a cleansing grace ; in Mary it was a preventing grace. 
 She is saved as mucb as w^e are. For instance, suppose a 
 wise prophet — a man that had a knowledge of the future — 
 w^ere to stand on the sea-shore, and see a number of persons 
 about to embark on board a ship, leaving for a distant port ; 
 and that he said to one of them, " That ship is going to be 
 shipwrecked ; do not go on board," and the person followed 
 
THE IMMACULATE MOTHER OF GOD. 249 
 
 his advice and was saved ; the others went on the ship, and 
 it is wrecked, as was foretold ; the prophet is there, by some 
 mysterious means, and saves them all ; — he is as much the 
 saviour of the person who stayed on shore as of those he 
 saved on the vessel after it was wrecked. And so it is with 
 God. He set Mary aside, and His spirit overshadowed her 
 and saved her. Oh how gloriously did God save her ! — how 
 magnificently He vindicated Himself in her ! — how kindly 
 and mercifully He preserved one specimen of our pure and 
 unbroken nature in her ! Well might He hold her forth, as 
 it were, in His omnipotent hand, to frighten the devil, even 
 in the day of his triumph, when He said, " The woman, O 
 spirit of evil, whom thou knowest well, shall crush thy head.'' 
 Mary was the terror of hell from the beginning j because 
 hell was afraid, from the beginning, of the pure, unfallen 
 nature of man : and that was saved only in her. 
 
 Let us, therefore, meditate upon these things ; and, giving 
 thanks to G(xl for all He did, for the greatest boon of mercy 
 to our race — in that God so sanctified a creature that she 
 might be worthy to approach Him ] — and endeavor, in our 
 own humble way, — by purifying our souls, putting away 
 fi'om us our sins, and weeping over the follies and errors 
 that we have allowed to come upon our souls, — thus to fit 
 ourselves, that, at some immeasurable distance we, too, 
 may be able to approach Him, and Mary, the Immaculate 
 Mother of God. 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA— ITS PAST, PRESENT AND 
 FUTURE. 
 
 \^A Lecture delivered hy Very Rev. T. N. Burlce, O.P., in the Academy 
 of Music, Neio York, May 16, 1872, in aid of the " Catholic Union" 
 Fund, for His Holiness, Pope Pius IX. ] 
 
 Mat IT Please Your Grace — Ladies And Geis^tle- 
 
 MEN" : The subject on wliicli I propose to address you is, '' The 
 Pope's Tiara, or Triple Crown ; its Past, its Present, and its 
 Future." We read of a celebrated orator of Greece, that the 
 grandest effort he ever made was in a speech which he pro- 
 nounced upon a crown. I wish I had, to-night^ the genius 
 or the eloquence of Demosthenes 5 for my theme, my crown, 
 is as far beyond the glory of the crown of which he spoke, as 
 my thoughts and my eloquence are inferior to his. 
 
 Among the promises and prophetic words that we read in 
 Scripture concerning our Divine Lord and Redeemer, we read 
 that it was prophesied of Him that He should be a King; 
 that He should rule the nations ; that He should wear a 
 crown ; and that His name was to be called ^^ The Prince of 
 Peace." He came ; He fulfilled all that was written con 
 cerning Him ; and He transmitted His headsliip and His 
 office in the Holy Church, to be visibly exercised, and to be 
 embodied before the eyes of men in the Pope of Rome. And, 
 therefore, among the other privileges which He conferred 
 upon His Vicar, He gave him that his brows should wear a 
 crown. Therefore it is that, from the first day of the Church's 
 history, her ruler, her Pope, her head rises before us, a 
 sceptred man among men, and crowned with a glorious 
 crown. Therefore it is that, encircling his honored brows, 
 for ages the world has beheld the triple crown, or tiara, of 
 which I am to speak to you this evening. Every other mon- 
 arch among the nations wears for his crown a single circlet 
 of gold. Ornament it as you will, there is but one circle, 
 that would represent the meeting and the centring in the 
 person of the sovereign of all the temporal interests and 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA. 251 
 
 anthority of the State. Upon the Pope's brows, however, 
 rests a triple crown, called the tiara. It is made up of three 
 distinct circles of gold. The first of these is symbolical of 
 the universal episcopate of the Pope of Rome, — that is to sa}^, 
 of his headship of all the faithful in the Church ; for, " there 
 shall be but one fold and one shepherd," was Christ's word. 
 The second of these circles that crowns the papal brows 
 represents the supremacy of jurisdiction, by which the Pope 
 governs not only all* the faithful in the world at large, 
 — feeding them as their supreme pastor, — but by which, also, 
 he holds the supremacy of jurisdiction and of power over the 
 anointed ministers, and the episcopacy itself, in the Church 
 of God. The third and last circle of this crown represents 
 the temporal influence, the temporal dominion which the 
 Pope has exercised and enjoyed for more than a thousand 
 years in this w^orld. 
 
 Behold, then, what this tiara means. Upon those great 
 festival days when all the Catholic world was accustomed to 
 be represented by its highest, by its best and noblest, by its 
 most intellectual representatives in Rome, the Holy Father 
 was seen enthroned, surrounded by cardinals, patriarchs, 
 archbishops, bishops, the priesthood, and the faithful. There 
 he sat upon his high, and ancient, and time-honored-throne ; 
 and upon his head did he wear this triple crown, symbolizing 
 his triple power. 
 
 Now, my friends, in the Church of God every thing is 
 organized ; ever}^ thing is aiTanged and disposed in a wonder- 
 ful harmony which expresses the mind and the wisdom of 
 God Himself. And, therefore, it is, that in every detail of 
 the Catholic liturgy and worship, we find the very highest 
 and the very holiest gifts symbolized and signified to the 
 man of faith. What do those three circles of the Pope's 
 tiara symbolize ? They signify, first of all, the unity that 
 God has set upon His Church. Secondly, they signify the 
 power and jurisdiction that God has coiifen-ed upon His 
 Church. And thirdly, they signify all these benefits of a 
 human kind, which the Cburch has conferred upon this 
 world and upon society. 
 
 The first circlet of this tiara represents the unity of the 
 Church. For it tells the faithful, that although they may 
 be diffiised all the world over, although they may be counted 
 by hundi'eda of millions, although they may be found in every 
 
252 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 clime, and speaking every language ; altliough they may he 
 hroken up into various forms of government, thinking in 
 varied forms of thought, having varied and distinguished in- 
 terests in the things that should never perish, but abide with 
 them for eternity j that moment, out of all these varied ele- 
 ments, out of these multiplied millions, out of these difierent 
 nations, arises one thought, one act of obedience, one aspira- 
 tion of prayer, one uplifting of the whole man, body and soul, 
 in the unity of worship which distinguishes the Catholic 
 Church, the spouse of Christ. This was the first mark that 
 Christ, the Son of God, set upon the brows of His Church. 
 He set upon her the glorious seal of unity in doctrine, — that 
 all men throughout the world who belonged to her were to 
 be as one individual man, in the one soul, and the one belief 
 of their divine faith. He set upon her brows the unity of 
 charity j — that all men were to be one, in one heart and in 
 one bond, which was to bind all Christian men to their fellow- 
 men, through the one heart of Christ. And, m order to effect 
 this unity, the Son of God put forth, the night before He 
 suffered, the tender but omnipotent prayer, in which He be- 
 sought His Father, that the unity of the Church should be 
 visible to all men, and that it should be so perfect as to 
 represent the ineffable unity by which He was one with His 
 Father, in that singleness of nature, which is the quintessence 
 of the Almighty God. It was to be a visible unity. It was 
 to be an unity that would force itself upon the notice of the 
 world. It was to be an unity of thought and belief that 
 would convince the world that the one mind, the one word of 
 the Lord of all truth, was in the heart, and in the intelligence, 
 and upon the lips of His Church. It would be in vain that 
 Christ, the Son of God, prayed for that unity, if it was to be 
 a hidden thing, not seen and known by men j if it was to be 
 a contradictory thing, involving an outrage upon all logic 
 and all reason ; as, for instance, the Protestant idea of unity, 
 w^hich is, " Let U3 agree to differ." " Let us agree to differ ! " 
 Why, what does this mean ? It means something like what 
 the Irishman meant, when he met his friend, and said : " Oh, 
 my dear fellow, I am so happy and glad to meet you ! And I 
 Mant to give you a proof of it." And he knocked him down ! 
 But, you remember, this was the sign of love. And so the 
 Protestant logic of this world says; — ^-Let us agree to differ." 
 That is to say ; — let us create unity by making disunion ! 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA. 253 
 
 Now, as the Divine, Eternal, Incarnate Wisdom detennined 
 tliat that crown and countersign of unity shouhi be vij^ible 
 upon His Church, it was absolutely necessary for Him to 
 constitute one man^-one individual man — as the visible sign 
 and guarantee of that unity in the Church for ever. It would 
 not have answered to have left the twelve Apostles, equal in 
 power, equal in jurisdiction. For, all-holy as they were, all- 
 inspired as they were, if equal power and jurisdiction had 
 been left to all,'if no one man among them had been brought 
 forth and made the head of all, with all their perfection, 
 with all their inspiration, with all their love for Christ, they 
 would not, being twelve, have represented the sacred piinci- 
 ple of unity in the Church. Therefore did Christ, the Son 
 of God, from among the Twelve take one : He called that 
 man forth, He laid His hands upon Him, and said : " Hear 
 him ! hear his words ! " That He did not say of any of the 
 others, but took care that all the others should be present to 
 witness these words and to acknowledge their cbief. He took 
 that man in the presence of the Twelve, and He said to him, 
 to them : " Hitherto you have been called Simon; now I say 
 your name is Cephas, which means a rock ; and upon this 
 rock I will build my Church." Again, in the plainest of lan- 
 guage. He said to that man : " Thou — thou, rock ! con- 
 fiiTu thy brethren ! " In the presence of all. He demanded 
 of that man the triple, thrice-repeated acknowledgment 
 and confession of his love. '' Peter," He said to him, " you 
 know how dearly John, My \drgin friend, loves Me. Do you 
 love Me more "? You know how w^ell all these around Me 
 love Me. Do you love Me more than all?" And until 
 Peter three times asserted that he loved his Master with a 
 love sui*passing that of all others, Christ delayed His divine 
 commission. But, when the triple acknowledgment was 
 made. He said to Peter : " Feed thou My lambs ; feed thou 
 My sheep!" "There shall be one fohV' said the Son of 
 God, " and one shepherd." That was the visible unity of 
 the Church ; that was to be the countersign of the divine 
 origin of the Church of God ; and that was to be represented 
 unto all ages by the one head and Supreme Pastor of all, the 
 Pope of Rome. 
 
 Mark the splendid harmony that is here. The adorable 
 Son of God is one with the Father by the ineffable union of 
 nature from all eternity. The Sun of God made man, still 
 
254 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 is man, and only man, in the hypostatical union in whicli the 
 two natures met in one divine person. The Church that 
 sprung from Christ, — the Lord God and man united, — is to 
 be one until the end of time. And, therefore, the principle 
 of unity passes, as it were, from Christ to Peter, and from 
 Peter to each succeeding Pontiff',- so that the Charch of God 
 is recognized by its union with its Head, and by that, the 
 One Head, wdiich governs all. Therefore did St. Ambrose 
 sav : " Show me Peter -, for, where Peter is, there is the 
 Church of God." 
 
 Now, you see at once the significance of that first circle of 
 gold that twines round the papal crown. It speaks of the 
 Pope as the supreme pastor of all the faithful. It speaks of 
 him as the one voice, and the only one, able to fill the world, 
 and before whose utterances the whole Christian and Catholic 
 world bows down as one man. It speaks of the Pope as the 
 one shepherd of the one fold ; and it tells us that, as we are 
 bound to hear his voice, and as that voice alone can resound 
 through the whole Church, which cannot by possibility pro- 
 claim a lie, — when the Pope of Rome speaks to the faithful 
 as supreme pastor, pronouncing upon and witnessing the faith 
 of the Catholic Church, — it tells us that the self-same spirit 
 that preserves that Church from falling into error, preserves 
 her pastor, so that he can never propound to her any thing 
 erroneous or unholy, or at variance with the sacred morality 
 of the Christian law. 
 
 The second circle of gold represents the second great attri- 
 bute that Christ, our Lord, emphatically laid upon His Church. 
 As clearly as He proved that that Church should be one, so 
 clearly did He pray and prophesy that that Church was to 
 have power and jurisdiction. " All power," He said to His 
 Apostles, ^^all power in heaven and upon earth is given unto 
 Me." Beliold the Head of the Chm'ch speaking to His Church. 
 " Given unto me ! " '^ I am the centre of that power." " As 
 the Father sent me, thus endued with power, so do I send 
 3'ou." And then He set upon the brows of His Apostles, and, 
 through them, on the Church, the crown of spiritual power. 
 But, as all power is derived from God, it follows that, in the 
 Church of God, whoever represents, as viceroy and vicar, su- 
 preme pastor and ruler of the Church, — whoever represents 
 Christ, who is the source of all power, that man has supreme 
 jurisdiction in the Church of God, not only over the Faithful, 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA. 255 
 
 but over the pastors of the flock and the Episcopacy. 
 James, and John, and Andrew, and Philip, and the others, 
 were all Bishops. St. Ignatius of Antioch, and all the suc- 
 ceeding great names that adorn the episcopal roll in the 
 Church,— all had power; all exercised power ; and all were 
 recoo-nized, as the Church recognizes them and their success- 
 ors still, as her Archbishops and Bishops ; and all had that 
 power by divine institution, and their episcopacy in the 
 Church is of divine origin ; and yet, that power is so subju- 
 gated and subordinated, that the Pope is the supreme Bishop 
 of Bishops, to whom Christ said : " Feed not only My lambs,'' 
 My faithful ; but, " feed My slieep," the matured ones and 
 holv ones in the sanctuary of the Church. 
 
 Finally, the third circle of gold twining around that 
 time-honored crown of the tiara, represents the temporal 
 power that the Pope has T\ielded for so many centm'ies, and 
 which has been the cause of so many blessings, and so niuch 
 liberty and civilization to the world. It was not in the direct 
 mission of the Church of God to civilize mankind, but only 
 to sanctify them. But, inasmuch as no man can be sancti- 
 fied without being instracted, and thus having the elements 
 of civilization applied to him, therefore, indirectly, but most 
 powerfully, did Christ, our Lord, confer upon His Church 
 that she should be the great former and creator of society ; 
 that she should be the mother of the highest civilization of 
 tiiis world ; that she should be the giver of the choicest and 
 the highest of human gifts ; and, therefore, that she should 
 have that power, that jurisdiction, that position, in her head, 
 among the rulers of the nations, that would give her a strong 
 voice and a powerful action in the guidance of human society. 
 And as to the second circle of this golden crown — viz., the 
 universal pastorate of the Church — and the supremacy, even 
 in the sanctuary, — both of these did Peter receive from Christ ; 
 and these two have been twined round the Papal brow by 
 the verv hand of the Son of God Himself. The third circle, 
 of temporal ]K)wer, the Pope received at the hands of the 
 world ; at the hands of human society ; at the hands of the 
 people. And he received it out of the necessities of tlie 
 people, that he might be their king,- their ruler, and their 
 father upon this earth. 
 
 Now, such being the tiara, we come to consider it in the 
 past, as history tells ua of it ; in its present, as we behold it 
 
256 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 to-day; and in its future. How o^d is this tiara? I answer 
 that, although the mere material crown and its form dates only 
 from about the year 1340 or '42, and the Pontificate of Bene- 
 dict the Twelfth, the tiara itself — the reality of it — rtlie thing 
 that it signifies — is as ancient as the Church of God, which 
 was founded by Christ, our Lord. In the past, from the day 
 that the Son of God ascended into Heaven, all liistory attests 
 to us that Peter and Petei-'s successors were acknowledged 
 to be the supreme pastors of the Church of God. Never, 
 when Peter spoke, never did the Church refuse to accept his 
 word, and to bow down before his final decision. In the very 
 first Council of Jerusalem, grave questions that were brought 
 before the Assembly were argued upon by various of the 
 Apostles, until Peter rose ; and the moment that Peter spoke 
 and said : ^^ Let this be done so ; let such things be omitted j 
 such things be enforced ; " — that moment every man in the 
 Assembly held his peace, and took the decision of Peter as 
 the very echo of the Invisible Head of the Church, who spoke 
 in him, by and through him. In all the succeeding ages, the 
 nations bowed down as they received the words of the Gospel. 
 The nations bowed down and accepted tliat message on the 
 authority and on the testimony of the Pope of Il(mie. Where, 
 among the nations, who have embraced the Cross, — where 
 among the nations who have upheld the Cross, — where is 
 there one that did not receive its mission and its Gospel mes- 
 sage on the message and on the testimony of the Pope of 
 Rome ? 
 
 From the very first ages, while they yet lay hid in the 
 Catacombs, w^e read of saintly missionaries going forth from 
 under the Pope's hands, to spread the message of Divine 
 Tmth throughout the lands. Scarcely had the Church 
 emerged from the Catacombs, and burst into the glory and 
 splendor of her renewed existence, than we find one of the 
 early Popes of Rome laying his hand upon the head of a holy 
 youth that knelt before him, consecrating that youth into the 
 priesthood, into the episcopacy, — and sending him straight 
 from Rome to a mission, the grandest and most fruitful — 
 the most glorious of any in the Church. That Pope was 
 Celestine, of Rome ; and the man whom he sent was Patrick, 
 who, by the Pope's order, wended his way to Ireland. From 
 the Pope of Rome did he (Patrick) receive his mission and 
 his message. From the Pope of Rome did he receive his 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA. 257 
 
 autliority and liis jurisdiction. The diploma that he bronght 
 to Irehmd was attached to the Gospel itself. It was the 
 testimony of the Church of Clirist, countersigned by Celestine, 
 who derived his authority from Peter, who derived his from 
 Christ. And when, in his old age, he had evangelized the 
 whole island ; when he had brought Ireland into the full light 
 of the Christian faith, and into the full blaze of her Christian 
 eanctity, the aged Apostle, now drooping into years, called 
 the bishops and priests of Ireland around him ; and, among 
 his last words to them, were these : " If ever a difficulty 
 arises among you ; — if ever a doubt of any passage of the 
 Scripture, or of any doctrine of the Church's law — or of any 
 thing touching the Chiu-ch of God or the salvation of the 
 souls of your people, — if ever any doubt arises among you, 
 go to Rome — to the mother of the nations — and Peter will 
 instruct you thereon." Well and faithfully did the mind and 
 the heart of Ireland take in the words of its saintly Apostle. 
 Never — through good report or evil report — never lias Ireland 
 swerved for one instant — never has she tm-ned to look with 
 a favoring or a reverential eye npon this authority, or 
 upon that ; but straight to Peter. Never has she, for an 
 instant, lost her instinct, so as to mistake for Peter any pre- 
 tender, or any other Pope. Never, for an instant, has she 
 allowed her heart or her hand to be snared from Peter. It 
 is a long story. It is a story of fourteen hundred years. But 
 Ireland has preserved her faith through her devotion to Peter 
 and to the- Pope of Rome, Petei^s successor ; and she has seen 
 every nation, during these fourteen hundred years — every 
 nation that ever separated from Peter — she has seen them, 
 one and all, languish and die, until the sap of divine know- 
 ledge, — until the sap of divine grace — was dried up in them j 
 and they utterly perished, because they were separated from 
 the Rock of Ages, the Pope of Rome. 
 
 Just as the people, in all ages and in all times, 
 bowed down before their supreme pastor, so also has 
 the Episcopate in the Church of God, at all times, 
 recognized the supremacy of the Pope of Rome, and 
 at all times bowed before the second crown that en- 
 circles his glorious tiara. Never did the E})iscopacy of the 
 Catholic Church meet in council except upon the invocation 
 of the Pope of Rome. Never did the}^ promulgate a decree 
 until they first sent it to the Pope of Rome, to ask him if it 
 
258 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 was according to the trath, and to get the seal and the coun- 
 tersign of his name upon it, that it might have the authority 
 of the Church of God before their people. From time to 
 time, in the liistory of the Episcopate, there have been 
 rebellious men that rose up against the authority, and dis- 
 puted the power of the Church of Rome. But, just as the 
 nations that separated from Peter separated themselves 
 thereby from the unity of the truth, and of sanctity and of 
 Christian doctrine, and of Christian morality, so, in like 
 manner, the Bishop who, at any time, in any place, or in 
 any age, disputed Peter^s power, Peter's authority, and 
 separated from him, was cut off from Peter and from the 
 Church ; the mitre fell, dishonored, from his head ; and he 
 became a useless member, lopped ofl' from the Church of 
 God, without power, without jurisdiction, without the venera- 
 tion, or the respect, or the love of his people. Thus has it ever 
 been in times gone by. The Pope of Rome commands the 
 Church through the Episcopate. The Pope of Rome speaks 
 and testifies to the Church's doctrine through the Episcopate. 
 Whenever any grave, important question, touching doctrine, 
 has to be decided, the Pope of Rome has always called the 
 Episcopate about him ; — not that he could not decide, but 
 that he might surround his decision with all that careful and 
 prudent examination, with all that weight of universal author- 
 ity over the world which would bring that decision, when he 
 pronounced it, more clearl}'- and more directly home to every 
 Catholic mind. And faithful has that Episcopate been, — 
 since the day that eleven Bishops met Peter, the Pope, 
 in Jerusalem, in the first Council, — down to the day when, 
 tlu'ee years ago, eight hundred Catholic Archbishops and 
 Bishops met Peter's successor in the halls of the Vatican, and 
 bowed down before the word of truth upon his lips. 
 
 Such in the past, as history attests, were the two circles 
 of the supreme pastorate and supreme jurisdiction in the 
 Church. 
 
 The Roman empire, as you all know, was utterly de- 
 stroyed by the incursions of the barbarians, in the fifth 
 century. A king, at the head of his ferocious army, marched 
 on Rome. The Pope was applied to by the terrified citizens j 
 and Leo the Great went forth to meet Attila, '-the Scourge 
 of God." He found him in the midst of his rude barbarian 
 warriors, on the banks of the Mincio. He found him exulting 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA. 259 
 
 in the strength and power of his irresistible army. He 
 found him surging and sweeping on towards Rome, with the 
 apparent force of inevitable destiny, and with outspread 
 wings of destruction. He found him, in the pride and in 
 the supreme passion of his lustful and barbaric heart, sworn 
 to destroy the city that was the ^'Mother of Nations." And, 
 as he was in the very sweep of his conquest and pride, — 
 uniriended and almost alone, — having nothing bat the 
 majesty of his position and of his glorious virtue around him, 
 — the Pope said : — '' Hold ! Rome is sacred, and your feet 
 shall never tread upon its ancient pavement ! Hold ! Let 
 Rome be spared ! " And, while he was speaking, Attila 
 looked upon the face of the man ; and presentl}^ he saw over 
 the head of St. Leo, the Pope, two angry figures, the Apo- 
 stles St. Peter and St. Paul, with fire and the anger of Grod 
 beaming from their eyes, and with drawn swords menacing 
 him. And, even as the Angel stood in the Prophet's path of 
 old, and barred his progress, so did Peter and Paul appear in 
 mid-air and bar the barbarian. '^Let us retm-n," said he, 
 "and let us not apj^roach this tenible and God-defended 
 city of Rome ! " Attila fled to his northern forests ; and Leo 
 returned, having saved the existence and the blood of ancient 
 and imperial Rome. 
 
 But army followed army ; until, at length, Alaric con- 
 quered and sacked the city, burned and destroyed it, broke 
 up all its splendor and all its glory, overran and destroyed 
 all the suiTounding provinces ; and so the destruction that 
 he began was completed a few yeai's later by the King 
 Odoacer, who wnped away the last vestige of. the ancient 
 Roi-nan empire. Then, my friends, all Italy was a prey to 
 and was torn with factions ; covered with the blood oi the 
 people. There was no one to save them. In vain did they 
 appeal to the distant Eastern Emperor, at Constantinople. 
 He laughed at their misery, and abandoned them in the 
 hour of their deepest affliction and sorrow ; while wave after 
 wave of barbaric invasion swept over the fair land, until life 
 became a bm'den too intolerable to bear, and the people 
 cried out, from their breaking hearts, for the Pope of Rome 
 to take them under his protection, to let them declare him 
 King, and so obtain his safeguard and his protection for their 
 lives and their property. For .many long ^^ears the Pope 
 resisted the preferred crown. It grew upon his brows 
 
260 FATHER BUEEE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 insensibly. It came to liim in spite of liimself. We know 
 that, 3^ear after year, each successive Po}3e was employed 
 sending letters, sending messengers to supplicate, -to implore 
 the Christian Emperor to send an army for the protection of 
 Italy 5 and when he did send his army, they were worse, in 
 their heretical lawlessness, more tyrannical, more bloodthirsty 
 over the unfortunate people of Italy, than even the savage 
 hordes that came down from the north of Europe. And so it 
 came to pass that, in the dire distress of the people, the Pope 
 was obliged to accept the temporal power of Rome, and of some 
 of the adjoining pro^dnces. History tells us that he might, 
 in that day, have obtained, if he wished it, the sovereignty 
 over all Italy. They would have been only too happy to 
 accept him as their King. But no lust of power, no ambition 
 of empire guided him ; and the great St. Gregory tells us, 
 that he was oppressed with the cares of the temporal domin- 
 ion, and that it was forced upon him against his wnll. 
 
 However, now the crown is upon his head. Now he is 
 acknowledged a monarch — a reigning king among monarchs. 
 And now let us see what was the purpose of God in thus 
 establishing that temporal power in so early a portion of the 
 history of the world's civilization. At that time there was no 
 law in Europe. The nations had not yet settled down or 
 formed. Every man did as he would. The kings were only 
 half-civilized, barbarous men, recently converted to Christi- 
 anity, wielding enormous power, and only too anxious to make 
 that power the instrument for gratif3dng every most terrible 
 passion of lust, of jDride, of ambition, and of revenge. Chief- 
 tains, taking to themselves the titles of Baron, Duke, Mar- 
 grave, and so on, gathered around them troops, bands of mer- 
 cenaries, and preyed on the poor people, until they covered 
 the whole Continent with confusion and with blood. There 
 was no power to restrain them. There was no power to make 
 them spare their people. There was no voice to assert the 
 cause of the poor and the oppressed, save one 5 and that was 
 the voice of the monarch who M'as crowned in Home, 
 the ancient and powerful head of the Catholic Church. 
 Whence came his influence or his power over them ? Ah, it 
 came from this : that, with all their crimes, they still had re- 
 ceived from God the gift of faith ; and they knew — the very 
 \vorst among them knew — as history tells us, that, when the 
 Pope spoke it was the echo of the voice of God. They 
 
THE POPE'S TIAEA, 261 
 
 acknowledged it as a supreme power over tlieir consciences, 
 over their actions, — as a power that could be uiekled not only 
 for their salvation, but even for tlieu' destruction, by the ten'ible 
 sentence of excommunication, by which the Pope could cut 
 them oft" from the Choi'ch. The faitli that was in the hearts 
 of these rude kings was also disseminated among their peo- 
 ple ; and so strong was it, tliat tiie moment the Pope 
 denounced or excommunicated any monarch, that moment, 
 no matter how great he was, as a warrior, as a statesman, as 
 a writer, — that moment the people shrank from him as they 
 would from the pest-stricken leper, and his voice was no 
 longer heard as an authority, either on the battle-field or in 
 the council chamber. Knowing this, the kings were afraid 
 of the Pope. Knowing this, the people looked up to the 
 Pope : and if any king overtaxed his people and ground 
 them to the earth, or if any king violated the law of eternal 
 justice by shedding the blood of any man without just cause, 
 or if any king declared an unjust and unnecessary war, or if 
 any king repudiated his lawful wife, and, in the strength 
 and power of his passion, sought to scandalize his subjects, 
 and to openly insult and outrage the law of God, — the 
 people, the soldiery, society, the abandoned and injured 
 woman, all alike, looked up to and appealed to the Pope of 
 Rome as the only power that could sway the world, and 
 strike terror into the heart of the greatest, the most powerful, 
 and the most lawless king upon the earth. 
 
 History — from every source from which we can draw it — 
 tells us what manner of men were the kings and dukes and 
 rulers the Pope had to deal with. What manner of men 
 were they ? In the eleventh century, the Emperor Otho 
 invited all his nobility to a grand banquet ; and while they 
 were in the midst of their festivity, in came one of the king's 
 officers with a long list of the names of men who were there 
 present j and every man whose name was called out had to 
 rise from the banquet, and walk into a room adjoining, and 
 there submit to an unjust, a cruel, and an instantaneous 
 death. These were the kind of men the Pope had to deal 
 with. Another man that we read of was Lothair. His 
 lustful eye fell upon a beautiful woman ; and he instantly 
 puts away and repudiates his virtuous and honored wile, and 
 he takes to him this concubine, in the face of the world, pro- 
 claiuiing, or suggesting that he could proclaim, that, because 
 
262 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 he was an emperor, or a king, he was at liberty to violate 
 the law of God, outrage the propi-ieties of society, scandalize 
 his subjects, and take liberties with tlieir honor and with 
 their integrity, Avhich would not be permitted to any other 
 man. How did the Pope, in these instances, deal with such 
 men? How did he use the temporal power, so great and so 
 tremendous, with which God and society had invested him ? 
 He made the murderers do public penance, and mal>e resti- 
 tution to the families of those whose blood they had shed. 
 He called to him that Emperor Lothair ; he brought him 
 before him ; he made him, in a pul)lic church, and before 
 all the people, repudiate that woman whom he had taken to 
 his adulterous embrace 5 take back his lawful empress and 
 queen, pledge to her again, by solemn oath, before all the 
 people, that he never would love another, and that he would 
 be faitMul to her as a husband and a man, until the hour of his 
 death. Lothair broke his oath, — his oath taken at that 
 solemn moment, when the Pope, with the ciborium in his hand, 
 held up the body of the Lord, and said : '' Until you swear 
 fidelity to your lawful wife, I will not place the Holy Commu- 
 nion upon your lips." He took that oath ; he broke it ; and 
 that day month — one- month after he had received that Com- 
 munion — ^he was a dead man; and the whole world— the whole 
 Christian world, — recognized in that death the vengeance of 
 God falling upon a perjured and an excommunicated sinner. 
 How did the Pope vindicate by his temporal power and 
 authority the influence that it gave him among the kings 
 and the nations % How did he operate upon society ? When 
 King Philip of France wished to repudiate his lawful wife 
 andlake another in her stead, the Pope excommunicated 
 him, and obliged him, in the face of the world, to take back, 
 and to honor with his love and with his fidelity the woman 
 whom he had sworn before the altar to worship and to 
 protect as long as she lived. 
 
 How did the Pope exercise his temporal power when 
 Spain and Portugal, both in the zenith of their glory, were 
 about to draw the sword, and to deluge those fair lands with 
 the blood of the people ? The Pope stepped in _ and said, 
 " No war ! — there is no necessity for war ; — there is no justi- 
 fication for war ; and if vou shed the blood of your people," 
 he said to both kings, ""l will cut you both off, and flhig 
 you, excommunicated, out of the Church." 
 
THE POPE'S TIAEA. 263 
 
 Tims did he preserve the rights — the sacred rights of 
 man-iage ; thus did he presei-ve the honor, the integrity, the 
 position of the Christian woman, — the Christian mother, who 
 is the source, the fountain-head of all this world's 
 society, and the one centre of all our hopes. Thus did 
 he save the people, and curb the angry passions of their 
 sovereigns. Thus did he tell the king : " So long as you 
 rule justly, so long as you respect the rights of \he 
 humblest of your subjects, I will uphold you ; I will set 
 a crown upon your head, and I will fling around you all 
 the authority, and all the jurisdiction and sacredness of your 
 monarchy. I will preach to yom' people obedience, loyalty, 
 bravery, and love ; but, if you trample upon that people's 
 rights, if you abuse your power to scandalize them, to injure 
 them in their integrity, in then: conscience, — I will be the 
 first to take the crown from your head, and to declare to the 
 world that you are unworthy to wear it.'' Modern historians 
 say : " Oh, we admit all this : but what riofht had the Pope 
 to* do it ? What right had he to do iti " What right ? 
 The best of right. Who, on this earth, had a right to do it, 
 if not the man who represented ' Christ, the Originator and 
 Saviour of the world ? What right had he to do it ? He 
 had the right that even society itself and the people gave 
 him ; for they cried out to him : " Save us from our kings j 
 save us from injustice; save us from dishonor, and we will 
 be loyal and true as long as our leaders and om- monarchs 
 are worthy of our loyalty and om* truth." 
 
 Such, in the past history of the world, was the thkd cuxle, 
 that twines round the Papal Crown. 
 
 Now, passing fi'om the past to the tiara of to-day, what do 
 we find I We find a man in Rome, the most extraordinary, 
 in some things, of all those that ever succeeded to the supre- 
 macy of the Church, and in the ofiice of St. Peter ; — most 
 extraordinary, particularly in his misfortunes ; — most extraor- 
 dinary in the length of his reign ; for he is the only Pope 
 that has outlived ^^the years of Peter;" — most extraordinary 
 in the ingratitude of the world towards him, and the patience 
 with which he has borne it; — most extraordinary in the 
 heroic firmness of his character, and in the singleness of his 
 devotion to his God and to the spouse of God, the Church ; — 
 Pius IX, the glorious Pontifl', the man whom the bitterest 
 enemies of the Church, the most foul-mouthed infidels of the 
 
264 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 day, are obliged to acknowledge as a faithful and true servant 
 of the Lord, his God, a faithful ruler of the Church, and a 
 man from whose aged countenance there beams forth upon 
 all who see him, the sweetness, the purity of Christ. I have 
 seen him in the- halls of the Vatican; I have seen the most 
 prejudiced Protestant ladies and gentlemen walk into that 
 audience chamber; I have seen them come forth, their eyes 
 streaming with tears ; I have seen them come forth entranced 
 with admiration at the vision of sanctity and venerableness 
 that they have beheld in the head of the Catholic Church. 
 He is extraordinar}'- in that he has outlived "the years of 
 Peter." Well do I remember, as he stood upon the altar, five 
 and twenty years ago, fair and beautiful in his youthful man- 
 hood. Well do I remember the heroic voice that pealed like a 
 clarion over the mighty square of St. Peter's, and seemed as 
 if it was an Angel of God that was come down from Heaven, 
 and, in a voice of melodious thunder, was flinging a pente- 
 cost of grace and blessing over the people. Five and twenty 
 years have passed away, and more. Never during the long 
 roll of Pontiffs — never did man sit upon St. Petei-'s chair so 
 long ; so that it even passed into a proverb, that no Pope 
 was ever to see the years of Peter. That proverb is falsified 
 m Pius. He has passed the mystic Rubicon of the Papal 
 age. He has passed the bounds which closed around all 
 his predecessors. He has passed the years of Peter upon the 
 Papal throne, Oh ! may he live, if it be God's will, to guide 
 the Church, until he has doubled the years of Peter. He 
 is singular in what the w^orld calls his misfortunes, but 
 what, to me, or to any man of faith, must absolutely appear 
 as a startling resemblance to the last week that the Lord, 
 our Saviour, spent before His passion in Jenisalem. 
 
 I remember Pius IX, surrounded by the acclamations 
 and the admu'ation of the whole world. No word of praise 
 was too great to be bestowed upon hira. He was the theme 
 of every popular ^\Titer. He was the idol of the people. 
 The moment they beheld hira, the cry came forth : — '' VivOy 
 viva, il salvaiore de la paitia I " Long live the saviour of 
 his people and of his country! To-day he must not show 
 his face in the very streets of Rome ; and in the very halls 
 of the deserted Vatican he hears the echoes of the shouts of 
 those that cry : " Blessed be the hand that shall be 
 imbrued in thy blood, O Pius I" Now, I ask any man on 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA. 265 
 
 the face of the eartli, what has this man done ? What can 
 the greatest enemy of the Pope lay his hand upon, and say 
 he has done so and so, and he has deserved this change of 
 popular friendship and of popular opinion? The greatest 
 enemy that the Pope has on this earth is not able to bring a 
 sinji'le charo-e asrainst him, durino* these twentv-five years, to 
 account for that change of opinion. What has changed 
 blessings into curses ? What has changed homage and vener- 
 ation into contempt and obloquy ? There is no accounting for 
 it. It is like the change that came over the people of Jeru- 
 salem, who, on Palm Sunday, cried " Hosanna to the Son 
 of David,'' and on Good-Friday morning cried, '^ Give Him 
 to us ! We will tear Him to pieces and crucify Him ! " 
 There is no accounting for it. Has he oppressed the Roman 
 people? No. I lived many years in Rome, under his 
 Pontificate. There was no taxation worth speaking of; 
 there was no want, no misery. There was plenty of educa- 
 tion for the children, plenty of employment, plenty of 
 diversion. There was no forcible conscription of the youth, 
 to send them into some vile cesspool of corruption, in the 
 shape of a barrack, or to hunt them out to the battle-field, to 
 be mown down and flung into bloodstained graves. No ; 
 every man possessed his house and his soul in peace. There 
 w-as prosperity in the land. And over all this there was the 
 hand ever w^aving a blessing, and a voice invoking benedic- 
 tion and grace for his people. Whence came the change ? 
 No man can tell. Therefore, I say, this man is extraordinary 
 in his misfortunes, inasmuch as they bring out, in the most 
 striking and terrilde manner, his resemblance to his crucified 
 Lord and Saviour, the Head of the Church. He is singular 
 in the magnificence of his character. The student of 
 history may read the lives of all the Popes that come 
 down from Peter to Pius, and I make this assertion, that 
 there is not a single feature of grandeur or magnificence in 
 the character of any one of these Popes that does not shine 
 out, concentrated, in the character of Pius IX. We admire the 
 missionary zeal of St. Gregory the Great, or of St. Celestine. 
 Pius the Ninth has sent from under his own hand, and from 
 under his own blessing, men who have honored his Pontifi- 
 cate, as well as the Church, their mother, by shedding their 
 blood in martyrdom, for the faith. From under his hand 
 have gone forth those holy ones who have languished in the 
 
 12 
 
266 FA THEB B UEKE'S DISCO UESES. 
 
 dungeons of China and of Japan. From under his hand 
 have gone forth those heroic Jesuit sons of St. Ignatius, that 
 have lifted the standard of the Cross, and uplifted the name — 
 the name which forms their crown and their glory, even in 
 the eyes of men, — unto the farthest nations of the earth. If 
 we admire the love of Rome that shines forth in the cliaracter 
 of St. Leo the Great, who w^as the Pope among them all that 
 ever loved Korae and the Romans so tenderly as the heart of 
 Pius IX loved them ? When he came to the throne there 
 were Romans in exile, and there were Romans in prison. 
 The very first act of the Pontiff was to fling open the prison 
 doors, and to say to these children of misfortune : '^ Come 
 forth, Italians ; breathe the pure au* and feast your eyes upon 
 the loveliness of your native land." There were Romans 
 who were in exile : he sent them the message of manumission, 
 and of pardon, and of love, in w^hatever land they were, and 
 said : " Come back to me ; — come back and sit down in peace 
 and in contentment under my empire ; for, Rome and chil- 
 dren of Rome, I love you." This was the language and these 
 WTre the emphatic accents of the glorious Pius IX. Where 
 was the Pope who ever embellished Rome as he did 1 I lived 
 in Rome during the first year of his Pontificate : I lived there 
 in the last. I might almost say that he found it a city of 
 brick, and that he handed it over to Victor Emmanuel, the 
 robber, a city of polished and shining marble. Orphan- 
 ages, hospitals, public schools, model lodging-houses, public 
 baths and lavatories, splendid fountains, — every thing that the 
 Roman citizen could require, either for his wants or for his 
 luxury, or, if you will, his pleasure, — the magnificent hand 
 of Pius IX provided. For, for the last five-and-twenty years, 
 that hand has never ceased in beautifying and embellishing 
 his loved and imperial Rome. 
 
 We admire the glorious firmness, the magnificent, rock- 
 like endurance of St. Gregory VII, whom history knows 
 by the name of Hildebrand j how he stood in the path of the 
 impious German Emperors. Like a rock against which the 
 tide dashes, but dashes in vain, — so did he stand to stem the 
 torrent of their tyranny and of their comiption. We admire 
 Gregory VII, w-hen, saying Mass before the Emperor, he 
 took the blessed Eucharist into his hands, and turned round 
 with the Holy Communion and said : " Oh ! majesty, I am 
 about to give you the Holy Body of Jesus Christ. I swear 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA. 267 
 
 before my Gorl," said the Pope, "in whose presence I now 
 btand, that I have never acted save for the Church wliich He 
 loves, and for the happiness of His people. Now, King, 
 swear thou the same ; and I will put God upon thy lips ! " 
 The Emperor hung his head and said: "I cannot swear it, 
 for it would not be true;" and the Holy Communion was 
 denied him. 
 
 We admire that magnificent memory in the Church of God 
 which upheld the rights of Peter and of the Church against 
 king and kaiser ; but, I ask j^ou, does not the image of the 
 sainted Gregory VII rise before our eyes from out the re- 
 cesses of history, and come forth into the full blaze of the 
 present generation, in the magnificent constancy and firmness 
 of Pius IX, the Pope of Rome? It was a question of only 
 giving up a little child that was baptized into the Christian 
 Church, and engrafted, by Baptism, upon Christ, our Lord — a 
 little child that was engrafted unto the Son of God and His 
 Church — had received the rites, and claimed, injustice, to come 
 to know and love that God on whom he had iDeen engrafted 
 by Baptism. All the powers of the world, — all the dukes 
 and kings and governments in Europe, — came around the 
 Pope and said : " You must give up that child ; he must be 
 taught to blaspheme and to hate that Lord upon whom he 
 has been engrafted by Baptism. He must not belong to 
 Christ or the Church, even though he is baptized into it.'' 
 And they asked the Pope, by the surrender of that child, to 
 proclaim the surrender of that portion of the Church's faith 
 that tells us, on the authorit\^ of the inspired Apostle, that 
 by Baptism, like a wild olive branch let into a good tree, we 
 are let into Jesus Christ. They sent their fleets to Civita 
 Vecchia ; they pointed th^ir cannon against the Vatican ; 
 and told the Pope that his existence and his life depended 
 upon his giving up that child. And he declared, in the 
 face of the world, and pronounced that word which will shine 
 in characters of glory on his brow in Heaven, — he pro- 
 nounced the immortal non possumus, — " I will not do it, be- 
 cause I cannot do it." If he wants an epitaph, the most 
 glorious language that need be written on his tomb would 
 be : " Here lies the man whom the whole world tried to co- 
 erce to commit a sin ; and who answered the whole world 
 ^ non possumuSj — I cannot do it." This is the man that to- 
 day wears, and so gloiiously wears, the time-honored tiara 
 
268 FATHER BUB RE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 that has come down to bim throngli eighteen hundred years 
 of suffering and of glory, of joy and of soitow. 
 
 The third circlet, — that of the temporal power, — for a 
 time is gone. There is a rohber, who calls himself a king, 
 seated now in the Quirinal, in Rome. He had not the de- 
 cency to tell the Pope that was he was coming to plunder 
 him. He had not the decency, when he did come to Rome, 
 to build a house for himself ; but he must take one of the 
 old man's houses. It was a question of bringing his women 
 into these, the Pope's own chambers, which were always like 
 sanctuaries, where ladies generally are not peimitted to come 
 in. There was a kind of tradition of holiness about them 
 and exclusiveness, in this way; and he brings his Queen 
 and his " ladies all" to these chambers, where, if they had' 
 a particle of womanl}'- decency, and delicacy, and propriety, 
 they would not enter. I do not believe there is a lady here 
 listening to me, who would walk into the Quirinal, to-mor- 
 row, even if she was in Rome. The third circlet, for a time, 
 is plucked from the Pope's brow ; and, instead of a crown 
 of gold, the aged man has bent down and has received from 
 the hands of ungrateful Italy the present of a crowm of thorns. 
 But, as if to compensate him for the temporary absence of 
 the crown of temporal rule ; as if to make up to him for that 
 which has been plucked, for a time only, from the tiai'a, the 
 Almighty God has brought out, in our age, upon the pontifi- 
 cate of Pius IX, the other two circlets, that of supreme Pas- 
 torate and supreme Bishop of the Church, with an additional 
 lustre and glory that they never had before. Never in the 
 history of the Catholic Church, have the faithful, all the 
 world over, listened with so much reverence, with so much 
 love, wdth so much faith and joy, as the Catholics of the 
 world, to-day, listen to the voice of Pius IX in Rome. 
 Never have the Bishops of the Catholic Church shown such 
 unanimity, such unity of thought, such profound and mag- 
 nificent obedience. Never has the Episcopate of the Cath- 
 olic Chm'ch so loudly, emphatically, and unitedly upheld the 
 privileges and the glories of its head, as the Episcopacy of 
 this day has upheld the glory of the Papacy of Pius IX. 
 And it i& no small subject of praise and of thankfulness to us, 
 that, when eight hundred men among them, loaded with the 
 responsibility of the Church, — eight hundred men represent- 
 ing all that the Church had, of perfection, of the priesthood. 
 
THE POPE'S TIARA. 269 
 
 and of jurisdiction and power, — when these eight hundred 
 men were gathered around the throne of the august Pontiff, 
 they presented to the world in its hostility, in its infidelity, in 
 its hati-ed, so firm a front, that they were all of one mind, of 
 one soul. One voice only was heard from the lips of these 
 eight hundred ; and that voice said : " Tu es Petrits ! O 
 Pins, Peter speaks in thee ; and Christ, the Lord, speaks in 
 Peter." One of the most honored of these eight hundred, — 
 one of the foremost in dignity and in worth, — now sits here in 
 the uiidst of you, the Bishop and pastor of your souls. He can 
 bear living witness to the fact which I have stated. Out o^ 
 the resources of his learned mind, — out of his Roman experi- 
 ence, as an Archbishop, — will he tell you, — out of his historic 
 lore will he tell you, — that never was the Church of God 
 more united, both in the priesthood and episcopacy, and in 
 the people, — more united in ranks cemented by faith and 
 strengthened by love, than the Christian and Catholic world 
 to-dav is, around the glorious thi'one of the uncrowned Pon- 
 tiff, Pius IX. 
 
 And what shall be the future of the Pope's tiara? We know 
 that the crown of universal pastorship and the crown of 
 supremacy are his ; that no man can take from him that which 
 has grown unto him under the hand of Jesus Christ. We 
 know that he may be in exile to-morrow, that he may be 
 without a home, persecuted and hunted from one city to 
 another. But we know that God and the Church of God 
 have set their seal upon him, and their sign that no other 
 man upon this earth can wear, namely, that he is the head of 
 the Church, and the infallible guide of the infallible flock of 
 Christ. Will his temporal power be restored 'I Will the third 
 circle ever again shine upon that tiara? It is a singular 
 fact that the only man who can spciik of the future with 
 certainty is the Catholic. Every other man, when he comes 
 to discuss any subject of the future, nmst say : ^' Well, in all 
 probability, perhaps, it may come to pass; it may be so and 
 so." But the Catholic man, when he comes to speak of the 
 future, says, " Such and such things are to come : " he 
 knows it as sure as fate. There is not a man among us that 
 does not know that this usurpation of Rome is only a question 
 of a few days; — that the knavish king may remain this year, 
 next year; perhaps a few years more ; but, as sure as Ivome 
 is seated upon her seven hills, so surely will the third circle 
 
270 FATHER BUIiKE'S DISCOUFiSES. 
 
 of tlie tiara be there ; so surely must there be a Pope-King 
 there. And \vhy ? For the simplest of all reasons : that her 
 empire, or her temporal power is very convenient, and very 
 useful, and very necessary for the Church of God ; and that 
 whatever is convenient, or useful or necessary for her, God in 
 Heaven will provide for her. That temporal power will 
 return as it returned in the times of old, because it is good 
 for the Church, and because the w^orld cannot get on without 
 it. The hand that has held the reins of society for a thou- 
 sand years and more, — the hand that has held the curb tight 
 upon 'the passions, and the ambition, and the injustice of 
 'kings ', — the hand that has held with a fiim grasp the reins 
 that govern the people, is as necessary in the time to come, 
 as it was in the times past : and, therefore, God will keep 
 that hand, that holds the reins of the world, a royal hand. 
 Hence it is that we, Catholics, have not the slightest 
 apprehension, the slightest fear, about this. We know that, 
 even as our Divine Lord and Master suffered in Jerusalem, 
 and was bm'ied and remained for three days in the grave, 
 and undeniably rose again, all the more glorious because of 
 His previous suflerings, — so, in like manner, do we know 
 that, out of the grave of his present tribulation, — out of the 
 trials of to-day, — Pius IX, or Pius the Ninth's successor, — 
 for the Pope lives for ever, — will rise more glorious in his 
 empire over the world, and in his influence and power, — all 
 the more glorious for having passed through the tribulations 
 of the present time. But, my friends, just as the most precious 
 hours in the life of our Lord were the hours of His suffering, 
 — just as that w^as the particular time when every loving 
 heart came to Him, — the time when the highest privileges 
 were conferred upon mankind, namely, to wipe the sweat and 
 blood off his brow ; to take the Cross off His shoulders ; to 
 lift Him from His falling and His faintness upon the earth j 
 so, also, the present is the hour of our highest privilege as 
 Catholics, when we can put out our hand to cheer, to console, 
 to help our Holy Father the Pope. This hall is crowded j 
 and, from my priestly, Catholic, and Irish heart, I am proud 
 of it. It is easy to acclaim a man when he is ^' on the top 
 of the wheel," as they say, and every thing is going well 
 with him. It is easy to i'eel proud of the Pope when the 
 Pope shines out, acknowledged by all the kings of the 
 eai-th. Ah, but it is the triumph of Catholic and of Irish 
 
THE POPE'S TIABA. 271 
 
 faith to stand up for him, to uphold him before the world, 
 and, if necessary to fight for him when the whole world is 
 against him ! Therefore I hope, that when the proceeds of 
 this lecture are sent to the man, who, although poor, and in 
 prison to-day, has kept his honor, has kept his nobility of 
 character j and when millions were put before him by the 
 robber-king, said he would not dirty his hands by touching 
 them ; — but when the honest and the clean money of to-night 
 shall be sent to him, I hope that some one of those officials 
 here will also inform him that that money was sent to him 
 with cheers and with applause, and from loving and generou? 
 Irish Catholic hearts j that it was given, as Ireland always 
 has given when she gave, — given with a free hand and 
 a lo\ang and a generous heart. As a great author and writer 
 of our day said : ^' I would rather get a cold potato fi-om an 
 Irishman, than a guinea in gold and a dinner of beef from 
 an Englishman." 
 
 And, now, my friends, I have only to state to you that, 
 from my heart, I thank you for your presence here this even- 
 ing. I know that the sacredness of the cause brought you 
 here as Catholics. I flatter myself a little, that, perhaps, 
 some of 3^ou came, because, when I was last here before you, 
 I told you, in all sincerity, that my heart ^nd soul were in 
 this lecture, and that I would take it as a personal favor if 
 the hall were crowded this evening. The hall is crowded ; 
 and I am gTateful to you for your attendance, and your 
 patience in listening to me, and for the encouragement that 
 you gave me by your applause. 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 
 
 \_A Lecture delivered hy Very Rev. T. N. Burhe, O.P., in St. Andrew's 
 Church, New YorTc, May 19, 1872.] 
 
 "Thou art the glory of Jerusalem ; thou ai't the joy of Israel ; thou 
 art the honor of our people." 
 
 These words, dearly belov^ed brethren, are found in the 
 Book of Judith, and they commemorate a great and event- 
 ful period of Jewish history. At that time, the Assyrian King 
 sent a mighty amiy, under his general, Holofernes, to subdue 
 all tlie nations of the earth, and to oblige them not only to 
 forego their own national existence, but also to conform to 
 the religion and the rites of the Assyrians. This great army 
 the Scriptures describe to us as invincible. Their horses cov- 
 ered the plains ; their soldiers filled the valleys ; there was no 
 power upon the earth able to resist them j until at length 
 they came before a city of Judea, called Bethulia. They 
 summoned the fortress, and commanded the soldiers to surren- 
 der. Now, in that town there was a woman by the name of 
 Judith. The Scriptures say of her that she was a holy 
 woman; that she lasted every day of her life, and that, though 
 young and fauvand beautiful to behold, she lived altogether 
 a secluded life, absorbed in prayer to God. When she saw 
 the outlying anny of the Assyrians ; — when she heard the 
 proud claims of their general, — that the people of her race, of 
 her nation, should resign not only their national life, but also 
 theu' religion, and forsake the God of Israel, — she arose, in 
 the might of her holiness and in the power of her strength, and 
 she went forth from the city of Bethulia ; she sought the 
 Assyi'ian camp ; she was brought into the presence of 
 Holofemes himseK : and at the mid hour of night, while he 
 was sunk in his drunken slumbers, she entwined her hand 
 in the hair of his head ; she drew his own sword from 
 the scabbard that hung by the bed; and she cut oJ3' his head, 
 and brought it back in triumph to her people. The morning 
 came. The army found themselves without theh general. 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 273 
 
 The Jewisli soldiers and people riislied down upon tliem, and 
 there was a mighty slaughter and a scattering of the enemies 
 of God and of Israel. And then the people, returning, met 
 this wonderful woman ; and the High Priest said to her these 
 words : '' Thou art the glory of Jerusalem ; thou art the joy 
 of Israel ; thou art the honor of our people." 
 
 Now, dearly beloved, this is not the only woman recorded 
 in Scriptm-e who did great things for the people and for the 
 Chin-ch of God ; and the word of Scripture, as applied to her, 
 was meant in a higher and a greater sense : it was meant 
 directly for Judith ; but it was meant in a far higher and 
 nobler sense for her of whom I am come to speak to you this 
 evening, — the Virgin Mother, who brought forth our Lord 
 Jesus Christ into this earth. To Mary does the word apply 
 especially, as every great, heroic woman who appears in 
 Scripture typified her. The sister of Moses, who led the 
 choirs of the daughters of Israel ; the daughter of Jeptha, 
 who laid down her virgin life for her people ; Deborah, who 
 led the hosts of Israel 5 the mother of the Maccabees, stand- 
 ing in the blood of her seven sons ; — these, and all such 
 women of whom the Scriptures make mention, were all types 
 of the higher, the greater, the real, yet the ideal woman, 
 who was in the designs of God to be "• the glory of Jerusa- 
 leni, the joy of Israel, and the honor of our people 5" namely, 
 the Blessed and ImmacuUite Virgin Mary. It is of the first 
 of her graces that I am come to speak to you. The first of 
 her graces was her immaculate conception. Let us consider 
 this, and we shall see how she is " the glory of Jerusalem, 
 the joy of Israel,"' and the honor of our race and of our 
 people. 
 
 Dearly beloved, we know that, before the eyes of God, 
 before the mind of God, before the eternal councils of God, 
 there is no such thing as past or future as we behold it in 
 the coiu-se of rime. All that we consider in the past, in this 
 world's history, is before the Almighty God, at this moment, 
 as if it were at this moment taking place. All that we con- 
 sider in the future, even to the uttermost stretch of eternity, 
 is before Uie mind of God now, as if it were actually taking 
 place under His eyes ; for the difference between time and 
 eternity is this : that in time — that is to say, in the span of 
 our lite and of the world's histoiy — every thing comes 
 in buccession j event follows event, and each moment 
 
274 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 of time follows the moment that went before it j but in eter- 
 nity^ — in time as viewed in relation to God, when time 
 assumes the infinite dimensions of eternity, — there is neither 
 past nor future, but all is present under the eye of God, 
 circumscribed by His infinite vision and His infinite wisdom. 
 Therefore, all that ever was to take place in time, was seen 
 and foreseen by the Almighty God. He foresaw the creation 
 of man, although that creation did not come until after the 
 eternal years that never had a beginning. And so He fore- 
 saw the fall of man ; how the first of our race was to pollute 
 his own nature by sin, and in that personal pollution was to 
 pollute our whole nature, because our nature came from Him. 
 Just as when a man poisons the fountain-head of a river, — 
 goes up into the mountains, finds the little spring from which 
 the river comes, that afterwards, passing into the valley, 
 enlarges its bed and swells in its dimensions, until it rolls a 
 mighty torrent into the ocean ; — if you go up into the moun- 
 tain; — if 3^ou poison the fouutain-head of the little stream 
 that comes out from under the rock ; — all the waters that 
 flow in the river-bed become infected and poisoned ; because 
 the spring and the source of the river is tainted. So also, 
 in Adam, our nature sinned. He lay at the fountain-head 
 of humanity ; and the whole stream of our nature that flowed 
 from him came down to you and to me with the taint 
 and poison of sin in our blood and in our veins. Therefore 
 does the Apostle say that " we are all born children of the 
 wrath of God ; " therefore did the Prophet of old say, " For, 
 behold I was conceived in inicpiity and in sin did my mother 
 conceive me." God saw and foresaw all this from eternity ; 
 He saw that His creature, man, A^hom He made so pm*e, so 
 perfect, so holy, was to be spoiled and tainted by sin. In 
 that universal corruption, the Almighty God reserved to 
 Himself one, and only one, of the race of mankind, and pre- 
 served that one specimen of our race unpolluted, untainted, 
 unf alien. That one was the Blessed Virgin Mary. Cer- 
 tainly such a one must have existed : because tlie Scripture, 
 — the inspired word of God, — speaks of such a one when it 
 says, in the language of the Psalmist : " Thou art all fair, 
 O my beloved, and there is no spot nor stain in thee." Who 
 is she ? Is she multiplied ? Is she found here and there 
 .among the daughters of men "? No ; she is one and only one. 
 Therefore the Scripture says : . " JVIy beloved, my .love, my 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 275 
 
 dove is one and onl}'- one." That one was the Blessed 
 Virgin Maiy. God took her and preserved her from the 
 stream of corruption that infected our whole nature. God 
 folded His arms of infinite sanctity around her, and took her 
 in the very first moments of her existence, — nay, in the eternal 
 decree that went before that existence. He folded her in the 
 arms of His own infinite sanctity ; and she is the one to whom 
 shade or thoug»iit of sin or evil has never been allowed to 
 approach. Why is this ? Because, dearly beloved, she was 
 destined from all eternity to be the Mother of God, who was 
 made incarnate in her. The language of the Church is: '^He 
 was incarnate of the Holy Ghost, of the Virgin Mary, and 
 was made man." She was destined from all eternit}^ to be 
 the Mother of God, — to give to the Almighty God that 
 humanity, that bod}^, that flesh and blood which He was to 
 assume in His own divine person, and to make one with God 
 by the unity of one divine person, the Second Person of the 
 Blessed Trinity. Reflect upon this. 
 
 The Scriptures expressly tell us that nothing defiled can 
 approach to God — that nothing with the slightest speck or 
 stain of sin upon it can come near God. Therefore it is that, 
 in proportion as men approach to God, in the same proportion 
 are they immaculate. Almighty God tells us, in the Scrip- 
 ture, expressly, that, although all men were to be born in sin, 
 yet there were a few, a very few, who were excepted from 
 that general nile, because they were allowed to approach so 
 near God. The Prophet Jeremias was excepted from that 
 rule ; and he was sanctified before he- came forth from his 
 mother's womb. '' Before thou camest forth from thy mother, 
 I sanctified thee," said the Lord. And why ! Because he 
 was destined to be a prophet, and to propound the word of 
 God to the people. John the Baptist was sanctified in his 
 mothei-'s womb, and came forth in his birth free from the 
 original sin of Adam, becatise he was destined to be the one 
 among men to say : " Behold the Lamb of God who takes 
 away the sins of the world." And if these men, — one because 
 he was to preach the word of God, another because he was to 
 point out God to man, — if they, because of this high function, 
 were born without sin, surely, dearly beloved, we must con- 
 clude that the woman who was to give God His sacred human- 
 ity, the woman who was to be the Mother of God, the woman 
 who was to afford to the Almighty God that blood by which 
 
276 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 He \viped out the sin of the world, that woman must receive 
 far more than either John the Baptist or Jeremias received ; 
 and the grace that she received must have been the grace of 
 her conception without sin. And, in truth, as nothing 
 defiled, nothing tainted, was ever allowed to approach 
 Almighty God, the woman who approached Him nearest of 
 all the daughters of the earth, who came nearer to God tlian 
 all His Angels in Heaven were allowed to approach Him, 
 must be the only one of whom the Scripture speaks when it 
 says : '^ My beloved is one and only one, and she is all fair, 
 and there is no spot nor stain in her." 
 
 What follows from this? It follows that the immaculate 
 woman who was destined to be the Mother of Jesus Christ, 
 received at the first moment of her being a grace inconceiv- 
 ably gi eater than all the grace that was given to all the 
 Angels in heaven, to all the Saints upon the earth, because 
 the dignity in which she was created was inconceivably 
 greater than theirs. The highest Angel in heaven was made 
 but to be the servant of God j Mary was created to be the 
 Mother of God. What was that grace? Perfect purity, 
 perfect sinlessness, perfect immaculateness, and consequently 
 perfect love of God and highest union with Him. For, reflect, 
 my dear friends, wheresoever the human soul is found per- 
 fectly fi'ee from sin, without spot or stain of sin, without the 
 slightest inclination or temptation to sin, — wheresoever such 
 a soul is found, that soul is united to the Almighty God by 
 the highest, by the most perfect and the most intimate union 
 of divine love. God loves all His creatures ; God loves the 
 soul of man ; so that wherever He finds that there is no im- 
 pedmient of sin, no distortion of inclination, nothing to hinder 
 that union, He gives himself to that soul in the most intimate 
 and the highest form of. love j and He gathers that soul to 
 him b}^ a most perfect union. Hence it is that perfect union 
 with God and perfect sinlessness mean one and the same 
 thing. 
 
 The Blessed Virgin Mary, conceived without sin, was kept 
 and held aside to let the stream of sin flow by without touch- 
 ing her. The only one in whom our nature was preserved 
 in all its pristine beauty and perfection, the blessed Virgin 
 Mary, in that sinlessness of her conception, attained at the 
 moment of her conception the most perfect and intimate union 
 with God. And this, — for which all the Saints and all holy 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. Til 
 
 souls strive on the earth, — the ver}^ highest climax of saintly 
 perfection, — was the first beginning- of her sanctity. The saint 
 who wearies himself dnring the sixty or seventy years of his 
 life, the hermit in the desert, the martyr in the arena, all aim 
 at this one thing, — to pm'ge their sonls most perfectly from 
 sin, from every mortal and venial sin; to rise above their 
 passions and their lower and sinful nature ; and, in proportion 
 as they attain to this, do they climb the sunnnit of perfection 
 and attain to closer union with God. That whicli all the 
 saints tend to, — that which all the virgins and saints in the 
 Church thirst for, — that which they consider as the very 
 summit of their perfection, — that is the grace that was given 
 to Mary at the first moment of her being ; — namely, to be 
 perfectly pure, perfectly sinless, perfectly immaculate, con- 
 sequently, perfectly united to God by supreme and most 
 intimate union. And this is the meaning of the word of 
 Scripture : " The foundations of her are laid upcm the holy 
 mountain. The Lord loves the threshold of Zion more 
 than all the tabernacles and tents of Jndah ; " more than all 
 the accumulated perfection qf all the Angels and Saints of 
 God. Where they end is the beginning of Mary's perfection 
 in His sight. 
 
 And now let me. apply the text : " Thou art the glory of 
 Jerusalem ; thou art the joy of Israel ; thou art the honor of 
 our people." Yvlienever the Scriptures speak figuratively or 
 spirituallv of Jerasalem, they always allude to the Kingdom 
 of Heaven, the kingdom of the just made perfect. The 
 Church of God, dearly beloved, consists of three great 
 elements or portions. There is the Church that purges, in 
 Purgatory, the elect of God, by the slow action of divine 
 justice, cleansing them from every stain and paying the last 
 farthing of then debt. That is the Church Suffering. There 
 is the Church on earth, cimtending against the world, the fiesh, 
 and the devil; fighting a hard and weary battle, which you 
 and I are obliged to fight every day of our lives. We are 
 obliired to fight against our passions and subdue them. We 
 are obliged to fight against the powers of darkness seeking our 
 destruction, and subdue them. We are obliged to fight with 
 the world, surrounding us with its evil maxims, with iis loose 
 principles, with its false ideas of morality, with its bad 
 example; and, despising all these, to concpier tiiem. We 
 are obliged to fight the battle of our faith. Wo are obliged 
 
278 FATHER BURKKS DISCOURSES. 
 
 to enter upon this, that, and the other questions, and upon 
 these questions to take our stand as Catholics, and to fight 
 the good fight of faith. The question of Sacraments, the 
 question of Educati(jn, the question of the Church, the ques- 
 tion of the Pope, the question of the injustice of the worhl in 
 robbing him of all his power and of his dignity ; these, and 
 a thousand others, are the burden of the Church's battle on 
 this earth; and, therefore, she is called the Church Militant. 
 But the Suffering Church or the Militant Chui-ch is still tlie 
 Church of Grod. Having passed through the battle-field of 
 earth, having passed through the purgation of Purgator}-, and 
 haA^ng attained to the vision of God, there she triumphs; 
 there she rejoices in the undiminished glory and the uncreated 
 brightness of God ;— and that is the Church Triumphant. 
 Now, the Scriptures, speaking of that Kingdom of Heaven, or 
 of the Church Triumphant, mentions it under the name of 
 Jerusalem. For instance: "I saw,'' says the inspired 
 Evangelist, '' the New Jerasalem descending from Heaven, 
 as a bnde aiTayed for her biidegroom." St. Paul, speaking 
 of the same Kingdom, says : " Thou art come to Moimt Zion, 
 and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, 
 and to the kingdom of the just made perfect." Jerusalem, 
 therefore, as expressed in the words of my text, '^ Thou art 
 the glory of Jerusalem," means the Church Triumphant. It 
 means the glorious assemblage of all the Angels of God ; it 
 means the glorious society of all the Saints of God ; it means 
 all that Heaven or earth ever held or had of noble, 
 generous, self-sacrificing and devoted, now crowned with 
 the everlasting glory of the presence of God. And of that 
 assemblage of the Church Triumphant Mary is the glory. 
 She is the glory : and why ? Because, as the Scripture tells 
 us expressly, the Angels of God are interested in the affairs 
 of this world. Our Lord, speaking of little children, says : 
 " Woe to you who scandalize them ; because their Angels 
 see the face of my Father." Elsewhere He says : " There is 
 more jov in Heaven for one sinner doing penance than for 
 ninty-nme just who need not repentance." If, then, the 
 Angels in Heaven rejoice at every new manifestation of the 
 glory and omnipotence of God ; if their glory is to contem- 
 plate the Almighty God in His works ; it follows that, when- 
 ever they see these w^orks destroyed, whenever they see the 
 purposes of the Almighty God frustrated, whenever they see 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 279 
 
 the work and tlie mercy of God mined, tbey must grieve, as 
 far as they are capable of grieving, because they rejoice when 
 that work is restored by repentance. They, therefore, look- 
 ing down from their high places in Heaven, beheld with 
 great joy the new-born race of men ; they beheld the work of 
 God, most perfect in our first parents, Adam and Eve. They 
 saw in the fii'st woman that was created the woman who was 
 destined in her progeny to people Heaven with saints, and to 
 fill the thrones that were left vacant there by the defection of 
 the rebel angels. Their glory was that their choirs before God 
 might be filled, and that the chorus of Heavenly music might 
 be perfect in its harmony by the filling of their places. They 
 saw that one-third of their angelic brethren had fallen into 
 hell, and left the halls of Heaven more or less empty by 
 their fall. They waited, — they waited for many years, — we 
 know not how long : we know not but that that time of 
 waiting may have extended for thousands of years ; — until, 
 at length, they beheld the Creator make the new creature, 
 man. They knew the destinies of man j they knew that this 
 woman, who was created upon the earth, was to be the mother 
 of the race that was to fill up their choirs, and to fulfil and 
 make perfect their glory in Heaven. Oh, how sad was their 
 disappointment ! — oh, how terrible was their grief, when they 
 saw Eve fall into sin, and become the mother of a race of 
 reprobates, and not of saints, and her destiny change ; that 
 she should people hell with reprobates rather than fulfil her 
 high destiny and people Heaven with saints. Mary arose. 
 The earth beheld her face. Her coming was as the rising 
 of the morning star, which, trembling in its silvery beauty 
 over the eastern hills, tells the silent and the darkened world 
 that the bright sun is about to follow it and dispel the dark- 
 ness of the night by the splendor and the brightness of its 
 shining. Mary arose ; and when the Angels of God beheld 
 her, their glory was fulfilled ; for now they knew that the 
 mother of the Saints was come, and that the woman was 
 created who was to do what had failed in Eve, — to people 
 Heaven and fill Heaven's choirs with the progeny of saints in 
 everlasting glory. Therefore did they hail her coming with 
 angelic joy. Oh, what joy was theirs when they looked 
 down upon the earth and beheld the fallen race of man re- 
 stored in all its first integrity in Mary ! Oh, what joy was 
 theirs who rejoiced when Magdalen arose in all the purity of 
 
280 FATHER B VERB'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 her repentance ; — they wlio rejoice and make the vaults of 
 Heaven ring with their joy when you or I make a good con- 
 fession, and do penance for our sins ! Oh, wliat must their 
 joy have been, and the riot of their delight and of their 
 glory, when Mary arose, and they beheld, in her, the mother 
 of all those who are ever to be saved, the niotber of all true 
 penitents, the mother of all the elect of God ; for, becoming 
 the mother of Jesus Christ, she has become the mother of all 
 the just. Tlierefore, she is the glory of the heavenly 
 Jerusalem. Therefore did these Angels, on the day of her 
 assumption, joyfully come to Heaven's gate, and fill the mid- 
 air with the sound of their tiiumph, when Heaven's Queen, the 
 Mother of God, was raised to the place of her glory. ^' The 
 morning stars praised the Lord together, and all the suns of 
 God made a joyful melody." The glory of Jerusalem, the 
 Angels' glory is concentrated in the glory of God. "Whatever 
 gives glory to God glorifies tbem. Now^, in all the works 
 of God, He is most glorified in Mary, as we shall see ; and 
 therefore Mary is the glorv of the heavenly Jemsalem, and 
 the delight of God's blessed Spirits and Angels in His 
 everlasting kingdom. 
 
 But she is more j she is " the joy of Israc-l." What is this 
 Israel? Jerusalem was the summit of Israel's triumphs. 
 Israel had to fight for many a weary year before the founda- 
 tions of the Holy City were laid. Israel, that is to say, the 
 Jewish people, passed through the desert, crossing the Red 
 Sea, fighting with their enemies, there to wait for many a 
 long and weary year, until the Holy City of Jerusalem was 
 raised up in all its beauty, and until the temple of God was 
 founded there. And just as that city, Jerusalem, represents 
 the Church Triumphant, so by the name of Israel the inspired 
 writer meant the Church Militant, the Church in the desert 
 of this earth, the Church passing through the Red Sea of the 
 martyrs' blood, the Church crossing swords with every enemy 
 of God, and fighting and bearing the bm'den and heat of the 
 day. Of that Church Militant, of that Israel of God, Mary 
 is the joy. Why ? Dearly beloved, Christ, our Lord, founded 
 His Church for one express purpose, and it was that, where 
 sin had abounded, sin might be destroyed and grace abound 
 still more. " For this I am come," He says, '^ that where sin 
 hath abounded grace might abound still more." Wherever, 
 therefore, there is a \dctory over sin by Divine grace, there is 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 281 
 
 the joy of tlie Church Militant, because there is her work ac- 
 complished. Wherever the sinner rises out of his sin, and 
 does penance and returns to God, there the Church triumphs, 
 her mission is fulfilled, the purpose for which she was created 
 is accomplished, and her joy is great in proportion. Now 
 where has grace so triumphed as in Mary ? Sin abounded in 
 this world. Clirist came and shed His blood that grace might 
 take the place of sin, and superabound wliere sin hud abound- 
 ed before. Where has grace so triumphed over sin as in 
 Mary ! Great is the triumph of grace when it expels sin 
 from the sinner's soul and makes that which was impure to 
 be purified, and makes that which was unjust to be glorified 
 by sanctity before God. Oh, still greater is the triumph 
 when grace can so anticipate sin as never to allow it to make 
 its appearance ! The most perfect triumph of grace is in the 
 utter exclusion of sin. Therefore, it is that Christ, our Lord, 
 in His sacred hmnanity, was grace itself personified in man j 
 because in Him there was essential holiness, and an utter 
 impossibility of the approach of sin. If, therefore, the joy 
 of the Church be in proportion to the triumpli of grace over 
 sin, surely she must be '^ the joy of Israel," and the first fruits 
 of the Church, the only one that this mystical body of Christ 
 can ofier to God as perfectly acceptable ; the only soul, the 
 only creature that the Church can ofi'er to God and say : 
 ^' Lord, look doW'U from Heaven upon this child and daughter 
 of mine ; she is Thy beloved in whom there is no spot nor 
 stain. She is the joy of Israel." 
 
 Oh, my dearly beloved, need I tell you, — you who were 
 bom in the faith like myself ; you who come from Catholic 
 stock, who come from Catholic blood ; you in whose veins, 
 in whose Irish veins, hundreds of years of Catholic faith and 
 Catholic sanctity are flowing, — need I tell you of the woman 
 whose name, preached by Patrick, fourteen hundred years 
 ago, has been, from that hour to this, Ireland's greatest con- 
 solation in the midst of her sorrows f In the loss of fortune, 
 in the loss of property, in the loss of liberty, in the loss of 
 national existence, every Irish Catholic has been consoled in 
 the midst of his privations, by the thought that tlie Mother 
 of God loved him, and that he had a claim upon Mary 
 ^lotlier. Well do I remember one whose expression em- 
 bodied all of Irish faith and Irish love for ]\Iary ; an old 
 woman whom I met, weeping over a grave, lying there with 
 
282 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 a broken teart, waiting only for the kind hand of Death to 
 put her into the dust where all she had loved had gone before 
 her J forgotten by all, abandoned by all, the hand of misery 
 and poverty upon her ; and when I would console and speak 
 to her of heaven and of heaven's glory ; when I endeavored 
 to lighten the burden of her sorrow by consolation; she 
 turned to me and said : ^' Oh, Father, you need not speak to 
 me. The cross may be heavy, bat the Virgin Mary's cross was 
 heavier than mine." She forgot her sorrows in her great love 
 for Mary. Nay, that love, even in her sorrow, was as a gleam 
 of hope, one ray of joy let in upon the soul that otherwise 
 might have despaired. And thus it is that Mary, — the know- 
 ledge of her love for us, the knowledge of our claim upon 
 her^ through her divine Son, and the knowledge of the 
 divine commission that He gave her upon the Cross, to be 
 the Mother of all that were ever to love Him, — is the one 
 ray of joyful and divine consolation that Chi'ist, our Lord, lets 
 in upon every wounded spiiit, and every loving, grieving 
 heart. 
 
 Finally, she is '^ the honor of our people." Dear friends, 
 the Almighty God when He created us made man in perfection : 
 ^^Deiis fecit hominem rectumP He gave to man a mighty 
 intelligence, a high and a pure love, and a freedom of will 
 asserting the dominion of the soul over the body, and through 
 that body the dominion of man over all creatures. Every 
 thing on this earth obeyed him. The eagle, flying in the 
 upper air, closed his wings and came to earth to pa}'- homage 
 to the unfallen man. The lion and the tiger, at the sound of 
 his voice, came forth from theii" lairs to lick the feet of their 
 imperial master, the mifallen man. As every thing without 
 him was obedient to him, so every thing within him was 
 obedient to the dictates of his clear reason and to the empire 
 of his will. In this was the honor of God reflected as it was 
 invested in man. God gave him intelligence. God is 
 wisdom : His wisdom was invested in man. God gave him 
 love. God is love : and the purity of that love was reflected 
 in the afi'ections of unfallen man. God is powder, empire, and 
 freedom : and the empire of God, and the freedom of God, 
 were reflected in the free will of man, in the imperial sway 
 in which he commanded all creatures. Thus was the honor 
 of God invested in us. Now, sin came and destroyed all 
 this. The serpent came and whispered his temptation in the 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 283 
 
 cars of the vain and foolish woman, who, unmindful of all 
 that she had, risked all and lost all for the gratification of 
 her appetite and of her womanly curiosity. The serpent 
 came and told Eve to rebel against God. Eve rebelled ; 
 she induced Adam to rebel ; and, in this two-fold rebellion, 
 man lost all that God had given him of grace and of super- 
 natural gifts. All of divine honor that God Almighty had 
 reflected in man, a^l of divine glory that he had imparted to 
 man, all was lost. The intelligence was darkened ; the affec- 
 tions were depraved ; the freedom of the soul was enslaved ; 
 and man was no longer the high, and pm-e, and perfect image 
 of his Creator. 
 
 Xow, as we have seen in that sin of Adam, not only was 
 that man himself destroyed and corrupted, but the whole race 
 of mankind was corrupted in him. How is Mary the honor 
 of our people ? She is the honor of our people in this, that 
 where all was rained, she alone was preserved ; that, but for 
 her and her immaculate conception, neither God in Heaven, 
 nor Saint nor Angel in Heaven, nor man upon the earth 
 would ever again Took upon the face of unfallen man. The 
 work of God would have been completely destroyed ; not a 
 vestige would remain of what man was as he came from his 
 Creatoi-'s hiind, but that the Almighty preserved one unfallen 
 specimen of our race, to show His Angels and His Saints in 
 Heaven, and to show all men upon the earth, what a glorious 
 humanity was the untainted nature which God had invested 
 in man. She is the solitary boast of our fallen nature. Take 
 Mary away ; deprive her' of the grace of her immaculate 
 conception*; let the slightest taint of sin come in ;— she is 
 spoiled like the rest of us : and the Almighty God has not 
 retained, in the destruction of our race, one single specimen 
 of unfallen nature. But not so ; for God in all His works 
 may allow His enemy to prevail against Him ; He may allow 
 the* spirit of evil to come in, and spoil and taint and destroy 
 His works ; but He never allows His works to be utterly 
 destroyed : never. When mankind fell from God and from 
 grace, so that the image of God disappeared, and the spirit 
 of God from among them; and the Almighty found it 
 necessary to destroy the whole race of man in the Deluge, — 
 He presei-ved Noah, and his son&, and his daughters. Eight 
 souls were lu-eserved, while hundreds of millions were 
 destroyed ; but God, in these eight souls, preserved the race, 
 
284 FATHER BUEKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 and did not allow the spirit of evil to utterly destroy His 
 work. When God drew back again the bolts of heaven, and 
 allowed the living fire of His wa-ath to fall upon Sodom and 
 Gomorrah, and destroyed the whole nation, yet even then 
 He saved Lot and his family ; and a few were saved, where 
 all the rest were lost. When the Almighty resolved to 
 destroy, for their impirrity, nhe race of Benjamin, yet He 
 preserved a few, lest the whole tribe, might be utterly 
 destroved. 
 
 And thus it is that we find the Almighty God always 
 preserving one or two specimens of His work, lest the devil 
 might glory overmuch, and riot in his joy for having utterly 
 destroyed the work of God. Our nature was destroyed in 
 Eve. One fair specimen of all that could be in us, — of all 
 that was in Adam 'before his sin, — of all that God intended 
 us to be, — one fair specimen of all this was preserved in 
 Mary, who, in her immaculate conception, enshrined in the 
 infinite holiness of God, was preserved untainted and un- 
 fallen, as if Adam had never sinned. It may be asked, if, 
 then, this woman was without sin, if she was conceived 
 without sin, how is it that she calls Clirist her Saviour, 
 saying : " My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit 
 hath rejoiced' in God, my Saviour." Oh, my friends, need I 
 tell you that Christ, our Lord, is as much the Saviour of Mary 
 as He is your Saviour or mine ? Need I tell you that, but 
 for His incarnation, but for His suffering and passion and 
 death, Mary could not have received the grace of her immacu- 
 late conception, any more than you or I could have received 
 the grace of our baptism ! Baptism has done for us, as far 
 as regards the removal of original sin, all that her immacu- 
 late conception did for Mary. For the four thousand years 
 that went before the incarn'ation of the Son of God, every 
 child of Adam that was saved, was saved through the antici- 
 pated merits of the blood that was shed upon Calvary. 
 Adam himself was saved, Moses was saved, Abraham, Isaac, 
 and Jacob, Daniel, all the Prophets, all the Saints were, 
 saved by their faith in the Son of God, and by the pre- 
 vision of His merits before His Eternal. Father. The merits 
 of the Son of God, as yet unincarnate, yet foreseen and 
 applied, thousands of years before their time, to the souls of 
 the Patriarchs and the' Prophets, — the self-same merits were 
 applied to the soul of Mary in the eternal design of God, in 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 285 
 
 her immaculate conception. He is as much her Saviour as 
 He is ours ; only He saved her in a way quite different from 
 that in which we were saved. You may save a man, for 
 instance, by keeping him from going into the way of danger ; 
 you may save a child by taking it out of the street, when 
 some dangerous procession is passing, or when some railway 
 engine is passing — something that may endanger its life ; or 
 you may save the same child, when in immediate danger, by 
 the touch of your powerful and saving hand, and restore it to 
 life. So, the Almighty God saved Mary by preventing the 
 evil, just as He saves us by cleansing us from the evil ^yllich 
 has already fallen on us. Hence it is that she, more than 
 any of us, had reason to call Christ, her Son, her Lord and 
 her Saviour. " My soul doth magnify the Lord," she said, 
 " and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviom." Truly 
 He was 'her Saviom\ Truly He shows His power in the 
 manner in which He saved her. He did not permit her to 
 be immersed in the ocean of sin. He did not take her, as 
 something filthy and defiled, and wash her soul in the laver 
 of Baptism j but he applied the graces of Baptism to her 
 conception ; so that she came into this world all pure, all 
 holy, all immaculate, just as the Christian child comes forth 
 from the baptismal font. 
 
 Behold, then, how she is the glory of the heavenly Jeru- 
 salem, the joy of the earthly Church of Israel, and the honor 
 of our people ; seeing that, if Mary were not as she is in 
 Heaven, immaculate and unstained, that Heaven would be, 
 after all, only a congregation of penitents. Every other 
 soul that enters Heaven enters as a Magdalen — at least, as 
 Magdalen i-ising from original sin. Mary alone entered 
 Heaven, as Eve w^ould have entered if she had resisted the 
 evil and conquered the temptation of sin. Thus do we 
 behold the Mother of God as she shines forth before us in 
 the prophecy of Scripture — an honor and a triumph and a 
 •symbol of God's com})lete victory. The victory that God 
 gains over sin is not complete when He has to come to remedy 
 that evil after it has fallen upon the soul. The complete 
 trium})h of God is when He is able to preserve the soul from 
 any approach of that evil, and to keep it in all its original 
 purity and immaculateness and innocence. 
 
 Such was the woman whom the Prophet beheld : " And 
 a great sign appeared in Heaven — a woman clothed with the 
 
286 FATHER BUREWS DISCOURSES. 
 
 sun, and the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown 
 of twelve stars." Of what was tiiis woman a sign? She 
 was the sign of the victory of God ; for he adds : ^' And I 
 saw another sign in Heaven, a great dragon coming to 
 devour the woman and to destroy her ; but it was cast forth 
 and there was no room for him nor place for him any more 
 in Heaven." And Mary shone forth, in the eternal council 
 of God, the very sign and type, promise and symbol of God's 
 victory over sin. God's victory over sin was complete, as 
 every victory of God is ; and the completeness of that victory 
 was embodied in the immaculate conception of Mary, 
 
 What wonder, then, my dearly beloved, that we should 
 honor one whom God has so loved to honor ! What wonder 
 that we should hail her as all-pure j hail her from earth, 
 whom God hailed from Heaven, saying : " Thou art all fair, 
 my beloved, and there is no stain in thee!" What wonder 
 that we should rejoice in her who is the joy and the glory 
 of the heavenly Jerusalem ! What wonder that we should 
 sing praises to her 5 put her forth as the very type of purity, 
 innocence, and virtue, whom the Almighty God so filled 
 with all his highest gifts, that Heaven and earth never beheld 
 such a creatm'e as Mary ; that the very Angel, coming down 
 from before the throne of God, was astonished when he 
 beheld her greatness ; and, bending in his human form before 
 her, said : " All hail to thee, Mary, for thou art full of 
 grace 3" and when she trembled at his words, he assm'ed her, 
 saying : " Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace before 
 the Lord." Oh, how grand was her finding ! Grace was 
 lost by the first woman, Eve : and every daughter of earth 
 souglit it for four thousand years, and found .it not. How 
 could they find it 1 . They came into this world without it. 
 How could they find that grace which Eve had lost? They 
 came tainted by Eve's sin upon this earth. Mary alone found 
 it — the grace of immaculate creation, the grace of primeval 
 purity. Therefore, the Angel said to her : — " Fear not, I tell 
 thee thou shalt be the mother of God, and that He that is to 
 be born of thee shall be called the Son of the Most High. 
 Yet, woman, fear not, for I say to thee, that thou hast 
 found grace before the Lord." Therefore do we honor her, my 
 dearly beloved ; therefore do we rejoice that she, being such 
 as she is, is still our mother and regards us with a mothei^'s 
 love J and we can look up to her with the unsuspecting 
 
THE IMMACULATE CONCEPTION. 287 
 
 and all-confiding love of childhood. mother mine! — 
 mother of all the nations ! — mother that kept the faith 
 in that land of om- mothers, that through temptation and 
 suffering never lost her love for thee, — that, famished and 
 famine-stricken, never lost the faith, — I hail thee ! As thou 
 art in Heaven to-night, clothed with the sun of divine justice, 
 with the moon reflecting all earthly virtues beneath thy feet, 
 and upon thy head a crown of twelve stars, — God's brightest 
 gift, — I hail thee, mother ! And in the name of the Catholic 
 Church, and in the name of my Catholic people, and in the 
 name of the far-off and loved land that ever loved thee, I 
 proclaim that '^ thou art the glory of Jerusalem, thou art the 
 joy of Israel, and thou art the honor of our people ! 
 
CATHOLIC EDUCATION. 
 
 [A Lecture delivered by the Very Eev. T. X. BurJce, O.P., in St. 
 Peter's Church, New York, May 23, 1872.] 
 
 I PEOPOSE to speak to you, my dear friencls, tliis evening-, 
 on tlie question of "Catholic Education." My attention was 
 attracted, this morning, to a notice in one of the leading 
 papers of this citj^, in which the writer warned me, that, if I 
 w^as not able to find a solution for this difficult question of 
 Education, which would be acceptable to all classes, I might 
 please my co-religionists, but that I could not please the 
 public. While 1 am grateful to the writer of that article, 
 or to any one else that gives me advice, I have to tell you, 
 my friends, and the writer of that notice, and everybody else, 
 that I am not come to this country, nor have I put on this 
 habit to please either the public or my co-religionists, but to 
 announce the truth of God, in the name of His holy Church. 
 He who accepts it, and believes it, and acts upon it, shall be 
 saved ; he that does not choose to believe, Christ, our Lord, 
 Himself says shall be condemned. God help us ! God pity 
 the people whose religious teachers have to try and ^^ please 
 their co-religionists and the iniblic .'" Great Lord ! how ter- 
 rible it is when the spirit of farce and of unreality finds its 
 way, even into the mind of the man who is to proclaim the 
 truth by which alone his fellow-men and himself can be saved ! 
 But it was remarked, and traly, in the same article, that 
 " this is one of the most — perhaps, the most, — impoi-tant ques- 
 tions of the day." No doubt, it is. I do not suppose I could 
 have a more important theme for the subject of my thoughts 
 or of my words, than that of Education. This is a question 
 that comes home to every man among us. No man can close 
 his mind against it. No man can shut it out from his thoughts. 
 No man in the community can fold his arms and say, " This 
 is a question which does not concern me, consequently upon 
 which I am indifierent." No : and why ! Because every 
 man among us is obliged to live in society : that is to say, 
 
CATHOLIC EDUCATION. 289 
 
 in inter-comnuiiiion with his feUow-inen. Every man's hap- 
 })iness or misery depends, in a Large degree, upon the state of 
 society, in which he lives. If the associations that surround 
 us are good, and holy, and piu-e ; if our chihh'en are obedient ; 
 if our servants are honest ; if our friends are loyal, and our 
 neighbors are peaceable ; if the persons who supply us with 
 the necessaries of life are reliable, — how far all these things 
 go to smooth away all the difficulties, and annoyances, and 
 anxieties of life ! ' And yet, all this depends mainly upon 
 education. If, on the other hand, our children be rude, dis- 
 obedient, and wilful ; if those around us be dishonest, so that 
 we must be constantly on our guard against them 5 if onr 
 friends be false, so that we know not upon whose word to 
 rely ; if every thing we use and take to clothe ourselves be 
 bad, and adulterated, or poistmous ; how miserable all this 
 makes life ! And yet, these issues, I say again, depend 
 mainly upon education. Therefore, it is a question that 
 comes home to every man, and from which no man can excuse 
 himself, or plead indifference or unconcern. 
 
 Now, first of all, my friends, consider, that the greatest 
 misf(n-tune that Almighty God can let fall upon any man is 
 the curse of utter ignorance, or want of education. The 
 Holy Ghost, in the Scriptures, expressly tells us that this 
 absence of knowledge, this absence of instruction and educa- 
 tion, is the greatest curse that can fall upon a man, because 
 it not only unfits him for his duties to God, and for the 
 fellowship' of the elect of God, and for every Godlike and 
 eternal purpose, but it also unfits him for the society of his 
 human kind ; and therefore the Scripture says so emphati- 
 cally, — " Man, when he was in honor," (that is to say, created 
 in honor,) " lost his knowledge." He had no knowledge. 
 What followed ? He was compared to the senseless beasts, — 
 made like to them. What is it that distinguishes man from 
 the brute ? Is it strength of limb ? No ! Is it gracefulness 
 of form? No! Is it acute sensations — a sense of superior 
 sight, or a more intense and acute sense of hearing? No ! 
 In all these things many of the beasts that roam the forest 
 exceed us. We have not the swiftness of the stag; — we 
 have not the strength of the lion ; — we have not the beauti- 
 ful grace of the antelope of the desert ; — we have not the 
 power to soar into the upper air, like the eagle, who lifts him- 
 self upon stronsT pinions and gazes on the sun. We have 
 
 13 
 
290 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 not the keen sense of sight of many animals, nor the keen 
 sense of hearings of others. In what, then, lies the differ-. 
 ence and the superiority of man. Oh, my dear friends, it 
 lies in the intelligence that can know, and the heart which, 
 gnided hy that intelligence, is influenced to love for intellec- 
 tual motives, and in the will which is supposed to preserve 
 its freedom by acting under the dominion of that enlightened 
 intellect and mind. For, mark you, it is not the mere power 
 of knowing that distinguishes man from the brutes, and 
 brings him to the perfection of his nature. It is the actual 
 presence of knowledge. It is not the mere power of loving 
 that distinguishes man from the lower creatures. No. For 
 if that love be excited by mere sensuality, — by the mere ap- 
 peal to the senses, — it is not the high human love of man, 
 but it is the mere lust of desire and passion of the brute. It 
 is not the will that distinguishes man in the nobility of his 
 nature from the brate ; but it is the will, preserving its free- 
 dom, keeping itself free from the slavery and dominion of 
 brute passions, and answering quickly — heroically — to every 
 dictate of the high, and holy, and enlightened intelligence 
 that is in man. What follows from this 1 It follows that 
 if you deprive man of intelligence or knowledge ; — if you 
 leave him in utter ignorance, and withdraw education, you 
 thereby staiwe, and, as far as you can, annihilate the very 
 highest portion of the soul of man j you thereby dwarf all 
 his spiritual powers ; you thereby leave that soul, which was 
 created to grow, and to wax strong, and to be developed by 
 knowledge, — you leave it in the imbecility and the helpless- 
 ness of its natm-al, intellectual, and spiritual infancy. Wliat 
 follows from this ? It follows that the uneducated, unin- 
 structed, ignorant, dwarfed individual is incapable of influenc- 
 ing the affections of the heart with any of the higher 
 motives of love. It follows that, if that hieait of man is ever 
 to love, it will not love upon the dictate of the intelligence 
 guiding it to an intellectual object, but, like the brute beast 
 of the field, it will seek the gratification of all its desires upon 
 the mere brutal, coqjoreal evidence of its senses. What fol- 
 lows moreover ? It follows that the will which was created by 
 the Almighty God in freedom, and which, by the very compo- 
 sition of man's nature, was destined to exercise that freedom 
 under the dictates of intelligence, is now left mthout its proper 
 ruler, — an intelligent, instructed intellect ; and, therefore, in 
 
CATHOLIC EDUCATION. 291 
 
 tlie iminstrncted man, the allegiance of the uill — tlie 
 dominion of the will — is transferred to the passions, to the 
 desires and depraved inclinations of man's lower nature. 
 And so we see that, in the purely^ and ntterly uninstructed 
 man, there can be no loftiness of thought, no real purity of 
 affection 5 nor can there be any real intellectual action of the 
 will of man. Therefore, I conclude that the greatest curse 
 Almighty God can let fall upon a man is the curse of utter 
 ignorance, unfitting him thereby for every purpose of God 
 and every purpose of society. 
 
 First, then, my dear friends, I assert that want of educa- 
 tion, or ignorance, unfits a man for his position, no matter 
 how humble it be, in this world and in society. For all 
 human society exists among men, and not among inferior 
 animals, because of the existence in men of intelligence. 
 All human society or intercourse is based upon intellectual 
 conmiunication ; — thought meeting thought ; intellectual 
 sympathy coiTcsponding with the sympathy of others. But 
 the man who is utterly uninstracted 5 the man who has 
 never been taught to read or w^rite ; the man who has never 
 been taught to exercise any act of his intelligence ; — the poor, 
 neglected child that we see about our streets, growing up 
 Avithout receiving any word of instruction, — that child grows 
 up, — rises to manhood utterly unfit to communicate with his 
 fellow-men, for he is utterly unprepared for that intercom- 
 munion of intelligence and intellect which is the function of 
 society. What follows? He cannot be an obedient citizen, 
 because he cannot even apprehend in his mind the idea 
 of law. He cannot be a prosperous citizen, because he 
 can never turn to any kind of labor which would require 
 the slightest mental effort. In other words he cannot 
 labor as a man. He is condemned by his intellectual 
 inibecility to labor merely with his hands. Mere brute force 
 distinguishes his labor ; and the moment you reduce a man to 
 the degree and amount of corporeal strength, — the moment 
 you remove from his labor the application of intellect, — that 
 moment he is put in competition with the beasts j and they 
 are stronger than he ; therefore he is inferior to them. Take the 
 utterly uninstructed man: he it is that is the enemy of society. 
 He cnnnot meet his fellow-men in any kind of intellectual 
 intercommunion. He is shut out fnun all that the past tells 
 him in the histor}^ of the world : from all the high present 
 
292 FA THEE B UREE'S DISCO UESES. 
 
 interests that are pressing- around liim : from all Lis future he 
 is shut out by his utter destitution of all religious as well as 
 civil education. What follows from this? Isolated as he is, 
 flung back upon his solitary self, — no humanizing touch, no 
 gentle impulse, no softening influence even of sorrow or 
 trouble, — no aspiration for something better than tlie present 
 moment, — no remorse for sin, — no consolation for pain, — no 
 relief in affliction, — nothing of all this remains to him. An 
 isolated, solitary man, such as you or I might be, if in one 
 moment, by God's visitation, all that we have ever learned 
 should be wiped out of our minds, — all our past lost to us, — 
 all the aspirations of the future cut oflf from us ; — such is the 
 ignorant man; and such society recognizes him to be. If 
 there be a man who makes the State and the government of 
 the State to tremble, it is the thoroughly uninstructed and un- 
 educated man ; — it is the class neglected in early youth, and 
 cast aside and utterly uninstructed and undeveloped in their 
 souls, in their hearts, and in their intellects. It is this class 
 that, from time to time, comes to the surface, in some wild 
 revolution, — swarming forth in the streets of London, or the 
 streets of Paris, or in the streets of the great Continental 
 cities of Europe; — swamiing forth, no one knows from 
 whence; coming forth from their cellars; coming forth from 
 out the dark places of the city ; wdth fury unreasoning in 
 their eyes, and the cries of demons upon their lips. These 
 are the men that have dyed their hands red in the best blood 
 of Europe, w-hether it came from the throne or the altar. It 
 is the thoroughly uninstructed, uneducated, neglected child 
 of society that rises in God's vengeance against the world 
 and the society that neglected him ; — that pays them back 
 with bitter interest for the neglect of his soul in his early 
 youth. Therefore it is that statesmen and philosophers cry 
 out, in this our day, '' We must educate the people." And 
 the great cry is education. Quite true ! 
 
 And if the world demands education, much more does the 
 Catholic Church. She is the true mother, not merely of the 
 masses, as they are called, but of each and every individual 
 soul among them. She it is to whose hands God has com- 
 mitted the eternal interests of man : and therefore it is with 
 a zeal far greater than that of the world, the Catholic Church 
 applies herself to the subject and question of education. Why 
 so ? Because if, as we have seen, all human society is based 
 
CA THOLIC ED UCA TTOX. 293 
 
 upon knowledge — npon inter-communion of intellect, — of 
 ■which the uninstructed man is incapable, — the society wliich 
 is called the Church — the supernatural and divine society, — 
 is also much more emphatically founded upon the principles 
 of knowledge. What is the foundation, the bond, the link, 
 the life and soul of the Catholic Church ? I answer — faith. 
 Faith in God. Faith in every word that God has revealed. 
 Faith, stronger than any human principle of belief, opinion, 
 or conviction. Faith, not only bowing down before God, but 
 apprehending what God speaks ; clasping that truth to the 
 mind, and informino;" the intellisrence with its liHit, admittini^ 
 it as a moral inHuence into every action and every motive of 
 a man's life. It is the soul and life of the Catholic Church. 
 Faith ! What is faith ? It is an act of the intelligence 
 whereby we know and believe all that God has revealed. 
 Faith, then, is knowledge ? Most certainlv ! Is it an act 
 of the will ? No ; not directly — not essentiall}^ — not imme- 
 diately. It is, directly, essential^, and immediately, an act of 
 the intellect, and not of the w^ill. It is the intellect that is 
 the subject wherein faith resides. The will may command 
 that intellect to bow down and believe ; but the essential 
 act of faith is an act of the intelligence, receiving light and 
 accepting it 5 and that light is knowledge ; therefore the 
 Catholic Church cannot exist without knowledge. 
 
 More than this, the world has many duties which it imposes 
 upon man, which require no education, little or nothing of 
 instruction ; — for instance, the duty of labor, where one man, 
 educated and instructed, taking his position at the head of 
 the works, or the engineering, is able to direct ten thousand 
 men : there, among these ten thousand, no great amount of 
 instruction or education is necessary or required. But the 
 Catholic Church, on the other hand, imposes a great many 
 tasks upon her children, every one of them recjuiring not only 
 intellect, l»ut highly trained and well-educated intellect. Look 
 through the duties that the Church imposes upon us. Every 
 one of these duties is intellectual. The Ciiurcli commands 
 us to pray. I'layer involves a knowdedge of God ; a know- 
 ledge of our own wants, and a knowledge how to elevate our 
 souls to God ; for prayer is an elevation of the soul ; and the 
 uninstructed soul cannot elevate inself to the npprehensi(m of 
 a pure spiritual being. The Church commands us to prepare 
 for confession. Tliat involves a knowledge of the law of 
 
294 FATHER BURKWS DISCOURSES. 
 
 God, in order that we may examine ourselvea, and sec wherein 
 we liave failed ; — tliat involves a knowledge of ourselves, in 
 order to stnd}^ ourselves tliat we may discover om' sins. Pre- 
 paration for confession involves a knowledge of God's claim 
 to our love, in order that we may find motives for our sorrow. 
 Tlie Oluircli commands us to approach the Holy Communion. 
 That approach' involves the high intellectual act whereby we 
 are able with heart and with mind to realize the unseen, in- 
 visil)le, yet present God, and to receive Him. We see the 
 strong act of the intellect realizing the unseen, and trans- 
 ending the evidence of the senses, so as to make that 
 unseen, invisible presence act upon us more strongly, — 
 agitate us more violently, — than the strongest emotion that 
 the evidence of the senses can give. The Church commands 
 ns to understand what her Sacraments are ; and that is a 
 high intellectual act, whereby we recognize God's dealings 
 with man through the agency of material things. In a word, 
 every single duty the Catholic Church imposes is of the 
 highest intellectual character. 
 
 Again : though the world demands knowledge and educa- 
 tion as the very first elements in its society, still the motive- 
 power that the world proposes to every man is self-interest ; 
 the appeal that the world makes through the thousand chan- 
 nels through which it comes to us, is all an appeal to self. 
 All the professions, all the mercantile operations, all the 
 duties and pleasures of life, appeal to the individual to seek 
 his own self-aggrandizement — his own self-indulgence; — to 
 make life happy and pleasant to himself. Not so with the 
 Church ; faith is her foundation • and the motive she puts 
 before every man is not self, but charity. Just as self con- 
 centrates the heart of man^ narrow's his intellectual and 
 spiritual horizon, makes him turn in upon his own contracted 
 being, and so narrows every intellectual and spiritual power 
 within him ; charity, on the other hand, which is the motive 
 propounded by the Church, enlarges and expands the heart 
 of man, enlarges the horizon of his intellectual view, and lifts 
 him up above himself. Like a man climbing the mountain 
 side, every foot that he ascends he beholds the horizon en- 
 laro-incr and widenino- around him. So, also, everv Catholic, 
 the more he enters into the spirit of his holy religion, the 
 more does he perceive the intellectual, moral, and spiritual 
 horizon enlarging, — taking in more interests and manifesting 
 
CATHOLIC EDUCATION. p95 
 
 more beauties of a spiritual order. So it is witli the Clmrch 
 of God. She depends more upon education than even the 
 worhl, both upon the fundamental principle of faith, which is 
 an act of the intellect, and the nnjtive of action, which is 
 charity, which is an expansicm of the intellect; and also upon 
 the nature of the duties which she imposes upon her children, 
 and w^hich are all of the highest intellectual character. 
 
 And yet, my fiiends, strange to say, among the many 
 oddities of this age of ours, there is a singular delusion which 
 has taken hold of the Protestant mind, that the Catholic 
 Church is opjiosed to education : that she is anxious to keep 
 the people ignorant; that she is afraid to let them read; 
 that she does not like to see schools opened, and that she is 
 afraid of enlightenment. They argue so blindly and yet so 
 complacently, that when you find a good-natured and g(jod- 
 humored Protestant man or woman calmly talking about 
 these things, it is difficult to keep from laughing; — it is 
 easy enough to keep your temper, but very hai'd to keep 
 from lauifiiino-. For instance : talking about Spain or 
 Mexico; "calmly and complacently telling how the whole 
 country is to become Protestant as soon as the whole people 
 ''learn how to read, you know !" and ''begin to reason, you 
 know !" " If we can only get good schools amongst them." 
 Then they Ijclieve the infernal lies told them ; for instance, 
 the lie is "told that, in Rome, since Victor Emmanuel entered 
 it, thirty-six schools had been opened, — taking it foi granted 
 there ^\•ere no schools there before ! I lived twelve years in 
 Rome, under the Pope, and there was a school in almost 
 every street: not a child in Rome was uneducated. Nay 
 more ; the Christian Brothers and the Nuns went out in the 
 streets of Rome, regularly, every mt)rning, and wxMit from 
 house to house, and up stairs in the tenement houses, among 
 the poor people, picking up the children ; or if they found a 
 little boy running in the streets, he was taken quietly to 
 school. They went out regularly to pick up the children out 
 of the streets. And yet these men who are interested in blind- 
 ing the foolish Protestant mind, come with such language 
 as this; for it is the po})ular idea, which they wish to per- 
 })etuate, that the Catholic Church is alVaid of education. No, 
 mv fiiends: the Catholic Church is afraid of one inan more 
 tlian any other, and that is the man who is thoroughly igno- 
 rant.- The man who brings disgrace upon his religion is the 
 
29Q FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 tlioronglily ignorant man, if he is a professed Catliolic ; and 
 the man impossible to make a Cathohc of, is the thoroiiglily 
 ignorant Protestant. The more ignorant he is, tlie less chance 
 there is of making a Catholic of him. The truth is, in this 
 da}'' of ours, the great conversions made to the Catholic Church, 
 in this country and Europe, from Protestantism, all take place 
 among the most enlightened, and highly educated, and cul- 
 tivated people. Why ? Because the more the Protestant 
 reads, — the more he knows, — the nearer he approaches 
 to the Catholic Church, the true fountain-head and source of 
 education. Why is this accusation brought against the Cath- 
 olic Church, that she is afraid of this and afraid of that? I 
 will tell you. Because she insists, in the teeth of the world, 
 and in spite of the world's pride, and ignorance, and bloated 
 self-sufficiency, — the Catholic Church insists, as she has 
 insisted for eighteen hundred and seventy-two years, on 
 saying : " I know how to teao'h ; you do not ; you must come 
 to me ; — you cannot live without me. Do not imagine you 
 can live by yourselves, or you will fall back into the slough 
 of your own impurity and corraption." The world does not 
 like to hear this. The Catholic Church insists that she alone 
 understands what education means : the world does not like 
 to hear that. But I come here to-night to prove it, not only 
 to you, my Catholic friends, my co-religionists, but, if there 
 be one here who is not a Catholic, to him also ; and so to 
 please the public if they choose to be pleased. But if my 
 co-religionists or the public choose to be displeased, the truth 
 is there, personified in the Church ; and that truth will re- 
 main after the co-religionists and the indignant public are 
 all swept away. 
 
 There are three systems of education that are before us 
 in this country. There are three classes of men that are 
 talking about education ; namely, — those who go for what 
 is called a thoroughly secular system ; those who go for a 
 denominational system, as far as it is Protestant ; and the 
 Catholic, who goes in for Catholic education. Let us exam- 
 ine the three. There is a large class, in England and in 
 Auierica, who assume the tone of the philosopher, and who, 
 with great moral dignity and infinite presumption, lay down 
 the law for their neighbors, and tell them : — '' There is no use 
 quarrelling, my dear Ba])tists and 3Iethodists, — and you, 
 pestering Catholics, on the other handj you want your 
 
CATHOLIC education: 207 
 
 schools-, eveiy one wants his own school; let us adopt a 
 beautiful system of education, that will take in every one, 
 and leave your religious differences among yourselves : let 
 us do away with religicm altogether. The child has a great 
 deal to be taught independent of religion. There is history, 
 philosophy, geography, geology, engineering, steam works ; 
 all these things can be taught'^ without any reference to God 
 at all. So lei: us do this : let us adopt non-sectarian educa- 
 tion." Now, my fiiends, these are two big words: non-sec- 
 tarian, — a word of five syllables, — and education, — nine 
 syllables altogether. Now, when people adopt great, big 
 words in this way, you should always be on your guard 
 against them ; because if 1 wanted to palm oft" something not 
 true, I would not set it out in plain English, but try to 
 involve it in big words; for, as the man in the story says, — 
 '' If it is not sense, at least, it is Greek." So, these two 
 words, non-sectarian education, if you wish to know what 
 they mean, — turn it into English — non-sectarian education, 
 in good old Saxon English, means teaching without God: 
 five syllables. Teaching your children, fathers and mothers, 
 and educating them without God ! Not a word about God, no 
 more than if God did not exist ! He can V)e spoken of in the 
 family ; He may be preached in the temple or in the church ; 
 but there is one'^establishment in the land where God must not 
 come in ; where God must not be mentioned ; and that estab- 
 lishment is the place where the young are to receive the 
 education that is to determine their life, bc>th for time and 
 eternity : — the place wdiere the young are to receive that edu- 
 cation upon which eternity depends. The question of heaven 
 or hell for every child there depends upon that education ; and 
 that education"^ must be given without one mention of the 
 name of the God of heaven ! 
 
 Try to let it enter into your minds what this amiable sys- 
 tem is. This beautiful system is founded upon two principles 
 — those two i)rinciples lie at the bottom of it — namely: — 
 'Jlie first principle is, that man can attain perfection without 
 the aid of Jesus Christ at all. This system of education does 
 not believe in Christ. It is the ^lasonic princi})le ; the prin- 
 cij)le of the Freemasons over again; — namely, that God has 
 made us so that, without any help from Him at all, without 
 any shadow of grace, or sacrament, or religion, we can work 
 out perfection in ourselves ; therefore, we are independent of 
 
208 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCOUBSES. 
 
 God. It is the last result of human pride ; and hence the 
 secular education which docs not take cognizance of God 
 says, we can bring up these children to be what they ought 
 to*^ be, without teaching them any thing about God. The 
 second principle upon which it is based is, that the end of hu- 
 man life, under the Christian dispensation, is not what Christ 
 our Lord, or St. Paul, supposed it be, but something else. 
 The Scripture says, that the end of the Christian's purposes, 
 in this life, should be to incorporate himself with the Lord 
 Jesns Christ, and to grow into the fulness of his age and his 
 manhood in Christ ; to put on the Lord, the unity, the love, 
 the generosity, and every virtue of our divine Lord and 
 Saviour. This is to be the end of. the Christian man ; the 
 purpose of his life, on which all depends. Now, these prin- 
 ciples are expressly denied on the part of those who teach 
 Avithout God. Can they teach without God — the Almighty 
 God, who has them in tlie hollow of his band 'I The princi- 
 ple is absurd in itself. To teacli human sciences without 
 God, is an impossibility. For instance, can you teacli 
 historv wdtliout God. The very first passage of history 
 savs :— " In the beginning, God created the heavens and the 
 earth : " and, therefore, in this system of education, the pro- 
 fessor of history, the teacher, must say : " My dear children, 
 I am going to teach you history ; but I must not begin 
 at the beginning; for there we find God, and He is not 
 allowed in the school ! " Can you teach philosophy without 
 God 1 Philosophy is defined to be the pursuit after wisdom. 
 It is the science that traces effects to their causes; and the 
 philosopher proceeds from the existence of the first cause ; 
 and that first cause is God ; therefore, the philosophy that 
 excludes God must begin with the second cause; just as if a 
 man wanted to teach a little boy how to cast up sums, and 
 lie said — " We will begin with number t^vo ; there is no 
 number one." The child would turn round and say : — " Is 
 not number two a multiplication of number one ? — how can 
 there be a number two unless there is a number one to be 
 multiplied ? " Can a man teach the alphabet and leave out 
 the first letter A, and say, let us begin with the second letter 
 B f Such is the attempt to teach philoso])hy or history with- 
 out God. Can they teach geology without God? Can they 
 exclude from their disquisitions upon the earth, and the eai-th's 
 surface, and the soil of the earth, — can they exclude the 
 
CATHOLIC EDUCATION. 299 
 
 Creator's hand ? They attempt to do it ; but in their very 
 attempt they preach their infidelity. Hence, no man can 
 teach ge<dog"v without being- either a profound and pious 
 believer in llevelation, or an avowed and open Infidel. In 
 a word, not one of these human sciences is there that does not, 
 in its ultimate result and analysis, fall back upon the first 
 truth — the fountain of all truth — the cause of all certainty j 
 — and that is God. 
 
 But, putting all these considerations aside, let us suppose 
 we gave our children to these men to instruct them ; tliey 
 say, the parents can teach, at home, any form of religion 
 they like. Let us suppose we give our children to the in- 
 struction of these men. Do they know how to educate them ?• 
 They do not know what the word education means. What 
 does it mean ? It means, in its very etymology, to bring 
 forth, to develop., to bring out what is in the mind. That 
 little child of seven 3'ears is the father of the man. It is 
 only seven years of age ; but it is the father of the man 
 that will be, in twenty years time. Now, to educate and 
 T>iing out in that child every faculty, every power of his soul 
 that he will require for the exercise of his manhood to-morrow; 
 that is the true meaning of the word education. In the human 
 soul there are two distinct s^^stems of powers, both necessary 
 for'the man, both acting upon and influencing his life. First 
 of all, is the intelligence of a man ,• he must receive educa- 
 tion. But there is, together with that pure intellect or 
 intelligence, there is the heart that must also be educated ; 
 there are the afiections ; there is the will ; and as knowledge 
 is necessar\^ for the intellect, divine grace is necessary for the 
 heart and for the will. If you give to your child every form 
 of human knowledge, and pour into him ideas in abundance, 
 and develop, and bring forth every faculty of his intellect, 
 and let nothing be hid from him in the way of knowledge, 
 but do not mind his heart, and do not educate his afiections ; 
 how is he to subdue his passions ? Do not speak to him of 
 his moral duties, which are to be the sinews of his life, and 
 do not attempt at all to strengthen, and teach the will to bow 
 to the intellect ; do not speak to him of his duties, nor the 
 things that he must practise ; what will you have at the end 
 of the education ? An intellectual monster. Fancy a little 
 child, five or six years old. Su{)pose all the growth was 
 turned into his head, and the rest of his body remained fixed j 
 
300 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 in a few years you would have a monster ; you would have a 
 little child with the head of a giant upon him. Do not attempt 
 to purify the aflections, and you ^\ill develop, indeed, the 
 intellect, but the other powers will be in such disproportion 
 that you have made an intellectual monster. You have made 
 something worse, — you have made a moral monster ! It is 
 quite true, knowledge is power. You have given that man 
 })ower by giving him knowledge. But you have not given 
 him a single principle to purify and influence, or restrain 
 that power, so as to use it properly. Therefore, you have 
 made a moral monster ! And, now, that man is all the more 
 wicked, and all the more heartless, and all the more remorse- 
 less and impure, in precisely the same proportion as you 
 succeed in making him cultured and learned. This is the 
 issue of this far-famed system of ^^non-sectarian" education. 
 
 There is another system of education, and it is that of our 
 separated brethren in this land, who say that they are quite 
 as indignant and as horrified as we are at the idea of an 
 utterly godless education : that they do not go in for a god- 
 less education • on the contrary, they mean to have Grod 
 everywhere. They are trying now to j)ut Him in the Ameri- 
 can Constitution, if they can succeed. They also build their 
 schools; and they think that Catholics are the most unreas- 
 onable people in the world because we do not consent to send 
 our children to them. They say, — '^ What objection can you 
 have to the Bible ? do you not believe in it as well as we do?'' 
 They say : — " Cannot you send your children to us on the 
 platform of our common Christianity f Tliere are a great 
 many things that we believe together." They say : — " We 
 ^^ill not ask to teach the children one iota against the 
 Catholic worship ; nor ask them to participate in any re- 
 ligious teaching, only as far as they hold that general truth 
 in common with our Protestant children.'' So, they ask us to 
 s-tand with them ^'on the ]}latform of a common Christianitij.^' 
 Well, my friends, a great many Catholics are taken by this ; 
 and think it is very unreasonable, and that it is almost 
 bigotry in the Catholic Church to refuse it. Well, let us 
 examine what the '^ platform of our common Christkmifi/ " 
 allows. What does it mean '? Here is a Protestant school, 
 earned out on Protestant principles. Let us suppose that they 
 shut up the Protestant Bible, and put it aside, but carry on 
 the school on Protestant principles as far as they go in 
 
CATHOLIC EDUCATION. 301 
 
 common with the Catholic faith. The Catholic is invited 
 to share the school with them. First of all, my friends, how 
 far do we go together ? I do not know if there be any Pro- 
 testants here ; if there be, I do not wish to say a harsh, dis- 
 respectful, or unpleasant word ; but let us consider how far 
 we can go together, — the Protestants and Catholics ! Well, 
 they answer, first of all, " We believe in the existence of 
 God." Thanks be to God, we do ! — the Protestants and 
 Catholics are united on that j both believe that there is a God 
 above us. The next great dogma of Christianity is — *' We 
 believe in the divinity of Christ." Stop, my friends ! I am 
 afraid that we must shake hands and part. I am afraid the 
 platfonn of ^' our common Christianity " is too nan'ow. Are 
 you aware that it is not necessary for a Protestant to believe 
 in the divinity of Jesus Christ? A great many Protestants 
 do believe it, most piously and most fervently j a great many 
 Protestants believe in it as we do. It is most emphatically 
 true, however, that there are clergymen of the Church of 
 England preaching in Protestant churches throughout Eng- 
 land, who deny the divinity of Jesus Christ; and it is em- 
 phatically true that at this very moment the whole Protestant 
 world is trying to get rid of the Athanasian creed, because 
 that creed says whoever does not believe in the divinity of 
 Jesus Christ cannot enter into the kingdom of Heaven. 
 Therefore, I nmst fling back this assertion. I cannot grant 
 it. I wish to God I could. No, my friends : if, to-morrow, 
 the Anglican clergy who have written against the divinity of 
 our Lord, and against the inspiration of the Scriptures, and 
 against all forms of religion, in works that are printed, asking 
 all the pious Protestants of England to believe in their ideas ; 
 — Professors of England, enjoying their yearly salaries ; 
 preaching religion (God save the mark !) — if one of these men 
 were to appear on trial to-morrow', the Queen and her Coun- 
 cil would decide that the divinity of Christ is not a necessary 
 doctrine. You go one step beyond the existence of God, and 
 the platform is overthrown ; and the Catholic and the Pro- 
 testant child can no longer stand side by side. Into that 
 Protestant school goes a Pnjtestant child, to be taught his 
 religion, — to be taught all that his religion requires him to 
 learn ; but the Catholic child, bel'ore he can go in to receive 
 his instnu-tion, nnist leave behind him, outside the door, his 
 belief in the Sacraments, Confession, the Holy Communion, 
 
302 FA THEE B UEEE'S DISCO UESES. 
 
 prayers for the dead, tbe Blessed Virgin, all the Saints, the 
 duty oi self-examination and of prayer ; in a word, all the 
 specific duties, all the principles of the Catholic religion must 
 he forgotten and ignored by that Catholic child before he can 
 come down low enough to take a seat on the platform with his 
 little Protestant brother. Is it any -wonder that we should 
 not like to do it? If you shoukl live in a beautiful house, 
 well furnished, with every convenience ; and your neighbor 
 was living in a damp cellar, where it was cokl and dark j 
 and if he asked you to come down and live with him, you 
 would answer : ''I am much obliged, my dear friend ; but I 
 j^refer not." If you had a good dinner of roast beef, and 
 your neighbor had only a salt herring ; and he requested you 
 to eat with him, you would answer : " No ; I cannot do it." 
 And so when they ask us to come down from the heights of 
 our Catholic knowledge ; to go out of the atmosphere of the 
 Sacraments and of the divine presence of Jesus Christ, the 
 atmosphere of responsibility to God, realized and asserted in 
 Confession and Communion j and from the intercessory 
 prayer of Mary, the Mother of Jesus Christ j and of the 
 Saints ; and ask us to forget our dead 5 ask us to give up 
 every thing that a Catholic holds dear, that we may have the 
 privilege of standing upon the miserable platform of " our 
 common Christianity," with our Protestant brethren 5 we must 
 say that we are much obliged to them, but beg to decline. 
 I say it is a meagre meal that they oifer us ; but inasmuch 
 as we have something a great deal better and more luxurious 
 at home, we beg leave to be excused ; and if they choose to 
 come to us, let them step up to our Catholic schools and 
 find all that the}^ can find in then- Protestant schools, and a 
 great deal more ; but if they choose not to do it, we cannot 
 help it. We cannot go down to them ; never ! 
 
 Now, on the principle of Catholic education, the Catholic 
 Church says : ^' I know how to educate ; there is no single 
 power in that child's soul, not a single faculty, either intel- 
 lectual, moral, or spiritual, that I will not bring forth into 
 its full bloom. That child requires knowledge for its intel- 
 ligence 5 and every fonn of human knowledge 5 so that we 
 can compete with every other teacher in the world." Some 
 time ago, there was a Commission issued by the British 
 Government to examine the schools of Ireland. They 
 thought to convict our Catholic schools of inefficiency 5 at 
 
CAT no Lie EDUCATION. 303 
 
 least, they tliong-lit that we paid so much attention to religion, 
 that we did not give the children enough of secular know- 
 ledge. Their Connnissioners went through the country, and 
 solemnly reported^ in the House of Commons, that they 
 found that no schools in Ireland impai-ted so much secular 
 knowledge as the Christian Brothers' and the Nuns'. They 
 had to say it. The teachers in the other schools declared 
 that secular knowledge was their first olyect, and religion, if 
 admitted at all, was only a secondary thing. The Christian 
 Brothers said — Religion first, and secular knowledge after- 
 wards. The other schools admitted a miserable modicum of 
 relio-ion, in order to induce the child to receive secular 
 education ; hut the Christian Brothers admitted secular know- 
 ledge, in order to induce in the child's heart and soul religi(m. 
 And yet, in the rivalry, the Catholic Church was so C(mi- 
 pletely ahead, — even in imparting secular knowledge, — that 
 our enemies on this question of secular education were 
 obliged to acknowledge that there is nothing at all in Ireland 
 like the schools of the Christian Brothers and of the Nuns. 
 
 The Church says, ^^ Let no fountain of human knowledge 
 be denied. Let every light which human knowledge and 
 science can bring be thrown upon that intelligence. _ I am 
 not afraid of it. I desire that the child may have intelli- 
 gence. The more I can flood that intellect with the light, 
 the surer guarantee I have that that man will be a true and 
 fervent, because an eminently intellectual. Catholic." But, 
 the Church adds : '' That child's heart requires to be instruct- 
 ed ; that child's affections require to be trained ; that child's 
 passions must be purified; that child must be made familiar 
 with the things and joys of Heaven before he becomes famil- 
 iar with the 'sights and joys of earth." Therefore she takes 
 the child before he comes to the age of reason, and makes 
 Ijs voung eyes to be captivated with the images and sweet- 
 ness and spiritual beauties of Jesus and Mary ; and draws 
 and makes that young heart full of love for the Redeemer 
 before the appeal of i)assion excites the earthly love, before 
 the ^'mvstery of iniquity" that is in the world is revealed 
 to his reason! Therefore, she draws that child and familiar- 
 izes his mind with the words of faith, and the language of 
 Heaven and prayer; intermingling with his anmsements and 
 studies an eleuient of devotion and of religion. Because 
 she recognizes, that, as much as the world stands in need of 
 
304 FA THER B UB RE'S DISCO UBSES. 
 
 intellectnal men, far, far more does it stand in need of honest 
 men, pure men, liig-h-minded men. Because she knows that, 
 if knowledge is not intermingled with grace, knowledge 
 without grace becomes a curse, instead of a blessing, li was 
 the curse of the world that it was so intellectual in the era 
 of Augustus; because, says St. Paul, "They refused to 
 admit God into their knowledge ; and God gave them up to 
 a reprobate sense." What follows ? Every faculty of the 
 mind, of the affections, as well as of the intellect, is brought 
 out in that Catholic child ; so that the whole soul is devel- 
 oped, and has fair play, and is brought forth under the 
 system of Catholic Education. 
 
 " Which of these three systems, think you, is the most neces- 
 sary for the world? Ah ! my friends, 1 was asked to please 
 the public as well as my co-religionists. I wish to God I 
 could please the public with such a doctrine as this, and 
 propound the truth and say to the public ; to every father and 
 mother in America, Protestant and Catholic : — When God 
 gave you that child, it was only that, by your action and by 
 your education, that child might grow into the resemblance 
 of Jesus Christ ; it was only that Christ, the Son of God, 
 might be nmlti plied in men that men are bom at all. What 
 do you imagine we come into this world fori To become 
 rich ? It is hard for the rich man to be saved. To become 
 great and wondrous before the world's eyes ? Oh, this great- 
 ness is like the mist which the rays of the morning sun dispel. 
 No. God made us for eternity ; and oiu" eternity depends 
 upon our bringing out in our hearts, in our afiections, in the 
 interest and harmony of our lives, in the simple faith and 
 belief of our souls,' in every highest virtue, — bringing out 
 within us, and clothing ourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ. 
 
 And, now, I ask again, which of the three systems of edu- 
 cation is likely to do this? Would to God that I could 
 please the public of America when I preach Jesus Christ and 
 Him alone. Now, sm-ely, it is to our schools we can apply 
 the words of Him who said, " Suffer little children to come 
 unto j\Ie." And if the public are not pleased when tliey hear 
 His name, when they hear how they are to implant Him in 
 their children's lives, — all I can do is to pray for the public, 
 that the Almighty God may open their blind eyes and let in 
 the pure light into their darkened intellects. 
 
 1 know, my friends, that it is hard upon the Catholics of 
 
CATHOLIC EDV CATION. 805 
 
 this conntrv to l)e constantly called npon to build one set of 
 schools for Catholics, and to be obliged as citizens to build 
 another set and furnish them for persons wealthier or better 
 off than themselves.' It is a hardship ; and I do not think 
 the State — with great respect to the authorities — ought to 
 call upon you to do it. But still, great as the hardship is, 
 when you consider that your children receive in the Catholic 
 schools what they cannot receive elsewhere j when you con- 
 sider that your own hopes for Heaven are bound up in these 
 children, and that the education they need they can receive 
 only in the Catholic school, and nowhere else, you must put 
 up with this disadvantage, and make this sacrifice, among 
 many others, to gain Heaven. For it is wiitten : ^^ The 
 kingdom of Heaven suffers violence, and the violent shall 
 bear it away." 
 
THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 
 
 \_A Sermon delivered by Very Bev. T. N. Burlce, O.P., in St. Michael's 
 Church, New York, June 2, 1872. ] 
 
 Dearly Beloved Bretheen : In tLis wonderful age of 
 ours, there is notliing- tliat creates in the thinking mind so 
 much astonishment and wonder as the fact that the Catholic 
 Church stands before the w^orld in all tlie grandeur of lier 
 truthfulness, and that the intellect of this age of ours seems 
 inca[!able of apprehending her claims, or of acknowledging her 
 grandeur. Men in every walk of life are in pursuit of the true 
 and the beHutiful. The poet seeks it in his verse, the philo- 
 sopher in his speculations, the statesman in his legislation, the 
 artist ill the exhibition of his art. And, wdiile all men pro- 
 fess thus to pursue the true and the beautiful, they wilfully 
 shut their eyes against that which is the truest and most beau- 
 tiful of all things upon the earth, — the Holy Catholic Church 
 of Jesus Christ. I do not know whether there be any Pro- 
 testants among you here to-day 5 I believe there are not. 
 But wiiether tliey be here, or whether they be absent, I weep, 
 iu my heart and soul, over their blindness and their folly, — 
 that they cannot recognize the only religion which is logical, 
 because it is true; — the ouly Church which can afford to 
 stand before the whole \\oiid, and bear the shock of every 
 mind and the criticism of every intellect, because she comes 
 from God ? 
 
 Now amid the many features of divine beauty and grandeur 
 and harmony that the Almighty God has set upon the face 
 of the Catholic Church, the first and the greatest of her 
 mysteries, — the greatest of her beauties, both intellectual 
 and spiritual, — is the awful presence of Jesus Christ, who 
 makes Himself, really and truly, here, an abiding and 
 present God in the Blessed Eucharist. I have chosen this 
 presence as the subject and theme of- my observations to you 
 to-day, because we are yet celebrating (within the octave) 
 the festival of Corpus Christi: We are yet in spirit, with 
 
THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 307 
 
 our holy motlicr, tlie Church, at the foot of the altar, ador- 
 ing, ill au espt'cial manner, Ilini who is here present at all 
 times ; and rejoicing, with a peculiar joy, for that grace, 
 surpassing all giaces, which the Almighty God has given to 
 His Church, in the abiding presence of Jesus Christ among 
 us. 
 
 Most of 3'ou, I dare say, know that what I propose to you 
 to-day is to consider that presence as the fulfilment of the 
 designs of God, and the fulfilment of all the w^ants of man. 
 If I can show you what these designs are, and what these 
 wants are, and if I can suiiiciently indicate to you that they 
 are fulfilled only in the Blessed Eucharist — then, my brethren, 
 I conclude without the slightest hesitation, that, in no form of 
 religion, — in no Church, — can the designs, of God and the 
 wants of man meet their fulfilment, save in that one Church, 
 in -that one holy religion, in which Christ is substantiated, 
 under the fomi of bread and w^ine in the Blessed Eucharist. 
 In order to do this, I have to ask you to reflect with me what 
 are the designs of God upon man. 
 
 There are three remarkable and magnificent epochs that 
 mark the action of the Almighty God upon His creature, man. 
 The first of these was the moment of creation, when God 
 made man. The second was the time of redemption, w-hen 
 God, becoming incarnate, offered Himself as the victim for 
 man. The third epoch was the institution of the Blessed 
 Sacrament, when God left himself to be the food of His cliil- 
 dren, and to be made one with them by the highest and the 
 most intimate communion of a present God, through all ages. 
 To each of these three epochs I shall invite your attention 
 when I attempt to explain to you the designs of God. 
 
 In the first t)f these, — that is to say in the act of creation, 
 — we find God stamping His image on man, in order that in 
 man He might see the likeness of Himself. In the second 
 of these epochs, — that of redemption, w^e find God assuming 
 and absorbing our human nature into Himself j so that God 
 and man became one and the same divine person, in order 
 that God might see no longer ihe image of Himself in man ; 
 but that He might S€'e Himself actually and truly in man. 
 In the third of these epochs, the institution of the Blessed 
 ►Sacrajuent, we have God coming home to every individual; 
 entering into our hearts and souls; bringing all that He is 
 and all that He has to each and every man among us ; that 
 
308 FATHER BUEKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 the Man-God, in whom God and man were united, might be 
 visible before the Father's eyes in the heart, in the soul, in 
 the life of every man. The Creation, therefore, was a design 
 of mercy, which produced only an image or likeness; the 
 Redemption was a higher design of mercy, which produced 
 God in man. The Holy Communion was the consummation 
 of these designs of mercy, which propagated that God until 
 He Mas made present in every man. Behold the designs of 
 God ! First, then, is the creation. God, in the beginning, 
 created all things, heaven and earth. He made the earth, 
 with all its beauty. He made the firmament of heaven, with 
 all its wonderful hannony and order. At His creative word, 
 — "y?«f/' — let it be, — light sprang forth from darkness ; order 
 came forth in silent beauty from chaos and confusion ; every 
 star in heaven took its place in the firmament of God ; the 
 sun blazed forth in his noonday light and splendor ; the moon 
 took up her reflected light, and iUumined with her silver rays 
 the shades of night. All the spheres of God began their re- 
 volution through space, to that exquisite hannony of the 
 Divine commandment and the Divine law. And they all 
 surrounded that spot of creation w^hich was earth, and des- 
 tined to be the habitation of man. This eai'th the Almighty 
 God clothed with its manifold forms of beauty. He gave to 
 it the revolving seasons — the freshness of the Spring — the 
 deep shade of the Summer, — the fruitful overteeming of the 
 Autumn ; — and every season took up its strain of joy, abun- 
 dance and delight, at the command of God. But all these 
 things, every form of life that existed, existed by the one 
 word, "^af," of the Almighty God. But now, when the 
 heavens above are prepared j now, when the spheres are all 
 in their places 5 now, when every creature of God has receiv- 
 ed its commission, its faculty of life, light, splendor, and 
 beauty; — the whole earth, heaven, and the firmament are 
 made : yet no image of God is there ; for there is no intelli- 
 gence there ; and God is knowledge : there is no power of love 
 there ; and God is the highest and most intimate love. There 
 is no freedom there, but only the necessity of nature's law 
 and instinct. The whole world, — in all its beauty, in all its 
 hai-mony, — still wants its soul : for that soul, wherever it is to 
 be, must be something like to God. Finally, when all things 
 were prepared, God took of the slime of the earth, and made 
 and fashioned with His hands a new creature, — a creature 
 
THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 309 
 
 that was to rise and to uplift Lis eyes and behold the snn ; a 
 creature whose every form of material existence was to remain 
 perfectly disiinct from all other forms of creation. Into this 
 creature's face the Almighty God breathed His own image 
 and likeness, in an imperishable spirit, an immortal soul. 
 Before He made this soul, the muTor of Himself, He took 
 tliought with Himself, and said no longer — -'Let it be ! " but 
 — counselling with His own Divine wisdom. He said : "Let 
 Us nuike man to Our own image and likeness." And unto 
 His own image and likeness, therefore. He made him, for 
 He breathed upon him the inspiration of spiritual life, — a 
 living soul into the inanimate clay ; — and upon that soul He 
 stamped His own divine image. He gave to that soul the 
 liglit of an intelligence capable of comprehending the power 
 of love, capable of sei-ving Him and loving Him. He 
 gave to that soul the faculty of freedom, that by no necessary 
 law, by no iron instinct, was this new creature to act ; but 
 with judgment, and with thought, and with intellectual in- 
 quiry. He was to act freely, and every action of his life was 
 to flo-\v from the fountain of unfettered freedom, like the 
 actions of tlie Almighty God Himself, whose very essence is 
 eternal freedom. 
 
 Thus was man created. Behold the image of God stamped 
 upon him ! Oh, how^ grand, how magnificent was this crea- 
 ture ! The theory has been mooted in our day : — " Was it 
 worth God's while to create the sun, moon, and stars, and un- 
 told firmaments which no eye of man has yet discovered ; — 
 those stars far away exceeding our earth in their magnitude, 
 in their splendor, in their attractive power and beauty ; — was 
 it uorth God's while," — the astronomer asks, — "for the sake 
 f»f giving light to one of the smallest of the planets, to create 
 so many others to revolve around her in space f " Yes, 
 I answer, it was worth God's while; for one man, if He 
 had created but one; — it was w-orth His while to create 
 all these matei-ial beauties; because man alone, — that one 
 man, — w^mld reflect in his soul the image of God — the 
 uncreated and sjiiritual h)veliness of his Maker. How 
 grand was this first man when he arose from the gi'een 
 mound out of which the Lord created him ! when he opened 
 his eyes and beheld before him, shrouded in some dazzling 
 form of material beauty, the presence of God ! He opened 
 Lis eyes; and seeing tliis figure of light and transparency 
 
310 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 before liim, heaiing from his lips the harmony of his 
 Creatoi^'s voice, he knelt in adoration. He alone, of all the 
 creatures in the world, was able to appreciate the infinite 
 beauty of the Maker ; and springing to that Maker, with all 
 the energy of his spirit, he bowed down before Him, and 
 offered the sacrifice of intellectnal praise. He alone, of all 
 the creatures of God, was able to appreciate the infinite 
 eternity of His existence ; His omnipotence ; His infinite 
 goodness, grandeur, and beauty. He alone, of all Grod's 
 creatures, was capable of appreciating with soul ; — that, out 
 of the appreciation of his mind, his heart was moved to love, 
 and he strained towards his God with every higher aspiration 
 and affection of his spirit. He alone, of all the creatures of 
 God, was able to say, out of the resources of a free and un- 
 shackled will : " i ^dll love Thee ! I will serve Thee, 
 God! for Thou alone art worthy of all love and all service 
 for all time ! " So, freely and deliberately weighing the 
 excellencies of God against all created beauty ; calculating 
 with the power of his intelligence the claims of God upon 
 him, — he acknowledged these claims; he acknowledged in 
 his intellect the infinite beauty of God ; because of his intel- 
 tectual appreciation, he decided freely to sei-ve God in his 
 life. That free decision from the intellect was a godlike act, 
 of which no otlier creature upon this earth was capable. 
 Therefore, the Almighty God appealed to that act as the test 
 and proof of man. 
 
 Thus AVe see in the beginning that Almighty God stamped 
 His image upon His people. And in this He showed the 
 design of His creation ; — the greatness of His mercy and of 
 His love. He had prepared all things for man. He had 
 made all things for him. All things pointed to him ; all 
 nature, newly created in all its beauty, still cried out for that 
 crowning beauty, the beauty of intelligence, the beauty of the 
 power of love, the grandeur of freedom. And man was cre- 
 ated as the very apex, the very climax of God's creation ; 
 the crown and the perfection of all. Behold the mercy of 
 God ! God might have left this world in all its material, yet 
 unintellectual beauty. He might have left all His creatures 
 to enjoy the life that He gave them, and to fulfil the limited 
 and necessary sphere of their duties, — and yet never have 
 sent intelligence and love and freedom upon them. But no; 
 God wished to behold Himself in His creation. He wished 
 
THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 311 
 
 to be al)le to look down from Heaven and see His ima£]fe in 
 His creation. God wished that all nature chould hold up 
 the mirror of its reseml>lance to Him in man. God's design 
 was that, wherever the child of man existed, there He, 
 looking down, should behold His oAvn image in the depths 
 of that pure intelligence, in the depths of those pure affec- 
 tions, in that unshackled, magnificent, imperial freedom of 
 man's will. 
 
 This was the first design. Far greater was the second 
 design of God's mercy. God knew and foreknew, from all 
 eternity, that man, by the abuse of his free will, would turn 
 against his God. The Almighty God knew and foreknew, as 
 if it were present before His eyes, — for there is no past, no 
 future to the eyes of God ; all things are present to Him ; — 
 He knew and foreknew that, in the day when He placed 
 Himself and His own divine perfection and His own claims 
 on one side, and the devil made the appeal to the passions 
 and pride of man on the other side, — He knew that His free 
 creature would decide against Him, — would abandon Him, — 
 tell Him to begone, and take all His gifts with Him, and 
 would clutch the animal gnd base gratifications of a sensual 
 pride. God knew this. He knew that, in that act, man was 
 destined to cloud his clear intelligence, so that it would no 
 longer reflect the image of God ; — that man was destined, in 
 that act, to pollute liis pure affections, so that they should n(j 
 longer reflect the image of God in love. God foresaw and 
 foreknew that man was destined, in that act of rebellion, to 
 fetter and enslave his fi-ee will, and to make it no longer a 
 seiwant and minister of his intelligence, but of his passions 
 and of his desires. In a word, God saw His own image 
 broken and spoiled in man by the sin of Adam. 
 
 Then, my dearly beloved, in these eternal designs of love, 
 God said, in His own decrees, from all eternity: '^My imasfe 
 is gone ; My likeness is shattered ; My spirit is no longer 
 among them ; and I must provide a remedy gi-eater than the 
 evil. I will send — in the second plan of My mercy and the 
 design of My love, — I will make no longer a renewed imaoe 
 in man ; I will not restore what they have broken and de- 
 stroyed ; but I will send My Eternal Son. He, the reality, 
 whom no evil can touch, whom no temptation can conquer,— 
 I will put Him into man ; and I shall behold, no longer the 
 fallen man, but I shall behold, in the redeemed man, Myself 
 
312 FATHER BUEEE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 restored in tlie person of Jesus Christ." my beloved 
 brethren ! does not tlie infinite mercy, — the all-extending, 
 all-grasping love of God, — come in here ? He might, in His 
 designs of mercy, have restored His broken image in man. 
 He "migbt have' given man the power of repentance. He 
 might, m the largeness of His mercy, wipe away sin, undo 
 that most fatal work, and give back to man, in the unclouded 
 intelligence, and in the pure heart, and in the free will, all 
 that nian had lost of the divine image by sin. He might 
 have done this without at all descending Himself; without 
 at all coming down from the throne of His greatness and 
 uncreated majesty and glory. But no ! God resolves to do 
 more for the reparation of man than man had ever done in the 
 ruin of himself by sin. God resolves to send His only begot- 
 ten Son, who, incaraate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin 
 Mary, was made man. The Lord Jesus Christ is bom of 
 the Yiro'in Mary: an infant wails upon His Mother's bosom: 
 an Infinite God, looking down from heaven, beholds not only 
 His own image in man, but beholds Himself in Him, His 
 only begotten, coequal, and consubstantial Son. Therefore, 
 He is no longer the image, but tlie Man-God. He is no 
 longer the likeness of God, but the reality of God, — accord- 
 ing'to the Scriptures of old : " I have said ye are gods, and 
 all of you the sons of the Most High." 
 
 God made us to be His servants. Wlien man refused to 
 be a servant, God, in His mercy, lifted him up, and made 
 him a son. Instead of taking the children of men and bind- 
 ing us together, as a bundle of faggots, and flinging us into 
 hell, and in His greatness and g^ory forgetting us all ; — 
 instead of doing th^s, when God saw that we w^re fallen, and 
 that not even His image remained in man, in the destruction 
 of grace, and in the partial destraction of the perfection of 
 his nature, — He sent His only begotten Son ; so that the 
 creature, instead of being punished by eternal ruin and ban- 
 ishment^ is raised by redemption, and made a son of God. 
 '^ To those who received Him, He gave the power to become 
 the sons of God." Can you comprehend this mercy ? Do 
 you ever reflect upon it? "^ I sinned in Adam. Sinning thus 
 in Adam, I deseiwed to be cast away from God, and never to 
 see His face again. I sinned in Adam. Sinning thus, I lost 
 all that God gave me of grace, and a great deal that He gave 
 me of natm-e. Instead of flinging me aside, Almighty God 
 
THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 313 
 
 comes down from Heaven, becomes my brother, and says : — 
 " Brother, all that I am in Heaven, — the Son of God, — I am 
 willing to make yon by adoption. jNIy Father is willing to 
 take you in as My younger brother. My father is willing to 
 acknowledge that all I am by nature you are by the grace of 
 adoption." So, in the w*ork of redemption, — in the second 
 design of God, — we rise to the grandeur and dignity of a 
 more sublime position than in Adam. We become the 
 younger brethren of God Himself. We become members of 
 the household and of the family of Jesus Christ. 
 
 But, you will say to me, what connection has this with 
 the Blessed Eucharist ? You engage to show us that the 
 designs of God were fulfilled in the Real Presence, You 
 speak of the design of creation, — of the design of redemption; 
 — but what have these two designs to do with the institution 
 of the Blessed Sacrament ? the transubstanriation of Christ 
 upon the altar ? It has this : The first design of creation 
 was intended by the Almighty God to be, that man, preser\'- 
 ing the graces in which he was created, — prescribing the image 
 in which he was made, — should remain faithful to God, free 
 from sin, the conqueror of his own passions, and of every 
 temptation that could come upon him ; and so, living in the 
 light of purity, in the fervor of love, in the strength of free- 
 dom, that he might journey on through happiness and peace 
 upon the earth, until he attained to the fulfilment of his per- 
 fection, and laid hold of the eternal crown of glory. This 
 was the design of God. This was marred by sin. Man sinned ; 
 and the design of God could no longer be fulfilled. He 
 let evil into his soul ; he destroyed the integrity of his natiu'ej 
 he violated the virginity of his soulj he came to the know- 
 ledge of evil ; and, with the knowledge, he came to the love 
 of evil. Understand this well ; it is a deep thought ; it enters 
 into the designs of God. Every indi^•idual man born into 
 this world was bom a sinner. Defilement was up<.»n him ; 
 the seeds of future evil were in him. All that was necessary 
 for him was to let that infant grow into a youth; and, of 
 necessity, he became an individual sinner, because the root 
 of evil was in him. The seeds of con-uption were implanted 
 in him; his blood was impure and defiled. All that was 
 necessary was the dawn of reason and the awakening of pas- 
 sion. The former made him an infidel ; the latter made him 
 a debauched, licentious, and impure sinner. This was the 
 
 14 
 
314 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 consequence of Adam's sin. Therefore, my dearly beloved, 
 it was not onl\' our nature that sinned in Adam, but every 
 individual of our nature sinned in liim, save and except the 
 Blessed Virgin Mary. Put her aside, and at once the whole 
 race of human beings are individual sinners in Adam : — not 
 actual sinners, but individually tainted by sin. This, to be 
 sure, is one of those things that people overlook. They do not 
 understand that the curse of Adam came down to each and 
 every one of us, — this sin of Adam, which was written upon 
 our foreheads in characters of defilement. When it was a 
 question of remedying that evil, it was necessary that the 
 Almighty God should exercise His mercy individually upon 
 each and eveiy one of us. 
 
 Two things, therefore, were tainted by the sin of Adam, — 
 the nature and the individual. The nature, common to all, 
 was tainted; man's nature was broken; man's nature was 
 corrupted ; that which was common to us all, — the universal 
 nature, — was defiled and injured by Adam's sin ; and in that 
 defilement and injury ever^^ single, individual child of Adam 
 participated ; so that every one of us, personally and indivi- 
 dually, was defiled in our first parent. Now, it follows from 
 this, that when the Almighty God, in His second design of 
 mercy, — namely the Redemption, — when lie resolved to undo 
 all the evil that Adam had done, — when He resolved to bind 
 up and heal the wound that Adam had made, — it was neces- 
 sary that God should take thought for the nature that was 
 corrupted, and for the individuals that had fallen in Adam. 
 If He had taken thought only for the nature, it would not be 
 sufficient for us ; for our nature may be restored, and, unless 
 that restoring power come home to us, we ourselves may 
 remain in our misery. God provided a remedy for the nature, 
 — the universal nature, — in the Incarnation. He sent His 
 own Divine Son, who took our nature — our human natm'e, — 
 who took a human bod}^, a human soul, human feelings, a 
 human heart, a human mind, human intellect, human wnll ; 
 — every thing that belonged to the nature of man, Christ, our 
 Lord, took ; but He did not take the individual. Mark it 
 well ! You Catholics ought to know the theology of your 
 divine religion ; — mark it well. Christ, our Lord, took every 
 thing that was in man except the individuality, — personality. 
 That He did not touch. He took our nature, and absorbed 
 it into His own person ; but He never took a human person. 
 
THK BLESSED EUCHARIST. :^15 
 
 No man could yay of our Lord, pointiug to Him : "He is an 
 individual man." Ko ! He was a divine man. When He 
 spoke, His words were those, not of man, but of God ; because 
 the person who spoke was divine. If He suft'ered, it was the 
 suffering, not of man, but of God ; because the person was 
 divine. This was necessary 5 because, unless the Divine 
 Person, — that is to say, God, — consented to suffer and to die, 
 tlie sin of man's nature could never have been wiped out. 
 Wheu, therefore, tlie Eternal Father, in His love for mankind, 
 sent 'His co-Eternal Son upon the earth, He, in that act of 
 Incarnation of the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, pro- 
 vided a remedy for the evil of Adam's nature — for the human 
 nature that was spoiled. Again I assert that Christ, our Lord, 
 never took the human personality ; that He left the indivi- 
 duality of every man to himself; that He did not take the 
 individuality or personality of the man ; but only the nature. 
 In order to remedy the nature it w^as necessary, in the designs 
 of God, that God should unite Himself with that nature. 
 Mark this, — that God should unite Himself with man's 
 nature was necessary in the designs of God, in order that 
 man's nature might be purified and restored. Was this 
 necessary to the designs of Godf Absolutely necessary. 
 The Virgin Mary, — on that day in Nazareth, when Gabriel 
 stood before her, — represented the human race. She repre- 
 sented human nature, in her alone unfallen ; and to that all- 
 pure and unfallen one the Angel said: "Mary, a child 
 shall be bom to you, and He shall be called the Son of the 
 Most High God." Mary paused ; and until Mary, of her 
 own free will, answered : " Behold the handmaid of God ; bo 
 this thing done unto me according to thy word ; " until 
 Mary said that word, the mystery of the Incarnation was 
 suspended, and man's redemption was left hanging upon the 
 will of one woman. But, when Mary said the word, human 
 nature, distinct from man's personality, was assumed by God. 
 If Almighty God had not consented to unite Himself with 
 (»ur nature,' that nature never could have been redeemed. 
 But, thus we see that one great portion of Adam's evil was 
 remedied in the Incarnation, — namely^ that our nature was 
 purified. 
 
 But what about the individual? It is not so much 
 the puiification of my nature — our common nature — that 
 concerns me. T[ am an individual man, — the son of my 
 
aiG FA THER B UR KE'S DISCO URSES. 
 
 motlier; I am a human person: Christ, our Lord, had 
 nothing to say to the human person in the Incarnation. 
 How then am I, — a human person, — to enter into the graces 
 and purity of God ? Ob, behold, my brethren, how the two 
 previous designs culminate ! Christ, our Lord, multiplied 
 Himself. Clirist, our Lord, changed bread and wine into His 
 own divine body and blood. Christ, our Lord, made Him- 
 self present in the form of man's food. That food is broken. 
 Every child that cries for that divine bread shall have it. 
 Tiiat human individual, that personal creature is united to 
 God ; and the individual is sanctified as the nature was sanc- 
 tified. The nature could not be redeemed or sanctified except 
 by union with God : the individual is sanctified b}^ the same 
 means — union with God in the blessed Eucharist. Thus^ 
 then, we see how the design of creation, — spoiled in Adam, 
 — spoiled not only in the nature, but in the individual, — is 
 made perfect in Jesus Christ, as far as regards the mystery 
 of the Incarnation. Well, therefore, He says : ^' Unless you 
 eat of the flesh of the Son of Man, and dnnk His blood, you 
 shall not have life in you." He was speaking to the indi- 
 vidual. He did not say, "You cannot have life in your 
 nature." He put life into human nature by taking that 
 nature upon Himself. There was life there already, — life 
 eternal, — in the person of Jesus Christ. But He was speak- 
 ing to individuals, and He said to them : " Unless you 
 bring Me home unto yourselves, individually, you cannot 
 have life in you; for I am the life; — life indeed ; — -life eternal, 
 that came down from heaven; and unless you eat of My 
 flesh and drink of My blood, you cannot have life in you. 
 But, if you do this, — if you eat of this flesh and drink of this 
 blood, then you shall abide in Me and I in you." 
 
 Behold, therefore, dearly beloved, how the mystery of the 
 Incarnation, affecting, as it did, our nature, is brought home 
 in its wonderful expansion to each human person in the 
 Holy Communion. Oh, how sad and terrible — how dreadful 
 is the thought that the devil has succeeded the second time 
 in destroying us ! First, he destroyed our nature in Adam ; 
 now he succeeds in destroying the person in heresy, in 
 Protestantism. He came and whispered, — "Christ is not in 
 the Blessed Eucharist ! He is not there ! " He cut oft^ — by 
 that denial of Protestantism of the Real Presence — the last 
 great design of God, in which the creation and the redemption 
 
THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 317 
 
 were t<> hv made perfect in tlieir remedy and brought home to 
 everv individual man. Suppose, my children, that some 
 dreadful epdemic came in among you,— some fearful irruption 
 of Asiatic cholera -.—that a sailor landed from a ship in New 
 York with the cholera, and from him it spread through the 
 eitv ; — we would look upon that man as the origin of the 
 evil, because he brought it, ae Adam brought evil and sin 
 and misery intothis world. Then suppose some great physi- 
 cian arose, — some mighty sage, — and said he hehi in his 
 hand the great remedy ; said to the whole city of New York 
 — ^' Behold, I am come from a foreign land, where we have 
 never known disease or complaint, with this sovereign remedy 
 in mv hand: no one that partakes of this shall ever suffer 
 from" this hideous disease." Would we not take the remedy 
 out of his hands ? Would we not eat of that medicine, which 
 is life out of death to us! So, Christ, Our Lord, represents 
 that great physician, coming with a sovereign remedy in His 
 hand^ and with that remedy we will remedy our nature in His 
 Incarnation. Then He says : " I am come from a foreign 
 land that has never known disease or death. I carne from 
 Heaven. I bring the remedy against Adam's corruption and 
 Adam's sin. I am the head* of your nature: now I am one 
 with you. So I say to you all : whoever wishes to escape 
 this dire disease, must partake of this miraculous food. It is 
 the self-same food brought down to elevate your nature, that 
 is, My own self." W^hat would you think of a man that said, 
 "Do not go near Him! do not take that food from His 
 hand ! do not believe in Him " ?— thus clinging to disease 
 and death. Why, vou see clearly, my brethren, as we 
 Catholics believe and know that the Almighty (^od has 
 sufficiently revealed in His designs that it is absolutely 
 necessary for every man who wishes to be saved and sanctified, 
 to come into personal contact with our Lord Jesus Christ, by 
 opening his mouth and receiving the Body and Blood, Soul 
 and Divinity, of the Lord in the Holy Connnunion. 
 
 Such is tiie design of God. Now it remains for us to see 
 whether that, which so completely fulfils the designs of God, 
 fulfils also the wants of man. my brethren ! before we 
 leave these designs, let us consider how magnificent they 
 are ! The Father loved man. First, in the beginning, when 
 as God He loved His own image. What great love have you 
 for the likeness of vour own face in the looking-glass ? Every 
 
318 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 feature is there, every expression is there, but it is only an 
 image. What hive would a man have for his own portrait, 
 even though designed by a master hand ? Eveiy tint and 
 beauty of color may be there, every delicate trait most true 
 to nature, and to the person represented. But, after all, it is 
 only a piece of canvas, overlaid with a little paint and skil- 
 fully arranged ; only an image. God, in the second design, 
 beholds in man His own adorable and beloved Son: the Eter- 
 nal Word, that from all eternity rested iu. the Father's bosom ; 
 the very figure of His substance, and the splendor of His glory, 
 equal to Him in all things, knowing and loving Him, and 
 loved by Him with a substantial love, which is the third per- 
 son of the Blessed Trinity — the Holy Ghost. He came down 
 from Heaven, became man ; and the Eternal Father no longer 
 looks upon man, as a man would look upon his own picture, 
 as an image. He looks down, as a loving father of a family 
 looks down on the face of his eldest son. How different the 
 love of a man is for his own image, reflected in a mirror, or 
 perpetuated by the paintei-'s hand, — cold, lifeless, inanimate, — 
 and his own image seen in every feature, in every lineament 
 of his child ; the child of his own manly love ; the child grow- 
 ing and displaying every perfection, and returning the love 
 of'the father; thS child surrounding all the graces of ordinary 
 infancy with a peculiar grace and shining beauty in his fath- 
 er's eyes, until he draws every chord of that father's heart, 
 entwining around him so closely, that, if the child should die 
 or disappear, the father would seem to have lost every pm-- 
 pose of life, and be ready to lie down and die upon the grave 
 of his first-born. So the Almighty and Eternal God, looking 
 down in the second design of His redemption, beheld one who 
 was not a human person, but the second Divine Person of the 
 adorable Trinity; not merely human, though truly human; 
 but man and God united in one. And that union (consum- 
 mated, not in man, not in the human person, but in God 
 the Divine person : and just as that image of Jesus Christ 
 so captivated the Father's love, that twice He rent the Heav- 
 ens miraculously, and sent down His voice, — once when 
 Christ was standing in the Jordan ; and another time when 
 He was transfigured on Mount Tabor ; — on both occasions, 
 the miracluous voice — as if God could no longer contain His 
 love — saying, "This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well 
 pleased. Hear ye Him:" that image so captivated the 
 
THE BLESSED EUCRJBIST. 319 
 
 Fatlier's love, that He wislied to reproduce it in all tlie cLil- 
 dren of men, — that He wished to multiply it. It was so fair, 
 so beautiful, that the Eternal Father, whenever He cast His 
 e3'es upon the earth, wished to see it multiplied in every man 
 personally. He wished to see every man another Jesus 
 Christ, His Son. He wished to be able to say to you and 
 to me : — ^^He is also my beloved cliild, in whom I am well 
 pleased." In order to do this, His Divine Son multiplied 
 Himself, and remaine<l upon earth, — broke, as it were, His 
 existence, His perfect existence, His inseparable existence ; — 
 broke it; se})arated it into a thousand forms; became present 
 upon your lips and mine, and on those of the little child that 
 comes up to this altar : so that the mere image of God receives 
 the Holy Communion, goes dow-n from this altar ; and the 
 Father of Heaven looks down and says: — "Behold, My 
 beloved Son, Jesus Christ, is there ! " The Angel Guar- 
 dian that conducts the child to the altar, prostrates himself 
 before the figure of that child as he returns from the altar 
 again. For now, he is, indeed, a human person ; but God is 
 in him. 
 
 And this is the supreme want of man. That which is the 
 fulfilment of the Divine design is the supreme want. What 
 is that which we want? Christian believers as you are, tell 
 me your great want in this W'Orld. Every man has his own 
 wants and hopes, and desires and purposes of life. What is it 
 that you want 1 What do we aspire to ? Tell me. One man 
 says : — " Well, I hope to become a wealthy man ; to be the 
 founder of a grand family in the land." Do j^our hopes 
 stop here, my friend ? The grand family you found will fol- 
 low you to the grave. Have you brought no hopes wnth you? 
 Another says : — " 1 hope to obtain some distinguished posi- 
 tion, the first position in the land." I su})pose you may be 
 one day President of the United States. But the day will come 
 when they will carry the President, and consign him, also, to 
 his grave. What is your hope and minef friends and 
 brethren, is it not my hope to bring out in my soul, here by 
 grace, and hereafter b}^ glory, the image of the Eternal God, 
 which is stamped upon it? My hope is to live in the light 
 of divine grace, to walk in the beaming of divine purity. 
 My hope is to keep my will unfettered, that freely I may 
 devote it to the service of my God. My hope is to rise by ' 
 divine help into all the majesty of Christian holiness. And 
 
320 FA THEE B UEKE'S DISCO UESES. 
 
 the majesty and the glory of the Christian man lie here, — that 
 Jesus Christ, the Son of God, ma}^ be brought out in him. No 
 great one iu Heaven, but the greatest of all — the Eternal God 
 and man, Jesus Christ. He stamped the God upon our 
 humanity in the Incarnation. He stamped the God upon oui 
 nature j and that stamp He left on our nature ; and we must 
 stamp it upon our person. And the true want of every Chris- 
 tian man, and the true purpose of his existence, is to bring 
 out the Christ that is in him, and to become a son of God. 
 Nothing short of this. K we fail in this, then all our hopes 
 perish from us. If we fail in this, it is in vain that we have 
 achieved every other purpose of life 5 it is in vain that we 
 have written our names, even in letters of gold, upon the 
 foremost page of our country's history ; it is in vain that we 
 have left a name to other times, built up upon the solid foun- 
 dation of every higher quality that is enshrined in the temple 
 of man's immortality. It is in vain that we have accumu- 
 lated all the world's riches. If we fail to bring out the 
 Christ that is in us, then we are, of all men, the most misera- 
 ble ; because we have failed in realizing the only true hope, 
 the only true want of the Christian man. What follows f 
 Says the Saviour — ^' If a man gain the whole world," — the 
 world's places, the world's honors — '^ and lose his own soul, 
 what profiteth it him?" And the loss of his soul is effected 
 in man by neglecting to bring Christ out in him. For it is 
 written — our vocation, our calling, our justification — that is 
 to sa}^, our sanctification — om- ultimate glory, — all depend 
 upon one thing, — making om'selves, by divine grace, con- 
 formable to Jesus Christ. For God foreknew and predestined 
 that we might be made like to the image of Jesus Christ : 
 and 'Hhose whom He called He justified, and those whom 
 He justified He glorified." 
 
 This being the walit of man, how is it to be supplied I 
 Can man ahjne supply the want 1 No ! There are three 
 enemies that stand before us. Powerful and dreadful is 
 each and every one of these enemies, saying to us — ^' I am 
 come to destroy the Christ in you!" The first of these is 
 the world — the world with its evil maxims ; the world with 
 its pride, with its avarice, with all its false ideas 5 the world 
 with its newspapers and periodicals ; with all its theories 
 not stopping short of theorizing upon God ; — the world that 
 tells us its influence is elevating, although the Almighty 
 
THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 321 
 
 God tells us it is not ; and that mocking bufibonery of reli- 
 gion, dissolving tbe matrimonial tie, tlie most sacred of all 
 bonds ; tlie world, flooded with impm'ity, evil examples, and 
 its evil maxims and principles, — comes before the Christian 
 man hoping to be made like unto Jesus Christ, and says : ^' I 
 teJl you you must not be a Christian. I will surround you 
 by my influence; I will beset you with evil examples; I 
 w*ill pollute the moral atmosphere you live in with my false 
 principles, and work the Christ out of you ! " Will any man 
 be able, of his own power, to resist this influence and conquer 
 it ? Ah ! it has captivated and enslaved the best intellects 
 of our age ; the grandest minds of our age have been utterly 
 debauched by worldly principles ; for we know the very best 
 intelligences of our age, at this moment, are writing the sheer- 
 est nonsense about religion ; — these men who write articles in 
 the newspapers with so much wisdom upon commercial sub- 
 jects ; — these men w-hose wats are keen as a razor in phih>so- 
 phical speculation ; — quick to perceive a flaw in an argument; 
 — when these men come to write about religion, they are 
 fools, — as you will see in looking at any of the leading 
 newspapers of New York to-morrow morning, — what this 
 man and that man said in the various conventicles and 
 churches to-day : — you will find a Quaker standing up, — a 
 holy man, — humming, hawing, and rocking himself; lifting 
 up his languid eyes to Heaven ; and then, after a long pause, 
 you wdll find him denying the Divinity of Jesus Christ and 
 'declaring tliat He was not the Son of God at all ! This 
 happened last Sunday in New York. You will find another 
 man coming out with the theory and the belief that man 
 never fell ; and therefore does not need any remedy. This 
 — in the face of the moral and social corruption and guiltiness 
 of our age, that is revolting to the eyes of God and man ! 
 
 Thus it is the world blinds the very best intellects, and 
 the shrewdest and strongest minds. And do you expect to 
 resist this? No! You cannot do it. You must say with 
 St. Paul : '^ Of myself I can do nothing ; but I can do all 
 things in Him." In Him we can do all things. He is here 
 for you and me. 
 
 The next great enemy is the flesh ; — the domestic enemy. 
 'J'he blood in our veins, the passions and the senses of our 
 bodies rise up against us to enslave us, and say : " You must 
 not become like to the Son of God ! The Son of God was 
 
322 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 infinite purity. I will not allow you to possess your soul in 
 purity ! I will not allow you to develop the spiritual exis- 
 tence that is within you 5 you must follow the dictates of your 
 passions ; you must become a di-unkardj a licentious and im- 
 pure man ! I will fill that eye with the flaming, lustful 
 glances of desire ; I will make the absorbing desire for every 
 thing base throb in yom" veins, till it becomes a necessity of 
 your nature." Thus says the flesh. Can we conquer it? 
 The greatest and the grandest of earth's sons have been the 
 meanest slaves to their own passions. The grandest names 
 upon the rolls of history, — the greatest heroes, — the greatest 
 philoso})hers — have all attached to them — when we turn the 
 leaves of history and look at their lives — the foul stain of 
 their impurity, running through their lives and covering all 
 their existence with the vilest of all earthly passions. No ! 
 We cannot conquer this flesh of ours, but in Him, — the Lord 
 our God, — who of old bound up the demon and cast kiui 
 forth into the desert of Ethiopia. So can we bind, with Him, 
 these unruly passions, and stem the flood of desire in our 
 corrupt and polluted natm'cs, and deny om'selves for Him, 
 who will enable, while He commands us to do it j and to 
 cast forth the demon into the outer world that is so fitted for 
 him. 
 
 Finally comes the pride of life ; — the third enemy. Ambi- 
 tion, the self-reliance, the pride of man, the pride that refuses 
 to be dictated to. "Why" — that pride says — " wh}^ should 
 I submit to the commands of religion ? Why, it tells me I 
 should go like a little child, and prepare myself, and go to 
 confession !■ Wh}^, it tells me I should go through these 
 devotions that are only fit for women and nuns ! Wh}"- 
 should I fast and suffer hunger ? I have all things 
 around me. Do not I find such and such texts in 
 Sciipture that tell me, ^ All things are good ? ' Why shall 
 I abstain from any thing ? Why should I not have my own 
 way, and reject all authority, human and Divine ? and, first 
 of all, the law that man must bear the obedience, humility, 
 and mortification of Jesus Christ in him if he would be 
 saved ?" Will you be able to contend against this pride? this 
 pride that carries away the best and highest of earth's chil- 
 dren '? No ! You will never be able to contend against it, to 
 keep the humility of your intellect, tke fidelity of your faith, 
 unless you feed upon Him who is the source of all virtue and 
 
THE BLESSED EUCHARIST. 323 
 
 all life. Ami tlius, it is only by the same means tliat Christ 
 Las effected in the Incarnation, — by God uniting Himself in 
 our nature in Christ, — that He also efiects our sanctification 
 in the Holy Communion. Therefore it accomplishes at once 
 all the designs of God. • 
 
 I have done my duty. I have finished my theme. Nothing 
 remains for me but to remind the Catholics who are here, — 
 the Catholics of this city, — the Catholic men who were 
 nourished in the Catholic faith, and derived that faith from 
 Catholic — and many anxmgst them from Irish — mothers, — 
 to remind you that, for three hundred years of persecution 
 and death, it was the Holy Communion, and Ireland's devotion 
 to it, that kept the faith alive in our fathers. They resisted 
 that pride of life. The world came and declared to them 
 that they should give up their faith. They said no, against 
 the whole world. They kept their faith through Jesus 
 Christ, in the Holy Connnunion. They resisted their passions 
 and restrained them ; so that Ireland's purity, in the purity 
 of her daughters and the manliness of her sons, — (a virtue 
 that always accompanies personal pm'ity and purity of race), 
 was unexcelled. They resisted even when titles and honors 
 were ready to be showered upon them. And when high 
 intellect was challenged to disprove the faith in which they 
 believed, they bowed down before tlieir time-honored altars j 
 and Ireland's faith in her religion was never stronger than 
 in the days when she suffered most for it. I say to you. 
 Catholics of New York, that no man can be saved from 
 the world around him, from the flesh within, and the Devil 
 that is beneath him, unless Jesus Christ be with him. 
 I tell you. Catholics of New York, — men of New York, 
 who only go once a year to Holy Connnunion, — that it 
 would be almost better for you if you did not know the 
 truth. If you want to know the explanation of your 
 sins, — of the drunkenness around you, — of the impurity 
 and savage assaults committed ; of all the quick, hasty 
 crimes of which our Irisli nature is more capable than of 
 the meaner and more corrupt crimes. — the reason of it all 
 is this, — that you are not frequent and fervent connnunicants. 
 If you ask me for a rule, I find, although I go to Communion 
 every day of my life, I have enough to do still to conquer 
 my spiritual enemies. And, if I, a priest, have enough to 
 contend with to be saved after receiving the Holy Communion 
 
324 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 every morning, — how can you be saved? If you ask me 
 for a rule I will give it in a few words : I believe every 
 man who wishes to have the peace of Christ, and live in His 
 Christian holiness, and have Christ brought forth in him, — 
 that man should be, at least, a mottlily communicant. 
 
THE DIVINE COMMISSION OF THE CHURCH. 
 
 I A Sermon delivered by Very Bev. T. N. Burle, O.P., in the Church of 
 St. Vincent Ferrer, June 16, 187*2.] 
 
 "At that time it came to pass that, when the multitude pressed 
 upon him to hear the word of God, he stood by the lake ofGenesareth. 
 And he saw two ships standing by the lake ; but the fishermen were 
 gone out of them, and were washing their nets. And going up into one 
 of th«? ships that was Simon's, he desired him to draw back a little from 
 the land. And sitting, he taught the multitude out of the ship. Now 
 when he had ceased to speak, he said to Simon : Launch out into the 
 deep, and let down your nets for a draught. And Simon answering 
 saitl to him : Master, we have labored all the night, and have taken 
 nothing: but at thy word I will let down the net. And when they had 
 done this, they enclosed a very great multitude of fishes, and their net 
 broke. And they beckoned to their partners that were in the other 
 ship, that the}'^ should come and help them. And they came and filled 
 both the ships, so that they were almost sinkhig. Which when Simon 
 Peter saw, he fell down at Jesus' knee, saying : Depart from me, for I 
 am a sinful man, O Lord. For he was wholly astonished, and all that 
 were with him, at the draught of the fishes that were taken. And so 
 were also James and John, the sons of Zebedee, who were Simon's 
 partners. And Jesus saith to Simon : Fear not ; from henceforth thou 
 shalt catch men. And having bi^ought their ships to land, leaving all 
 thuigs, they followed him."— Luke V, 1-11. 
 
 When we read tlie positive doctiines laid do\\Ti in the 
 Gospel, we are bound to open our minds to the utterances of 
 the Almighty God. We are also hound to meditate upon 
 even what appear to be the most trifling incidents recorded 
 in the actions and sayings of Jesus Christ. Every word that 
 is recorded of Him has a deep and salutary meaning. There 
 is not one word in the Gospel, nor one incident, that is not 
 full of instructhm for us: and the evidence that this Gospel 
 gives of the divinity of the Chri.stian religion, and of the 
 di\dne origin of the Chiu-ch, lies not only in the broad asser- 
 tion, — such, for instance, as where Christ says : ''I will build 
 my Chinch upon a rock ; and the gates of hell shall not pre- 
 vail against it 5" or, elsewhere: "He that will not hear the 
 Church, let him be to thee as a heathen and a publican ;" 
 but these evidences lie also in the minor incidents which are 
 
326 FATHER BURKKS DISCOURSES. 
 
 so carefully and minutely recorded, from time to time, by tlie 
 Evangelists. Now I ask you to consider, in this spirit, the 
 Gospel which I have just read to you. St. Peter, — who was 
 afterwards the Pope of Rome, — began life as a fisherman, on 
 the shores of the Sea of G-alilee. He had his boats, he had 
 his nets : he swept those waters, pursuing his humble trade 
 in company with James and John, the sons of Zebedee, and 
 with Andrew, his own elder brother. These men had passed 
 the night upon the bosom of the waters, toiling and laboring ; 
 but they had taken nothing. Sad and dispirited for so much 
 time and labor lost, they landed from their boats in the 
 morning ] and tliey toolv out their nets to wash them. While 
 they were thus engaged, a great multitude appeared in sight, 
 — men who followed the Lord Jesus Christ, and pressed 
 around Him, that they might hear the words of divine truth 
 from His lips. He came to the shores of the lake, and He 
 entered into one of the boats ; and the Evangelist takes good 
 care to tell us that the boat into which the Saviour stepped 
 was Simon Peter's boat. He then commanded Peter to push 
 out a little from the land that He might have a little water 
 between Him and the people, and yet not remove Himself so 
 far from them but that they might hear His voice. There, 
 — while the people stood reverently listening to the law of 
 the divine Redeemer, — sat the Saviour in Petei-'s boat, in- 
 structing the multitude. After He had enlightened tlieii: 
 minds with the treasures of the divine wisdom which flowed 
 from Him, He turned to Peter and said to him : '^ Launch out 
 into the deep, and let down your nets for a draught of fishes.'' 
 Said Peter, answering: ^'Master, we have labored all night; 
 and we have taken nothing. However," he replied, ^^ in Thy 
 word I trust; and at Thy command I will let down the net." 
 No sooner does he cast that net into the sea, under the eyes, 
 and at the connnand of Jesus Christ, than it is instantly filled 
 with fishes, and Petei^s boat is filled until it is almost sink- 
 ing. This is the fact recorded. What does it mean ? What 
 is the meaning of this passage in the Gospel ? Has it any 
 meaning at all? Was it prophetic of things that were to be? 
 Oh, my brethren, how significant and how prophetic, in the 
 history of this Christian religion, and in the Church, was the 
 action of Jesus Christ as recorded in the Gospel. "He sat 
 in Peter's boat, and from that boat He taught the people." 
 W^hat does this mean ? What is this barque of Peter ? Need 
 
THE DIVINE COMMISSION OF THE CHURCH. 327 
 
 I tell you, my Catholic friends and beloved bretlireii, ^^llat 
 this barque of Peter meant ? Christ our Lord l)uilt unto Him- 
 self His Church ! He made her so that she was never to be 
 shipwrecked upon the stormy waves of this world. He built 
 her so that He Himself shall be always present in her, al- 
 though Peter sat at the helm. He built her so that it was 
 her fate to be launched out up(m the ever-changing, ever- 
 agitated, and stormy sea of this world and its society. He 
 declared that Peter* should be at the head of this ship, when 
 He said to him: 'Teed thou My lambs; feed thou My 
 sheep f " Confirm thou thy brethren ;" " I will make you to 
 be fishers of men ;" ^'Launcli out into the deep, and let down 
 your nets fi>r a draught." 
 
 St. Peter himself, inspired of the Holy Ghost, in after times 
 taught that the Church of God is like' a goodly ship, built 
 by Jesus Christ, in which were to be saved all those that are 
 to be saved unto the end of time ; for he compares this ship 
 to the Ark of Xoah, in whiicli all who were saved in the great 
 ITeluge found their refuge ; for, he says, all were destroyed 
 and perished, save and except tlie eight souls who received 
 shelter in the Ark of Nuati ; and tlie rest were tossed upon 
 the stonny, tumultuous billows of the Deluge ; — thrown upon 
 the tide ;— and as the waters rose up around them in a mighty 
 volume, the strong man went down into the vasty deep, the 
 infant sent forth a cry, and presently its cry was stifled in 
 the suro'ing waves. All was desolation ; all was destruction, 
 save and except tbe Ark, which rode triumphant over the 
 waters, passed over the summits of the mountains, braving the 
 storms of heaven al'ove and the angry waves beneath, until 
 it landed its living freight of eight human souls in safety and 
 in joy. So, also, Christ our Lord built unto Him a ship — 
 His Church; He launched this Church forth upon the stormy 
 waves of the world, and it is a matter of surprise tliat this 
 ocean of human society has rot welcome for the Church of 
 God. Men ask, "Is Christianity a failure? AVhy are so 
 few saved! Why are so few found to comply with the con- 
 ditions which the Holy Church commands'? Why, if she 
 received the commission to command the whole world, and 
 to c<uivert them, why is it that this Church of God seems to 
 have always been persecuted and abused!" 
 
 Oh! my friends, there is a deep and profound analogy 
 between the things of nature and the things of grace. Tho 
 
328 FATHER BUBKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 goodly ship is built upon the stocks 5 she is strongly built, 
 of the very best material ; she is sheathed and plated with 
 every thing that can keep her from the action of the seas ; she 
 is built so that, in every line, she shall cleave through tjie 
 waters and override them ; and, when she is all prepared, she 
 is launched out into the deep j and her mission is to spread 
 her sails, and navigate every sea to the farthermost end of the 
 world. Through all of them must she go; over them all must 
 she ride ) a thousand storms must she brave ; and that ocean 
 that receives her in its bosom, apparently receives her only 
 for the purpose of tossing her from wave to wave, of trying 
 her strength, of tr3nng every timber and every joint, opening 
 its mighty chasms to swallow her up and, failing in that, dash- 
 ing its angry waves against her, as if, in the order of nature, 
 the ship and the sea were enemies, and that the ocean that 
 received that vessel was bent upon her destruction. Is 
 it not thus in the order of nature ? is it not this very stormy 
 ocean, these mighty, foam-crested billows, these angry, roar- 
 ing waves, the thunder that rolls, and the lightnings which 
 flash around her, — is it not all these that try and prove the 
 goodness of the ship ; and if she outlive them, if she is assur- 
 edly able to override them all, and to land her freight and her 
 passengers in the apptjinted port, — is it not a proof that she 
 is well built? If the ocean were as smooth as glass; if the 
 winds were always favorable ; if no impediment came upon 
 her 5 if no waves struck her and tried to roll her back, or no 
 chasm opened to receive her into its mighty watery bosom ; 
 what proof would we have that the ship was the making of 
 the master hand, under the care of master minds ? And so 
 Christ, our Lord, built the ship of His Church, and launched 
 her out upon the world ; and from the very nature of the case 
 it was necessary that, from the very first day that she set forth 
 until the last day, when she lands her freight of souls in the 
 harbor of Heaven, she should meet, upon the ocean of this 
 world of human society, the stormy waves of angry contra- 
 diction on every side. This was her destiny ; and this, unfor- 
 tunately, is the destiny that the world takes good care to 
 carry out. 
 
 Men say, Christianity is a failure, because this Church has 
 not been enabled to calm every sea, and ride triumphant, 
 without let or hindrance, upon every ocean. I answer, my 
 friends, Christianity would have been a failui'e if the ship had 
 
THE DIVINE COMMISSION OF THE CHUBCH. 329 
 
 been wrecked j Christianity wonld be a faibire if there was 
 any ocean into which that ship was afraid to enter ; Christi- 
 anity wonld be a failure if that sliip were known at any time, 
 at any moment of her existence, since the day she was built 
 and rigged by Divine wisdom and the Divine Architect, 
 Christ, — if she were known for an instant to have gone down; 
 for a moment to have let the angry waters of persecution and 
 error close over her head : then would Clnistianity be a 
 faiUne. But this could not be, for two reasons. First of 
 all, because the helmsman, whom Christ appointed, is at the 
 wheel ; and he is Peter, and Peter s successor. Second, be- 
 cause, in the ship, — Himself seated in her, and speaking in 
 her, casting out the nets that are to gather in all those who 
 come on board, and are to be saved, — is Christ, the Lord, that 
 God. The great lessons that are in this Gospel are, our 
 Petei-'s boat cannot be wrecked, because Christ, our Lord, us 
 in her; Petei-^s boat cannot be emptied of the living freight 
 of souls, because He is in her who commanded the net to be 
 cast out until the boat was filled. Petei-'s boat cannot be 
 destroyed, because Peter himself, in his successor, is at 
 the helm. And this boat of Peter's is the Holy Roman 
 Catholic Church. In no other ship launched out upon this 
 stormy ocean of the world is the voice of God heard. In 
 every other vessel it is the voice of man that commands the 
 crew; it is the hand of man that turns the ship's prow to 
 face the storm ; it is the hand of man that built the ship, and, 
 consequently, every other ship of doctrine that has ever been 
 launched out on the waves of this world has gone down in 
 shipwreck and in destruction ; whereas, the oldest of all, the 
 holy Catholic Church, lives upon the waves to-day, as fair to 
 the eye, floating as triumphantly the standard, spreading as 
 wide a sail, as in the days when she came forth from the 
 master hand of Jesus Christ, our Lord. In her the word and 
 voice of God are heard. Christ sat in Peter's boat; and 
 Christ sits in Peter's boat to-day ; we have His o\\ n word 
 for it: ''And Heaven and earth," He says, ''shall pass 
 away, but My word shall not pass away ; and ]\Iy word is 
 this ; I am with you all days, until the consummation of the 
 world." But, for what puri)ose, did we ask, "Art Thou 
 with us?" He answers and says: "I am with you to lead 
 you to all truth ; to keep you in all truth ; to teach you all 
 truth ; and to command vou, that even as I have taugfht 
 
330 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 j'oii, so go yon and teach all nations whatsoever things I 
 have taught von." 
 
 The voice of Chiist is in the Chnrch ; the voice of God , 
 has never ceased to resound in her ; the voice of God has 
 never been silent, from the day that Mary's Child first opened 
 His infant lips upon Mary's bosom, until the last liour of the 
 Avorld's existence. That voice is misinterpreted j that voice is 
 S(nnetimes misunderstood. Men say, here is the voice of 
 God, and there is the voice of God j the people lift up their 
 voices ^^ith loud demands, sometimes against law, sometimes 
 against right and justice j and the time-serving politician and 
 statesman says : " It is the voice of the people ; it is the 
 voice of God. Vox pojmli, vox Dei." But the voice of the 
 people is not the voice of God. Tliere is, indeed, the voice 
 of God resounding on the earth; but it is only heard in the 
 unerring Church : therefore we may say with truth, " Vox 
 ecdesice, vox Dei ; " the voice of the Church is the voice of 
 God. Wherever the voice of God is, there no lie can be ut- 
 tered, no untnith can be taught, no falsehoixl can be preached ; 
 wherever the voice of God is, there is a voice that never for 
 an instant contradicts itself in its teachings ; for it is only 
 enunciating one truth, derived from one source, the mind, the 
 heart of the infinite wisdom of the Almighty. Where is the 
 evidence in history of a voice that has ever spoken on this 
 earth, which has never contradicted itself, except the voice 
 of the Catholic Church f I defy you to find it. There is 
 not a system of religion which pretends to teach the people 
 "at this moment upon the earth, that has not flagrantly contra- 
 dicted itself, save and except the holy Catholic Church of 
 Jesus Cluist. Take any one of them and test it. Where is 
 the voice that teaches with authority save and except in the 
 Catholic Church ? Remember wherever the voice of God is, 
 there- that voice must teach with authority ; wherever the 
 voice of God is it must teach with ceitainty and clearness 
 and emphasis, not leaving any thing in doubt, not allowing 
 the people to be under any misapprehension. Where is that 
 voice to be heard to-dav save and except in the holy Cath- 
 olic Church ? 
 
 Men ask, " Is Christianity a failure?" I answer, No ! It 
 will be a failure as soon as that voice of the Catholic Church 
 is hushed ] it will be a failure as soon as some King or some 
 Emperor or some great stateiiman, successful in war and in 
 
TEE iJlViyE COMMISSION OF THE CHUEGH. 3:U 
 
 council, is able to bend the Catholic Chnrch and make her 
 teach according- to his notions or his views. AVhere, in her 
 history, has she ever bowed to king- or potentate '? Where 
 has she ever shaped her doctrines to meet the views of this 
 man, or to further the designs of this other man because 
 they were able to persecute her, as they are persecuting- her 
 to-day ? The most powerful man of the world says to the 
 Catholic Church, " You must remodel your teachings ; you 
 must alter some of your dogmas and some of your material 
 ])rinciples ; you must admit tliat the State has a right to 
 educate the children ; that you have no right ; you nmst 
 admit that religion is not a necessary element of education ; 
 I will make you do it." Thus speaks Yon Bismarck. He 
 imagines because \\e has put his foot upon the neck of the 
 bravest and most heroic race upon earth, that now he can 
 trample upon the Church of Grod. Oh ! fool that he is ! oh, 
 foolish man ! He thinks, because he has trampled upon a 
 nation, that he can trample upon Christ and His holy Spouse. 
 He says to the Chiu'ch ; '^ I will make a decree, and 1 will exi)el 
 every Jesuit in Germany : I will persecute your Bishops : 1 
 will take your churches ; I will alienate your people ; I will 
 persecute and imjn'ison your priests; I will put them to 
 death if necessary." But the Chiu'ch of God stands calmly 
 before liim, and says : " Yon can do all this, but you 
 cannot make me change my teaching ; I am God's mes- 
 senger, and God is truth!" Christ speaks in Petei-'s boat. 
 It is true there are many who will not hear His voice. I 
 ask you what is their fate? What is their fate who re- 
 fuse "to hear the voice of the tnie Church f They appeal 
 to the Scriptures. In this morning's New York Herald^ 
 there is a letter from a man who denies the imTiiortality 
 of the soul : and he proves it by " five texts from Scrip- 
 ture." The very tnith that Plato, the pagan philosopher, 
 wrote a l)Ook to jnove, — a man who had never heard the 
 name of God ; who had never known the light (►f God ; — by 
 the natural light of his benighted, pagan intellect arrived at 
 the conclusion that the soul was immortal, and that its immor- 
 tality was inherent, and belonged to it as its nature. 
 That which the pagan |>4iiloso])her discovered and proved, 
 the Christian of to-day denies; and he cpiotes "five texts of 
 Scripture" to prove tiiat the soul of man is not immortal ; and 
 that men when they die, even in their sins, cease to exist j that 
 
332 FATHER BURKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 there is no judgment, no consequences, no vengeance ; for 
 them no torments ; they have no hell. He proves it by the 
 Scripture, and gives the lie to Him who said: ^' Depart from 
 me, ye accursed, into everlasting flames," That is the fate 
 of all those outside the Catholic Church. They are tossed 
 about by every whim and caprice of doctors, who now start 
 one theory and then another ; who now dispute the inspira- 
 tion of the Scripture, and again the divinity of Jesus Christ; 
 A\ho now deny the immortality of the soul, and then come 
 and abuse me, and the like of me, because I tell them that, 
 until they step on board of Peter's boat, they have no secmity, 
 no certainty, no true liglit, no true religion, and that they 
 must go down. We are called bigots, because we preach 
 tire Word of God, and refuse to change our teaching to suit 
 tlie varying views of men. If the Church preach not the truth, 
 tlien where is the us« of having a Church at all ? But if the 
 Church teach the truth, if she come with a message from 
 God, it is not in her power, nor in my power, nor in any man's 
 power, to change it. I ctnne to preach to you the very words 
 of Chi-ist : ^' He that will not hear the Church, let him be as 
 a heathen and a publican." If I come, then, and say, '' It 
 is not necessary to hear the Catholic Church ; if you love 
 tlie Lord and believe, it is all light ; " if I say that, I am 
 telling a lie, and I am damning my own soul. 1 cannot do it. 
 I must preach the message which Christ our Lord has given 
 me. I should be glad to preach a wider faith, if God would 
 let me ; but I must preach the message of God. If they 
 steel their hearts and turn their ears against our doctrines, 
 God will hold them accountable, for He has said : " He that 
 believeth not shall be condemned." 
 
 Not only, my brethren, is the voice of Christ heard in 
 that Church in the truth which has never changed nor con- 
 tradicted itself ; but the second great action of the Church 
 of God is prefigured in our Divine Lord's action in this day's 
 Gospel. "Peter," He said, "launch out thy boat into the 
 deep, and let down thy nets for a draught." It is no 
 longer a question of preaching. The people have heard the 
 Lord's voice ; they have retired from the shores of the lake, 
 and scattered themselves to their homes, each one taking 
 with him whatever of that word fell upon the soil of a good 
 heart. Now, the next operatiim begins ; and it is between 
 Christ and Peter. "Launch out into the deep," He says; 
 
THE DIVINE COMMISSION OF THE CnURCH. a:5:] 
 
 " cast forth thy net." Peter cast out his net, and he filled 
 his boat with lishes. What does this mean ? It means the 
 prefiguration of the saving and sacramental action of the 
 Chmxih of God ; for not only is the voice of Christ heard, 
 but the action of Christ is at work in her, taking yon, and 
 me, and all men who will submit to that action, out of the 
 waters of passion and impurity, and vain desu'e, and every 
 form of sin, and lifting us up by sacramental action, out of 
 those waters, and placing us in the the ship under His very 
 eyes, — in the light of His sanctity and the brightness of His 
 glory. His action lies in the Catholic Church; and she alone 
 can *draw forth from the stormy, destructive waters of sin, 
 the soul that will submit to be so drawn. A man falls into 
 that sea; — a man, — like Peter, in another portion of the 
 Gospel, — the Christian man, — treading upon the fluctuating 
 waves of his own passion, of his own evil desire and wicked- 
 ness, can scarcely keep his footing, and can only do it as 
 long as he fixes his eye upon Jesus Christ, and adheres to 
 Him. But a moment comes, as it came to Peter, when the 
 waves seem to divide under om- feet, when man is sinking, 
 sinking into the waves of his own passions, of his owu base- 
 ness, into the waves of his own coiTupt nature, when he feels 
 that these waves are about closing over him. He is lost 
 to the sight of God ; and he sees Him no more. God sees 
 him no more with the eyes of love ; God sees him no more 
 with the eyes of predilection. He has lost his past with all 
 its graces,*and his future with all its hopes ; he has gone 
 down in the great ocean of human depravity and human sin ; 
 and he has "sunk deeply into these waters of destruction. 
 Oh ! what hand can save him ? what power can touch him f 
 The teacher of a false religion comes with his message of 
 trust and confidence; comes with message of glozing and 
 flattery ; comes to tell this fallen, sinful man : " You are an 
 honest man ; you are an amiable man ; you have many good 
 gifts ; be not afraid ; trust in the Lord ; it is all right ; " 
 while the serpent of impurity is poisoning his whole existence. 
 Oh! that I had the voice of ten thousand thunders of 
 God, that I might stifle the false teachings, and drown the 
 voice of those who are poisoning the people by pandering to 
 their vices and flattering their vanity, and not able — nor 
 willing, even if able — to teach the consequences of their 
 bins! The Catholic Church alone, ignoring whatever of 
 
:\M FATHFAl BUIIKE'S DISCOURSES. 
 
 good there may be in a man, if slie finds Mm in mortal sin, 
 lays her hand upon that sin ; she makes the man touch him- 
 self with his own hand, look at himself, and realize his 
 miseries. She tears away the bandages with which his self- 
 love conceals the wound ; and then, with her sacramental 
 power, she cuts out all that proud and corrupt fiesb ; she 
 cleanses the wound with the saving blood of Jesus Christ ; 
 she brings him forth from out that slough, that cesspool 
 of impurity and wickedness, and cures hiui, and brings him 
 forth with the tears of sorrow on his face, with a new-born 
 love of God in his heart, in the whiteness of his baptismal 
 innocence ; and he is now no longer in the wiles of hell, but 
 he takes his place and lifts up his eyes in gladness before the 
 Lord, What other Church can do that ? What other religion 
 even pretends to do it, and does it ! In her Sacraments she 
 does it. Her sacramental hand w'ill, though sin be sunk into 
 his blood, go down and sweep the very bottom of the deep 
 lake of iniquit}^, and take even those who lie there, fossilized 
 in their sin, and scrape them up from out the very depths of 
 their misery, and make them fit for God once more. As they 
 are out of the way of salvation who hear not the voice of the 
 Church — the voice of Christ — so, also, these Catholics are 
 outside of the way of salvation who will not come and submit 
 to her cleansing and sacramental power, who refuse to open 
 their souls to her, who refuse to come freqaently and fervently 
 to her confessional, and to her communion table. To do 
 that is as bad as if they refused even to hear her voice, even 
 as if they disputed her testimony. The bad Catholic is in 
 as bad a position, and in even a worse position, than that of 
 the poor man who disputes and raises questions as to whether 
 the soul is immortal, and as to whether Jesus Christ is God. 
 Oh, my brethren, let us be wise in time ; let us have the 
 happiness to know and to hear the voice that speaks in the 
 Church. Oh, let us lay ourselves open to her sacramental 
 power and bare our bosoms to her sanctifying touch and 
 cleansing hand, that so we may be guided into the treasures 
 of her choicest and best gifts ; that so, if we have not the in- 
 effable gift of purity, if we have sinned, we may at least have 
 our robes washed in the waters of grace, and restored to their 
 first brightness through Jesus Christ, who is our Saviour 5 and, 
 in this iiope, let us pass the few remaining days of our lives 
 here, sharing in our mother's struggles; taking a hand in her 
 
THE DIVIXE COMMISSION OF THE CHUECH. 335 
 
 quarrels ; weatliering with her every storm that bursts over 
 us, in the contidence that she is destined to triumph and to 
 lide in safety over the crest of every opposing- wave. It will 
 not always be so. The haven is at hand. The Church Mili- 
 tant passes from the ano-ry ocean of her contests into the 
 calm and quiet haven of her triumph. Oh, in that harbor, 
 no stormy winds shall ever blow 5 no angry waves shall ever 
 raise their foaming crests; there and only there, when the 
 night, with its tempests and storms of persecution and of 
 difficulty — the night with its biiftetings upon the black face 
 of the angry ocean, — when all that has been passed through, 
 in the morning shall the Christian come to catch a glimpse of 
 his eternity. Then will he hear the voice of Him who was 
 present in the storm, saying to the waves: "Be still! Be 
 calm!" and to the stormy winds howling around, "Depart. 
 Leave us in peace." Then the clouds shall fade, and every 
 ripple shall cease; and there on that ocean, which was so 
 stormy, every angry gust of wind shall die away into per- 
 fect calm ; and, in the distant horizon before ns, we shall 
 behold the Church Triumphant, — while, like the spread of 
 tbe illimitable ocean, we see that pacific ocean of God's 
 eternity illumined by the sunshine of His l)lessedness. And 
 there shall be every beauty and happiness. All that shall 
 be ours if we only fight the good fight, if we only keep the 
 faith, and the commands of God delivered to ns by His holy 
 Church. 
 
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