Second Sunday in Lent, 19th March
1848.
In the passage
of St. Matthew's Gospel, part of which is read as the Gospel for this day, we
have a very remarkable contrast, the contrast between this world and the unseen
world. It is so distinctly drawn out, and so impressive, that it may be profitable
to us, with God's grace, to attempt to enlarge upon it.
Our
Lord often passed the night in prayer, and, as afterwards in that sad night
before His passion He took with Him three apostles to witness His prayer in
agony, so at an earlier time, He took the same favoured three with Him to
witness His prayer in ecstasy and glory. On the one occasion He fell on His
face and prayed more earnestly till He was covered with a sweat of blood which
rolled down upon the cold earth. In the other, as He prayed his countenance
became bright and glorious, and He was lifted off the earth. So He remained
communing with His Father, ministered to by Moses and Elias, till a voice came
from the cloud, which said, "This is My beloved Son, hear ye Him." The sight had been so
wonderful, so transporting, that St. Peter could not help crying out. He knew
not what he said. He did not know how to express his inward feelings, nor did
he understand in a moment all the wonders about him. He could but say,
"Lord it is good for us to be here." Simple words, but how much they
contain in them. It was good, it was the good of man, it was the great good, it
was our good. He did not say that the sight was sublime and marvellous. He was
not able to reflect upon it and describe it. His reason did not speak, but his
affections. He did but say that it was good to be there. And he wished that
great good to continue to him ever. He said "Let us build three
tabernacles, one for Thee, one for Moses, and one for Elias." He wished to
remain there for ever, it was so good. He was loath the vision should come to
an end. He did not like to descend from the mount, and return to those whom he
had left behind.
Now
let us see what was taking place below, while they were above. When they
reached the crowd, they found a dispute going on between the rest of the
apostles and the Scribes. The subject of it seems to have been the poor
demoniac, who is next spoken of. A father had brought his son to be cured by
the apostles. He was a frightful maniac, possessed by the devil. None could
hold him. The spirit took away his voice and hearing. He was ordinarily deaf
and dumb, but sometimes he dashed himself to the ground, threw himself into the
fire or into the water, foamed at the mouth, and then perhaps collapsed. The
devil was too much for the apostles. They could not master him, they could not
cast him out. They were reduced to a sort of despair, and this was the
occasion, as it appears, of their dispute with the Scribes, who might be
taunting them with their failure. O the contrast between what St. Peter had
come from, and what he had now come to! He had left peace, stillness,
contemplation, the vision of heaven, and he had come into pain, grief,
confusion, perplexity, disappointment, and debate.
Now
this contrast, as I have said, between the Mount of Transfiguration and the
scene at its foot, fitly represents to us the contrast between the world and
the Church, between the things seen and the things unseen.
I
will not dwell on the mere physical evils of this life, though they are enough
to appal us, the miseries of sickness, pain, want, cold, hunger; but let us
dwell upon the moral evils which it contains. The poor youth who was brought to
Christ to be cured, was possessed by the devil, and alas! is not a great
portion, is not the greatest portion of mankind at this day possessed by the
devil too? He is called in Scripture "the god of this world," and
"the Prince of the powers of this air, the spirit which now worketh in the
children of disbelief." In the book of Job we read of his "compassing
the earth and walking up and down in it," and St. Peter speaks of our
"adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, compassing the earth, seeking
whom he may devour." Thus he is found all over the earth, and within the
souls of men, not indeed able to do anything which God does not permit, but
still, God not interfering, he possesses immense power, and is able to
influence millions upon millions to their ruin. And as the poor epileptic in
the gospel was under the mastery of the evil spirit, so that his eyes, his
ears, his tongue, his limbs were not his own, so does that same miserable
spirit possess the souls of sinners, ruling them, impelling them here and
there, doing what he will with them, not indeed doing the same with every one,
some he moves one way, some in another, but all in some pitiable, horrible, and
ungodly way.
Wickedness
is sometimes called madness in Scripture—so it is. As literal madness is
derangement of the reason, so sin is derangement of the heart, of the spirit,
of the affection. And as madness was the disorder in which possession by the
devil showed itself in Scripture, so this madness of the heart and spirit is
the disorder which in all ages the devil produces in the spirit. And as there
are different forms of that madness which is derangement of the reason, so
there are different forms of that worse madness which is sin. In an asylum
there are different forms of the disorder, and so this whole world is one vast
madhouse, of which the inmates, though shrewd enough in matters of this world,
yet in spiritual matters are in one way or another mad.
For
example, what is the drunkard but a sort of madman? Who is possessed and ruled
by an evil spirit, if not he? He has delivered himself over to the power of
Satan, and he is his slave. He cannot do what he would. Through his own fault
he cannot do what he would. In that he differs from the real madman, whose
fault it is not that he is mad; whereas it is the drunkard's own fault that he
is the slave of evil. But so it is, he has put himself under the power of evil,
he puts himself away from grace, he cannot make up his mind to will to be
otherwise, his will is set on what is evil, and thus he is a mere slave. The
relentless spirit of evil carries him off to the haunts of intemperance. He
knows that he is ruining himself, soul and body, he knows the misery he brings
his family, he knows that he is shortening his life, he curses perhaps his own
infatuation while he persists in it. He wishes he had never been born. Perhaps
he has a bad illness in consequence, and the medical man who attends him, says
to him, that it will to a certainty be his death, if he does not reform. He
knows it, yet his sin is too strong for him, and in this despair and agony of
mind perhaps he takes up some dreadful belief, most injurious to God's honour
and glory, as if he were fated to all this, and could not help it. He says,
"Every man is fated to be what he is, it can't be helped, it's not my
fault, I never could have been otherwise, it did not depend on me."
Miserable and most untrue saying. Is it not the saying of a madman? Is it not
the word of one possessed with a devil? Here then is one instance in which the
demoniac in the gospel may be taken as a type and emblem of the state of the
world.
Others
are possessed by spirits of a different kind. They are not outrageous, but they
are bowed down to the earth, and kept in a close awful captivity. How many, for
instance, are there with hard hearts! And what is hardness of heart but a sort
of possession by the evil one? The drunkard has often moments of religious
feeling, but there are numbers, and they perhaps what the world calls moral,
well conditioned men, who seem to have no heart whatever for spiritual
subjects. A true Christian cannot hear the name of Christ without emotion, but
in this country there are multitudes, poor and rich, who are set upon nothing
else whatever but on getting money, and who have no taste whatever for
religion. Sometimes, I say, they are poor, and thus they not merely aim to get
a livelihood, for this is right, but are engrossed with the thought. Religion
seems to them, not a real thing, but a name, and to concern them no more than
what is going on in China or Patagonia. It seems beside the mark, and they merely
wonder and stare at those who introduce it. The rich again are engrossed with
the wish to make their wealth greater, and the pursuit of wealth blocks up the
avenues to their hearts, and they have neither time, nor thought, nor love for
the great things which concern their peace. What is all this but another
possession of the devil, though very different from the former? It is like
moping melancholy. The demoniac in the gospel, not only cried out and tore
himself, but at other times he became dry or shrivelled, which seems to mean a
sort of collapse. What is this love of the world, which we see whether in rich
or poor, but a sort of shrivelling up or collapse of the soul? What then is so
like a possession of Satan? And can any state be more fearful than that of an
immortal being, who is to live for ever, attempting to live on mortal food, and
having no relish for that immortal food, which alone is its true nourishment?
‘What is to be your food, my Brethren, when you get into the next world? Will
this mortal food on which you feed now, be present to you then? What are your
souls then to feed on? What is to employ them? Nay, what is to possess them? If
a soul goes on contentedly, now the slave of the evil one, if he lets the evil
one take up a lodgement in his breast, how is he to dislodge him ever? Will not
that evil spirit necessarily and inevitably carry down that soul at once to
hell, when death comes?
I
might go on upon this subject at great length, were it necessary. Accustom
yourself to the idea, my Brethren, and a terrible idea it is, that the state of
sin is a demoniacal possession. Consider how such a possession of the body is
spoken of in Scripture. Consider how the devil tormented the poor suffering
body which he was allowed to get hold of. Then consider, what we may so often
see now, what a fearful affliction madness is. Then, when you have considered
these two things, and got a clear hold of the idea, think that sin is just such
a possession of the heart and spirit. It is not that the body is afflicted, as
in the case of a demoniac. It is not that the reason is afflicted, as in the
case of a madman. But it is that the spirit, the heart, the affections, the
conscience, the will, are in the power of an evil spirit, who sways them about
at his pleasure. How awful is this!
When
then St. Peter, St. James, and St. John came down from the Mount, and saw the
miserable youth tormented by an evil spirit, they saw in that youth a figure
and emblem of that world of sinners, to whom in due time they were to be sent
to preach. But this is not all. They found their brethren disputing with the
Scribes, or at least the Scribes questioning with them. Here is another
circumstance in which the scene which they saw resembled the world. The world
is full of wrangling and debate, and not unreasonably, because when the heart
is wrong, the reason goes wrong too, and when men corrupt themselves and lead
bad lives, then they do not see the truth, but have to hunt about after it, and
this creates a great confusion. For instance, suppose a sudden darkness were to
fall upon the streets of a crowded city in day time, you may fancy without my
telling you what a noise and clamour there would be, foot passengers,
carriages, carts, horses all being mixed together. Such is the state of the
world. The evil spirit, which worketh in the children of disbelief, the god of
this world, as St. Paul says, has blinded the eyes of them that believe not,
and hence they are obliged to wrangle and debate, for they have lost their way;
and they fall out with each other and one says this and one says that, because
they do not see. When men do not see, they begin to reason. When men do not
see, they begin to talk loud. When men do not see, they begin to quarrel. Look
around, my Brethren, is it not so? Have not you theories innumerable, arguments
interminable offered to you, on all sides? One man says truth is here, another
there. Alas, alas, how many religions are there in this great yet unhappy
country! Here you have the Scribes wrangling with each other. There is no end
of religions—there are new ones continually. Now if one is true, the other is
false; if the new is true, the old are false, if the old are true, the new are
false. All cannot be true. Can even a dozen be true, or six, or two? Can more
than one be true? And which is that one? Thank God, we, my Brethren, know which
that one is—that is the true religion which has been from the beginning and has
been always the same. But on all sides there are wranglings and doubtings and
disputings, uncertainty and change.
Now
I will mention one other respect in which the scene before the three Apostles
when they came down from the mount resembled the world, and that is a still more
miserable one. You will observe that their brethren could not cast the evil
spirit out. So it is now. There is an immense weight of evil in the world. We
Catholics, and especially we Catholic priests, have it in charge to resist, to
overcome the evil; but we cannot do what we would, we cannot overcome the giant,
we cannot bind the strong man. We do a part of the work, not all. It is a
battle which goes on between good and evil, and though by God's grace we do
something, we cannot do more. There is confusion of nations and perplexity. It
is God's will that so it should be, to show His power. He alone can heal the
soul, He alone can expel the devil. And therefore we must wait for a great
deal, till He comes down, till He comes down from His seat on high, His seat in
glory, to aid us and deliver us.
In
that day we shall enter, if we be worthy, the fulness of that glory, of which
the three Apostles had the foretaste in the moment of Transfiguration. All is
darkness here, all is bright in heaven. All is disorder here, all is order
there. All is noise here, and there there is stillness, or if sounds are heard,
they are the sweet sounds of the eternal harps on which the praises of God are
sung. Here we are in a state of uncertainty: we do not know what is to happen.
The Church suffers; her goodly portion, and her choice inheritance suffer; the
vineyard is laid waste; there is persecution and war; and Satan rages and
afflicts when he cannot destroy. But all this will be set right in the world to
come, and if St. Peter could say at the Transfiguration "It is good to be here,"
much more shall we have cause to say so when we see the face of God. For then
we shall be like our Lord Himself, we shall have glorified bodies, as He had
then, and has now. We shall have put off flesh and blood, and receive our
bodies at the last day, the same indeed, but incorruptible, spiritual bodies,
which will be able to see and enjoy the presence of God in a way which was
beyond the three Apostles in the days of their mortality. Then the envious
malignant spirit will be cast out, and we shall have nothing to fear, nothing
to be perplexed at, for the Lord God shall lighten us, and encompass us, and we
shall be in perfect security and peace. Then we shall look back upon this
world, and the trials, and temptations which are past, and what thankfulness,
what joy will not rise within us—and we shall look forward; and this one
thought will be upon us that this blessedness is to last for ever. Our security
has no limit. It is not that we shall be promised a hundred years of peace, or
a thousand, but for ever and ever shall we be as we are, for our happiness and
our peace will be founded in the infinite blessedness and peace of God, and as
He is eternal and happy, so shall we be.
May
this be the future portion of you all, my Brethren, and in order to that future
bliss may the present blessing of God, the Father, etc.
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