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Page 13
For she alone has this power. She alone is so utterly confident in the
presence of the sinner because she alone has the secret of his cure.
There in her confessional is the Blood of Christ that can make his soul
clean again, and in her Tabernacle the Body of Christ that will be his
food of eternal life. She alone dares be his friend because she alone
can be his Saviour. If, then, her saints are one sign of her identity,
no less are her sinners another.
For not only is she the Majesty of God dwelling on earth, she is also
His Love; and therefore its limitations, and they only, are hers. That
Sun of mercy that shines and that Rain of charity that streams, _on just
and unjust alike_, are the very Sun and Rain that give her life. If I
_go up to Heaven she is there_, enthroned in Christ, on the Right Hand
of God;_ if I go down to Hell she is there also_, drawing back souls
from the brink from which she alone can rescue them. For she is that
very ladder which Jacob saw so long ago, that staircase planted here in
the blood and the slime of earth, rising there into the stainless Light
of the Lamb. Holiness and unholiness are both alike hers and she is
ashamed of neither--the holiness of her own Divinity which is Christ's
and the unholiness of those outcast members of her Humanity to whom she
ministers.
By her power, then, which again is Christ's, the Magdalen becomes the
Penitent; the thief the first of the redeemed; and Peter, the yielding
sand of humanity, the _Rock on which Herself is built_.
IV
JOY AND SORROW
_Rejoice and be exceeding glad.... Blessed are they that mourn_.--
MATT. V. 12, 5.
The Catholic Church, as has been seen, is always too "extreme" for the
world. She is content with nothing but a Divine Peace, and in its cause
is the occasion of bloodier wars than any waged from merely human
motives. She is not content with mere goodness, but urges always
Sanctity upon her children; yet simultaneously tolerates sinners whom
even the world casts out. Let us consider now how, in fulfilling these
two apparently mutually contradictory precepts of our Lord, to rejoice
and to mourn, once more she appears to the world extravagant in both
directions at once.
I. It is a common charge against her that she rejoices too exceedingly;
is arrogant, confident, and optimistic where she ought to be quiet,
subdued, and tender.
"This world," exclaims her critic, "is on the whole a very sad and
uncertain place. There is no silver lining that has not a cloud before
it; there is no hope that may not, after all, be disappointed. Any
religion, then, that claims to be adequate to human nature must always
have something of sadness and even hesitancy about it. Religion must
walk softly all her days if she is to walk hand in hand with experience.
Death is certain; is life as certain? The function of religion, then, is
certainly to help to lighten this darkness, yet not by too great a blaze
of light. She may hope and aspire and guess and hint; in fact, that is
her duty. But she must not proclaim and denounce and command. She must
be suggestive rather than exhaustive; tender rather than virile; hopeful
rather than positive; experimental rather than dogmatic.
"Now Catholicism is too noisy and confident altogether. See a Catholic
liturgical function on some high day! Was there ever anything more
arrogant? What has this blaze of colour, this shouting of voices, this
blowing of trumpets to do with the soft half-lights of the world and the
mystery of the darkness from which we came and to which we return? What
has this clearcut dogma to do with the gentle guesses of philosophy,
this optimism with the uncertainty of life and the future--above all,
what sympathy has this preposterous exultation with the misery of the
world?
"And how unlike, too, all this is to the spirit of the Man of Sorrows!
We read that _Jesus wept_, but never that He laughed. His was a sad
life, from the dark stable of Bethlehem to the darker hill of Calvary.
He was what He was because He knew what sorrow meant; it was in His
sorrows that He has touched the heart of humanity. '_Blessed_,' he says,
'_are those that mourn_.' Blessed are they that expect nothing, for they
shall not be disappointed."
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