Sermon IV. The Name and Patience of Jesus
"Ye shall be hated of all men for My Name s sake."-
Mark, xiii, 13.
The greatest practical intellect of ancient philosophy has said, that "if ever a perfect man should appear on earth, he would seem to be strange and out of place." He would be a wonder and a monster. His very presence would be irksome to mankind; they would desire to be rid of him, because the nature of man has a dull instinct of its own imperfection, which makes the presence of perfection intolerable.
And what philosophy conjectured, the spirit of prophecy foretold. Isaias, foretelling one that should come, said, "There is no beauty nor comeliness; we have seen Him, and there is no sightliness that we should desire Him. He is despised, and most outcast among men; His look is, as it were, hidden; He is despised, and we esteemed Him not."
And what philospher conjectured, and prophet foretold, the coming of the Son of Man fulfilled. " God was manifest in the flesh;" He was a stranger among His creatures, and out of place in His own1 world. When the Son of God came on earth, what was His daily life but one continuous fulfilment of this prediction? Imperfection could not bear the presence of perfection: man s fallen nature could not endure the presence of Man without sin. The whole life of our Divine Lord, as we read it in the Gospels, is a de tailed verification of this great truth. How was He treated? by what titles was He designated? Some said, " He is a good man;" others said, "Nay, but He seduceth the people;" others, again, "Say we not well that Thou art a Samaritan, and hast a devil?" "By the prince of the devils He casteth out devils;" " He is beside Himself;" " He hath a devil and is mad, why hear you Him?" " We know that this man is a sinner."2 So was the Son of God received among men.
Nor was it by titles only that men vented their impatience of His sanctity. What was His last Passion but the amplest f ulfilment of this same prophecy? The crown of sharpness and of mockery; the robe of scorn wherewith He was clothed; the fool s coat for which it was exchanged; the rod and the scourging which sated the petty spite of men, what were all these but so many tokens of the irritable, frightened, savage resentment of sinful man in the presence of One without sin?
And surely it was not without design that the Son of God endured all this. Why did He choose to pass through all these trials but for some deep pur pose? Was it not in compassion to us? Was it not that He might first taste all that His followers should taste of after? Was it not that no scorn or hatred might be in their cup unknown to Him? Was it not that no one should suffer for Him but might say, " This, Lord, Thou hast tasted for me?" It was His compassion, His pity, His tenderness for us, that made Him expose Himself to be rejected by His own creatures, to be hated of all men, and first to bear all shame and scorn for our sake.
And what He bore Himself He also prophesied for us. What He Himself endured His prophecy pledges to us. " Ye shall be hated of all men for My Name s sake." My Name is hateful, and ye shall bear it; and for My Name s sake ye shall be hated too. " The disciple is not above the master, nor the servant above his lord. If they have called the goodman of the house Beelzebub, how much more them of his household?" *
And has not this been fulfilled to the very letter? Is not, again, the whole history of the Church a ful filment of this same prophecy? As with the master, so with the servant. As soon as our Lord ascended to3
His Father s throne, what was the lot of the Apostles? They were dragged before the Sanhedrim, bound, scourged, and imprisoned. Stephen was stoned; James slain by the sword. Whithersoever they went bearing the Name of Jesus, everywhere hatred followed them. There was an instinct in mankind which abhorred the Holy Name. Judaism, God s faith once, cast off when through unbelief His chosen people clung to shadows and knew not the reality, the same Judaism became the persecutor of the Name of Jesus. The Jews were the first to shed the blood of Saints. Throughout the whole earth they were the foremost to kindle persecution. The whole history of the disciples of our Lord, from the first who suffered to the Prince of the Apostles, was hatred and martyrdom for Jesus sake.
And do we think, brethren, that this was foretold only for them? Was it reserved for the Apostolic age alone? Did it expire with the Apostles? Far from it. What do we see in the Book of Revelation? What is that mighty power sitting on seven hills, " drunk with the blood of the saints and with the blood of the martyrs of Jesus,"4 but Paganism, the second greatest enemy of the Name of Christ on earth? And what is the history of the centuries which follow, after Jerusalem was razed to the ground, and could persecute no longer? What is the warfare of imperial Rome against the Faith, but the hatred of a sinful world striving to wear out the Name of Jesus from the earth? What are the ten persecutions that soaked the empire with blood, and filled heaven with martyrs, but so many fulfilments of this prophecy? Read in the history of the Faith. Hated in all the cities of the earth, what soever ill bef el the empire, the Christians were in fault. If expeditions failed, it was because the temples were forsaken; if the provinces were troubled, it was be cause of the Atheists; if it rained too much, the Chris tians had offended the gods; if it rained too little, " the Christians to the lions." They were enemies of mankind, haters of the human race, hateful themselves, haters of light, lovers of darkness, and blacker in their deeds than the darkness which covered them. So it ever was till the unclean spirit was cast out, and Rome with her seven hills was consecrated to God.
But did persecution cease even when heathenism fell? Did it come to an end when Babylon sunk as a millstone into the depths of the sea?
The prophecy was not yet exhausted. Hatred of the Holy Name is a perpetual inheritance in the seed of the serpent. Heresy took up what heathenism could no longer do. When St. Cyprian had gone to his crown under the sword of idolaters, St. Athanasius and St. Gregory, St. Chrysostom and St. Flavian, and many more in the East and West, in Africa and Italy, in Greece and Spain were crowned confessors and martyrs by the hand of heretics.
Nor was the strife yet over. When heresy passed away, another power took up the trade of persecution. The world had become Christian and the empire of Rome owned the name of Jesus: once more the na tions of the world were established in peace; the cross sat on the tiara, and men thought at length that security had come, and the Church would reign and prosper. Then, clothed in Christian monarchies, arose the spirit of the world, unchanged and unrelenting. Under whatsoever garb, the substance of the world, what is it ever but enmity to God, proud self-will, impatience of subjection? To go no farther than our own land, see how this is verified. Look back on Saxon England. Dutiful in faith, in sweet bonds of union with Christendom, this land peaceful and tranquil, was fair and green, rich with the gifts of nature and of grace. It was in unity with the Chair of Peter, and had saints for princes. In those days of meekness and sanctity no presumptuous nationalism had set itself against the soverei^ntv of God s Church on earth.
Then look a little onward to the times when the Norman entered, and a mighty monarchy, laid in blood, bound by laws of iron, lifted itself in pride and struggled with the kingdom of God. Look on those days when kings, who neither feared God nor loved man, conspired against God s Church. They sinned and prospered, prospered and sinned yet more. Again the old strife began, when St. Anselm, all alone, crossed the will of a king in behalf of the unity and sovereignty of Jesus Christ; when St. Thomas of t~j t/
Canterbury stood unto the death against the power of a monarch backed by prelates and by barons, who kissed the hand from which they held their domains and ate their bread. What was this new contest but the old and changeless spirit of the world ever hating and contending with the Name and kingdom of Jesus? What did these disciples of the Cross meet at the hands of the world for their faithful testimony but exile and death? one crowned a confessor, the other a martyr. Why need I go on? Is not the same hatred perpetual even until now? Will it be said, as indeed the men of this world say, drawing their pens fine to write the history of saints, u Anselin was an arrogant and stubborn prelate: Beckett proud and ambitious. It was not for Christ s sake they suffered, but for their own evil passions; for turbulence, obstinacy, and rebellion; for their own faults they were justly punished by the laws of their country and the sovereignty of their prince?" Well, are saints faultless? Yes, when crowned; not when in warfare. The faults that re main in them are, it may be, the dross upon which persecution fastens for their purification and perfection. Be it so. Saints are men, and men are frail. But would the world love them better if they were without fault? Would the world be more at peace with them if the saints were sinless? There was One without sin and the world mocked Him, and His own people nailed Him on the cross. Let us not be told, then, that they who stand for the Name of Jesus suffer v for their own sins. No doubt they had them, but they suffered not for these. There is a deeper and diviner reason a reason unchangeably true. They had the Divine Presence with them; and they were visibly v stamped with the Name they bore. They crossed the will of the world in its pride of place, and set a bound to its pretensions. They were tne shadow of a Superior, and the ministers of a higher law. This was their true offence.
When the historian of this world censures, he is but serving his master. He must make a case for persecutors, or human nature itself would abhor them. But these alleged offences are the pleas and the excuses, not the causes of the contest. In truth, what is it that keeps ever alive this conflict between the world and the name of Jesus? The claim of sovereignty for a Divine kingdom; the authority of an inflexible law; the unbending rule of Faith; the unpardonable sin that the Church allows of no higher upon earth than the head which our Divine Lord hath chosen; the irremissible offence in the eye of the world, that we acknowledge an universal sovereignty, a fountain of jurisdiction superior to all powers upon earth; the treason never to be forgiven that the Church cannot be frightened and will not be patronized: this is the secret of the contest still. It ever has been, it ever will be. The world may change its forms, but not its substance. Judaism, paganism, heresy, nationalism, secularity,are only forms; the substance of all is sin, and sin is always the same. It must hate the Holy Name; and they suffer most from it who are most like their Lord. They are hated most for the name of Jesus who most visibly bear His likeness. If we find ourselves at peace with the world, woe be to us. If the world dwells in tranquillity with you, look well to it. If you will but be negative, yielding in principle, vague in doctrine, the world will heap its favours on you, and our Lord will cast you off. When you find the world most opposed to you, be of good cheer; you have a sure token that you are in the right. It has been so always; it always will be. It is the only, the perpetual law of that great contest between the seed of the woman and the seed of the serpent. If you are the servants of an offended God, the followers of a crucified Master, how can the world but hate you? It must be so; and if we be not hated by the world, we know on which side we are. If we are in peace between two opposites, remember Who hath said, "he that is not with Me, is against Me; and he that gnthereth not with Me, scattereth."*
And now, brethren, perhaps there was never any time when hatred of this Holy Name was deeper than in the sixteenth century; never any time when the principle and spirit of nationalism had grown to a greater height. The struggles of seventy years, when the kingdoms of Europe all but revolted from the
Holy See, had added a great force to the license and turbulence of national sovereignties. The spirit of paganism had come in again through an excessive cultivation of classical literature, and a fanciful adoption of the thoughts, ideas, and types of the ancient world. The foundations of Christian faith were sapped; universities and schools talked paganism; philosophy and literature were beginning to revolt from the unity of truth. It was a time of urgent peril, when the cor-5 ruption of nations, which weighs always on the visible Church, had become a burden too heavy to bear; sanctity was low, charity cold, and immorality dwelt in honour: at that time, when all the elements seemed ready for some great warfare, and centuries of disorder were pressing to the conflict, the confederacy of Christendom itself seemed in peril of dissolution, and the Church to be shorn of strength; at that moment, when prelates and princes, statesmen and orators, the learned and the wise, eager and anxious, hurried to and fro, wondering at the things which were coming upon the earth, God was preparing His weapon in secret. His instrument was chosen. He found him not in apostolic thrones, or in the chairs of the learned; not in the high places of the world or of ecclesiastical precedence. There was one in a far land, unknown to the Church, and to those who knew him best, known only in courtesies and arms, in courts and sieges, the bravery and pride of life, without theology, without learning, without token of penance, without reputation of sanctity. Him God chose to confound the wise, to show that the work was not of man but of God. While man knew r it not, the intense will of Ignatius lay prostrate before God in the solitude of Manresa. He was communing with God in secret, and there learned by illumination what chairs and schools could never teach.
The science of God and man in its principles and in its axioms was infused into his intelligence. Theo logy in its fulness, though not in its development, sprang up within him, to be elicited afterwards by question and fixed by expression.
And then, because he lacked the learning which comes by acquisition, at man s estate, as a child he sought it in a school of children. Having found his end, the dedication of his whole being, with all its powers and with all its freedom, to the glory of God, all other things fell into the rank and harmony of subordinate means. Every thing else was subservient to that one purpose. He was learning also in the school of the Holy Name; and the portion of Jesus was his portion too: humiliation, contempt, suspicion of heresy, imprisonment, and stripes. And what did these for him? They all worked together to root out the last fibres of self, and to clear his capacious heart for God; that the will of God might penetrate and possess him in its fulness, perfecting the freedom of his own.
It is not for me to attempt to sketch the character of this great saint; least of all, to venture upon that spiritual world which lay between his soul and God. What can I say of that intense love which dissolved him at the altar, which held him seven hours, day by day, upon his knees; what of his profound humiliations before God and man? what of his supernatural tenderness of devotion to our Divine Lord and His spotless Mother? Of these I cannot speak. All that I can do is to touch upon those marking features of character by which he was visibly distinguished among men.
And, first, we see an irresistible and governing will, before which all things, self, and the world, and the wills of other men, gave way; as if in the spiritual world there were a power of electricity and a law of gravitation to recast all it touches, and to hold all in its harmony and orbit.
And to that will was united a profound humility, which concealed himself and put others forward; which, while they knew it not, shaped and formed his companions to his own purpose, and made his work theirs, and their work his.
And with that profound humility was joined a grand simplicity of thought and word, so that every truth and every duty was enough for the moment to fill the whole of his expansive soul. What a picture is it of St. Ignatius where we read that, while his spiritual sons were sleeping, he was wont to walk to and fro by night, pacing his chamber in deep thought, leaning upon his staff! What mighty capacity of soul was there! The whole work of the Church;
catechism for the young; spiritual exercises for the elder; the teaching of schools; the discipline of col leges; missions for the heathen; the whole order and unity of the Church throughout the world, and the whole doctrine of faith, the entire theology, and with this, all science, the whole family of human sciences, were all alike embraced within the capacity of his de signs. And with this vast capacity, what immense energy! No sooner had his Society received the seal and approval of Christ s Vicar upon earth, than it seemed to cast itself forth with an instantaneous expansion, and to fill the old world and the new with its presence and operation.
And, above all, I would touch, though it may seem to be a homely feature, on one most marked and prominent in the character of Ignatius, the masculine common sense which governed all his actions. What is this homely feature but the highest result of the i/ v"5 highest powers, without which all other gifts are dramatic and unreal? It is in this common-sense that the greatest powers of man return again to the simple in tuition of an instinct. It unites and harmonises all, and concentrates them upon the time and circumstances of life and action. It is the subtle discernment which marks off the essence from the accident, which is able to penetrate with a glance into the centre, the substance, and vitality of all things. It is the power which by instant perception seizes on the moment and the season, moulding and applying means to ends at the juncture and the crisis. This gift, which all great servants of God possess, in him appears with such maturity and fulness, as even among other saints to give to his character a marked and peculiar perfection.
What a mind and soul was there in preparation, the prelude of some mighty work, a work which has been indeed accomplished a mind proportioned to an apostle s throne, to sit as a ruler and a patriarch in the elect of God! And what was this deep and lofty character but the mind of Jesus, of Him whose Name he took, founded in humility, and made perfect in obedience.
And now, brethren, shall I pass from the character of the saint to the character of that illustrious Societv tt which he founded? It is his own character again. The same capacity, the same vast comprehension, the same energy, perseverance, and endurance. It is his own presence still prolonged, the same perpetuated order even in the spirit and manner of its working, fixed, uniform, and changeless. It has passed into a proverb, that the Society of Jesus has had but one governor, Ignatius still. And what are its works? Look at the stamp left on the discipline of the Church, on its centre and its unity; look on the missions of the
Catholic world; look on the science of theology, that vast creation of illuminated reason steadfastly contemplating the orb of divine truth; fresh and fertile in its beginning, exact and harmonious in the more perfect order of the middle ages. St. Augustine, St. Bonaventure, and St. Thomas will forgive, if I say that Ignatius well repaid to them the price of his nurture when he gave to the Church Bellarmine and Petavius, Vasquez, Suarez, and De Lugo, besides newer but memorable names. Other hands, indeed, have made precious contributions; but who has chiefly raised the fabric and the structure of sacred science since the last great Council, but the Society of Jesus; and who is the master-builder but its founder?
It is not for me to be the eulogist, but the learner. And yet when I turn my thoughts towards this our island, there are traces which may make even stones to speak of St. Ignatius. He once stood here among us; once he was a sojourner in this city. Little thought he in that day, when from his prayers and his studies in Paris, he came to beg alms of Spanish merchants in England; little thought he of the work that he should one day do, the sons he should one day give, the blood he should one day shed for England. Six years before the mighty convulsion which rent England from Catholic Unity he came to London. The elements of the tempest were already gathering for the conflict; but as yet they lay motionless and still, as impending storms hang silent in the atmosphere. The heavy hand of despotism held them down; but heresy had already made its lair in England: the state had already drawn in the poisonous breath of secular ambition. All things were ready for the outbreak when St. Ignatius came among us, asking alms in poverty. He went his way for thirty years, to return in another guise, and at a darker season. Both he and England had much to do before they should meet again; and on both parts the destiny was accomplished. The storm which lay beneath the horizon in a little while broke forth. Six short years, and England was severed from the see of Peter. It was a bitter quarrel, which in history has been written with a gentle name, " the removal of the Pope s jurisdiction," and, " the restor ing of the ancient supremacy to the crown of England." It was no contest about Peter s-pence, first-fruits, or Annates; these were only baits to lure the greedy and words to blind the poor. They who made this separation knew too well at what they aimed. And they did their work well. England was rent from Catholic unity without perceiving that the deed was done. It seemed a mere act of Parliament declaring ancient laws with no new changes. The time was not yet.
He who did this deed went to his account. And next, for the iniquities of the land, a child was the ruler thereof, and in that child s name the proud and the greedy ruled and reformed, plundered and desecrated. He too was soon gone; then came a short fair season and a little hope; but it was stained with the sins of men. The shortlived promise was baffled, and likewise went its way. Then came the last in that line of princes, doubtful at first of her policy and hor faith, and the storm came up more quickly, the clouds covered the heavens, and began in great drops of blood, the forerunners of a tempest still more terrible and lasting. And then, in the midst of all, Ignatius came again; not alone, as at first, but in a multitude; not now in weakness, but in power; not a student from Paris, but a saint ruling in the Church of God. He came to England once more, to bear witness for the name and the sovereignty, " the kingdom and the patience of Jesus."
At length the tempest burst, and the storm fell upon his sons. One by one they went to the scaffold and the rack. The rack groaned and the scaffold dripped with gore, as they ascended to a martyr s crown. What a tale is the history of these three hundred years; a twofold history, written both in earth and Heaven; by the wise and worldly here on earth entitled u The
Execution of Justice," in Heaven the roll of martyrs. On earth they wore the garb of felons; in Heaven they stand arrayed in white and crowned. Here they were arraigned in the dock as malefactors; there they sit by the throne of the Son of God. Strange contradiction and divine, between earth and Heaven, between the sentence of men and the judgment of God. Not one of those who suffered but might have saved his life, and lost his soul, by accepting the ecclesiastical supremacy of the Crown. Fair and open as its claim appeared- " the ancient jurisdiction," " supreme only upon earth," " a civil supremacy," " known to common law," "inherent in the Grown," "worn by sainted ancestors" the sons of St. Ignatius had too keen an intuition not to discover at a glance what these days are slowly learning.
Brethren, why do I go on? What was the history of succeeding generations? An ignoble, wearying, worrying persecution, hunting the servants of God from house to house, exiling them from the cities and haunts of men, and then accusing them as lurkers in dens and in corners. An inglorious tale, save that it mostly ended in martyrdom.
Such was the work of Ignatius in the past; and what may he have yet to do? There is a future still before us for which we must make ready. What it shall be, none can tell. This land perhaps was never mightier in the as n.^n of its independence than at this hour. The ecclesiastical supremacy newly set up three hundred years ago, was n j ver lordlier in its claim. And now once more the supremacy which is not of this world has re-entered. The human and Divine are again in presence of each other. And who can fore cast th3 issue? History, our best and only witness, nevertheless is weak and insufficient to reveal the true nature of the past. But the providence of Heaven has not left us without admonition. It has re-acted the past before our eyes.
Brethren, believe it, that there are around you thousands who, if they saw the truth as you see it, would be upon your side. They were not the agents of this mighty schism; they are heirs not of its sin but of its penalties. They inherit an invincible ignorance. There are thousands who, if they could discern the dishonour offered to their Lord in the violation of the Unity and Divine office of His Church as you discern it, would hold no sacrifice too great to make atonement. They would wash out in tears the memory of sharing in the schism of their forefathers. Pray for them, that they may learn, as you have learned, by no mere human guidance, to see the right in this great quarrel. They were born into an atmosphere in which all lights are distorted and all colours change their hue. Truth and falsehood have shifted places, and the history of the English reformation is a traditionary fable. None hut they who, by God s mercy, have been redeemed from the bondage of illusion, can conceive its spell and fascination. It may be we are on the eve of some such trials as our fathers had to bear. England prospers, and therefore believes that God loves it as it is. England has its dominion in all the earth, a mightier empire than the world till now has seen. Like Babylon of old, it has gold and silver, and traffic and merchandise, and precious stones and pearls, and fine linen and purple, and silk and scarlet, and all manner of curious works of the craftsman and the artist, " and slaves and souls of men." It says, " God loves me as I am, and therefore prospers me;" and yet there is an old saying, little heeded now, " All these things will I give unto thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me."
It may be the hour of contest is coming on once more. Godknoweth. One thing we know. Ignatius was never sad save when the world prospered him, and never so glad and buoyant as when he received the promise that his sons should be ever hated for the Name of Jesus. Principles are ours, prophecies are6
God s. With prophecy we have nothing to do; principles are our guide. The unity and the infallibility of the Church of Jesus Christ, these are our principles, and these shall be our safety. They who have neither chart nor science, watch the sky and sail by guess; but they who have the science of the heavens and of the deep, launch by night as in the noonday. The stars and science are sure, if the helmsman s hand be firm and true. Waters may beat and winds may rave, our way is onward, and the footsteps of our Lord are on the deep. Who is it ever holds the helm of Peter s bark, but the Vicar of Him who walked upon the sea? Then let us be firm and patient. Come what may, God s will shall be done, and the Name of Jesus glorified.
Let us make ourselves ready, not by exciting a mere human impulse, or the courage which runs only in the beat of our human blood, but asking upon our knees the still and fearless patience which descends from the mind of Jesus. What may be before us we know not, Why need we? Our way is plain; to walk still in that same old path, sharp but sure; to serve and to suffer; to love and to be hated; to give ourselves for the hand that is lifted now in scorn; it may be, one day for more. So be it, Lord, if it only be for Thee.
Footnotes
Chapter 5 of 14