We come finally to a large number of subjects for the priest's visits—the sick of every kind, whether in hospitals or workhouses or infirmaries or in private houses, and from those who are stricken with comparatively light ailments to those who are chronic invalids: and, lastly, those in danger of death. Of the sick in general Canon Keatinge at the outset calls attention to the essential difference between the sick men "letting the priest know" and "sending for the priest"; and he rightly points out that even when the former state is reached, there is a great opportunity for his soul, and the very protraction of his illness, wearying as it is to flesh and blood, may be—whether he recovers or not—the grace of his life. How many a man has been called back by illness to serious thoughts, and has made his peace with God, which may last for the rest of his life, perhaps for many years. "His illness," writes Canon Keatinge, "may be nothing less than a retreat for him and his whole house, if you happen to be a man full of the spirit of your vocation." [9]
When an actual sick call comes, there is of course no room for choice; one must go, and at once. The ministration to the dying is a part of the priest's office, which is sometimes viewed with some apprehension before ordination. The surroundings of death are unattractive to nature; the sight of the struggle for life which ends in defeat is painful to watch; and there is often trying physical discomfort in the surroundings of poverty and disease. Yet when it comes to the actual fact, any priest will confirm the statement that it is one of the most consoling duties of his office. The very fact that he is attending for purposes of ministration seems to carry him through all that nature revolts against in the sight and surroundings, while he gains for himself a valuable lesson on the frailty of human life and the nearness of eternity. It is indeed exceptional to be present at the actual moment of death, though this sometimes occurs. But one frequently sees the body very soon afterwards, with the familiar death expression on the countenance, before it has been laid out and assumed the calm sleep-like appearance with which most people are familiar. The thought is inevitable: a few moments ago the soul was here; we were speaking with him; now he has seen Almighty God and been judged. May he always remember us who helped him to die as a Christian should!
We are often asked by the future priest for our experience of death-beds. The description of the final struggle between good and evil, the last assaults of the devil, who knows that with this soul it is now or never, are often depicted in vivid colours in books of devotion or in sermons, and this forms one of the features of death of which ordinary people are most afraid. It may be a good thing to have brought before them as a warning a picture of what presumably is a possibility; but truth compels us to say that in the ordinary case it is not so. The late Dr. Coffin, Bishop of Southwark, who had had a long career as a member of the Congregation of Redemptorists, of which he was Provincial, once admitted frankly that although he had often preached it, he had never seen it; and his experience of death-beds was very large. The ordinary rule is that in the later stages of illness all is calm, and the fear of death, even in cases where it has been prominent in life, disappears before the end comes. And—a fact which can never be too strongly enforced and which will be corroborated by any priest who has ministered to the dying—when the patient is told that death is imminent, in nearly every case the announcement is received with resignation; and the last Sacraments give no small consolation. This has to be firmly insisted upon; for ordinarily a non-Catholic doctor, who has not the same outlook on death that we have, will deprecate or even forbid informing him as to his condition. The priest has to resist this order, and he can do so with perfect confidence. The physical effect such as it is will be, as experience shows, all in the direction of calming the mind and rather assisting than retarding recovery. And to us who believe in the efficacy of the Sacrament of Extreme Unction, "even to restore health when God sees it to be expedient," this thought appeals with special force.
Are we to understand then that there are no bad deaths, or no death-bed conversions? Alas, many a death is evil and Godless, and many people refuse to see the priest at all. Even in such a case there is not necessarily a struggle, for a man may have surrendered himself to evil. There may, indeed, be cases of a struggle between the right and wrong at the end, but they are rare. But with respect to death-bed conversions, there is more to be said. The expression may be used in a broad or a narrow sense. In the strict meaning of the term, that a man after an evil life changes his disposition at the very end, this is of course the rarest event in the world, and if it occurs, must be looked upon as a very extraordinary grace. But many a person puts himself straight in his confession when in danger of death. Some ancient criminal attachment or some unconfessed sin may have kept him away from the sacraments for years without having destroyed either his faith or his general wish to serve God. To such a one his last sacraments form a great grace, which show that Almighty God has not been unmindful of his general aiming at good, and that whereas during life this aim has not been strong enough to overcome the special difficulty which came upon him, the stimulus of approaching death has been providentially afforded him to strengthen his will sufficiently for true sorrow.
But apart from death-bed struggles, the judgments of God are often manifestly shown by a sudden death. It has sometimes been remarked how many priests die suddenly; but to them surely sudden death should have no terrors. A man who has given his whole life and strength to ministering for God should surely welcome a short and swift transit from this vale of tears to our home above. But in the case of those not so prepared, it is otherwise, and often the sudden death of one whom we have known and loved may come upon us as something truly solemn and awful. The following story of his early priestly days, even though more than thirty years ago, has never been forgotten or lost its effect on the present writer, and he makes no apology for reproducing it here; though no doubt most priests might have similar experiences to recount.
A certain Mrs. X., a widow of about forty to fifty years old, who had been brought up in the Church of England, became convinced of the truth of the Catholic religion. She attended mass every Sunday, and was always at the evening service both Sunday and weekday—she never missed—and she had ceased entirely ever going to the Anglican Church. After a while she was asked whether she would not like to see the priest and be received into the Church. She answered that she would do so later on; but she wished to wait till after the death of her aged mother, who was much opposed to Catholics, and who, she feared, might suppress her allowance and leave her nothing by will. Mrs. X. added that there was no danger in waiting: she lived next door to the priest, and in case of illness she could and would at once summon him. So matters remained until one day in the summer, when the school children had their annual outing, and the priest accompanied them. On his return, he found his housekeeper almost in a state of hysterics. Mrs. X. had been taken suddenly ill at midday, and had sent across to ask the priest to come; but he was out with the children. About half an hour before his return Mrs. X. had died. The final scene of this remarkable story was the funeral service of Mrs. X. in an Anglican Church, at which her aged mother assisted. Such are the facts, and without taking any too rigid a view of the final lot of Mrs. X. in the next world, we can at least see a punishment for her want of generosity in hesitating to give herself into God's hands as a Catholic until she should have (as she thought) made sure that she would not be the loser in this world's goods. At the lowest estimate, she was punished by being deprived of countless graces which she could have had. "God is not mocked...what things a man shall sow, those also shall he reap." [10]
The pastoral work for the individual does not end with his death. First there are the funeral rites to perform. According to the new Canon Law, being a parochial function, it must take place in the parish church: the ordinary cemetery chapel, when there is one, will not suffice; still less the recital of the service in the open air, which is often the only function possible in the case of a public cemetery, and the parish priest or his deputy must perform the actual burial. This law is perhaps more important than it seems. The time of a funeral is one when the hearts of the mourners are open to influences to which at other times they are impervious; and frequently also there are non-Catholics among them. The beauty of the ceremonial cannot fail to be a real consolation to those who are bereaved, if only it is performed in a devotional manner; but a priest who is continually doing it day after day can hardly fail to go through it somewhat mechanically. The parish priest, on the other hand, or the curate, who has assisted at the death will himself share the emotion of the mourners. The custom prevalent in this country of adding some vernacular prayers when the ritual or official prayers are over helps very much at such a season, and not infrequently affects the non-Catholics present, for some of our funeral prayers are remarkably beautiful.
Then when the last rites are over, the priest will wish to commemorate his dead and to offer prayers for them. The time is unhappily over when the tombs of those who have departed were grouped round the church, to be remembered for many years by those who knew them. This practice was specially in accordance with the Church's spirit. Nowadays the growth of populations and the sanitary considerations have demanded the creation of large cemeteries outside the towns. All the more reason therefore that the clergy should continually call the attention of their parishioners to the Catholic doctrine of the Communion of Saints and to their duty to pray for those who have gone before them. This is one special feature of an Episcopal visitation, and the solemnity of the Bishop's act should serve to remind both pastor and people of the duty and consolation of offering prayers and masses for "those who have gone before us in the sign of faith, and sleep the sleep of peace."
[1] Canon 969: "Nemo ex saecularibus ordinetur qui judicio proprii Episcopi non sit necessarius vel utilis ecclesiis dioecesis." Canon 128: "Quoties et quamdiu id judicio proprii Ordinarii exigat Ecclesiae necessitas, et nisi legitimum impedimentum excuset, suscipiendum est clericis ac fideliter implendum munus quod ipsis fuerit ab Episcopo commissum."
[2] See also remarks on the Pastoral Office as a source of sanctification in Conference II.