Outside of a few casual cases of conversion prompted often by marriage, and of some spasmodic efforts during a mission, are we not bound to admit that our policy in our relation with non-Catholics has been one of aloofness and waiting. This attitude of aloofness may be traced to many causes. The certainty of his faith gives to the Catholic an assurance which he carries with him into his every day life. A sense of superiority is its natural result. It gives him that self-confidence in religious matters which our separated brethren are so prone to call "Roman Pride."

There exists in the Catholic soul that feeling we might name "The timidity of faith." This sensitiveness is but the instinct of preservation. We have been impressed from our youth that faith is the greatest heirloom of our Christian heritage. To protect it against any influence that would endanger it, is always considered a sacred duty. This is particularly remarked among the masses, whose chances of education finished with the grammar schools, and in countries or localities where Catholics are the minority.

The natural result of this attitude and feeling is an estrangement from those of another faith, a bashful reluctance to meet them and to co-operate with them in social or civic matters, an unconscious tendency to see motives that do not exist and, at times, to refrain from the most elementary acts of charity and courtesy. "It often happens that we manifest towards the heretic the feeling which should be exclusively reserved for heresy." (Lord Morley.) That this is precisely the frame of mind of the ordinary non-Catholic in his dealings with us, is by no way an excuse for our own unkindness. Retaliation is not Christ-like. Does not our aloofness confirm our separated brethren in their false ideas, wrong impressions and bitter prejudices. We must not forget that centuries of strife and untold antagonism of misunderstandings and ignorance, stand as a granite wall between their souls and ours. The teachings and influence of their home, of their school, and of their church lie in their minds, strata upon strata, as the silent and lasting mementoes of the great religious upheaval of the Reformation. Only the influence of a genuine, frank, Catholic life, seen and felt in daily intercourse will gradually wear the barrier away. It is a long and slow process, we know, but one worth trying. Like the ever returning tide it eats its way into the most solid rock of prejudice and bigotry.

That this aloofness carries with it for the unguarded soul and untrained mind a great protection, is made evident by the too many examples of lukewarm Catholics, who by their continued association with those outside of the Fold have lost the right appreciation of their faith and are open to compromise. Principles in their lives often yield to a policy of so called broadmindedness and alleged charity. But those we have in mind, are the leaders, among the clergy and the laity. They are grounded in their belief, know its principles and should be prepared to throw off that aloofness which shades the light of their faith and prevents it from being seen by those who are bound to them, in the everyday life, by national, social, commercial, and often by family ties.

This quasi universal attitude of aloofness has developed among us what we might call "The policy of waiting." The festive board of Christ's faith is ready, but the guests from another fold are wanting. Have we gone "by the highways and byways" and forced ourselves upon their attention by our pressing invitations . . . "compelle intrare?" No, we stand at the door of the Banquet Hall, receiving politely and with joy, it is true, those who ask to come in; and there, for the most part, ends our apostolate. This naturally leads us to say frankly what we think could be done. For we believe that our methods of apostolate call for revision, need readjustment. The way to become like St. Paul, "All things to all men, that we may save them all," (I. Cor. I., 22) changes with the times.

In the great drama of life the stage-settings are ever shifting and the dramatis personae, changing. The success of the actor is to fit in as the play goes on. This he does by adopting ways and methods most appropriate to his surroundings. The problems we face are always the same, but to be efficient our methods of handling them must evolve and adjust themselves to the temper of the age. What should be then the characteristic features of our apostleship among non-Catholics? The neglect of readjustment of our methods in dealing with our separated brethren is the avowed cause of the tremendous waste of energy and the explanation of meagre results. "An enormous amount of energy," said Father Benson,—and he had the experience,—"has been expended uselessly in the past, assaulting positions that are no longer held, and by lack of appreciation of present conditions." In this age of loose thinking and of rapid dissemination of ideas, aggressiveness, supported by active propaganda, characterizes every world-wide movement in government, industry, science and religion. Every doctrine, every theory comes into the open and makes a strong bid for our hearing, for our following. Why should not the true doctrine of Christ assume this new shining armour of sane aggressiveness, come more into the open, and throw down the gauntlet to unbelief and indifference everywhere rampant and openly defiant? For, if conviction is the father of devotion, if our belief in the mastery of ideas is genuine, we cannot help but be aggressive. Needless to say we are not asking for vulgar aggressiveness, we are not asking for cheap sneers and attacks on the ignorance and the illogical position of others. By aggressiveness, we mean coming out in defence of truth which it is our privilege and responsibility to possess. Never have times been more inviting for an aggressive Catholicism. The great war has been for Protestantism the acid test. The result is for the Anglican and Evangelical Churches a complete failure,[2] and, as the soldiers said "a wash-out." They have lost their grip on the masses who are rapidly slipping into a religious chaos. The universal disintegration of creeds, strangely combined with a secret thirst for truth and unity now sweeps the English-speaking world. Are not these portentous events that manifest, as "The stirring of the waters," the movement of the Holy Spirit.

Our policy of aggressiveness, if it be true and resolute, will find expression in an intelligent, active and persevering propaganda. Propaganda is the dissemination of ideas, with the view of giving them a strong foothold in the mind. The gradual development of the message it carries and the recurrence of its lessons at stated intervals are the principal factors of this great force. To be efficient and successful our propaganda among our non-Catholic brethren will assume two distinct forms: The open and the silent form.

The silent propaganda is the spreading of Catholic ideas through the contact of our every day life with those who are not of our own Faith. Willingly or unwillingly we are bound to leave an impression of our belief in the business and social circles into which our life is cast. Our silence and abstention alone often militate against the Church. Let then the purity and spirituality of our lives, the honesty of our commercial relations, the sanctity of our home, bear witness to the sacredness of our religion and to the seriousness of its teachings.

A true Catholic life is in itself a living antithesis of the prevalent neo-pagan ideals, and stands as the best proof of our Faith's sincerity and of the depth of its conviction. "If life is the test of thought rather than thought the test of life," wrote Van Dyke, "we should be able to get light on the real worth of a man's ideals by looking at the shape they would give to human existence if they were faithfully applied." For, as Cromwell said, "The mind is the man."

The participation in civic, social and national activities will afford the occasion of meeting our non-Catholic neighbours. This personal and repeated contact, particularly with the leaders of the community, on occasions when the best brains can concentrate together without clash of principle, is, in our humble estimation, of the greatest value. The participation of the Knights of Columbus in war activities and reconstruction work is a striking illustration of this point. Nothing has more helped the Church in the American Republic, in breaking down the barrier of anti-Catholic prejudice, than the stand its Catholic laity took during and after the Great War. Have we not in Western Canada been rather remiss in our participation in public activities? If we have not had our share in public life, it has often been, we must confess, our own fault.