Sermon I.
Remembrance Of Mercies.
(For New Year's Day.)
Isaiah lxiii. 7.
"I will remember the tender mercies of the Lord,
the praise of the Lord for all the things that
the Lord hath bestowed upon us."
In the midst of our mutual congratulations at a time like this, whilst we are wishing a happy future year to those we love, we cannot wholly forget the year that is past, and all that it brought to us for good or evil. I would not, my dear brethren, cast a shadow upon the bright pathway of our hopes; I would not dampen in the least the ardor with which we joyfully set out upon another year's journey of life. May it be as happy in its realization as we could wish it to be! But I fear for the future happiness of him who forgets the happiness of the past. The anticipated joy of life yet to be lived is linked with those other joys that are past—joys over blessings whose richest fruit should be the lessons of experience they have taught us. Would we like to enter upon a new year wholly ignorant of the past one? I think not. We have learned many things while it has been passing—lessons of wisdom upon which we rely to make the future better and happier. Much there may have been to regret. Alas! how much for some of us; but the remembrance of even that shall be good for us. There are many of the same stones lying in the roadway ahead of us that we stumbled upon last year. Now we shall not come upon them unawares. There are many of the same beautiful but poisonous flowers growing in the valleys of repose where we shall stop to linger for a while, as we did in days gone by. We shall recognize them, and the beauty that deceived us before shall not deceive us again.
Blessed is the man who remembers. But there is so much good to remember! And in that remembrance so much to make the heart thoughtful, cheerful, and hopeful. It is this thought which I wish you, my brethren, this morning to reflect upon: the duty and pleasure of remembering the mercies of God--His tender mercies, as the prophet so aptly calls them.
It has always been a wonder to me how soon we forget benefits conferred upon us. It is too true. The joy we had when the gifts were new wasted itself away as quickly as music melts upon the air. The keen sense of grateful love toward the giver grows dull, and passes into indifference, before the treasure is spent or the beauty of the gem is tarnished. Drink to the health of your friend and praise his bounty, if you will, but have a care— ingratitude and forgetfulness are the last drops which lie at the bottom of the cup. And we treat God no better, if as well as we treat men. His gifts are such as man could never give, and given with a depth of love as unfathomable as the mystery of His own being and divine life. And yet we can forget! Oh! why is it? Did He who made the human heart make it ungrateful? Did He who so loves us make those He loves selfish? Did He who has said, "Son, give me thy heart," ask for a corrupt and treacherous heart? Such a thought may become that gloomy religion which thinks to exalt God by debasing His creatures; but it is not so that we have learned Him. No, this cannot be. It cannot be that the heart of man is naturally ungrateful, or is unmindful of good for which it is debtor; that by virtue of its very nature it is selfish toward man, and treacherous to God. He who made us has not made us to be of necessity the very opposite of what He wishes us to be. What explains this cold forgetfulness, this heartless indifference, that steals over us so soon? There is but one explanation. Love and gratitude must have a test. The words of thankfulness, the pressure of the hand, the look of the eyes and the aspirations of the heart which are forced from us in the first flush of happiness when the gifts are showered at our feet, are all good and just testimonies—but they are not enough. Gratitude and love must have the true test of merit, and that is endurance. There must be freedom to forget, that the false be distinguished from the true. That we claim this enduring memory at the hands of others, and are disappointed if it is otherwise, is a proof not only that such a test is naturally called for, but that we at the same time deem it possible. How many gifts pass from hand to hand during this season of rejoicing, with the words—Remember me! God Himself bestows His most Precious Gift to man with the same request, "Do this in remembrance of Me." Yes, now we understand it. The true heart will remember; the false one will forget. The faithful soul delights in cherishing a lively remembrance of benefits received; and the further back in the past the moment lies that saw our brows crowned with the tokens of love, the sweeter and more tender become the memories of them. Judge by this test, my brethren, if you have a true heart to God. Oh! the deep meaning of the prophet's words, "I will remember the tender mercies of the Lord." Time is a refiner of the thoughts. The love of the gift itself, the mere sensual complacency in its enjoyment is mixed up in the beginning with the thankfulness we feel for its bestowal. But time will wear off that dross, and only the pure gold of the heart's gratitude will be left. It is not the love of the gift that need last. We do not care for that, neither does God. But we and God want the love of the giver to remain, and the giving of our gift, that act by which we tried to prove our love, not to be forgotten.
Look back, my brethren, look back. What does your memory tell you of His gifts whose mercy has followed you all the days of your life, whose hands have been stretched forth full of new blessings every morning? Here it might become me to enumerate some of these gifts, but where would I begin, or where could I end? Besides, it is you who ought to remember, and remember well. You must have a cold heart if you can forget.
You see, my brethren, what I desire by these words. I wish you to know whether you are grateful to God or not, to that God who has so loved us and crowned us with mercy and loving kindness. At a time like this, when you are asking others to remember you, and when you are thinking of all the dear old friends you have had in bygone years, and of the sweet mementos that came from their hands or were spoken by their lips, I would compel you to see if you have remembered the oldest, the best Friend of all. Alas! if you must say—He has been the last and the least in my thoughts. That would be sad to hear, and, above all, from the lips of those who, by their very faith, with all its blessed consolations, live so near to God.
If there be any by whom God wishes to be remembered, and His mercies brought to mind, it is by us who are His chosen people. I know God loves all men, and more than we can imagine; but there can be little doubt that those whom He has so honored as to make them the brethren of His Only Son, Jesus Christ, upon whom He has bestowed the inestimable gift of the Catholic faith, are the objects of His special affection.
Oh! it is a great thing to be one of the household of faith! That is one of those tender mercies the very thought of which should make our heart bound in our bosom. Sweet and ever present, dear Catholic brethren, should be the memory of the day of your baptism, the day when you crossed the threshold of God's own home, the Church, and there became His child. You know well what light has beamed upon your pathway in life ever since. You know what fountains of refreshment have sprung up to satisfy your thirsty soul. When you contrast your own knowledge of religion, and peace in it, with the ignorance and restless distrust of the blinded world without, then you know how truly wise God has made you.