And yet this is what very many seem to do. Of course we take it for granted that a Catholic, worthy the name, will not marry a person of a different religion. But one should not marry a bad Catholic. Many appear to be indifferent in this matter to their eternal salvation and act as if conscience and religion had nothing to do with it, but they disregard and fling to the winds even the most common and obvious dictates of prudence as to their comfort and peace in this world. What possible hope of happiness in married life, for instance, can a young woman have who unites her destiny with that of a man who is evidently falling, if, indeed, he has not already fallen, into confirmed habits of intemperance; whose past and present life gives no assurance of advancement or worldly success, but, on the other hand, every indication of the drunkard's failure, ruin, and degradation? What can she be thinking of who, for a mere fancy or caprice, accepts the offer of one to stand as her protector and support whose selfish and beastly appetites are sure to make him soon trample her under his feet, and treat her merely as a drudge to be starved with her children in order that he may gratify his passion for drink, and to be kicked and beaten if she so much as implores him to reform? Or how can she dare to take for her husband one whose sensual passion is certain soon to extinguish every spark of true love he may have felt for her, and who will, before long, be unfaithful to her for the very reason that made him at first seem faithful?
It is painful to speak of these things; but, unfortunately, the frequency of such cases obliges us to do so. Such miseries in marriage cannot be considered, at least in cities like this, as exceptional and extraordinary; no, they must be taken into account, not as mere possibilities, but as actual realities. And, of course, there are others which we have not time to enumerate; the ones of which I have spoken will serve as examples. It is, then, the part not only of Christian prudence but also of worldly common sense, to make sure, as far as possible, to avoid these dangers. It is far better to remain single than to make a bad marriage; let every one, then, before taking this most important of all steps in life, look carefully where it will lead. Let every one, and certainly every Christian, before selecting a companion for life, whose place no one else can take, satisfy himself or herself that the one who is thus selected has the qualities that are calculated to insure happiness to both parties; that he or she has natural virtues and good habits, well and solidly formed; at least industry, sobriety, and those qualities in general which business-men, for example, try to secure in those who are to be charged with matters of far less consequence than the support and care of a family.
Sermon CXXXIX.
Mortification Of Our Lower Nature.
Now if we be dead with Christ
we believe that we shall live also together with Christ.
—From the Epistle of the Sunday.
The meaning of the Apostle, my brethren, is expressed in one great Catholic word—mortification. The lower nature that is in us must be put to death that the higher may live. The animal must die that the man may live. And if literal death be not hereby signified, yet so really destructive of mere appetite is the Christian's union with Christ that mortification or putting to death is one condition of obtaining it. Human ease and pleasure are opposed to the soul's fulfilment of its destiny. In itself no doubt the natural joy of this life is not evil. But there is no joy of man simply "in itself." It all flows from that root of bitterness which original sin planted in our hearts, and which makes it necessary that we be not simply obedient to God's law, but "born again"; "for," says the Apostle in this same Sunday's Epistle, "we are buried together with Christ by baptism into death, that as Christ is risen from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we also may walk in newness of life." "Knowing this: that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin may be destroyed." "For he that is dead is justified from sin."
These are very strong words, my brethren. They and the many other such words in Holy Scripture have much to do with explaining our religion—the cross on our churches, the crucifix over our altars, the shamefaced confession, the constant self-denial; even the plaintive tones of the church's voice in her chants, even the touch of sadness in her most joyful offices. Indeed, the true joy of a Christian is in the theological virtue of hope—is placed in a paradise which for him is yet to begin. He is too hardly pressed with the conflict of his higher and lower nature to be quite happy, except in anticipation of a victory never fully gained this side the grave. And it is only when the very taste for ease and pleasure has become blunted that the consolations of the Holy Spirit begin to be felt. The whole inner life of a Christian is regulated by his power to deny himself, and to deny himself, especially in outward things—in eating and drinking, in working and resting, in seeing and hearing.
To noble spirits the very innocent care of the body is irksome; and this from no sin of sloth, but because the soul, absorbed in high spiritual things, is vexed by the mean things of our animal nature. Hence the every-day business of a religious man is to restrain the headlong folly of corrupt nature by the bit and bridle of mortification. And this is every Christian's duty. Though one may feel no call but to the ordinary Christian state, yet is he plainly called to self-denial. Outside the church there is little or nothing of the practical self-restraint of the Gospel. And even among ourselves many are forgetful of this war of the spirit against the flesh, except at the rare intervals of infrequent confession or during such seasons as Lent and Advent. The need of constant self-denial is one of those truths that the ever-flowing waters of forgetfulness wash out of our memories the quickest. Hence it is related of St. Philip Neri that he was accustomed to say in the morning: "Lord, keep thy hand upon Philip to day, or, Lord! Philip will betray thee."
So, my brethren, there is no grace you have more need to pray for than the strength of will to practise some daily mortification. Nay, pray for the grace to accept those that God sends every day and it is enough. Oh! if we could bear patiently for the love of God with his own visitations, with such things as sickness of body and dulness of mind, with poverty and disappointment, with the evil temper of other members of the family, their stupidity and selfishness, we should soon be safe. Brethren, we are all novices, and God is the universal novice-master, and these are his daily mortifications. Others he gives us, too, through the ministry of holy church. Not a week passes over but we must give one day to God and to our better selves by abstinence from flesh meat. Not a season goes by but the three Ember days are set apart for hunger and thirst. Holy Advent, the penitential season of Lent, make a loud call—would it were better heeded—on our higher nature to reduce the beast to subjection. Meantime, if one wants more self-denial, let him advise with his father confessor, let him consult spiritual writers, let him hearken to the spirit of God within him, always bearing in mind that beyond such mortifications as are of obligation it is not prudent to go, except by advice of a prudent spiritual adviser.