# Sermons from the Latins/Sermon 46

Thirteenth Sunday After Pentecost.
The Grace of Perseverance.
" Jesus answering said: Were not ten made clean? And where are the nine? — Luke xvii. 17.
SYNOPSIS.
Ex. : I. Jesus in Samaria. II. Lepers. III. Cure.
I. Ingratitude: 1. Penances of saints. 2. Obedience, gratitude, prejudice, x. Simon.
II. Perseverance: 1. Gift of God. 2. Definition. 3. Solomon, Hazael, Moses.
III. Occasions of sin : 1. Trochilus, and Greeks. 2. Presumption. 3. Judith and Dina.
Per. : Kingdom of God is within us.
SERMON.
Brethren, my text recalls an incident of Our Lord's life, appropriate to this occasion, when per- ​haps we need more than ordinarily to be reminded that conversion without perseverance is of little worth. He is passing through Samaria, bound for Jerusalem, accompanied by His disciples and the ever-present Pharisees. Hard by a town, He stands a little apart, looking down with mingled joy and sadness on a man who, prone before Him, sobs out his thankfulness and embraces His feet with love and adoration. He is one of the ten poor lepers who an hour ago cried to the passing Saviour: "Jesus, Master, have pity on us." Afflicted with that loathsome disease, driven by law beyond town limits, forbidden to see, except at a distance, even their nearest and dearest, crouching in the sand-pits by night, and by day wandering dolefully among the tombs — ah! what pent-up misery of many weary years found vent in that cry: "Jesus, Master, have pity on us." And Jesus turning said to them: " Go, show yourselves to the priest and offer sacrifice according to the law." And as they went, lo! ere they reached the city gates their hideous deformity disappeared and their flesh became as the flesh of a little child. But were not ten made clean — nine Jews and one Samaritan? Where then are the nine? Alas! there is no one found to return and give glory to God but one, the stranger, the Samaritan.
Brethren, no cup of human joy is without its drain of sorrow. A shadow is on the Saviour's countenance and the Samaritan is presently shamefaced and apologetic. Earth's heroes climb the mount of glory, only to find other peaks towering above ​them. In fact to realize ideals is to reduce them to the common. Even the saints of God amid their greatest spiritual triumphs often give way to sadness and self-reproach. They see things through God's eyes. They look over and beyond the little they have done, to the much more that might have been accomplished, or they gaze regretfully, as Jesus did, from their single selves at the Saviour's feet to the thankless nine so far from Him. This is the key to the incomprehensible humility and penances of the saints; it is the secret of Christ's habitual sadness. For the saints are not phenomena; rather theirs should be the normal standard for humanity. The adoring Samaritan is doing no more than was obviously his duty; the ungrateful nine on the other hand typify the great mass of men and women, each of whose lives is but a record of neglected opportunities. Ah! no wonder the Saviour is sad, and the lonely Samaritan ashamed. "Were not God an all-sufficient substitute, the happiness of heaven even would not withstand that regretful query: " Where are the nine? " Where are the nine? He who was not repelled by their previous hideousness now gazes with pity and disappointment on their retreating forms. Indifference and ingratitude are more offensive, more hopeless than even downright sin. While lepers still, how piteously they cried to Him, how eagerly they longed, but dared not, to approach Him, and now, now that their cure is wrought, they turn their backs on Him. But did not He Himself command them to go before the priest and offer sacri​fice? Was it not then more praiseworthy to follow His instructions to the letter rather than turn on being cured and rush back praising God? Read the answer in Christ's disappointed face. To turn to Him in adversity and forget Him in prosperity is not true love of God, nor is religion, pure and undefiled, content with merely keeping God's commands. The letter killeth but the spirit quickeneth. The Jewish idea of worship was formal externalism, empty ceremonial, with no regard for the emotions and the spontaneous outpourings of the heart. But the Lord looketh not on the outward appearance — the Lord looketh on the heart. Hence His disappointment in the nine. Not even the sudden change from the horrors of their outcast life to the unspeakable joy of having been cleansed could break the force of habit and bring them to His feet crying like children Abba, Father. They followed His directions to the letter and then selfishly hurried away to their kindred, for whose presence they had so long been hungering. Perhaps, too, their traditional contempt for everything Samaritan, though forgotten in affliction, broke out anew when health was returned, so that they were as eager to part with their companion as they were loath to follow his example. But he was hampered by no such prejudices and traditions. Immediately his disease dropped from him his one all-absorbing thought was thankfulness, and turning instantly he hurried back, crying glory to God, and flung himself adoringly at Jesus's feet. Brethren, looked at in a spiritual sense, which, think you, most ​pleased the Saviour, which gave brighter promise of perseverance — the disobedient Samaritan or the obedient, but thankless, nine? There is another incident in Christ's life that answers that. Simon, the rich Pharisee, regardless of public opinion, one day invited the Nazarene to his house and table. His action was courageous, and Jesus by accepting tacitly commended him. But somehow the occasion was cold and formal. With all their courtesy and efforts to please, something was lacking — what? Lore. And presently there rushes in from the street a woman — a converted harlot — who with passionate fervor casts herself at Jesus's feet. Immediately Simon orders the servants to eject her, but Jesus answers: " Nay, Simon, for I say to thee she hath honored Me more than thou. Thou gavest Me no water for My feet, nor oil for My head, nor the kiss of welcome, but she hath anointed My feet with precious ointment, and bathed them with her tears, and dried them with her hair, and kissed them again and again in the greatness of her love." Love, then, is the one thing necessary, of itself all-sufficient in God's eyes, and without which all else is nothing. Your mission, your conversion, has been made in vain, and will not endure if it has failed to fill your heart with love. But how are you to know? Well, now that your sinful leprosy is cured, are you serving God in outward form only or with your heart of hearts? Your human respect, your former hates and prejudices— do they remain? Is your aim merely to do the Father's bidding, or to gladden His heart by do​ing something for Him without being told? When Jesus comes to you is your greeting as perfunctory as Simon's, or as loving as Magdalen's or the Samaritan's? On your answer, yes, or no, depends your perseverance.
Brethren, Christ speaking of Himself says: " I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end." It is Catholic doctrine that as man cannot merit the grace of conversion, neither can he merit the grace of perseverance. Both are purely gifts of God. Hence St. Paul to the Philippians prays that God " who had begun a good work in them might perfect it unto the day of Christ Jesus." So frail is human nature that though one may do a thing ever so well the chances are that he will not do it with equal perfection a number of times over. Hence all of us, even the most saintly, are sure to commit more or less venial faults. Exemption from that has been granted to one alone — the Virgin Mary. But it is not venial but mortal sins that turn us from God. Yet here, too, arises the selfsame difficulty. For though one may have sufficient grace to avoid all grievous faults, taken one by one, yet we may surely prophesy that the time will come when he will sin, and mortally sin, unless God fortify him with the grace of perseverance. Perseverance, therefore, is a special providence whereby God removes fatal temptations from our path, strengthens us in times of greatest peril, and brings our life to a close when naught else will suffice to save us. How utterly, therefore, do all from first to last depend on God! ​How true it is that each should work out with fear and trembling his salvation! Solomon in all his glory once asked a Grecian sage: "Am I not the happiest of men? " but the other, shaking his head, replied: "Wait till I have seen the end." And oh, what a sad end was that! Solomon, type of Christ, model of faith and hope and love and wisdom, God's favorite among kings and men, so rich in merit that one would have expected him to pass bodily like Enoch or Elias from earth to heaven, yet Solomon fell and ended his days in lust and multiple idolatry. As frail as the flowers the Saviour compared him to, he was cut down suddenly and cast into the oven. What a contrast between that hoary-headed apostate and the radiant form of the young king in the Temple on the day of dedication! What a lesson for all of us, priest and people alike! When Hazael offered Eliseus presents the prophet wept, foreseeing the atrocities Hazael was soon to perpetrate. Many a confessor would weep, notwithstanding his penitent's evident sincerity, were he vouchsafed a look into that penitent's future. As Moses placed his hand in his bosom and drew it out covered with leprosy, so many a hand that beats its breast for sorrow comes away covered with sin. Watch ye, therefore, and pray — pray for strength against temptation, and for the grace of perseverance.
Brethren, I would not have you understand that our perseverance so depends on God as to free us from all responsibility. No, we have a part, a duty — which, briefly stated, is: to avoid the occasions of ​sin. Plato's disciple, Trochilus, having barely escaped with his life from a shipwreck, ordered that all windows of his house looking seaward should be walled up, lest some day seeing it calm and beautiful he should again be tempted to go a-sailing. A valuable lesson this. How often spiritual shipwreck has overtaken us, and though we barely escaped by clinging to life-saving penance, yet next day, next week, we patched up our shattered bark and launched it forth again! Trochilus's philosophy may seem rigorous, but it has this merit that it coincides with the teaching of Christ. "When a strong man, armed, keepeth his court," says Christ, " those things which he possesseth are in peace." To feel secure against the devil, you must not only guard the inner apartments of your soul but also its outer court, and the moat and trench beyond, else the enemy will use your own defences for your undoing. The nearer he approaches, the harder it is to repel him. Aristotle beautifully illustrates this by citing the conduct of the Trojan senators. The Greeks were besieging Troy to get possession of Helen, and the senators in her absence wisely decided to give her up; but when she came before them they were so dazzled with her loveliness that they determined to defy the Greeks and fight them to the death. So, too, his powers of resistance desert the gambler in the gaming den, the drunkard in the saloon, and the lustful in the presence of a dissolute woman. Ah, how wickedly wise the devil is! When he tempted Christ he was not content with describing to Him, or showing Him on ​a map all the kingdoms of the world that he promised Him; no, he took Him up into a high mountain and showed them to Him, hoping that an actual view of them and the glory thereof would cause the Saviour to fall down and adore him. How rash, then, and presumptuous it is for you who have but lately fled from sin to tread again the dark and crooked alleyways of vice, where every doorway hides a lurking demon, and every lighted window allures like the eyes of a lascivious woman. On what grounds do you justify such great self-confidence? Is it your invincible strength of will? Why, even St. Jerome confessed to Vigilantius that his reason for abandoning the haunts of men and seeking refuge in the wilderness was that he dared not trust himself amid the pitfalls of society. Have you achieved a mastery of yourself beyond St. Jerome? " They," says Ezechiel, " they who shall flee shall escape, and they shall be in the mountains like doves of the valley, all of them trembling." Physical valor and spiritual courage differ in this, that the former consists in pressing forward to the combat, but the latter, in fleeing from the enemy. And as when the gunshot echoes among the hills the flock of pigeons in the valley flutter to the mountain top and perch there, watchful and all trembling, so should converted souls act, who by God's grace are driven from the valley of death to the mount of holiness. The higher our station on the steep incline of sanctity, the more need there is for caution. It is unhappily true that in an instant one can pass from virtue down to vice, but alas! the op​posite cannot be admitted, viz., that we can pass from vice to virtue instantly. " Facilis descensus Averni," sang the Pagan poet. No effort is required to tumble down the mount, but long and arduous is the return climb. Or is your reckless confidence based on God's power to save? Brethren, remember this, that God never uses extraordinary means to save a man who has at his disposal and neglects means ordinary but sufficient. This is the true meaning of the proverb that God helps those who help themselves. It is only in cases of absolute necessity that God accords us supernatural aid. Thus the Magi were led to Bethlehem by the star, but though on their return they were obliged to follow previously untrodden ways, yet the star most probably failed to reappear. So, too, though Christ raised Lazarus from the dead, still the bystanders were bidden to remove the stone from off the tomb and loose the bands from his hands and feet; and though the angel knocked the fetters from Peter's limbs, yet to Peter himself was left the donning of his clothes. True, God preserved the three young men in the fiery furnace, and the infant Moses adrift upon the Nile, and Daniel in the lions' den, but, mark you, in these and similar cases, the dangers did not result from personal caprice. He hath given His angels charge over us to keep us in all His ways — the ways of God and righteousness. If, however, we rashly brave the clefted rocks and yawning chasms of temptation we must not expect the hands of the Lord or His angels to bear us up. There is a remarkable differ​ence between the fate of Judith and that of Jacob's daughter, Dina. Judith for a noble end braved the dangers of the Assyrian camp and the horrid orgies of Holofernes's court, studying the while to make herself incomparably lovely for the accomplishment of her design, yet God so kept her going forth and abiding there that she returned to Bethulia victorious and unstained. But Dina, when her father pitched his tent in a new land, Dina would fain steal forth to see the women of that country — how they looked, what finery they wore, and presently that innocent dove falls into the clutches of a rapacious hawk and returns to her father robbed of her virginity — irreparably dishonored. God will protect us amid dangers that seek us, but when we seek the dangers God leaves us to ourselves. Consider David, that man fashioned after God's own heart. He permits himself to gaze from his window on the beauty of Bethsabee, and immediately, abandoned by God, he plunges into adultery and homicide. If one clasp a reptile to his breast he must not, if bitten, expect sympathy from God or man, for: "Who," says Scripture, "who will pity an enchanter struck by a serpent?" It is a remarkable fact that whenever God forbids a thing He also forbids its near occasions. Thus our first parents were forbidden not only to eat the fruit, but even to touch it. The Israelites were forbidden not only to adore idols, but even to possess them, the Nazarites were forbidden not only to drink wine but to eat the grape. Christ, too, when reaffirming the commandments, forbade ​not only the sinful deed but the longing glance, the interior passion, the foul thought, the covetous desire. Thus we are taught by God Himself that the secret of perseverance is to avoid the occasions of sin — that safety is found not in following the nine, but in joining the Samaritan at the feet of Christ.
Brethren, the Samaritan arises, the group breaks up, and the Pharisees approaching ask: "Master, when is the kingdom of God to come? " Christ answers: "The kingdom of God is within you." The nine, though outwardly restored are inwardly less godly than when they turned their hideous faces and raised their shrivelled hands appealingly to Christ, but the Samaritan has been transfigured through and through. Their transfiguration is in their flesh, which to-day is and to-morrow returns to dust, but his is a change of soul which will last forever and ever. It is our misfortune to be content with the appearances of sanctity, a fair exterior, but the critical eye of God goes deeper, it searches the reins and the heart. Brethren, whenever you say to God: " Thy kingdom come," remember that the kingdom of God is within you. A true, a lasting change of life must begin from within, and, working outward like the leaven, penetrate the entire mass of life's activities. This was Christ's meaning when He said to the cripple: " Son, thy sins are forgiven thee," and then proceeded to cure his bodily infirmities. If, then, you once succeed in establishing permanently within you God's kingdom; if in all things you seek first the kingdom of God and His justice, be assured all other ​things will be added unto you. You will no longer stray away from your Saviour, selfish, ungrateful, unforgiving. No longer will you, covered with moral leprosy, need to cry from afar: " Unclean, unclean," or, "Jesus, Master, have mercy on me," but turning from sin and its occasions, to Christ, you will hold Him fast here for a while, and hereafter in heaven forever and ever.