Purgatory, By The Rev. M. Canty, P.P., Part 13.

DOGMATIC AND SCHOLASTIC - THE VARIOUS QUESTIONS CONNECTED WITH IT CONSIDERED AND PROVED.

CHAPTER XI. IT IS FURTHER PROVED FROM THE PRACTICE OF THE EARLY IRISH CHURCH.

IT is abundantly proved that the ancient Church of Ireland believed in the existence of Purgatory. Even Protestant writers, such as Archbishop Usher, have admitted this. Forced by the irresistible testimony of our canons, liturgies, and writers, Usher was obliged to admit that the ancient Irish were accustomed to offer up the Eucharistic sacrifice for the dead, and that Requiem Masses, or those offered for the faithful departed, were celebrated daily.

I. The surest and most indisputable means, to find the faith and practise of any national Church, are the public acts of that Church ; that is, the canons which were passed in its synods, and are still extant. If we refer to the ancient Canons of the Church of Ireland, it will appear to us, as clear as the sun over our head, that she was accustomed to offer the sacrifice of propitiation, and to pray for the dead. In D'Achery's collection (Lib. 2, chap. xx.) an ancient canon is given, in which the synod expresses its mind thus : " The Church offers for the souls of the deceased in four ways : for the very good the oblations are simply thanksgivings; for the very bad they become consolations to the living ; for such as were not very good, the oblations are made in order to obtain full remission ; and for those who were not very bad, that their punishment may be rendered more tolerable" Here we have in unequivocal terms the doctrine of Purgatory. The holy sacrifice was offered up for the full remission of those deceased souls who were not very good; and that their punishment may be rendered more tolerable for those who were not very bad. This establishes in the clearest manner, that the Catholic tenet of praying for the dead was universally believed and practised in the ancient Church of Ireland. Usher was well acquainted with the above important canon; and yet he did not produce it, because he knew right well that such a public document, such a solemn attestation of the whole Irish Church, would destroy his cause, and that he could no longer impose on the credulity of his dupes.

II. To the aforesaid canon, we may subjoin a more ancient one, which is entitled "Of the oblation for the dead." It is the twelfth among the canons of the synod of St. Patrick. It is couched in these words : " Hear the Apostle saying, there is a sin unto death, I do not say that for it any one do pray. And the Lord : Do not give the holy to dogs. For he who will not deserve to receive the Sacrifice during his life, how can it help him after his death ? " It follows from the canon, that the Holy Sacrifice was accustomed to be offered for the purpose of helping persons after their death. What else is this but a profession of faith in Purgatory ? The sin unto death, referred to in the canon, is final impenitence. They, who die with final impenitence in their heart, are cast into hell; and therefore the Sacrifice is of no help to them. " For," the canon says, " he who will not deserve to receive the Sacrifice during his life, how can it help him after his death?" From this it is clear that, according to the canon of the synod, he who deserved to receive the Sacrifice during life could obtain help from it after his death. Hence there is a state in which souls need, and can receive this help ; or in other words there is a Purgatory. Usher also omitted to give this canon, for he l saw it would not suit his purpose.
III. The Liturgies of the ancient Irish Church in like manner breathe the doctrine of Purgatory. We shall draw the attention of the reader only to one of them. This is the ancient Irish Missal, the Cursus Scotorum. It was the only Missal in use in this country until about the close of the sixth century, when, probably, the Gallican Liturgy, the Cursus Gallorum, was introduced. The Cursus Scotorum was brought to Ireland by St. Patrick. Thus it was in universal use in the time of the first class of Irish saints. It is supposed to have been the Liturgy which was originally drawn up by the Evangelist St. Mark, and used by him. St. Gregory Nazianzen, St. Basil, and other Greek Fathers adopted it; as did also Cassian, Honoratus of Lerins, St. Caesar of Aries, St. Lupus of Troies, and St, German of Auxerre. It was from the last named that St. Patrick received it, as he was about to start on his mission to Ireland. Mabillon found a copy of it, which he believed to have been then at least a thousand years old, on his visit to the famous monastery of Bobbio, in Italy, which was founded by one of the greatest of our Irish saints, Colombanus.
This Liturgy has two Masses for the Dead ; one is a general Mass, and the other is a Mass of a deceased Priest (Missa Sacerdotis Defuncti). Now, what was the object of these Masses, unless it was the belief of the Irish Church, that the dead could be relieved by such Masses, and consequently that there was such a place as Purgatory ?
In order to enter more in detail into these Masses for the dead, we must turn our attention to some of the prayers, or, as the Missal itself styles them, coniestationes, that are contained in them. In the Mass for the dead, which is entitled " Pro defunctis," is found the following prayer:—"Grant, O Lord, to him, thy servant deceased, the pardon of all his sins, in that secret abode, where there is no longer room for penance; do Thou, O Christ, receive the soul of thy servant, which Thou hast given, and forgive him his trespasses more abundantly than he has forgiven those who have trespassed against him." There is the belief of the ancient Irish Church in Purgatory, and in the utility of prayer for the dead, in order to obtain pardon of all their sins.
This ancient Missal has also a Mass for the living and the dead. In this Mass, which is entitled " Pro vivis et defunctis," is found the following prayer;—
" Propitiously grant that this sacred oblation may be profitable to the dead in obtaining pardon, and to the living in obtaining salvation; grant to them (the dead as well as the living) the full remission of all their sins, and that indulgence which they have always deserved." This prayer supposes, or perhaps I should rather say, states that the holy sacrifice is profitable to the dead, in the sense of obtaining pardon. Hence there are some just souls who, after departing this life, are liable for some sins or debts, from which they must be freed or discharged before they can enter heaven.

IV. To revert again to the testimony drawn from Synods, we may call the reader's attention once more to D'Achery's collection of the Canons of the ancient Irish, in which is found the foil-owing one : (Lib. 2, chap. xx.) " The Synod says : The Church now offers the sacrifice to God in many ways (for many reasons); first, for itself; secondly, for the commemoration of Jesus Christ; and, thirdly, for the souls of the departed" In the clearest manner possible it is said, that the Irish Church of old offered up the holy sacrifice for the faithful departed. Here in an express Canon, we have the faith of the whole Church of Ireland. We could have no clearer, and certainly no more authoritative exposition of her faith. According to that faith, she held that there was a Purgatory ; and she offered up her Masses and her prayers for the souls that were suffering in it. It would be sheer folly then to deny, that the early Irish Church believed in Purgatory.

V. In the ancient life of St. Ita, who lived in the sixth century, and whose name is so closely associated with the diocese of Limerick, where she is venerated as a patroness, and honoured with a special Office since the early years of the rule of the present revered Bishop, it is recorded that " she had constantly prayed for the soul of her uncle, and that alms had been given by his sons" for the same purpose. It is stated in the life of St. Brendan "That the prayers of the living profit much the dead." In the life of St. Pulcherius (Lib. 2, chap. xx.) it is related that "he was accustomed to pray for the repose of the soul of Ronan, a chieftain of Ele, and that he had frequently recommended the soul of the same chieftain to the prayers of the faithful." Were it necessary, similar authorities, without number, could be produced to show the faith of the early Irish Church in the existence of Purgatory, as well as in the utility of our suffrages for those who are detained there.

Purgatory, By The Rev. M. Canty, P.P., Part 10.

DOGMATIC AND SCHOLASTIC - THE VARIOUS QUESTIONS CONNECTED WITH IT CONSIDERED AND PROVED.

CHAPTER VIII. IT IS PROVED FROM THE LITURGIES.

LITURGY is a Greek word which means public ministry or office. Taking it in its strict ecclesiastical sense, it is understood to mean a certain order of prayers and ceremonies, which is adopted in the Mass, and according to which that holy sacrifice is performed. Rites and prayers, among which the words of Christ in instituting it held a conspicuous place, were always used by the officiating priest. Yet the discipline of the different churches in this matter was not always the same. Hence several liturgies came to be in use.

In the Mass, the most solemn act of religious worship, the Church, from the very beginning, has been always accustomed to pray for the dead in her various liturgies. Then prayer for the dead must be no human rite, but it must have divine sanction.

Though the liturgies, like the Symbol and the forms of The Sacraments, were not committed to writing be fore the fourth or fifth century (at least this is the opinion of Le Brun, though he is contradicted by Muratori, Devoti, and others, of whom the first says, that the prayers and rites were committed to memory). still they were observed before that time. As there, was always a sacrifice in the Church, so was there always a rite according to which it was offered up. This rite may have differed in accidental, but it was the same in substantial matters. It came down from the dawn of Christianity. This is why St. Epiphanius (Haer. 79, n. 13.) says of the Apostles, that they were " the authors and makers of mysteries." The order of offering sacrifice, as Cardinal Bona observes, was received from the Apostles, and then spread abroad through the earth. For this reason, though the liturgies may differ in some points, they agree in many. They all have the Confiteor, the Introit, or beginning, the Psalms, the Lessons from Scripture, the Gospel, the Symbol, the washing of hands, the Commemoration and Invocation of the Saints, prayers for the living and the dead, re turning thanks, and benediction, in addition to the essential parts, the offertory, the consecration and communion. This consent of the different churches, so far apart from each other, especially in ages when the means of transit and communication between them were very difficult, can be accounted for only on the supposition that it was the work of the Holy Ghost.

I. That the Church, in all its liturgies, poured forth its prayers for the dead who died in the Lord, and did this, as Pope Celestine I. said,(Epist. ad Gall, episc., chap ii.) so "uniformly that the law of supplicating may lay down, the law of believing," is proved in the first place from the Roman Liturgy. Pope Innocent I., (Epist. ad Decentium) in the early years of the fifth century, attributed this liturgy to St. Peter: " It has been delivered by the Prince of the Apostles, Peter, to the Roman Church.".Pope Vigil, (Epist. ad Profut.) in the sixth century, is of the same opinion. It has been never doubted' in Rome that this liturgy has come down by tradition from St. Peter. In this Roman Liturgy we find the same prayer—the very same Memento— for the dead, that is said in the Mass at the present day: " Remember, also, O Lord, thy servants and thy maid-servants, &c. To them, and all that rest in Christ, we pray Thee to grant a place of refreshment and light." What words conceived, or put in print, at the present day, could express belief in Purgatory with more clearness ? In the holy sacrifice of the Mass, the most solemn function performed by a Christian priest, he makes a commemoration of the dead, and prays God to grant them rest, and he does this in the very same words that are in use at present on the same occasion of offering up the body and blood of our Lord.

II. Prayer for the dead is found, in the second place, in the Gallican liturgy. This is the liturgy which was in use in the churches of Gaul until the year 758. It is thought to have been originally introduced there by those eastern saints who brought the light of the Gospel into that country. Though it differs in some points from the Roman liturgy, it has the same Memento, or commemoration of the dead, as the latter.

III. The Ambrosian liturgy, observed in the church of Milan, also bears witness to the custom of praying for the dead. This liturgy is ascribed by some to St. Ambrose, and by others to St. Barnaba, either a very safe authority for what maybe the custom or faith of the Church. Like ours, the Ambrosian liturgy has its Masses for the dead. In one of the prayers at the Offertory it entreats rest and peace for the faithful departed.

IV. The Mozarabic liturgy attests the faith of the Spanish Church with regard to prayer for the dead. mozarabic is the adjective form of Mozarabes, which is a word corrupted from Mixlarabes, a name given to the Christians who mixed up with the Moors or Arabs, by whom the fair provinces of Spain had been overrun. The Mozarabic liturgy has this prayer : " We offer to Thee, O God, the immaculate host .... for thy holy Church .... and the rest or indulgence of the faithful departed, that having changed the lot of sad mansions, they may enjoy the happy society of the just."

V._The eastern, as well as the western, liturgies afford us examples of prayer for the dead. There is no liturgy of any sect of Oriental Christians, some of whom have been separated from the Church since the fifth or sixth century, but has such prayer. A very ancient fragment of a liturgy is extant in the Apostolic Constitutions in which occurs this prayer for the dead : " For our brethren who have gone to rest in Christ, let us pray that God, the lover of men, who hath received the soul of a dead man, may remit to him every voluntary and involuntary sin, and, being rendered propitious and clement, may place him in the region of the pious who rest in the bosom of Abraham.

VI. Next comes the liturgy bearing the name of St. James, which was observed not only in Jerusalem but also through out all Syria. There is no doubt as to its early antiquity, for it was treated on by St. Cyril of Jerusalem in his Mystagogic Catechism in the year 347 or 348. The orthodox and the heterodox alike have held this Apostolical monument in the utmost respect. In it is preserved the following prayer: " Remember also, O Lord, the orthodox priests, long ago deceased, the deacons and the sub-deacons .... Give rest to their souls, bodies, and spirits .... rendering them worthy of the joy which is in the bosom of Abraham.

VII. The two principal liturgies followed by the Greeks subject to the Patriarchate of Constantinople are those of St. Basil and St. John Chrysostom. There is no doubt that St. Basil was the author of one of them, whilst the other, which till then was named the liturgy of the Apostles, was attributed to St. John Chrysostom only three hundred years after his death. The latter is followed not only by all the Greek churches of the Ottoman empire which are subject to the Patriarchate of Constantinople, but also by the Polish and Russian churches. In these liturgies, so universally, especially the latter, followed by the Greek churches, we have this prayer; " Give rest, O Christ, with the pious and just to the souls of the dead, who, separated from us, have gone out of this world. Let thy cross be to them a bridge, and thy baptism a covering, thy body and thy holy blood be a way that may lead to thy kingdom." So we see the Church everywhere, he it east or be it west, be it in the city by the Bosphorus or in the more renowned city by the Tiber, be it on the banks of the Volga or on the banks of the Tagus, be it amid the valleys of Syria, or in the interesting land of the Gaul, adopting formulas substantially the same, indicative of her faith in Purgatory. What the Church everywhere and in every age professes it shows a great want of shrewdness to deny.
It requires some explanation that the Church, in some of these liturgies, begs " rest for the souls, bodies, and spirits" of the dead, "delivering them from infinite damnation." This prayer, according to the mind of the Church, refers to those who are at the very moment of death. The Church to-day prays that the dead may be delivered from the pains of hell, from the profound pit, and from the mouth of the lion ; and yet no one is so ignorant of her faith as to imagine that she believes that the damned can be relieved by our prayers. When she presents such a form of prayer for the dead it is for those who are at the very point of death. If such be the mind of the Church to-day, the same was its mind always, for, as Bossuet remarks, what was once believed in the eternal Church was always believed in it.
It may be observed also that when the Church prays to God to spare "sinners in the day of judgement," that is, because scarcely the just shall be saved on that day; because, but for the divine mercy, there would be reason to fear even for one who had led a life worthy of all praise; and, also, because there shall be persons—such as those who will be alive till then—who shall not have paid, or even commenced to pay, the punishment due to sin in Purgatory.
Another point requiring explanation is this, that the Syriac liturgy  prays that God " may grant rest and good remembrance to the prophets, the Apostles, and especially the most holy Mother of God, Mary." The explanation is this, that it is one thing to make a remembrance of the saints, and another thing to ask rest for the dead. The ancient Church made this distinction. St. Epiphanius (Haer. 75, n. 7.) says : " We make mention of the just and sinners alike: of the sinners indeed, that we may obtain mercy of the Lord for them, but of the just . . .Apostles. . . martyrs, that, rendering a certain singular honour to our Lord Jesus Christ, on account of the benefits conferred on them, we may separate them from the order of other men." St. Cyril of Jerusalem says ; (Catech. Mystagogica 5, p. 241. ) " We offer this sacrifice to Thee, that we may remember also those who have gone to sleep before us, first, the patriarchs, prophets, apostles, martyrs, that God, by their intercession, may receive our prayers ; then for the dead fathers." St. Augustine also says :(Serm. 159, n. i.) " The ecclesiastical discipline obtains that the faithful know well, when the martyrs are recited in that place at the altar of God, that prayer is not offered for them, but for the other commemorated persons prayer is offered." It is clear, then, that the Syriac liturgy, which is the only one that entreats rest and glory for the dead without, distinction between the saints and the souls in Purgatory, must be understood in an accommodated sense, so as to mean that, while it prays for rest for some, it felicitates the others on having already obtained glory. This distinction or distribution of sense is found in this liturgy itself. After the commemoration of the Blessed Virgin, it continues : " In whose honour and favour this oblation is offered." Then, in reference to the ordinary dead, or the souls in Purgatory, it proceeds: " Receive the souls of thy servants, of whom we make a commemoration, and place them, O Lord .... in the blessed mansions of thy Father with Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, thy friends, and with all thy saints." It is not enough for us to admit with Calvin that for "more than thirteen hundred years " before his time " it was the custom to offer prayers for the dead ;" or to assert with Peter the Martyr (so styled) that "the Church had always prayed for the dead," but we must proclaim with tin; whole Church of Christ on earth for ever, that " it is a holy and a wholesome thought to pray for the dead that they may be loosed from their sins."

The Condition of the Suffering souls in Purgatory, by Rev. John A. Nageleisen. § 59. The Suffering Souls Aid Their Benefactors in Temporal Affairs. pt 2.

two souls kneeling in prayer in Purgatory

"Well, go to street ........, number ... , and ask for Madam ........ I think she will engage you, and you will have a good home with her." He disappeared among the crowd without taking notice of the girls expressions of gratitude. She inquired for the street, found the number, and rang the door-bell. While she was waiting, a servant girl left the house with wrathful mutterings of discontent. Of her she inquired, "Is the lady of the house at home?"—"Yes," was the reply. "She may answer the bell herself; I am done with her." And angrily she descended the steps and left. Immediately after a mild and noble-looking lady opened the door, and in a soft voice inquired about her wishes. The girl replied, "Madam, I was told this morning that you were in need of a chamber-maid, and I have come to ask you for the place. I was assured that you would treat me kindly." In great astonishment the lady answered, "My dear child, this is indeed a great surprise. It is scarcely half an hour since I dismissed the rude servant you met at the door; and I thought, with the exception of us two, nobody could know anything about the affair. Who can have sent you ?" The girl replied, "It was a young man, Madam. He met me on the street after I had left the church. And I thank God with all my heart for this providential meeting, for I must find a place today since I have not a cent left." The lady was greatly perplexed, and could find no explanation for the extraordinary occurrence. Meanwhile the girl glanced around the room, and her eyes rested on a portrait hanging against the wall. "Oh, Madam !" she now joyfully exclaimed, "see, there is the picture of the young man that sent me to you." At these words the lady showed great emotion and almost fainted. After recovering her composure, she bade the girl to tell her the whole story. Thus she became acquainted with the poor servant's devotion to the Holy Souls, heard of the Mass she had caused to be celebrated for them that morning, and received a detailed account of her meeting with the young man. When the simple recital was finished, the good lady embraced the girl and said, "Dear child, you shall not be my servant, but my daughter. It was my son who sent you to me. He died two years ago ; and to you he owes his release from Purgatory. I do not doubt it in the least; and I am certain God permitted him to send you to me. I bid you welcome. Let us henceforth jointly pray for all souls still suffering in Purgatory, that they may be admitted to eternal bliss."

454. In the life of Eusebius, Duke of Sardinia, who lived in the thirteenth century, we read the following extraordinary occurrence. Not content with praying for the Suffering Souls, he had devoted the tenth part of his income to suffrages for their release. Compelled to engage in war with Ostorgius, king of Sicily, he was so hard pressed by the army of his foe, that he was about to leave the city. That very morning he saw a mighty army come to his assistance—an army numbering apparently about forty thousand warriors, horse and foot, all clad in white uniforms. Ostorgius, too, saw them and was seized with such consternation, that he sued for peace. Eusebius thanked God and his strange allies for the help he had received, when the leader of the unknown army addressed him as follows: ' ' Know, Eusebius, that the soldiers you see here are souls who were, nearly all of them, released by you from Purgatory. The Lord of hosts has sent us to your aid. Continue in your devotion to the Holy Souls. The more souls you release from Purgatory, the more protectors you will have in heaven, where they will continually implore God for your welfare."—Father Louis Monaco, a canon regular, had a similar experience.—Once while travelling alone, he recited the rosary for the deceased, as was his custom to do on every such occasion. Two robbers, seeing him approach, intended to murder him. But the grateful souls came from Purgatory to protect and assist their benefactor. They surrounded him as a guard; and the robbers, seeing the priest suddenly encircled by soldiers, fled in precipitate haste.

455. The following incident also occurred in the middle ages—that eventful period, when Italy was convulsed with internal strife, when might triumphed over right, when blood was profusely spilt in private feuds. There was a soldier who amid all this tumult of war and personal hatred had persevered in piety, rectitude and purity of morals. He was a devout patron of the Holy Souls, and had even made a vow never to pass a cemetery without entering it if possible, and spending some time in prayer for the faithful departed. One day while taking a solitary walk he was met by a party of the enemy's soldiers. Being entirely without weapons to ward off an attack, he betook himself to flight. Scaling a wall in his way, he found himself in a cemetery. He remembers his vow; but if he tarries one moment he is lost, for his pursuers are at his heels. Nevertheless his faith and devotion assert their power. "For the love of God and the Holy Souls," he says; and then he kneels down to recite his customary prayer. But lo, his enemies have espied him; they too scale the wall and are astonished to see him kneeling devoutly in prayer. Still they push on, thinking it impossible for him to escape. But what is this ? In a moment the cemetery is alive with soldiers. They form in line of battle, attack the enemy arid put him to flight. All this happened in a few moments. The pious soldier had heard a disturbance going on behind him, but had not interrupted his prayer to look around. Having finished his devotion, he arose to continue his flight; but no enemy was to be seen.—Soon afterwards peace was declared between the opposing factions, and then the soldier received an explanation of the sudden disappearance of his pursuers. They told him how bravely he had been defended. Considering all the circumstances, there was no doubt that the Holy Souls had come to defend their benefactor, who prayed for them even while his life was in the greatest peril.

456. A still more marvellous occurrence is related of another friend of the Holy Souls. This man had some enemies—as even the best of men sometimes may have. He was a devout client of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and had a great love for the Suffering Souls. It was his practice to say every evening the Litany of the Blessed Virgin for the relief of the Poor Souls. One night, after saying his accustomed prayer, he retired as usual to his bed-room; and soon after he was profoundly asleep. Meanwhile his enemies forced their entrance into the house, went to his room, saw his clothing on a chair, and looked for their man in the bed. But it is empty; he is nowhere to be seen. To save his life God had rendered him invisible to the miscreants. Perplexed and angry at having missed their opportunity, the intruders left the house. After some days they returned. In the evening the man retired to his room and began his usual prayer. But he was drowsy, sleep overcame him ; and after saying one-half of the Litany he went to bed. Meanwhile his enemies were watching him. This time he is surely in bed and shall not escape them. They enter the room and advance to the bed. Yes, he is there; —but what is this ? From head to foot his body is divided into halves, and one half is gone! Full of terror at the sight, yet thinking that some other enemy had done his work before them, they hastened away. God had renewed His miracle in favor of His servant ;^ but as he had said only half of his prayer, He had rendered only one-half of his body invisible. The next morning his enemies met the man in the street alive and sound. They regarded him with great consternation, believing to see a ghost. Explanations were made, and a reconciliation was effected. Then they confessed their attempts on his life. Neither he nor they doubted in the least that he owed his life to the protection of the Blessed Virgin and the Holy Souls.

457. The Oratorian, Father Maganti, also experienced the gratitude of the Suffering Souls. They obtained many extraordinary favors and graces for him; for instance knowledge of the future, of secret faults, triumphs over the wiles of the % devil, etc. He attributed all these supernatural gifts to the intercession of the souls in Purgatory. One day while travelling from Loretto he arrived in the town of Nocera; and immediately he went to a church of the Blessed Virgin to say Mass. Afterwards he continued his journey in company with some other travelers. The road led past a dangerous place where some days before several murders had been committed. Meanwhile a party of brigands lay in ambush for the pious pilgrims. They attacked them when they arrived, overwhelmed them and bound them fast to trees. All at once two children appeared on the hill overlooking the road and began to call so loudly and perseveringly for help, as if they intended to arouse the whole country. The brigands, who are about twelve in number, take no notice of this, except to point their muskets at the children. But the children continue to call for help; they even advance boldly towards the robbers. Seeing this the bandits become afraid and betake themselves to flight; for they are convinced that they have witnessed a supernatural apparition. The children go from tree to tree, loosen the bonds of the pilgrims, and then disappear. The companions of Father Maganti are quite bewildered; but he simply informs them, "We owe our deliverance to two Holy Souls from Purgatory. God permitted them to appear in the form of children, to remind us of the word of our Divine Master, "Unless you be converted and become as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." (Matth. xviii. 3.)

458. The life of a petty prince of the middle ages furnishes us another notable example of the gratitude of the Suffering Souls,towards their benefactors. This nobleman had for a time led a rather dissolute life with his courtiers. But the grace of God did not desert him—he was converted quite unexpectedly. He settled his affairs, and devoted a considerable portion of his income to foundations for the relief of the Suffering Souls. The sycophant courtiers, seeing themselves thus deprived of their customary amusements and revels, were very indignant, and conspired with a neighboring prince to rob their converted master of his estates. When he sought the aid of his former friends, they jeeringly replied, "Go to your Mass-priests and prayer-reciters among whom you have distributed your wealth. We have neither the power nor the will to help you." Abandoned by almost everyone the good prince retired to one of his castles, resolved to defend himself to the best of his ability. But his troops were greatly inferior in number to those of his adversary, who had meanwhile invaded his territory, and was now advancing with his army to drive him forth from his citadel. One morning, when his distress was at its height, he was informed that a stranger desired his presence in the court yard. Arrived there, the prince was met by the leader of a great army, who thus addressed him, "Fear not! We are come to help you, and victory shall be ours. We are the souls that were released by means of your pious foundations. God sends us to your aid. Continue in your prayers for the faithful departed in order that on the day of battle our number may be still greater." With these words the leader and his whole army disappeared. The prince returned to his apartments and informed his servants of what had occurred, encouraging them like a second Machabee with the hope of victory. A few days later the enemy's arm}' appeared, but to the great consternation , of the troops the small remnant of their adversary's adherents were reinforced by a great host of unknown soldiers formed in battle array. The enemy lost courage and sued for peace. After the treaty was signed to the satisfaction of both parties, the prince was asked whence came the unexpected assistance that had so opportunely appeared in his defense. He told of his supernatural visitors and their promise. But when his opponent wished to see them they had vanished. When this miraculous occurrence became known, it served greatly to increase the devotion to the Holy Souls.

459. Another example: A merchant had laid in a full supply of goods, but they remained unsold for several years, so that bankruptcy seemed inevitable. In this strait he promised to have a number of Masses said for the Souls in Purgatory, and behold, in a short time he had sold out his entire stock.—A patron of the Holy Souls recited the Office of the Dead everyday for fifty years, and as a result he was successful in all his temporal affairs. He was assisted by the Holy Souls in many dangers, was comforted by them in his trials, and experienced their effective help in several law-suits.—A servant girl who was suffering much from rheumatism, and who had for a long time used all kinds of remedies without relief, at last had recourse to the intercession of the Holy Souls. She had three Masses said for them and was at once restored to health.—A man affected in the same way promised to have a picture of the Suffering Souls erected near a much frequented place of pilgrimage, and immediately his illness disappeared.

460. Concerning personal services rendered by the Holy Souls, and their interest in our bodily comfort, St. Gregory the Great relates the following incident, which occurred during his time in the diocese of Civita Vecchia. A worthy priest, who had been advised by his physician to use steam baths, was served every time most attentively by an unknown man. To reward him the priest one day offered him two loaves of blessed bread, which at that time it was customary to distribute among the faithful at Mass. Sorrowfully the man refused them, saying, "O Father, why dost thou offer me this ? This is holy bread, and I cannot partake of it. I was once proprietor of this place, and was sentenced after death to come back here. If you wish to release me, offer this bread for me to the Almighty, and thus you will aid me in atoning for my sins. In token that you were heard I will not appear to you again after I shall have been released." With these words he disappeared. The priest said Mass for him every day for a week; and when he returned on the morning of the eighth day, he found him no more.

461. Keller, in his book "Mirror for Earnest Christians," relates the following: At the beginning of the sixties a devout young lady intended to found a religious community. A number of pious maidens had declared their intention of joining her, and an appropriate house had been selected, but the necessary sum for its purchase was wanting. Nevertheless, trusting in God and relying on the help of pious benefactors, the place was bought, the new community thereby incurring a heavy debt. While looking about for a loan, the Superioress was delayed on one of her journeys, so that it was already late in the night when she arrived at the railroad station nearest the town she was traveling to. As she had to be at the place early next morning, she resolved to proceed at once on foot. The road led through a dense forest, and she was very much afraid. Reassuring herself she began to say the rosary for the Suffering Souls, when all at once she beheld at her side a young man with a lantern, who asked her to permit him to accompany her. After regarding his rather pale face for a moment she assented. On the way her guide asked her concerning the object that brought her there, and she confided to him all her doubts and anxieties. He replied with a few encouraging words. Arrived at the end of the forest he showed her a house at which she should not fail to call; and then he was suddenly gone. Next morning she related the occurrence to the priest, asking him whether he thought it advisable to apply at that house for the loan of the sum she needed. He replied, "You may try, but you will get nothing."
Nevertheless she went there, but was received very coldly. Then she related how she had been directed to this house, and described the appearance of the young man. Immediately the behavior of the man and his wife changed. The wife began to weep, while the husband hastened from the room. But he soon returned with the desired sum, saying that he could not but show himself grateful to the benefactress of his deceased son; for it was he that conducted her through the forest and directed her to his house.

462. It is impossible to condense into one volume an account of all the instances in which the Holy Souls gratefully rendered assistance to their benefactors in the manifold relations of life—help in war and personal danger, in illness, and in distress of all kinds. But what was related above is sufficient to convince even the most sceptical of the efficiency of their intercession ; and together with the examples adduced from Holy Scripture these instances of their gratitude ought not to fail in moving us to charity for them. Their intercessions for their benefactors on earth are graciously heard by Him who declares that he considers as done to Himself what we do to others. In making this declaration our Lord confesses Himself our debtor, provided we exercise this charity in behalf of the Poor Souls. By our suffrages for them we secure for ourselves not only their own gratitude, but God Himself will be grateful to us for the help we have given to these Souls so pleasing to Him. He hears their prayers even when they pray to obtain temporal blessings for us.

When You Pray, part 3, by Rev. Robert Nash; S.J

So if we are praying together, let us be in time, let us not begin till all are in their places and there is going to be no stampede up the Church, let us say the public prayers so that they can be heard and understood, let us take our time. Do this and see how prayer will grow into our lives and awaken in our hearts some of the convictions which were such dynamic truths in the lives of the men and women who gave themselves much to prayer. Of prayer, more than anything else, is it true that if it is worth doing at all it is worth doing properly.
Everybody who speaks to us or writes about prayer invariably stresses, as has been done in this little paper, the necessity of a spirit of self-denial if there is to be depth in our prayer. Perhaps the idea may cross our minds that this is a “hard saying.” After all, if the Lord is so concerned to establish this holy intimacy with us why does He make the way of approach so uninviting? A simple parable will help with the answer.
Suppose you are working at a piece of carpentry and that you catch your hand in a rusty nail. You give yourself a bad cut, and next morning when you examine the wound you find that the hand has swollen considerably and a quantity of poisonous matter has gathered during the night. It looks serious, and forthwith you go to the doctor. The poison is causing you much pain. You cannot use your hand. You cannot allow anybody else to touch it. The doctor decides that your only chance of escaping even more serious trouble is to have the hand lanced on the spot. Presently, an ugly knife is produced, and suddenly, when you are not expecting it, the doctor plunges it well into the centre of your swollen hand.
It is most painful, and the sight of that knife nearly made you ill. Nevertheless you now heave a sigh of relief. For, the moment the wound has been opened, out comes the poison. The operation was disagreeable, indeed, but how glad you are now to have had it! It is certainly worth the price to rid yourself of this poisonous matter.
In some such way you heart needs to be purified before it can live the life of intimate prayer and companionship with God. Christ is the way to the Father. “No man cometh to the Father but by Me.” The task of the soul, therefore, is to come in closest possible contact with the Heart of Christ. As we saw, there is a fund of pride and self-sufficiency in every one of us. Sin and selfishness in their myriad forms are like the swellings that surround the heart of that man who embarks on the way of prayer. He has to bring that heart of his in close contact with the Sacred Heart in order that virtue pass from Christ into him. But what happens? The Sacred Heart is surrounded with thorns, and the moment the contact is made these must necessarily pierce the heart that is swollen with pride, with sin and with selfishness. This is necessary if the poison is to be drawn off. It is painful, but it is certainly well worthwhile. And the closer the contact the more deeply those thorns will force themselves in, and, as a result, the greater will be the pain and the more thorough the cleansing.
That is why Jesus asks us to do hard things. It is not that He delights in seeing us suffer. It is not that sacrifice in itself is of any great value. But “there is no detour around the hill of Calvary.” The divine life can flow into the soul only in the measure in which the soul is emptied of selfishness and sin and sinfulness. And there is no weapon more effective to slay selfishness and sin and sinfulness than the sword of self-sacrifice. “If the grain of wheat die, it will bring forth much fruit.”
Finally, let it be said that there is no great enthusiasm in your present-day world, for all this doctrine about prayer. Visible results are our great goal. We estimate success by what we can see and touch. Materially minded as we are, our standards of value have altered sadly. More thought is given to what a man does than to the reason why he does it. More applause is won by his conquests over others than by his conquest over himself.
Christ’s standards are very different. Thirty years hidden away in despised Nazareth and only three in the public eye. Thirty years, as your modern efficient world would put it, “wasting time” in the midst of shavings and sawdust, doing very ordinary things which could be done just as well by any ordinary person.
It is not so much what we do that matters as why we do it. It is not so much what we do as what we become that is of value in God’s eyes. His design for the soul is that it become transformed interiorly. The walls of selfishness and sin must be levelled. The poison of pride must be drawn off. Then there will ensue that “more abundant life” which flows into the soul from its close contact with Christ. And those walls begin to totter when you set yourself to pray. And that poison begins to escape according as you plunge in the knife of self-sacrifice. A very marvellous and beautifying work begins in the interior of the tabernacle, which is your own soul, when prayer begins to acquire the ascendancy.
If there is one lesson more than another to be learnt at Nazareth, it is the importance of prayer. If there is any course of action that condemns our modern rush and breathlessness, it is the course pursued by the Son of God for that thirty years of His hidden life. The work of the sanctification of an individual soul is of more importance in the eyes of God than the material welfare of the nation. And all the soul’s sanctification comes from contact with Christ. And contact with Christ is made by prayer. That is why He is so exacting in laying down the conditions that will enable you to pray. Prayer is the life of true achievement. Prayer is the instrument best fitted to do God’s work in the soul. Deep knowledge of God; sincere contempt of self; burning love for the Man-God-these are the three precious stones which beautify the life of him that prays. These are the interior adornment set up in the soul by the operation of grace which works within you when you pray.

Nihil Obstat:
Carolus Doyle, S.J.,
Censor Theol. Deput.
Imprimi potest:
FRANCISCUS J. WALL, Vic. Cap.
Dublini, die 16 Januarii, 1941.
********

When You Pray, part 2, by Rev. Robert Nash; S.J

Side by side with, that reverence there is a most sincere and genuine contempt of self, for prayer has shed light too on his worthlessness and sinfulness, and now he is beginning to understand what he is.
It is very easy to illustrate these two traits in the lives of the saints. St. Francis was wont to spend long hours of the night plunged in prayer, and the thoughts that occupied him he would express in his well known prayer: “Lord, Who art Thou and what am I?” It is an echo of the prayer of Augustine: “Lord, let me know Thee and know myself in order that I may love Thee and hate myself.” In more modern times you have the shining example of St. Peter Claver. He signed his last vows as a Jesuit priest: Peter Claver, slave of the slaves forever. And that was no perfervid exaggeration. For forty years he made himself, quite literally, the slave of those poor down-trodden negro slaves. The full story has to be read elsewhere. Why did he wait on them thus except that he realised the “allness” of God? These poor outcasts of society have souls and he can contribute to God’s glory by saving those souls. And why humble himself thus into the dust? Why take on himself the most humiliating labours and persevere on his course in spite of superhuman difficulties? Why, except that prayer had taught him his nothingness, and he rightly considered it an honour to be allowed to take up the place that he sincerely believed was one most suited for him. Ex verissima sui cognitione sibi ipsi vile scit.
If prayer had only these two lessons to teach us, discouragement would certainly ensue. The greatness of God would overawe us and the sense of our own miseries would crush us. But now a third light begins to appear. Notwithstanding the infinite chasm between us, it is true that that great God still desires union with our souls. “Abyss calleth upon abyss.” The abyss of His “allness” reaches deep down, even to the abyss of man’s nothingness, with the intent of raising man up out of the mire. God’s design is nothing less than that man should become Godlike; more even than that, that he should actually be made to partake in the very life of God Himself.
It is at this stage that Jesus Christ begins especially to enter into the life of prayer. This plan of God is far too sublime for weak man to reach up to it of himself. Left to himself, he will continue to wallow in sin and sinfulness. But Our divine Lord appears in order to act as a bridge across that chasm that separates man from God. He is, first of all, the well-beloved Son of that Father. He is equal to the Father. Hence if He asks the Father for anything, the Father must surely be moved to grant it. At the Jordan the Father declared as much. “This is My beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased.”
Again, at the Transfiguration, the voice of the Father was heard proclaiming that Jesus Christ was in truth the very Son of the Eternal Father. There is no name more frequently on the lips of Christ than “Father.” “Father, I confess to Thee.” “Father, forgive them.” “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.”
But, besides this, Jesus Christ is also a real Man, and the soul given to prayer begins to realise more and more that He is the greatest lover of mankind Who ever walked across the stage of time. A man stepping into the light that prayer is wont to shed sees very clearly that when Our Lord assures men of this love He is not speaking the language of metaphor. He is making .a statement of a fact that is most literally true. The man of prayer understands well the import of the message of the Sacred Heart. “Behold this Heart on fire with love for men.” His revelations at Paray were “a last effort” to arouse the world from its lethargy and stun all men into a realisation of the most stupendous fact that God-made-Man had a Heart on fire with love for them.
If Jesus Christ loves thus, you would expect Him to be ready to help us in our many miseries. And that is just what happens. He is the well-beloved Son of the Father and He is the Friend and the Elder Brother of us. So He acts as a bridge between the Father and ourselves. He pleased the Father, and so He is heard by that Father. He turns towards us, and seems to ask Himself what He can do to enable us to reach up to the glorious plan the Father has made for us. What can Jesus Christ do in order that man may be fitted to enter into a sharing of the very life of God?
St. Paul supplies the answer. “In all things,” he says, “you are made rich in Him, so that nothing is wanting to you in any grace.” Nothing is wanting! Jesus Christ has accumulated a vast, infinite store of merits, through the life He lived, and especially through His Sacred Passion. All these He places most willingly at man’s disposal. Through the Sacraments and through prayer the grace of Christ is communicated to the soul. The only measure of His giving is the soul’s capacity to receive. In the proportion in which this most precious treasure flows into the soul in the same does the life of sin and sinfulness disappear. But something else happens. As this grace obtains more and more possession, the soul grows more and more in a new life. In the forcible expression of St. Paul, she becomes “a new creature.”
Let not the man of prayer be confused any more when he comes into the light of God now. For now he kneels in that blaze of light clothed with the merits of Christ Who is the well-beloved Son of God. Now he is inflamed with the affections of that Sacred Heart of Christ Who loved the Father with such a pure and disinterested love. This is his debt to Christ, or, rather, it is an infinitesimally small portion of that debt. When the Father looks at him now, He sees him no longer in the rags of his sins and sinfulness. He is “made rich” in Christ, so that “nothing is wanting to him.” The Father sees that he has become like Christ. He has grown into another well-beloved. He is, as it were, Christ over again.
Such a transformation! Just as a piece of iron when plunged into the flame comes out red hot, all aglow, so the soul which has been thus brought into this intimate contact with Jesus comes forth cleansed and purified of its former vices and inflamed with the affections of the Sacred Heart. And the change is not merely an external one. It is not only that the man has been cloaked over by the merits of Christ while retaining his sin and sinfulness in his heart. There is an entire interior transformation too. Indeed, in his soul, Christ reigns supreme. Again turn to the immortal St. Paul and you hear him cry out in ecstasy: “I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me.” That man now kneels in the sight of his God beautified with the beauty of Christ, loving the rather with Christ’s love, burning with zeal for souls as Christ’s Heart burned, hating sin with the very same hatred which Jesus ever showed towards it, craving for sinners and their return to God with the very intensity of Jesus Christ Himself.
Well might we think of the Father pointing him out, as He now looks on this man and sees this marvellous change wrought in him through the merits of the Son. Once again, as at the Jordan and at the Transfiguration, does he declare: “This is My beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased.”
How helpless and hopeless is our condition without Christ! Crushed underneath a load of sin and sinfulness! But the nearness of Christ, the touch of Christ, quickens that languishing life. “No man cometh to the Father but through Me.” Seeing himself enriched thus by His merits, the soul is emboldened to arise and go back to her Father. It is worth her while, after all, trying to reach that grand ideal of union with God if Christ has had compassion on her thus, if He had destroyed her sins and her sinful past and has clothed her in a garment of such transcendent loveliness. “I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me.” “Not I”-no longer the “I” of selfishness and sin, but another, Christ Himself dwelling in me. When a man prays much, all this grows upon him. He understands better each day the debt he owes to this loving intervention of Jesus Christ. “No man,” writes Benson, “can walk three steps on the road to heaven unless Jesus Christ walks by his side.” Very true. More true, however, if we say that he cannot walk even a single step. “Without Me, you can do nothing.” But with Him, what a difference! “I can do all things in Him that strengtheneth me.” Christ’s grace has made access to God possible once more. When sin had usurped God’s place in the soul, Christ came and destroyed the reign of sin. When heaven was lost irrevocably, Christ came and re-won heaven for mankind. If all men of all time had united in a great act of atonement to God for the insult offered Him by even a single mortal sin, all that they could do would be utterly inadequate. For God’s offended majesty being infinite, only an infinite Being could make sufficient atonement. And Christ did that, for He was very God and of very God. “Our sufficiency is from Him.”
This is much, but not even here does our debt end. For it is possible for man to undo all Christ’s magnificent work.
Mortal sin can expel the life of grace and enthrone the usurper once more in the soul, when even that base ingratitude is perpetrated, the way back to God always remains open- once more through the merits of Christ. Not only has He redeemed us, but He is ever ready to pardon when in our blindness we break again the bond of friendship with the Father. In the entire Gospel there is not a single instance to be found where Jesus treated a repentant sinner with harshness.
No wonder then that the third precious stone you find in the interior of that tabernacle is a burning personal love for Jesus Christ. The man of prayer discovers, a thousand times over the utter sincerity of this Friend. Christ redeems. Christ enriches the soul with His grace. Christ presents the soul “a new creature,” clothed with His merits, in the sight of the Father. Christ points to heaven which His labours have won for the soul. And, perhaps most astonishing of all, when the soul has rejected all this and thwarted it by sin, Christ pursues the soul, persuades the soul to return, assures the soul that pardon is hers for the asking. You would think that man must be in some way necessary to God’s happiness so eager is the Son to secure the salvation and the sanctification of the soul. Was there ever a saint who failed to realise this marvellous love of Jesus Christ? Open up the story of their lives and there you read on every page expressions that seem to our dull worldly minds to be extravagant and exaggerated. Personal attachment to Christ, deep affection for Him as for a most trustworthy Friend-that is the third characteristic of the man who gives himself in prayer.

“Thaw Thou my coldness
Which doth now obstruct Thy love,
Curtailing its full measure.” 

St. John of the Cross.

For the man of prayer Christ is seen as infinite wealth to enrich his poverty. If he be a sinner, Christ is sinless and Christ is his intimate Friend. If he be weak, Christ is strong, and Christ is his Friend. If he be stained with the guilt of many crimes, Christ has in Himself the infinite sanctity of God, and Christ is his Friend.
The fire of Christ’s love to inflame his coldness, the mercy of Christ’s Heart to gather him, the patience of Christ’s eagerness for him to encourage him to begin again even when he has proved himself a traitor.
All this becomes reality to the man who prays. And is not such a Christ the Christ of the Gospel? It is hard to understand how some even of His friends insist on making almost a caricature of Him. They will stress His justice to such an extent that you would think He was only watching for an opportunity of sending the sinner to hell. The contrary is the truth. He reveals Himself as patient and abounding in mercy, ready to forgive even till seventy times seven times. No wonder that when the beauty of Him, the mercy of Him, the kindness of Him, the generosity of Him-no wonder that when all this and much more begins to become reality to the man who prays-that he is caught up in a fire of zeal, of enthusiasm for Jesus Christ.
“Who then shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation? Or nakedness? Or fire? Or the sword? For I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor any other thing shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” He is all. You might cover pages and fill volumes in the effort to express all that He means to the man of prayer, and at the end you have still not even grazed the surface of His lovableness.
Now comes the question: Why does prayer not mean all this to many more of us? Why is it that perhaps after years of effort in the work of developing a life of prayer, we still remain dry and inappreciative? We go through our prayers because we are convinced of the need we have of prayer. We are impelled by the strong statements of the saints about the power of this holy exercise. But there is no great zeal in us for prayer. Prayer is perhaps an irksome duty. Prayer tends to assume the appearance of a burthen which we would willingly lay aside if we dared.
We do not feel that awe inspiring conviction of God’s greatness. We are not at all inclined to admit that we are ourselves so vile, and we are far indeed from thinking ourselves the worst sinners on the face of the earth. Our Lord’s personal love-yes, here perhaps we are somewhat affected. But, yet, even here, the burning love of the saints for Him, their anxiety to make Him known and loved, their readiness to let go everything that life holds dear for Him-all this we call imprudent zeal. It does not appeal to us. We do not understand it. We can admire these three precious stones in the tabernacle, but we have no great keenness about setting them up within ourselves. A life of intimacy with God in prayer is all right-but from a distance.
Why should prayer seem so distasteful? Why should we show ourselves, many of us, very reluctant to set before ourselves a very high ideal in this matter of prayer? Why be content to settle down to the attitude of one who regards prayer as almost a nuisance, or, at least, of one who never hopes to find in prayer his greatest delight?
The answer is not far to seek. There is no denying that the world today has a most attractive program to set out before the eyes of a young man or woman facing life. You have every conceivable facility for having a good time. For many “a good time” is the be-all and end-all of life. What use is life if you cannot have it a succession of thrills? That mentality is common enough. Now comes the world offering to open up endless avenues of pleasure to the youthful explorer. There is thrill and excitement and pleasure to suit all tastes. The heart craves naturally for these, especially the young heart. And are they sins? No, you are told, sometimes with a suggestion of indignation even at the mention of the word. All the youth wants is enjoyment; there is every intention of stopping short at sin-at least mortal sin.
Gradually a false mentality is induced. The standard is lowered. Provided a pleasure is “not a sin,” the pleasure -seeker decides that there is no reason on earth why he should not reach out both hands and seize upon it. But a little thought shows clearly that such a mentality saps the life-blood of a deeply interior life of prayer. Even granting that you do keep free from sin (and the supposition is a large one), still, if you are not prepared to deny yourself, you may make up your mind that intimacy with God and the sweet familiarity with Him engendered by prayer are out of the question.
Prayer thus postulates a big act of trust in Our Lord’s promises. You have to take up the knife and deliberately cut from out your life much that is merely pleasurable without being sin. It is the price of intimacy with Jesus. But let it be asserted, as a first axiom and with all possible forcefulness, that He never allows Himself to be outdone in generosity. No sooner do you begin to try to sacrifice yourself for Him than a new joy comes into your life by the side of which all that the world offered appears hollow and insipid. Many who will read this may perhaps refuse to believe it because it is not their experience. And it is not their experience because they have jibbed at the price to be paid.
Another cause of the repugnance we feel towards prayer is to be found in people who themselves pass for pious, religious folk. While the world is full of merriment, the servants of the Lord seem dull and uninteresting and gloomy and long-faced. Result? The youth turns away from such a person. Many who give themselves to prayer are very bad, advertisements for the joyousness that ought to be characteristic of holiness. It was a great friend of God who wrote: “A saint who is sad is a sad sort of saint.” Holiness should be attractive. Christ, in Whom resided the fullness of sanctity, was so attractive that all sorts and conditions of people followed Him everywhere, hanging on His words, forgetting even to take their food, and leaving Him not a moment to take His.
Prayer and the service of God are rendered repulsive, too, through much formalism. Go into a Church and watch those young boys or girls, yawning, bored, sprawling over the back of the benches. Let us not be too ready to condemn them. If the prayer is an unintelligible drawl or an ill-articulated jumble of words, whose fault is it if the people are soon wearied? Such a contrast with the catering of the world for worldly enjoyment! The world and its advocates leave nothing undone to push their wares, to deck them out in most attractive programs. But religious services, it seems, can be dashed off any old way. Prayer can be mumbled, prayer can be inaudible, prayer can be merest lip-service. Can we blame people who find such prayer uninteresting, deadening, extinguishing true devotion?
Here is a group of boys kneeling in the chapel. One of them is stumbling through a set of prayers amid innumerable disturbances. Some boys are still tramping in, the chapel door is banged and banged again, there is a regular barrage of coughs drowning the voice of the one who is reading, the words are absolutely meaningless both to him who reads and those who are united, supposedly, with him in the act of praying. Is it any wonder that, if this is what passes for prayer, boys are bored with prayer in no time, and drop it promptly when they leave school? “This people honoureth Me with their lips, but their hearts are far from Me.”
On the other hand, enter a Church where the prayer is made to be a real prayer. You have an immediate response from the people. They have come here to pray, and they are frankly delighted when they can hear with ease what is being said. They need only a little encouragement to throw themselves heart and soul into the great act they are performing. A little more spontaneity, a little more care to be heard, a little more trouble to lay the axe to the roots of distractions-a little more, but what a vast improvement it would mean to our public prayers and our esteem for the great work of speaking to God in praise and petition! Formalism, routine-this is a canker worm which has eaten the heart out of our life of prayer. Carelessness about removing the causes of distraction at the actual time of prayer has often made the prayer a travesty of that holy exercise.

When You Pray, part 1, by Rev. Robert Nash; S.J

PRAYER is a lifting up of the mind and heart to God. Prayer is conversation with God. Prayer is the aspiration of the creature and the inspiration of the Creator. Prayer is the meeting-place between God and the soul.
There is a hunger in every man’s heart for happiness, and prayer can satisfy this hunger. There is a yearning in every heart for love and prayer has the power of bringing the thirsting soul very close to the source of true love. The soul, sometimes even without knowing it, is seeking God, and in prayer He discloses Himself to her. Prayer teaches her that God is actually dwelling as a Guest within her. Prayer grows and becomes a loving attendant on this Guest. Even in the midst of the turmoil and business of daily life there develops in him who prays a tendency to seek God within, to speak to Him very often, indeed to be so impressed by a sense of the value of prayer that there arises between God and him a companionship, a holy intimacy, that becomes virtually uninterrupted. Prayer is loving familiarity with God.
Thoughts like these flow readily enough from the pens of the saints when they begin to write about prayer and try to explain to us what it is. But even when they have said much, it is easy to detect a feeling of dissatisfaction still. For the truth is that prayer has secrets to unfold which can be learned only by praying. Hence the insatiable desire on the part of those who pray themselves to make others pray too. The man who prays climbs high up into the mountain and there breathes deep draughts of the bracing air of the supernatural. From this point of vantage he looks back over the ground he has traversed. Below in the valleys he sees others still toiling. They are of the earth, earthly. They are sense bound. Their eyes are turned down towards the ground. Their hearts are weighted with a thousand anxieties. They are wedded to their money. They are eaten up with lust for power. Plans to better their earthly condition leave them restless day and night.
Now, when prayer begins to attain to its rightful place in a man’s life, a whole new world opens out before him. The important things that engross the minds and hearts of the toilers in the valleys are now seen to be not so important after all. Here on the mountain the climber finds God, and with God a happiness and a peace of soul to which hitherto he has been a stranger, and with God a courage to endure not felt before, and with God rest from undue anxiety and a lessening of interest in many of the things that used to be so important. He has discovered paradise on earth through this life of prayer. What wonder is it, then, if he longs to call out to the whole world to lift up its eyes towards this mountain? What wonder is this forceful eloquence that comes so readily to his lips as he urges men to bestir themselves, to walk courageously the steep slopes of that mountain? What wonder the note of intense conviction that rings in his tone as he assures them that the intimacy with God which prayer gives is reward a thousand-fold for all the hardships to he encountered on the road?
To seek God in prayer is to plunge the soul into light. In many places in Holy Scripture you will come upon references to the fact that God is light. The chosen people of God in the Old Testament had been groping for long years and stumbling much in the darkness that covered the earth. And lo; at last there was vouchsafed to Isaias a glimpse of the Messias Who was to come. Here is his exultant shout of joy: “The people that sat in darkness have seen a great light. To them that dwelt in the region of the shadow of death light is risen.” Wherefore, arise and be enlightened, O Jerusalem, for thy light is come and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. For behold darkness shall cover the earth and a mist the people, but upon thee the Lord shall rise and His glory shall be seen upon thee.” When Our Lord comes, we are again reminded of this symbol of light. Light shone out in the midst of the darkness of the first Christmas night. Simeon took Mary’s Son into his arms, and his eyes shone with joy as he recognised in Him “the light of the gentiles.” Our Lord Himself proclaimed Himself to be the light of the world, and the evangelist knows Him to be the true light that enlightened every man that cometh into the world. St. John, who soars in prayer like the eagle high up into the blinding rays of the divinity, tells us that “God is light and in Him there is no darkness.” And St. Paul writes to his disciple Timothy that God is He Who dwelleth in light inaccessible.
So when a man kneels down to pray he is seeking companionship with this God of light. Once more there is darkness over the face of the earth, more especially, alas, in the evil days upon which we have fallen. To pray means to step out of that darkness to separate oneself at least in thought and desire from the pressure of external things and to bathe the soul deep in that ocean of light that is streaming down upon it from the countenance of Almighty God. “The light of Thy countenance is signed upon us; Thou hast given joy to my heart.” A man going to pray is entering into a secret place apart in order to give his undivided attention to God, Whom he is going to meet there. “When you pray. . . . . enter into your chamber, and, having shut the door, pray to your Father in secret,and your Father Who seeth in secret will reward you.”
That is why the saints urge us to enter upon our prayer with’ much care, and, especially at the beginning, with conscious advertence to the Presence of God. That is why Holy Church places at the opening of her Divine Office the invitatory prayer which is well calculated to steady the thoughts of the priest. It focuses his attention on the fundamental truth that prayer means stepping out of the darkness and plunging the soul into the light of God.
A Protestant went into a Catholic Church on Good Friday, and, noticing that the door of the tabernacle was open, he peered curiously inside. What was his surprise to find that the interior of the tabernacle was studded with precious stones. The discovery led ultimately, to his conversion. For he rightly argued that Catholics must be sincere in their belief of the Real Presence if they placed thus in the interior of the tabernacle stones of such value in a place where nobody could see them.
In some such way we may argue that the lives of men go far in the ways of prayer are a proof of the divinity of the Church. Holiness is a mark of the true Church, and holiness and prayer are so closely linked together that it is impossible to think of the one except as complementary to the other. The soul of a man who is holy is a tabernacle behind the door of which there is lived a life hidden, for the most part, from the eyes of others-so hidden indeed, that even its existence is not suspected by many who consider that they know the man intimately. For he guards that door jealously. Having shut the door, he prays to his Father in secret. But to himself that hidden interior life becomes so vivid and so real that the very reality of it seems at times to be overpowering. “When you pray. . . . . enter into your chamber.” In that secret place there is continuous prayer, and prayer means the words spoken there by the soul to God and the ineffable responses of God to the soul.
We are going to try reverently to open that door and look inside, and see and handle some of the treasures that enrich the interior of that place of prayer.
“God is light and in Him there is no darkness.” You will find first of all, in the life of him who prays much, an intense preoccupation with God. That is the first light that breaks in upon his gaze as soon as he begins to turn his eyes inward and look into the hidden places of his own soul. The light of the Presence floods that interior temple; when you enter in, at once you are “drenched with His divinity.” God’s light surrounds the soul, pervades the atmosphere of the soul, seems, so to say, to saturate, to weave itself into the, very texture of the soul. Prayer teaches the man who gives himself to prayer much about the “allness” of God.
Learned men and saintly men have looked long and reverently into the wonders of the divinity, and they have tried to set forth in words what they have seen. Kneeling there in that blaze of light, the truth dawns upon the soul that in God is to be found every good that can be imagined and in a degree that is without limit. “One only is good, God.” God is all- powerful. God is all-beautiful. God is infinite love. Name any perfection that can be named and then look into His divinity and see that it is there and in an infinite degree, in a manner so full, so comprehensive, that He is clearly seen to be the very source itself of that perfection. People and things are beautiful in so far, and only in so far, as they reflect His beauty. Our fellow-men are worthy of our love in so far, and only in so far, as they have drawn their lovable qualities from Him Who is infinitely lovable.
God is eternal, “alpha and omega, the beginning and the end, Who is and Who was and Who is to come.” A thousand years in His sight are as yesterday. He was, before the foundations of the world were laid. He will be, when the sun has become extinct, when the last drop of ocean shall be dried up. Without beginning, without end, this wonderful God reaches from end to end mightily and disposes all things sweetly.
God is infinite wisdom, all things being naked and open to His eyes. Not a thought passes through the brain of any of earth’s teeming millions but He sees that thought. Not a word is uttered but He hears that word. He contains in His infinitude of knowledge not only every single deed and word and thought that has actually taken place, not only every single detail that is still to be in the centuries ahead, but with the same poise and clarity all those things that might have happened in other circumstances. Thus He knows exactly how the course of human nature would have run had Adam not sinned, had the Incarnation never taken place, had you or I been born in the Middle Ages or a thousand years hence. No wonder St. Paul is overpowered by it all, this infinite knowledge of this wonderful God. “O, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God!”
Then there is God’s blinding sanctity. In His all-holy sight even the very angels are not pure. There is the infinitude of His mercy “patient and of much mercy and true.” And side by side with this infinite mercy there is infinite justice. “Thou art just, 0 Lord, and Thy judgment is true.” There is God’s infinite power. That power has drawn the mighty universe forth from nothing. That power sustains at every moment the creation it has made. Did God for a single second cease to remember His creation at that same instant it would lapse into the nothingness from which it came. God’s power governs the movements of the planets and ordains what shall be the course of the molecules in this sheet of paper from which we are reading.
This is the merest recital of a few of the attributes of God. How helpless one finds oneself in casting about for words that will even faintly express a little of the reality! Now prayer admits the soul to holy intimacy with this Being, this infinite God, this eternal, all-holy, all-powerful, all-knowing, all-beautiful, all-sufficient and all-sufficing God. No wonder that he is preoccupied with the thought of God’s “allness.” No wonder that as he kneels there in the light and contemplates God, the sight becomes almost paralysing in its effect upon the soul that prays and looks and tries to see.
It is not surprising if now the soul begins to show total disregard for many of the things which the world values very highly. Men have set their hearts upon money, and nothing is more common than to hear them bemoan their losses or rejoice at their gains. Men are jealous of their honour. They are quick to resent a snub or to vindicate an injustice. Men are tools of avarice, the slaves of human respect, the plaything of their whims or of the passions. “A thousand wants gnaw at the heels of man.” They are disappointed and soured when their plans go wrong. They are indignant when their confidence is abused. They are eaten up with curiosity to know the future. They are, many of them, ruled by the impulse of the moment.
The man who has glimpsed the beauty of the divinity has little time for much of this. God’s eternity, God’s infinity, God’s awful sanctity, God’s vast ocean of love, God’s “allness”-in the sight of this how trivial, how utterly unworthy of a moment’s consideration are many of the tremendous trifles which engross the minds and the hearts of most of us. “God is light and in Him there is no darkness.” The first precious stone to be set up in the interior of the tabernacle of the man who prays is thus a knowledge of God’s greatness.
Hence follows a profound reverence for God, a deliberate preference for God and His interests, an entire lack of care about the opinions of men when these run counter to God, but a deep concern and a keen anxiety about God’s point of view. “We ought to be resolved to displease the whole world rather than offend God.” That was said by a man who prayed much-Blessed Claude de la Colombière. He acted consistently on that principle, for prayer had shown him clearly that only God mattered.
“God is light” and the light is next turned on the man himself who is kneeling in prayer. Presently another truth stands revealed-the terrifying contrast between God’s “allness” and his own nothingness. Prayer teaches self-knowledge, and the light which thus shows a man to himself makes him strike his breast with a feeling of most genuine and heartfelt humility. Our Lord told His followers: “I have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” The same He would seem to say to a man embarking on the way of prayer. If at first that man was given a true knowledge of his vileness, he must needs stagger and despair under the weight of such a load. So a merciful God permits the reality to dawn upon him only by degrees. Even when communicated to him thus gradually, the light seems almost to shrivel him up. The sight of his utter worthlessness and nothingness must needs prove insupportable did not God’s grace sustain him to look upon it.
What is he? Has he, perhaps, sinned grievously in the past? Where is he going to find words now that will express the unspeakable effrontery of mortal sin? A pigmy dictating to God! A creature defying his Creator! Insolence without parallel, that the thing made should scrape the mud off the earth and brazenly attempt to fling it into the face of God! The complacency of the slave who calmly tells his Lord and Master to mind His own business! Such a vaunting of independence in one so entirely dependent! Such an easy assumption of liberty to act in one bound by a thousand claims to obedience! Why has God not annihilated the sinner? Why has He tolerated his jeers and his taunts?
Tolerated them? But what must the sinner think and say when he begins to realise that not only has he been endured, but actually permitted to love God? Not only permitted to love Him, but even commanded?”Thou shalt love. . . . . .” When he deserved eternity in hell? When he had led other souls far from God into the ways of sin? “God is light,” and when the light falls upon his sin and shows him sin in its true colours, the sinner, like Adam and Eve, would fain hide himself from the face of God, would crawl away from the light back into the shadows where his vileness and ingratitude and insufferable pride might perhaps more easily pass unnoticed. And even if he never sinned greviously, there is still that downward tendency which he sees in the light of prayer.
There is his sinfulness. Well he learns that there is no depth of depravity so low but he is quite capable of descending headlong into it. Well he understands that, once sunk in the gutter, in the gutter he would continue unless an all-merciful God reached down and lifted him up again. Well he knows that one thing only is preventing him from sinking thus-the sustaining grace of God. This innate craving for what degrades him, this insatiable curiosity to see and hear and think about what is evil, this haunting sense of his powerlessness to do anything good, of his readiness to embrace sin even in its most loathsome forms-all this he learns in the light of prayer, and he rises from his knees chastened in the school of a sobering humility.
Seeing himself in this light, recognising the baseness of his sin and his constant sinfulness, learning thus clearly that only God’s mercy has saved him from hell, he now will surely show himself grateful. How? God tells him that what he does to the least of his brethren is done to God Himself. Here then his chance. Having been tolerated himself, he will surely show every tolerance towards others. Having been himself treated with such kindness and love, you must be prepared to see him a model of patience and forbearance. This would be but the barest justice, considering his record. But actually what happens? Why he finds himself overbearing in his manner, harsh in his words, cynical in his criticisms of others. He, being what he knows himself to be, dares to show himself full of arrogance, dictates haughtily to others, presumes to give himself superior airs, sneers when somebody makes a mistake, swells with indignation if his will be opposed even in a trifling matter, insists on imposing his own views, compels their acceptance, bristles all over at an imagined slight.
Such a catalogue of inherent meannesses! It is only through prayer that he comes, little by little, to see into the depths of his pride. It is only as the light gradually gains in strength That he is able to recognise how his whole life has been out of joint: “Often,” writes Father Considine, “the best kind of prayer is to allow God to look into our soils.”
Let the man but persevere in prayer and presently a change in his character begins to show itself. As he grows in self knowledge, pride begins to give way to a very genuine and heartfelt contempt of self. For what can this thing be proud of, this corrupt human nature? In the clear light of prayer he sees very well that pride is indeed the “never-failing vice of fools.” Recognising that nothing only God’s grace has lifted him out of the mire, he considers, and very rightly, that any snubs or insult’s, or even gross injustices, are all too good for him. They are a welcome exchange for the place he had deserved in hell. And if an all-merciful God has spared him, and instead of sweeping him off the face of the earth has drawn him into this holy intimacy with Himself, is not this only an additional motive for shame and confusion and self contempt? “What is man that Thou art mindful of him?” Now you will no longer find him loud in asserting his rights. Now he does not complain that he is forgotten or ignored. Now he does not expect you to wait on him and attend to his wants. On the contrary, he is genuinely confused that anybody should do him a service or show him any consideration. It is a matter for surprise to him to meet with even the mere civilities of ordinary life, so profoundly convinced is he that if men knew him as he sees himself to be they would not endure him.
But God knows him thus. God knows him even more intimately than he knows himself. And, knowing him thus, God still endures him. More than that: He still wants him for His friend. He is ready to trust him still. He is ready to reach down from the heights of His sanctity to this creature of the gutter! Yes, the man who prays begins to understand now why St. Ignatius said there was no vice he feared less than vainglory. He begins to fathom now the depths of heavenly wisdom contained in that word of ả Kempis: “Consider yourself to have made no progress until you regard yourself as being the least of all.”‘ He is desperately in earnest as he strikes his breast and prays: “Lord, be merciful to me a sinner.” Humility, say the saints, is that virtue by which a man, from a most true knowledge of himself, grows contemptible in his own eyes. Ex verissima sui cognitione sibi ipsi vilescit. Just a creature not to be given any consideration at all, a nonentity not expecting to he noticed.
Here then are the first two precious stones you discover in the life of the man who gives himself much to prayer Open out the door of that tabernacle and look inside. You find in that life a deep reverence for God springing from the knowledge prayer has imparted to him of the “allness” of God.

How Christ said the first mass, By Rev. James L. Meagher, D.D. Part 31.

JEWS LEAVE BEQUESTS FOR PRAYERS.

Prayers to the Saints in Church services were copied from the Jewish Church at the time of Christ.
The New York Ghetto has many queer trades, one of them being the saying of the Kaddish for the repose of the souls of the dead. Sons or members of the family say them morning, afternoon and evening, every day for a year after the funeral, as long as a male member of the deceased lives. The Kaddish must be recited in a congregation of minyan "ten or more men" in synagogue, or house. If no male issue survives, a professional band of Kaddish prayers are paid to say the prayers.
Often Jews on their deathbed make provision by leaving money for "a Kaddish of their own," as Christians leave bequests for Masses for their souls. Usually a friend of the sick is appointed to see that these prayers are said, and he is specially remembered in the will. This provision for prayers for the repose of the soul is the pious wish of every Jew.
The professional Kaddish sayers, called "batlonim" are mostly beggar students of the Torah and Talmud, wishing to become Rabbis, law students or enter the learned professions, but who have not the money for their education, and take this means of continuing their studies of the Laws of Moses, their "dear bride."
There is no fixed stipend and they offer their services to the family not blessed with sons, during the time of mourning, and agree to pray the soul of the dead from purgatory into Paradise. These prayers have come down in Judaism from far beyond the days of Christ, and on them was founded the Masses, stipends and prayers for the repose of the dead.
Nov. 23, 1905, it seemed that almost the whole Jewish population of New York turned out in a vast procession through the streets of the east side, to mourn the massacres of their brethren in Russia. The streets for blocks around the headquarters in Grand Street were filled, fairly packed, with one mass of surging, pushing, gesticulating Hebrew humanity, as four men passed through bearing on their shoulders an empty coffin, covered with a black velvet silver embroidered pall, typifying the dead, as the catafalque does in our churches at a requiem Mass, when the body is not present. This is one of the oldest of the Jewish ceremonials coming down from Moses or the kings. These prayers lived side by side in both the Christian and Jewish faiths whose members were often hostile in the middle ages.

MOURNING CEREMONIAL.

All branches of the Semitic race were well represented. Jews from Germany, Poland, Russia, Turkey, Spain, and countries of the Orient were there, crowding sidewalks, massing in the middle of the streets, mounting steps of business and private dwellings—all united in heart and mind, as every tongue uttered the prayers for the repose of the souls of their murdered Russian brethren.
Patriarchs with velvet skull-caps, waist-long white beards, every hair of which was precious, shoved and talked with younger generations, with women with wigs and shawls showing their widowhood, with girls be-plumed, products of the sweatshops, and with young men born in freedom, who hardly showed the Jewish features.
But the bearing of the vast crowds was different, from that which usually turns out for a parade. There was no laughter, no jokes were heard, no good-natured nudging as they marched, headed by black flags, red union banners, each wearing black badges on their arms, or draped in deep mourning. They went four abreast, stretching along five blocks, moving like a vast human flood, soon swelling into a mighty stream, filling the streets as though they would mount the high walls of buildings, through which they passed as through a canyon.
In mournful music they sang the dirge of sorrow and prayers for the souls of the dead, accompanied by bands of music. As the sound of the band reached ahead, windows would go up, women with heads covered with black mourning prayer shawls would appear, hold up their hands with distorted faces, eyes filled with tears, and mingle their cries with the vast crowds in the streets. From the heart of every Israelite came the cry: El Male Rachnin, "God have mercy on their souls," repeated over and over again.

ORIGIN OF OUR WEDDING CUSTOMS.

When they came to a synagogue, the whole procession stopped before the crowded steps. In the place reserved, the Rabbi, and lending men of the congregation, led in prayer for eternal rest for the departed, part song, part chant, part wail: "God have mercy on their souls:" "God have mercy on their souls:" "God have mercy on their souls." The band struck up the Kim Allel Eclun, "the mourning song of Solomon," and they began over again the touching prayers for the repose of the dead. They stopped for the longest time before the Beth Hamedrish, "The House of Prayer," the synagogue where the famous Rabbi Joseph used to preach, that leader in Israel most learned in the Talmud, whose funeral produced almost a riot against the Jews. There the men and women sang in separate ranks, for they do not think it seemly for the sexes to mingle in divine worship, even in our day. It was a weird chant the singing made. The differences in tone and pitch met in the middle, and made a half gruff, half shrill, wholly strange sound, that rose and fell, swelled and diminished in a cadence, as different from the Christian choir, as Arab singing. We have given this incident of our day, with customs of the ancient synagogue, to show that in all his history the Jew prayed for the repose of the souls of his dead, and that from him the Church fell heir to that doctrine, the human heart cry for the dead we loved in life, which has been, perhaps, the most attacked.
Now let us see the origin of our wedding customs and the nuptial Mass.
The Talmud forbade marriage in the case of a male under thirteen years and a day, and in the case of a girl under twelve years and a day. Wednesday was the day of the betrothal of a virgin, and Thursday of a widow. 1 Modern Jews appoint Wednesday and Friday for the former, and Thursday for the latter. The parents choose the wife for their son. Modern Jews often employ a matchmaker, a schachun who acts as a friend between the parties. 2
Consent of bride and parents having been obtained, the betrothal followed. This was not like our "engagement," but a very solemn and formal agreement ratified by presents to the bride called mohar, the word occurring thrice in the Hebrew Bible. 3 Her father gave her a dowry, which after the Captivity was bestowed by a written ketubah, "a writing," which dowry her husband controlled.

HEBREW WEDDING RITES.

The betrothal, called by the Romans the espousal, was celebrated with a great feast, where the groom placed the wedding ring on her finger, as a token of fidelity and of adoption into his family. She was now regarded as a wife. 4 If she was unfaithful, among the Hebrews before her father's house she was stoned to death, 5 but the man could put her away by quietly getting rid of her, if he did not want to have her killed. This is what Joseph thought of doing when he found the Virgin with child. 6
The essence of marriage was in the removal of the bride to her future home. This was a great public ceremony. The bridegroom clothed himself in his festive dress and put on his head the handsome turban the prophet calls the peer 7 formed like a crown. 8 Myrrh and frankincense was offered before him, or he was incensed by a servant as the clergy are incensed at a high Mass. The bride prepared herself the day before with a bath, 9 robed herself in her bridal garments, and a little before the appointed time covered her whole person with the bridal veil called the tsa'iph; the Romans called it nubere, "to veil," whence covering not only her face, but her whole person 10 it was a sign of submission to her husband. The Greeks called the bridal veil exoysia, "authority." She bound up her waist with a costly sash called the kishshurim, "the attire," which Romans named zona. On her head she placed the callah, "bride," a crown of pure gold, or gilded if the family was rich, but of orange blossoms if the family was poor. After the destruction of the Temple under Titus, in A. D. 70, this gold crown was forbidden as a token of humiliation.
If the bride were a virgin, she wore her hair hanging down her back; 11 but a widow tied up her hair. The virgin's bridal robes were white, often embroidered with gold thread, a widow was dressed in colored garments and the ceremonial was short and simple.
When the hour fixed arrived, usually late in the evening, the bridegroom came to her house attended by his groomsmen, called in Hebrew mere'im, waited on by his paranymph, we now call his "best man," and preceded by a procession, surrounded by a band of musicians and singers, with men bearing torches, they went to the bride's home, who with her virgins waited for them. Bride, parents and friends, with the bridegroom formed a great procession, and with music and song they marched back to the groom's house, near which a party of virgins, ten with lighted lamps, met them in the street and all marched to the house. 12 At the house they held a great feast, all the friends of both families attending, each guest having on a white wedding garment. 13 If she was a virgin, parched wheat and grain was distributed, the origin of rice at our weddings, as a sign of prosperity and happiness for the couple. The festivities lasted for seven days sometimes for a fortnight, but in the case of a widow for only one night.

ORIGIN OF THE BISHOP'S RING.

From the Hebrew wedding we copy the bishop's ring, for he is wedded to his diocese, the orange blossoms, the bridal veil, the nuptial Mass, the blessing of the bride. But the widow is not blessed at her second marriage. Among the Oriental Christians the bride and groom wear metal crowns during the wedding ceremonies.
The wedding feast was very elaborate in wealthy families, the ceremonial and etiquette being the same as at the feast of unleaven bread.
Moses made a covenant, the Old Testament, between God and the Israelites, who broke that covenant when they fell into idolatry under their Kings. But the prophet foretold that, "the days shall come, saith the Lord, and I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel, and with the house of Juda. Not according to the covenant which I made with their fathers, the covenant which they made void," etc.14 Moses made the covenant with blood of animals, foretelling the New Testament, the covenant made with the blood of the Victim of Calvary, 15 "of the New and eternal Testament the mystery of faith." The Greek text says, diathekn,"in his blood." "And they shall not break bread to him that mourneth, to comfort him for the dead, neither shall they give them to drink of the cup to comfort them, for their father and mother." 16

MASS SAID AT NIGHT IN APOSTLES' DAY.

"Thus saith the Lord, Behold I will profane my sanctuary the glory of your realm." 17 At Christ's death the Old Testament passed away, the New had begun. The synagogue was rejected, the Church was established on Pentecost.
The Lord broke the Eucharistic bread to the doubting disciples at Emmaus and only then they knew him. 18 The apostles went forth from house to house, breaking the Eucharistic bread of the Mass with prayers; 19 "continuing daily with one accord in the Temple and breaking bread from house to house, they took their meat with gladness and simplicity of heart." 20 "On the first day of the week when we assembled to break bread," 21 "going up and breaking bread and fasting." The Greek words of the original, "eulogia" and "eucharistia" show that the breaking of bread was the Eucharistic sacrifice of the Mass. The first word, eulogia, "praise," shows that they began with the synagogue praise and prayers, following Christ's example at the Last Supper, and finished with the consecration and the distribution of the Eucharist. 22
Following the example of the Last Supper, the meetings were held in the evening, in the synagogues, on the Sabbath, and the instructions took up the time till after midnight. 23 Psalms and Prayers of the synagogue were sung, the members of the infant Church saluted each other with a holy kiss. 24 St. Paul mentions four times 25 the kiss of friendship and of love, a Hebrew custom continued in the Church, and was the origin of the ceremony of the "kiss of peace," the clergy give during Mass.'' 26
The apostles following the Lord's example went into the synagogues in all the lands where Jews were found, and preached first to the Hebrews. As the synagogue the Sabbath service on Saturday was the best attended, they preached that day, and in the evening said the Mass. The services were protracted into the night, and later Mass was said in the early morning hours of Sunday. Whence, in apostolic times, Sunday took the place of Saturday of the Jew's. When at last the Church broke with the synagogue, it was called the "Lord's day," in memory of the resurrection and of the corning of the Holy Ghost on Pentecost Sunday. 27

DISPUTES BETWEEN CHRISTIANS AND JEWS.

Thousands of candles lighted the Temple courts, lights burned in synagogues during services, numerous lights you will find in the synagogue of today as candles illuminated the Cenacle during the Last Supper; "and there were a great number of lamps in the upper chamber where we were assembled," says the Acts. 28 Mass being said at night in the Apostles' day, candles burned on the altars. The candles burning on our altars came down, not from the catacombs, as some writers hold, but from Temple, synagogue and Last Supper.
This synagogue service—singing Psalms, reading the Law and the Prophecies before the Eucharistic Sacrifice, developed into the Matin-Lauds with their Psalms, Nocturns, "By night," prayers, versicles, responses, vespers and offices of our breviaries. The peculiar divisions and arrangements show they came down from the apostolic age. The Last Supper began with the synagogue services which Avere always said at night before beginning the Passover feast, and this is the reason of that ancient custom of saying the office, as far as Terce, before saying Mass.
Many were the disputes between Christians and Jews regarding the Crucified; at last the synagogue excluded the apostles, who then went to the homes of converts. They found that the synagogue service would not do for the Eucharistic sacrifice. New elements, the Divinity of Christ, the Real Presence, the sacramental system, and numerous other truths had been added to Judaism.
On the Liturgy of the Last Supper they founded new Rites—Liturgies of the Mass which were handed down by word of mouth till they were later written down. These were in the languages of the people. Oriental Christians claim that their Liturgies have come down to us unchanged from the apostles. Numerous Hebrew terms they incorporate into these Liturgies, as, "Amen;" "Let it be so;" Alleluia, "Praise Jehovah;" Hosanna, "Save, I beseech thee;" Sabaoth, "Hosts;" "The Lord be with thee," "Peace be to thee," etc.


HOW THE FIRST CHURCHES WERE FOUNDED.

We have shown how the Holy Ghost wrote a religious truth in every object and movement of Temple and Passover worship. The Passover Liturgy and ceremonial were loaded with type image and symbol of the Messiah, his Passion and of the Eucharistic Sacrifice. When the apostles founded the Liturgies of the Mass, they followed the lesson God gave in the Jewish ceremonial and worship. Every object, movement and ceremony of the Mass teaches the people truths hidden in the service, so that the Mass is a book written by God himself through the apostles. These rites and ceremonies we have explained in a former work. 29
The apostles carried out the synagogue services, read the Law and the Prophecies and then preached, exhorting the people to live good lives. The "Lord's Table" was prepared with candles, flowers, and ornaments. 30 The twelve priests with the apostle read the prayers of the Liturgy, and thus they celebrated the Eucharist. They took up a collection for the support of religion. 31 Sometimes these offerings were sent to the poor converts of Jerusalem. 32
The apostle remained with them instructing, making converts till a congregation was formed. Then he ordained twelve of them priests, called in Greek presbyters. He laid hands on one of them and anointed him a bishop, consecrating him with the holy oils as was the custom at the ordination of Rabbis and judges of Israel long before the time of Christ. Many works of the early Church mention these facts.
Thus the Clementine Homilies 33 says Peter founded a church in Tyre and set over it as bishop one of the presbyters and then departed for Sidon 34 where he did the same, 35 as at Bayrout and Laodicea. 36 "And having baptized them in the fountains which are near the sea, and having celebrated the Eucharist, and having appointed Maroones as their bishop, and having set apart twelve presbyters, and having designated deacons and arranged matters relating to widows, and having preached on the common good what was profitable for the ordering of the Church, and having counseled them to obey the bishop Maroones, three months being now fulfilled, he (Peter the apostle) bade those in Tripolis of Phoenicia farewell, and took his journey to Antioch of Syria, all the people accompanying him with due honor." 37

HOW THE APOSTLES APPOINTED BISHOPS.

This curious work of antiquity states that they reclined at the table when eating, 38 and shows us that Peter vested like the bishops of our day. When Clement asked that he might go with him, Peter smilingly replied. "For who else shall take care of these many splendid tunics, with all my changes of rings and sandals.'' 39
The Apostolic Constitution says: 40 "Now concerning those bishops who have been ordained in our lifetime, we let you know that they are these:—James the bishop of Jerusalem, the brother of our Lord; 41 the second was Simeon the son of Cleophas, 42 after whom the third was Judas, the son of James. Of Caesarea of Palestine, the first was Zaccheus, 43 after whom was Cornelius and the third Theophilus. Of Antioch Evodius ordained by me Peter, and Ignatius by Paul of Alexandria, Annianus was the first ordained by Mark, the evangelist. Of the Church of Rome, Linus the son of Claudia was the first, 44 and Clement after Linus' death, the second ordained by me Peter. Of Ephesus, Timothy ordained by Paul, and John by me John. Of Smyrna, Aristo the first, 45 after whom Strateas son of Lois. 46 Of Pergamus, Gaius. Of Philadelphia, Demetrius by me. Of Athens, Dionysius.

ORIGIN OF THE PAPAL BENEDICTION.

Of Tripoli, Marathones, etc., These are the bishops who are intrusted by us with the dioceses in the Lord." 47
Saying, "Increase and multiply." 48 God blessed man and animals, that they might propagate their race. Following this example-the patriarch blessed his eldest son, making him heir of his property and priesthood, and on his deathbed he blessed all the members of his family. At the end of the Temple ceremonial the high priest blessed the multitudes, and the Rabbi dismissed the congregation with his blessing.
According to these ceremonies of the Jewish Church, when ascending into heaven, Christ blessed his disciples. "And lifting up his hands he blessed them. And it came to pass that whilst he blessed them, he departed up into heaven." 49 Following these examples, the celebrant blesses the congregation at the end of Mass. This ended Mass in the early Church, and later St. John's Gospel was added. Therefore when the people ask priest or bishop to bless them they follow the old custom of the Hebrew church. This blessing finds it highest form in the Apostolic Benediction of the Pope, which comes down from the days of Apostles and Patriarchs.
Now let us see the vestments Christ and the Apostles used at the Last Supper, for in them we will find the origin of Church vestments.

1 Mishna Ketub. i. sec. 1.

2 Gen. xxiv. 12.

3 Gen. xxiv. 10-22; Exod. xxii. 17; I. Kings xviii. 25.

4 Phil. De Spec. Leg, p. 788.

5 Deut. xxii. 23, 24.

6 Matt. i. 19.

7 Isaias Ixi. 10.

8 Cant. iii. 11.

9 Picart. i. 240.

10 Gen. xxiv. 65, xxxviii. 14,15.

11 Ketub, ii. Sec. 1.

12 Matt. xxv. 6.

13 Matt. xxii. 11.

14 Jeremias, xxxi. 31, 32.

15 Exod. xxiv. 8.

16 Jeremias, xvi. 7.

17 Ezech, xxiv. 21.

18 Luke, xxiv. 30, 35.

19 Acts. ii. 42.

20 Acts, ii. 46.

21 xx. 7.

22 I. Cor. ii. 20, 21, etc.; St. Ignatius, Epist ad Smyr., c. 4.; Sozomen, Hist. Eccl. VII. c. 19, Council of Carthage, Cann. XLI.

23 Acts xx. 7.

24 I. Cor. xvi. 20; II. Cor. xiii. 12.

25 Rom. xvi. 16: I. Cor. xvi. 20; II. Cor. xiii. 12; I. Thes. v.26; I. Peter V. 14.

26 Tertullian, De Orat. c. 14; Justin Martyr, M. Apol. 11; Migne, Cursus Comp. ii. 1348.

27 Acts ii,

28 Acts xx;. 6.

29 Teaching Truth by Signs and Ceremonies.

30 Acts xx. 7-11.

31 II Cor. ix. 1-15; Justin Martyr, Aplogo. I.

32 Ibidem.

33 This work is of doubtful authenticity, mentioned by Origen, Cap. 22 Philocalia and other writers as existing in the beginning of the third century.

34 Hom. VII. Cap. v.

35 Cap. VIII.

36 Cap. XXII.

37 Clementine Homilies. Hom. xi. Cap. xxxvi. See J. lahn ArchæoIogia Biblica De Liturgia Apostolica, etc.

38 Ibidem. Hom. x. Cap. xxvi.

39 Hom. xii. Cap. vi.

40 Some like, Whiston, Bunsen, etc., think that with a few corruptions these come from the apostolic age—others that they come from the second or third centuries. Book VII. Sec. iv.

41 He was his cousin who according to the Jewish custom was called his brother.

42 Cleophas was the brother of St. Joseph, the Virgin's spouse. He married Mary the Virgin's sister, by whom he had four sons and and two daughters. His eldest son was named Joseph, the second James called Alpheus, the third Judas Thaddeus, and the fourth Simon. His first daughter was called Mary after her mother; the second, Salome married Zebedei, by whom she had James and John the apostles. It was Cleophas who went with another disciple to Emmaus after the crucifixion, whom the Lord met on the way. See Dutripon, Concordantia S. Scripturæ, word Cleophas.

43 This was the rich publican of Jericho, a tax collector, "little of stature," Luke xix. 3-6, who climbed the sycamore tree to see the Lord, when he was passing through the city on his way up to Jerusalem to die. He entertained the Saviour that Thursday night, and to him Jesus said "This day is salvation come to this house." Luke xix. 9. Rabbinical writings mention a Zaccheus who lived in Jericho at this time who was once a publican.

44 Mentioned by St. Paul, II. Tim. iv. 21.

45 This is a mistake, for Polycarp was the first bishop of Smyrna.

46 She was Timothy's grandmother, II. Tim. i. 5.

47 Apost. Const. B. VII. Sec. iv., xlvi. We give this as a specimen of this peculiar ancient work, not vouching for its authenticity.

48 Gen, i. 22, viii. 17, ix. 1.

49 Luke xxiv. 50.