The Holiness of the Church
Holiness is also a mark of the true Church; for in the Creed we say, “I believe in the holy Catholic Church.”
Every society is founded for a specific purpose. One society may be formed with a view to cultivating social intercourse among its members; a second may be organised to advance their temporal interests; and a third may exist for the purpose of promoting literary pursuits.
The Catholic Church, however, is a society founded by our Lord Jesus Christ for the sanctification of its members. Hence, St. Peter refers to the Christians of his time as “a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a purchased people.” [30]
The example of our Divine Founder, Jesus Christ; the sublime moral teachings He has given us; and the Sacraments He has instituted—all these tend towards our sanctification. They converge upon our soul like so many heavenly rays, enlightening it and inflaming it with the fire of devotion.
When the Church speaks to us of the attributes of our Lord—of His justice, mercy, sanctity, and truth—her aim is not merely to extol the Divine perfections, but also to exhort us to imitate them; to become, like Him, just and merciful, holy and truthful.
Behold the sublime Model placed before us! It is not man, nor angel, nor archangel, but Jesus Christ, the Son of God, “who is the brightness of His glory, and the figure of His substance.” [31]
The Church places His image over our altars, admonishing us to “look and do according to the pattern that was shown you on the mountain.” [32] And from that height He seems to say to us:
“You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy”; [33]
“Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect”; [34]
“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children.” [35]
We are invited to lead holy lives, not only because our Divine Founder, Jesus Christ, was holy, but also because we bear His sweet and venerable name. We are called Christians.
That is a name we would not exchange for all the high-sounding titles of Prince or Emperor. We are justly proud of this appellation—Christian—but we are also reminded that it carries a solemn obligation. It is not an idle name, but one full of sacred significance. For a Christian, as the very name implies, is a follower or disciple of Christ—one who walks in the footsteps of his Master by observing His precepts; one who reproduces, in his own life, the character and virtues of his Divine Model.
In a word, a Christian is another Christ. It would therefore be a contradiction in terms if a Christian had nothing in common with his Lord but the name. The disciple must imitate his Master; the soldier must resemble his Commander; and the members must be like the Head.
The Church constantly allures her children to holiness by placing before their minds the Incarnation, life, and death of our Saviour. What more powerfully invites a life of piety than the contemplation of Jesus—born in a stable, living a humble life in [018] Nazareth, and dying upon a cross so that His blood might purify us?
If He sent forth Apostles to preach the Gospel to the whole world; if, in His name, temples are erected in every nation, and missionaries are dispatched to the farthest reaches of the globe—then all this is done that we may become Saints.
“God,” says St. Paul, “appointed some as apostles, some as prophets, some as evangelists, some as pastors and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until all of us come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to maturity, to the measure of the full stature of Christ.” [36]
The moral law which the Catholic Church inculcates upon her children is the highest and holiest standard of perfection ever presented to any people, and furnishes the strongest incentives to virtue.
The same Divine precepts delivered through Moses to the Jews on Mount Sinai, the same salutary warnings proclaimed by the Prophets throughout Judea, the same sublime and consoling moral teachings which Jesus Christ gave upon the Mount—these are the lessons which the Church teaches from January to December.
The Catholic preacher does not amuse his audience with speculative topics, political harangues, or any other discourse on transitory affairs. He preaches only “Jesus Christ, and him crucified.”
This code of Divine precepts is enforced by the Church with as much zeal as the Decalogue was by Moses, when he said:
“Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise.” [37]
The first lesson taught to children in our Sunday-schools is their duty to know, love, and serve God, and thus to become Saints; for if they know, love, and serve God rightly, they shall indeed be Saints.
Their tender minds are instructed in this great truth: that though they had the riches of Dives, and the glory and pleasures of Solomon, yet if they fail to be righteous, they have missed their vocation, and are “wretched, pitiable, poor, blind, and naked.” [38]
“For what will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?” [39]
On the contrary, though they be as poor as Lazarus and as miserable as Job in the days of his adversity, they are assured that their condition is blessed in the sight of God—if they live according to the maxims of the Gospel.
The Church quickens the zeal of her children for holiness of life by impressing upon their minds the rigour of God's judgements—“who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart”—by reminding them of the terrors of Hell and the sweet joys of Heaven.
Catholics are not only instructed in church on Sundays, but they are also exhorted to read the Word of God and manuals of devotion at home. The saints whose lives are recorded in these texts shine like bright stars, guiding them over the stormy ocean of life towards the shores of eternity. Meanwhile, the stories of those who have fallen from grace stand as beacon lights, warning them to avoid the rocks upon which even a Solomon and a Judas were shipwrecked.
Our books of piety are adapted to every spiritual need of the [020] human soul, and serve as a fertile source of sanctification.
Who can read, without spiritual profit, such works as the almost-inspired Following of Christ by Thomas à Kempis; Christian Perfection by Rodríguez; The Spiritual Combat by Scupoli; the writings of St Francis de Sales; and a countless host of other ascetical authors?
You will search in vain outside the Catholic Church for writers comparable in unction and spiritual vitality to those I have named. Compare, for instance, Kempis with Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, or Butler’s Lives of the Saints with Foxe’s Book of Martyrs.
You lay down Butler with a sweet and tranquil devotion, and with a profound admiration for the Christian heroes whose lives he records; while you put aside Foxe with a troubled mind and a sense of vindictive bitterness.
I do not speak of the Book of Common Prayer, because the best part of it is a translation from our Missal. Protestants also publish Kempis, though sometimes in a mutilated form—every passage in the original being carefully omitted which alludes to Catholic doctrines and practices.
A distinguished Episcopal clergyman of Baltimore once avowed to me that his favourite books of devotion were our standard works of piety. In saying this, he paid a merited and graceful tribute to the superiority of Catholic spiritual literature.
The Church gives us not only the most pressing motives, but also the most potent means for our sanctification. These means are furnished by prayer and the Sacraments.
She exhorts us to frequent communion with God through prayer and meditation, and so imperative is this obligation in our eyes, that we would justly hold [021] ourselves guilty of grave dereliction of duty were we to neglect, for any considerable time, the practice of morning and evening prayer.
The most abundant source of graces is also found in the seven Sacraments of the Church.
Our soul is bathed in the Precious Blood of Jesus Christ at the font of Baptism, from which we come forth as “a new creation.” We are then and there incorporated with Christ, becoming “bone of His bone and flesh of His flesh”; for, as the Apostle says, “As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.” [40]
And as the Holy Spirit is inseparable from Christ, our bodies are made the temples of the Spirit of God, and our souls His sanctuary.
“Christ loved the church and gave himself up for it, in order to make it holy by cleansing it with the washing of water by the word, so as to present the church to himself in splendour, without a spot or wrinkle or anything of the kind—yes, so that she may be holy and without blemish.” [41]
In Confirmation, we receive new graces and renewed strength to battle against the temptations of life.
In the Eucharist, we are fed with the living Bread which comes down from Heaven.
In Penance, the stains we have contracted after Baptism are washed away.
Are we called to the Sacred Ministry or to the married state, we find in the Sacraments of Orders and Matrimony ample graces, suited to the condition of life which we have embraced.
And in our final illness, we are consoled by Extreme Unction, through which we receive the Divine assistance necessary to strengthen and purify us before departing from this world.
In a word, the Church, like a vigilant mother, accompanies [022] us from cradle to grave, supplying us at every step with the medicine of life and immortality.
As the Church offers her children the strongest motives and the most powerful means for attaining sanctity of life, so too does she reap among them the most abundant fruits of holiness.
In every age and country, she is the fruitful mother of saints.
Our ecclesiastical calendar is not limited to the twelve Apostles. It is emblazoned with the names of heroic Martyrs who “were stoned to death, were sawn in two, were killed by the sword”;[42] of innumerable Confessors and Hermits who left all things and followed Christ; of spotless Virgins who preserved their chastity for the sake of the Kingdom of Heaven.
Every day of the year is consecrated, in our Martyrology, to a large number of Saints.
And even in our own times, in every quarter of the globe and in every walk of life, the Church continues to raise up Saints worthy of the primitive days of Christianity.
If we seek for Apostles, we find them conspicuously among the Bishops of Germany, who are at this moment displaying in prison and in exile a serene heroism worthy of Peter and Paul.
Every year records the tortures of Catholic missioners who die martyrs to the Faith in China, Korea, and other pagan countries.
Among her Confessors are numbered those devoted priests who, abandoning home and family ties, go forth annually to preach the Gospel in foreign lands. Their worldly possessions are often confined to a few devotional books and their modest apparel.
[023] And who is a stranger to her consecrated virgins—those sisters of various Orders who, in every large city of Christendom, are daily reclaiming degraded women from a life of shame and restoring them to the sweet influences of religion; who snatch the abandoned offspring of sin from temporal and spiritual death and make of them pious and useful members of society, becoming more than mothers to them; who rescue children from ignorance and instil into their minds the knowledge and love of God?
We can also point to numberless saints among the laity. I dare assert that in almost every congregation in the Catholic world, there are men and women whose fervent piety and zeal for religion render them worthy of being named after the Annas, the Aquilas, and the Priscillas of the New Testament.
They attract no public admiration, for true piety is unostentatious and seeks “the life hidden with Christ in God.” [43]
It must not be imagined that, in proclaiming the sanctity of the Church, I am attempting to prove that all Catholics are holy. I am sorry to confess that corruption of morals is far too often found among professing Catholics. We cannot close our eyes to the painful reality that many of them, far from living up to the teachings of their Church, are indeed a source of deep and melancholy scandal.
“Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to the one by whom the stumbling-block comes!”
I also admit that the sin of Catholics is more heinous in the sight of God than that of their separated brethren, because they abuse more grace.
But it should be borne in mind that neither God nor His Church forces any man’s conscience. To all, He says by the mouth of His Prophet:
“See, I am setting before you the way of life and the way of death.” (Jer. xxi. 8) [024]
The choice rests with yourselves.
It is easy to explain why so many disedifying members are always found clinging to the robes of the Church, their spiritual Mother, and why she never shakes them off nor disowns them as her children.
The Church is animated by the spirit of her Founder, Jesus Christ.
“The saying is sure and worthy of full acceptance, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.” [44]
He “came not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.”
He was the Friend of Publicans and Sinners—that He might make them the friends of God. And they clung to Him, knowing His compassion for them.
The Church, walking in the footsteps of her Divine Spouse, never repudiates sinners nor casts them off from her fold, no matter how grievous or notorious their moral delinquencies may be. This is not because she connives at their sin, but because she seeks to reclaim them.
She urges them never to despair, and seeks, at the very least, to weaken their passions—even if she cannot altogether reform their lives.
Mindful also of the words of our Lord:
“The poor have good news brought to them,” [45]
the Church shows tender compassion for the victims of poverty, which brings its own train of peculiar temptations and infirmities.
Hence, the poor and the sinners cling to the Church as they clung to our Lord during His mortal life.
We know, on the other hand, that sinners who are guilty of gross crimes which offend public decency are virtually excommunicated from Protestant communions.
And as for the poor, the public press often laments that little or no provision is made for them in Protestant churches. A gentleman once informed [025] me that he had never seen a poor person enter an Episcopal church situated adjacent to his residence.
These excluded sinners and victims of penury either abandon Christianity altogether, or they find refuge in the bosom of their true Mother—the Catholic Church—who, like her Divine Spouse, claims the afflicted as her most cherished inheritance.
The parables employed by our Lord to describe the Church also clearly teach that the good and the bad shall remain joined together in the Church for as long as her earthly mission endures.
“The kingdom of heaven may be compared to someone who sowed good seed in his field,” but weeds grew up among the wheat and were permitted to remain until the harvest.[46]
It is “like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind,” both good and bad, which are sorted only when the net is drawn ashore.[47]
Likewise, the Church is described as “a large house” in which “there are utensils not only of gold and silver but also of wood and clay.” [48]
The Fathers of the Church echo this Scriptural teaching. St Jerome writes:
“The ark of Noah was a figure of the Church. Just as every kind of animal was found in the ark, so too in the Church are men of every disposition. As in that ark were leopards and kids, wolves and lambs, so also in this ark there are the just and the sinful—vessels of gold and silver alongside those of wood and clay.” [49]
St Gregory the Great adds:
“Because in it—the Church—the good are mingled with the bad, the reprobate with the elect, it is rightly compared to the wise and foolish virgins.” [50]
Listen to St Augustine:
“Let the mind recall the threshing-floor containing straw and wheat; the nets in which are enclosed good and bad fish; the ark of Noah in which were clean and unclean animals, and you will see that the Church from now [026] until the judgement day contains not only sheep and oxen—that is, saintly laymen and holy ministers—but also the beasts of the field.… For the beasts of the field are men who take delight in carnal pleasures, the field being that broad way which leads to perdition.” [51]
The occasional scandals found among members of the Church do not invalidate or impair her claim to the title of sanctity.
The spots on the sun do not mar its brightness. Neither do the moral stains of some members sully the radiance of her “who comes forth as the morning star, fair as the moon, bright as the sun.” [52]
The cockle that grows amidst the wheat does not destroy the beauty of the ripened harvest. The sanctity of Jesus was not sullied by the presence of Judas in the Apostolic College. Neither can the moral corruption of a few disciples tarnish the holiness of the Church.
St Paul calls the Church of Corinth a congregation of saints,[53] though he reproves some scandalous members among them.[54]
It cannot be denied that corruption of morals prevailed in the sixteenth century to such an extent as to call for a sweeping reformation, and that laxity of discipline had crept even into the sanctuary.
But how was this reformation of morals to be achieved?
Was it to be accomplished by a force operating from within the Church, or from without?
I answer that the proper way of carrying out this reformation was by confronting iniquity within the Church. For there was not a single weapon that could be wielded in the battle against vice outside the Church that could not be employed more effectively under the authority of the Church.
The true weapons of an Apostle, in every age, have been personal virtue, prayer, preaching, and the Sacraments.
Every genuine reformer had these weapons at his disposal within the Church.
She possesses, at all times, not only the principle of undying vitality but also all the elements necessary for reformation and every means of sanctification. With the weapons I have named, she purified morals in the first century; and with the same instruments, she set to work with sincere zeal and brought about a moral reformation in the sixteenth century.
She was the only truly effective spiritual reformer of that age.
What, after all, was the Council of Trent, if not a great reforming tribunal? Most of its decrees were directed to correcting abuses among both clergy and laity. The salutary fruits of its legislation are still being harvested today.
St Charles Borromeo, the nephew of a reigning Pope, was the greatest reformer of his time. His entire episcopal career was spent in elevating the moral life of his clergy and his people.
Bartholomew, Archbishop of Braga in Portugal, preached an unrelenting crusade against iniquity in both high and low places. St Ignatius of Loyola and St Alphonsus, with their companions, were conspicuous and successful reformers across Europe. St Philip Neri was known as the modern Apostle of Rome, owing to his fruitful efforts in overturning vice within that city.
All these Catholic Apostles preached by example as well as by word.
And how do Luther, Calvin, Zwingli, Knox, and Henry VIII compare with these genuine and saintly reformers—either in the integrity of their moral character or in the fruit of their labours?
The private lives of these so-called reformers were marred by [028] cruelty, rapine, and licentiousness. And as a consequence of their propagandist efforts, history records civil wars, bloodshed, bitter religious strife, and the dismemberment of Christianity into a thousand sects.
Instead of co-operating with the lawful authorities in extinguishing the flames which the passions of men had enkindled in the city of God, these faithless citizens fled from the very citadel they had vowed to defend. Then, joining ranks with the enemy, they hastened back—not to restore peace, but to fan the conflagration and intensify the commotion.
They overturned the very altars before which they had formerly ministered as consecrated priests.[55] They lent sanction to rebellion by striking at the principle of authority itself.
What a noble opportunity they lost—an opportunity of earning for themselves immortal honours from both God and man!
Had they, instead of raising the standard of revolt, waged war upon their own passions and stood shoulder to shoulder with Catholic reformers against impiety, they would now be hailed as true soldiers of the Cross. They would have been welcomed by the Pope, the Bishops, the clergy, and by all good and faithful souls.
They might be honoured today upon our altars, and might occupy a niche in our sacred temples beside Charles Borromeo and Ignatius Loyola.
And instead of a divided army of Christians, we should behold today a united Christendom—spreading itself irresistibly from nation to nation, and bringing all kingdoms to the knowledge of Jesus Christ.
30 I. Pet. ii. 9.
31 Heb. i. 3.
32 Exod. xxv. 40.
33 Lev. xix. 2.
34 Matt. v. 48.
35 Eph. v. 1.
36 Ephes. iv. 11, 13.
37 Deut. vi. 6, 7.
38 Apoc. iii. 7.
39 Matt. xvi. 26.
40 Gal. iii. 27.
41 Eph. v. 25-27.
42 Heb. xi. 37.
43 Coloss. iii. 3.
44 I. Tim. i. 15.
45 Matt. xi. 5.
46 Matt. xiii. 24-37.
47 Ibid. xiii. 47.
48 II. Tim. ii. 20.
49 Dial. contra Lucif.
50 Hom. 12, in Evang.
51 In Ps. viii., ii. 13.
52 Cant. vi. 9.
53 I. Cor. i.
54 I. Cor. v.
55 Luther, Zuinglius, and Knox had been ordained priests. Calvin had studied for the priesthood, but did not receive Orders.