16th Sunday After Pentecost

In our first Sunday revival of the Tridentine Mass, I find that the Epistle of the old calendar brings to mind a subject I have often considered but, as far as I know, have never spoken about. The theme was suggested by Saint Paul’s writing to the Ephesians, wherein he speaks of the immeasurable charity that is found in Christ. The phrases of Paul are ardent and compelling. He prays that Christians may know “the breadth and length and height and depth of the love of Christ, which surpasses human understanding, and that [they] may be filled with the fullness of God’s being.” That’s quite a huge intention for anybody’s prayer list! To wish anyone to be imbued with the charity of Christ and be filled with God–that is, with His grace and with the divine indwelling–is to ask all that can be asked for the good of anyone. Recalling that charity is the one thing that will endure into heaven–not our material goods, not our other virtues, but love only–we ought to take great pains to cultivate the love of God and the love of neighbor in the highest degree.

What I would like to speak about today, especially in view of our first Sunday Tridentine Mass, is a response to the charge often made against certain traditionalists (or, if your prefer the term, conservatives), namely that they are often lacking in charity; that they are, in a word, grumpy. It’s an accusation that proceeds from a perception of them which may not be entirely false, I fear, but one that may not appreciate what may lie under the surface.

The first thing I wish to say is that those of a conservative bent (if I may use the expression) are often those who have a sharp perception of evil which often eludes the notice of others. When one comes to know, when one begins to learn, that there are many things wrong with the world; that men sometimes have evil designs of imposing magnitude; that injustices have been foisted upon the political and social order, and (here’s a signal thing) have evil designs especially against oneself, then ensues a sadness, unhappiness, frustration, anger and perhaps vehement zeal. I can speak from experience, as perhaps can many of you here. Particularly with regard to some terrible things that have happened in the Church, in the loss it has suffered in faith, piety, goodness, in sound leadership, in the general weakening of Catholic pride, there’s good reason why one who becomes aware of these should become distressed and unhappy.

What I want to say about this is that I know this reaction to evil. I’ve experienced it myself. Left unchecked, however, it can lead to a prevailing disquiet, cynicism, anger, bitterness, and that puggish demeanor which, as I said, is often noticed in conservatives. Before I address that perception, I first want to say a vindicating word to those who have been offended. It’s true that there have been a lot of bad things that have happened, notably for our purposes, in the Church of recent times. In particular, the loss of the reverence in celebrating the sacred mysteries of the Mass has been a source of great sorrow, and rightly so, especially when replaced by a manner unbecoming of human propriety, let alone of the Divine Majesty. In some places, what passes for the sacred liturgy is simply a disgrace and an outrage. Moreover, the fact that the once ubiquitous and sublime form of the Mass (which I usually refer to as the Tridentine) was denied to us for so long would be enough to make one react with the symptoms of homesickness, alienation, expulsion, disenfranchisement–the condition, in a word, of being spiritually orphaned. To be honest, I’ve felt this too in my great longing to have restored the spiritual and cultural patrimony of the old Mass, and a true renewal of the Church in order, discipline, and in that vibrant way of Catholic life that I once knew in my youth.

Thus far, I can empathize those who have felt these wounds. But only so far. There’s a vast difference between taking reality seriously–of recognizing evil, of being aware of it–and taking onself too seriously. It’s the difference between an inflated estimation of one’s importance and the recognition that the Almighty is in control. It’s the difference between doing what one can to stop evil and practice goodness, and of becoming a crabby malcontent. It’s the difference between lighting a candle and cursing the darkness.

This is where Saint Paul’s doctrine, and with him the whole Catholic spiritual tradition, comes into play. The charity of Christ is something that ought to permeate one’s life and, as a consequence, make him a joyful human being, especially in hard circumstances of life. Some very great saints who suffered enormous hardships were exceptionally cheerful people. Think, for example, of the serenity of the poor man, Saint Francis of Assisi; the quip revealing the stability of soul in Saint Lawrence as his flesh was being roasted; the hilarious pranks of Saint Philip Neri; the smiling and perpetual kindness of Saint Therese to the nuns in her monastery who mistreated her; the list can go on and on. The reason for their joyful spirit in spite of impressive evils of various kinds can be summed up in one thing: they knew that the charity of Christ conquered all things. These saints were so filled with grace and the love of God that it could not help but find expression in their faces, their words, and in their kindliness towards their neighbors. Charity is not boring, nor is it joyless. It’s a vibrant power which towers over the evils that can afflict one’s life. Charity engenders a forgetfulness of oneself and of the evils that one has to endure, and conquers them. This is not some sentimental, touch-and-feel kind of thing, as it is often parodied and caricatured. It is a virtue, at once a tough and gentle.

So what then is my message? It’s really two-fold. If you have been a long-sufferer from the realization that ‘all is not right with the world,’ that ‘all is not right in the Church,’ I commend you for your perceptiveness and I can commiserate with you. But you must remember that every mistake, and every sin, and every sour disposition results from the wrong solution to a problem. If you allow all the bad things you hear about and see to afflict your spiritual life and cause you to become grumpy and caustic, you have taken a wrong turn. This is not the way of the charity of Christ and it is not the way of His saints. It is, in fact, the result of a subtle form of self-love.

The evil one is a clever deceiver. He look for ways to bring down a good man, if given the means. But the one thing that conquers all the evil of the world, the one thing commanded by our Lord, is charity: the love of Christ, and for His sake the love of neighbor: a love whose breadth, length, height and depth is without measure.