It might be a good idea to write this chapter in the form of a letter to the heart of each one of our confreres. Such a form would be very appropriate.
In any case, we have been looking at good works in their dependence above all on the interior life of the apostle. Prayer and reflection have led us to the analysis of the sterility of certain enterprises from another point of view, and it would seem to be quite reasonable and true to sum up our findings in this proposition:
No work takes deep root, or has real stability, or will perpetuate itself, unless the apostle has begotten the interior life in other souls. Naturally, he cannot do this unless he himself is strong in the inner life.
In the third chapter of Part II we quoted the words of Canon Timon-David concerning the importance of forming, in every work of Catholic Action, a nucleus of very fervent Christians who should in their turn carry on a regular apostolate among their companions. It is easy to see the great value of this leaven, and to what an extent these co-workers can multiply the active power of the apostle. He does not have to work alone: his resources for action are increased a hundred per cent.
Let us hasten to repeat that only a really interior man of works will have enough life to produce other centers of fruitful life. Any purely worldly and nonChristian enterprise is able to obtain eager proselytes who will spread propaganda, and make friends and influence others, in general, whether prompted by brotherly spirit or by rivalry. In such a case, fanaticism or a spirit of competition, sectarianism, or vainglory, solidarity or rivalry are all that is needed to stir them up to activity. But when it comes to creating apostles after the Heart of Christ, apostles who share His gentleness and humility, His disinterested goodness and His zeal for the glory of God His Father alone, is there any other force than can pretend to do this work than an intensive interior life?
As long as an enterprise has not been able to produce such a result as this, its survival is uncertain. It is almost a foregone conclusion that it will not outlive the one who started it. But there is no doubt whatever that the reason for the long life of certain other works is generally to be found in the single fact that interior life has begotten more interior life.
Consider this example.
Father Allemand, who died in the odor of sanctity, founded, before the Revolution, in Marseilles, a youth movement for students and workers. This movement still bears the name of its founder, and for more than a century it has continued to enjoy a remarkable success. And yet, from the natural standpoint, this priest had very few gifts. Half blind, shy, devoid of any talent as a speaker, he was, humanly speaking, incapable of the prodigious activity that his work called for.
A certain lack of proportion in his features should, ordinarily, have aroused derision in young people, but the beauty of soul that was reflected in his looks and in all his bearing prevented it. Thanks to that beauty, the man of God gained a great ascendancy over these energetic youths, by which he dominated them and gained their esteem, respect, and love. Fr. Allemand wanted to build on no foundation but the interior life, and he was strong enough to form a nucleus of young men, at the center of his movement, men of whom he did not hesitate to ask, to the extreme limit permitted by their condition, a complete inner life, uncompromising custody of the heart, morning meditation, and so on. In a word, he asked the complete Christian life, in the sense in which it was understood and practiced by the Christians of the earliest times.
And these young apostles, succeeding one another, have continued to be the true center of this movement at Marseilles; and the movement has given to the Church several Bishops, and continues to give her many secular priests, missionaries, religious, as well as thousands of family men who are at all times the chief support of the parochial works in the great Mediterranean seaport, where they form a group that not only does honor to business and industry and the professions, but constitutes a real center for the apostolate.
We have mentioned “family men.” That brings to mind the burden of the refrain that can be heard almost everywhere: “The apostolate is relatively easy in the case of young men and girls and especially married women, mothers. But when it comes to mature men, it is just about impossible. And yet so long as we have not made the fathers of families not only into Christians but also into apostles, the influence of Christian mothers, great as it is, will be obstructed or short-lived and we will never set the social kingdom of Christ on a firm basis. Now in such and such a parish, or district, or hospital, or factory, there is just no way of getting the men to become deeply Christian.”
When we thus admit helplessness, do we not display our poverty in the exterior life, which alone can teach us the means of preventing so many men from getting away from the influence of the Church? Do we not prefer the easy sermons that are so successful with youths and women to the intensive labor of preparation demanded by sermons that have power to arouse convictions and love and lasting resolutions in the minds and hearts of men? Only the interior life can sustain us in the hidden, backbreaking labor of planting the seed that seems to go so long without fruit. Only the interior life can teach us how much active power there is to be derived from the labor of prayer and penance, and how great an increase in our efficacy in preaching to men would follow from progress in the imitation of all the virtues of Jesus Christ.
So surprising were the reports we received, concerning Catholic Action among the soldiers in a city of Normandy, that we hesitated to believe such success. For instance, how was it possible that the attendance of soldiers at the club should be much greater when there was a long evening of adoration in reparation for the blasphemy and debauchery of the barracks than when a concert or show was presented? And yet we had to give in before the evidence. But our surprise vanished when we were shown to what an extent the chaplain realized the Real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist, and what apostles he had thus been able to form around him.
After that, what are we to think of those apostles for whom movies, plays, and athletics appear to constitute a fifth Gospel for the conversion of nations?
When all else is lacking, no doubt these means may obtain some result by attracting practicing Catholics, or keeping others away from occasions of sin; but how limited and short-lived such a result usually is! God preserves us from cooling the zeal of our beloved confreres who can neither imagine nor employ any other tactics, and who have already conjured up visions (as we did ourselves, in our youth and inexperience) of an empty clubhouse or parish hall, if they should happen to devote less time to putting on these modern amusements, which are, in their estimation, indispensable to success. Let us simply put them on their guard against the danger of giving these things too important a place, and wish them the grace to grasp the doctrine of Canon Timon-David, whose views we presented towards the beginning of this book.
One day—it was only two years after our ordination—this venerable priest was forced to close one of his conversations with us by saying fraternally, but not without a certain amount of pity: “You cannot bear them now.”
Non potestis portare modo (Joan. 16:12).
Wait a little, until you have made a little progress in the interior life, and you will understand better. At present, all things considered, you probably cannot do without such things. All right, then, go ahead, use them, if they are all you have. For my part I am well able to hold on to my young workers and clerks, and to get new recruits, even though in our place we don’t have anything much but a few of those old-time games that are always new and which don’t cost anything, and relax the soul because they are so completely simple. Listen,” he added slyly, “you were up in the attic and saw the band instruments that I, too, thought indispensable when I started out. Well, in a moment the band we have today will be coming this way. You will be able to judge for yourself.”
Sure enough, in a few minutes a group of youths between twelve and seventeen went marching by. There were forty or fifty of them. What an uproar! It was impossible to keep from bursting out laughing at this fantastic brigade upon which the old Canon gazed with such delight. “Look,” he said, “you see that fellow marching backwards at the head of the gang waving his stick like an orchestra leader, and, now, putting it up to his lips and playing it like a clarinet? He is a non-commissioned officer on leave, and one of our most energetic workers. He does his best to get to Communion every day, but, above all, he never misses his half-hour of mental prayer. This real saint is also a terrific joker, and he knows how to use all his talents to see that the games we use as our means don’t get dull. He has no limit to his original ideas, and so he keeps all these little fellows happy all the time. But nothing escapes his adjutant’s eyes, or his apostle’s heart.”
Really, it was extremely funny to see and hear this band of musicians “playing” all the old tunes. They would change as soon as the leader gave the signal by his example. Each member of the “band” imitated some instrument. Some had their hands in front of their mouths like a horn, others were humming into a sheet of tissue-paper, and one or two had mouthorgans. I forgot: in the front rank of the musicians there were a slide-trombonist and a big drummer.
The first had two sticks, and moved one of them back and forth while the other was beating on an old gasoline can. The shining faces of all these youngsters showed that they were really carried away by their game.
“Let’s follow the band,” said the Canon. At the end of the garden path was a statue of the Blessed Virgin. “On your knees, men,” cried the leader, “let’s sing an Ave Maris Stella to our dear Mother, and say a decade of the Rosary.” All these little fellows were quiet for a minute, and then answered the Aves just as piously and slowly as if they were in the chapel. These little southerners, most of them with their eyes down, had been real rascals a few minutes ago, and now they were transformed into angels out of a picture by Fra Angelico!
“Don’t forget,” said the guide, “that is the thermometer of the movement. All our workers aim at this one end: to hold even our most mature youths, those of twenty or more, by simple games, and to get them to like to come here for their time of prayer and recreation, to become children again, and get fun out of any little thing, but above all to get them to pray, and really pray, even in the middle of their games.” The whole group was on its feet again, and off to further musical exploits that echoed throughout the big yard. A moment later the place was in an uproar with “prisoner’s base.” Meanwhile we had noticed that the adjutant, when he got up after the Ave Maris Stella, had whispered a few words in the ear of two or three of the youngsters, who at once, gaily, and as though following a familiar practice, went to change into their street clothes and then were off to the chapel to spend a quarter of an hour with the Divine Prisoner in the Tabernacle.
“Our ambition,” continued Canon Timon-David, speaking with profound conviction, “our ambition must be to form workers in whom the love of God is so strong that after they have married and left the club they should remain apostles, eager to share their charity with the greatest possible number of souls.” And the holy priest continued: “If our apostolate were to aim only at forming good Christians, then our ideal would be feeble indeed! What we have to do is create legions of apostles so that the family, the fundamental social unit, may become in turn a center of the apostolate. Now this whole program cannot be realized unless we lead lives of sacrifice and of intimate friendship with Christ; otherwise we shall never be strong enough, nor discover the secret of success. On these conditions alone will our activity make itself felt in society, or the word of our Master be fulfilled: “I have come to cast fire upon the earth, and what will I but that it be kindled?”
Ignem veni mittere in terram, et quid volo nisi ut accendatur? (Luc. 12:49).
Not until long afterward, alas, did we understand the drift of the living lessons of the Canon, who was such a profound psychologist and tactician, and compare the results of the different means employed, under the eye of God, to whom merely apparent successes mean nothing at all.
According as the means employed are simple, like the Gospel, or complicated, after the fashion of all things that have too much that is merely human in them, we can evaluate both a movement and those who are running it.
The mighty men of Israel, armed from head to foot, had fought in vain against Goliath. But young David took the field against him with a sling, a stick, and five stones from the brook. That was all the boy needed. Yet his cry: “I come to thee in the name of the Lord of hosts”
In nomine Domini exercituum (1 Reg. 17:45) sprang from a soul capable of attaining sanctity.
We hear a lot today about postgraduate training offered by secular groups. It will make little difference if these movements have at their disposal huge sums of money officially contributed by the state, luxurious quarters, and all that. The Church’s postgraduate training groups, for all their poverty, will have nothing to fear from their competition, if they are built on the interior life, and the charm of their ideal, which is the thing that attracts youth before everything else, will win over the pick of the younger generation.
Finally, one more example. It will help us to analyze those active workers who appear to be drawing souls to God so effectively as to make apostles of them, but who, in actual fact, are only working up a certain amount of enthusiasm based on their own natural personal appeal, and on the magnetic influence they exercise on all who come in contact with them. Their following, delighted to be on friendly terms with so attractive and holy a man, and proud to see that he takes an interest in them, form a sort of a court around him and vie with one another even in accepting the painful tasks and duties that appear to reflect true devotion; but they do so mostly to please him.
A Congregation of nuns, excellent catechists, was under the direction of a religious whose life has just been written. He was a man of prayer. One day he said to the local Superior, “Reverend Mother, I think it would be a good thing if Sister So-and-So were to give up teaching catechism for at least a year.”
“Father! What are you saying! Why, she’s the best we have! Children come from every part of town to be in her class, she has such a marvelous knack of teaching! If we take her off, it means most of these little boys will simply desert us!”
“I followed her class from the gallery,” said Father, “and it is true that she sweeps them all off their feet, but it is in all too human a way. Give her another year in the novitiate, and let her get a better foundation in the interior life; then she will sanctify both her own soul and the souls of the children by her zeal and the use of her talents. But at the present time, without being aware of it, she is standing in the way of the direct action of Our Lord upon these souls that are being prepared for First Communion. Come now, Mother, I see that my insistence in this matter makes you unhappy. Very well, I will make a bargain with you! I know a certain Sister N__, a very interior soul, but without any special talent. Ask your Superior General to send her here for a while. The other Sister can come for the first fifteen minutes and start the class off, just to calm your fears of desertion; but little by little she will drop out of the picture. Then you will see that the children will pray better, and will sing their hymns with much more devotion. Their recollection and docility will reflect a more supernatural character. That will be your barometer.”
A fortnight later the Superior was able to verify this forecast. Sister N__ was teaching all alone, and yet the number of children grew larger. It was really Christ that was teaching catechism through her. Her looks, her modesty, her gentleness, her kindness, her way of making the Sign of the Cross all spoke Our Lord. Sister X had been able to take the dryest topic, give it a clever exposition, and make it interesting. Sister N__, did more than that. Of course, she did not neglect to prepare her explanations, and to express them in all clarity; but her secret, and the thing that was paramount in her class, was unction. And it is by this unction that souls really enter into contact with Jesus.
In Sister N__’s class there were far fewer bursts of noisy enthusiasm, or looks of astonishment, far less of that fascination that could have been equally well produced by an interesting lecture by some explorer, or by the account of a battle.
On the other hand, there was an atmosphere of recollected attention. These little boys behaved in the catechism class as they would in Church. No human methods were brought into play to dispel boredom or prevent dissipation. What, then, was the mysterious influence that dominated this group? Make no mistake, it was Christ, working directly. For a soul of interior life teaching a catechism lesson is like a harp that sounds under the fingers of the Divine Musician. And no human artistry, no matter how wonderful, can be compared to the action of Jesus on the soul.
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