Sunday Morning Storyland - Sunday Sermons for Children
By: Rev. Wilfrid J. Diamond Imprimatur 1945

WE PREPARE the way of the Lord by rooting sin out of our lives, and the way to root out sin is to avoid the occasions of sin. Avoid occasions and prepare the way of the Lord. This morning's story tells us how we can avoid occasions of sin.

There was once a rich man who was very fond of his aged mother. One day he was going to hire a chauffeur to take her out for a drive every afternoon. Three men asked for the job.

The rich man said to them, "I wouldn't want any accidents to happen while you were taking my mother for a drive. O'll give you all the same test and see how well you can drive. Beside the road, there is a ditch. I want you to see how close you can drive to that without falling in."

The first driver said to himself, "This is easy." He got behind the steering wheel and came zooming down the road to miss the ditch by four inches.

The second man whispered to himself, "I can do better than that." He came zooming down the road and missed the ditch by two inches.

The third man had been thinking very hard in the meantime. He missed the ditch by three feet.

The other two men giggled. But the rich man said to him, "The job is yours. I want a man who will drive safely. A safe driver does not come as close to the ditch as he can."

The lesson is that we must avoid the occasion of sin. We must not see how close we can come to sin without falling into it. WE must stay away from it. If, then, whenever you go out with so and so, he tempts you to steal, stay away from him. If when you are with a certain girl, you always backbite someone, stay away from her. Those people are bad company for you. They are occasions of sin and are to be avoided. If you know that you have sinned in someone's company, avoid him in the future. If you curse and swear when you are with a certain group, avoid that group. Do not see how close you can come to the ditch of sin without falling in. Stay in your lane. The man who was hiring the the chauffeurs knew that if they drove close to the ditch all the time they would fall into it some day.

The devil tries to tempt you to come close to sin. He knows that you will fall into it if you do. You can fool him if you want to simply by staying in your own lane and by not driving close to the ditch. Stay away from the occasions of sin. Root sin out of your soul and you will be preparing the way of the Lord.

A Year with the Von Trapp Family
By: Maria Von Trapp

A Land Without Sunday
"Our neighbors in Austria were a young couple, Baron and Baroness K. They were getting increasingly curious about Russia and what life there was really like. One day they decided to take a six-weeks trip all over Russian their car. This was in the time when it was still possible to get a visa. Of course, at the border they were received by a special guide who watched their every step and did not leave them for a moment until he deposited them safely again at the border, but they still managed to get a good first-hand impression. Upon their return they wrote a book about their experiences, and when it was finished, they invited their neighbors and friends to their home in order to read some of their work to them. I shall always recall how slowly and solemnly Baron K. read us the title: "The Land Without a Sunday." Of all the things they had seen and observed, one experience had most deeply impressed them: that Russia had done away with Sunday. This had shocked them even more than what they saw of Siberian concentration camps or of the misery and hardship in the cities and country. The absence of Sunday seemed to be the root of all the evil.

"Instead of a Sunday," Baron K. told us, "Russians have a day off. This happens at certain intervals which carry in different parts of the country. First they had a five-day week, with the sixth day off, then they had a nine-day work period, with the tenth day off; then again it was an eight-day week. What a difference between a day off and a Sunday! The people work in shifts. While one group enjoys it's day off, the others continue to work in the factories or on the farms or in the stores, which are always open. As a result the over-all impression throughout the country was that of incessant work, work, work. The atmosphere was one of constant rush and drive; finally, we confessed to each other that what we were missing most was not a well cooked meal, or a hot bath, but a quiet, peaceful Sunday with church bells ringing and people resting after prayer."

Here I must first tell what a typical Sunday in Austria was like in the old days up to the year before the second world war. As I have spent most of my life in rural areas, it is Sunday in the country that I shall describe.

First of all, it begins on Saturday afternoon. In some parts of the country the church bell rings at three o'clock, in others at 5 o'clock, and the people call it "ringing in the Feierabend. Just as some of the big feasts begin the night before- on Christmas Eve, New Year's Eve, Easter Eve- so every Sunday throughout the year starts on its eve. That gives Saturday night its hallowed character. When the church bell rings, the people cease working in the fields. They return with the horses and farm machinery, everything is stored away into the barns and sheds, and the barnyard is swept by the youngest farmhand. Then everyone takes "the" bath and the men shave. There is much activity in the kitchen as the mother prepares part of the Sunday dinner, perhaps a special dessert; the children get a good scrub; everyone gets ready his or her Sunday clothes, and it is usually the custom to put one's room in order.- all drawers, cupboards and closets. Throughout the week the meals are usually short and hurried on a farm, but Saturday night everyone takes his time. Leisurely they come strolling to the table, standing around talking and gossiping. After the evening meal the rosary is said. In front of the statue or picture of the Blessed Mother burns a vigil light. After the rosary the father will take a big book containing all the Epistles and Gospels of the Sundays and feast days of the year, and he will read the pertinent ones now to his family. The village people usually go to Confession Saturday night, while the folks from the farms at a distance go on Sunday morning before Mass. Saturday night is a quiet night. There are no parties. People stay at home, getting attuned to Sunday. They go to bed rather early.

On Sunday everyone puts on his finery. The Sunday dress is exactly what its name implies- clothing reserved to be worn only on Sunday. We may have one or the other "better dress" besides. We may have evening gowns, party dresses- but this one is our Sunday best, set aside for the day of the Lord. When we put it on, we invariably feel some of the Sunday spirit come over us. In those days everybody used to walk to church even though it might amount to a one or two hours' hike down and up a mountain in rain or shine. Families usually went to the High Mass; only those who took care of the little children and the cooking had to go to the early Mass.

I feel sorry for everyone who has never experienced such a long ,peaceful walk home from Sunday Mass, in the same way as I feel sorry for everyone who has never experienced the moments of twilight after sunset before one would light the kerosene lamps. I know that automobiles and electric bulbs are more efficient, but still they are not complete substitutes for those other, more leisurely ways of living.

Throughout the country, all the smaller towns and villages have their cemeteries around the church; on Sunday, when the High Mass was over, the people would go and look for the graves of their dear ones, say a prayer, sprinkle holy water- a friendly Sunday visit with the family beyond the grave.

In most homes the Sunday dinner was at noon. The afternoon was often spent in visiting from house to house, especially visiting the sick. The young people would meet on the village green on Sunday afternoons for hours of folk dancing' the children would play games; the grownups would very often sit together and make music. Sunday afternoon was a time for rejoicing, for being happy, each in his own way.

Until that night at Baron K.'s house we had done pretty much the same as everybody else. Saturday we had always kept as Feierabend for Sunday. There was cleaning on Saturday morning throughout the house, there was cleaning all the children's quarters- desks and drawers and toys were put in order. There was the laying out of the Sunday clothes. There was the Saturday rosary, and then early to bed.

On Sunday we often walked to the village church for High Mass, especially after we had started to sing. Later we used to go into the mountains with the children, taking along even the quite little ones, or we used to play an Austrian equivalent of baseball or volleyball, or we sat together and sang some of the songs we had collected ourselves on our hikes through the mountains. We also did a good deal of folk dancing, we had company come or we went visiting ourselves--just as everybody else used to do. And if anybody had asked us why we began our Sunday on Saturday in the late afternoon, why we celebrated our Sunday this way, we would have raised our eyebrows slightly and said, "Well, because that's the way it's always been done."

But when my husband and I were walking home that night from Baron K.'s house, we realized that our complacency--so prevalent among people in pre-war days--had received a rude shock. It dawned on us that we had taken something for granted that was, in reality, a privilege: namely, that we lived in a country where Sunday was not so much observed as it was celebrated as the day of the Lord. This was a new way of looking at things, and the light was still rather dim, but I can see now in retrospect that a new chapter in our life as a Christian family began that very night.

We were lucky. The priest who stayed with us at that time, saying Mass in our chapel, and who had become a close friend of the family, was in a very special way a "Sunday fan," as we teasingly called it.

"I don't know what is the matter with Father Joseph," my husband had remarked to me at various times. "He always hints that we don't make enough of the Lord's Day. Why, we stop work on Saturday when the "Feierabend" begins; like everybody else, we get ready for Sunday by preparing our Sunday clothes, going to Confession, reading the Epistle and Gospel. On Sunday we go to Mass together with our children, we have a good Sunday breakfast, later in the day we go visiting. If there's anyone sick among our friends, we try to see him. We spend the day together as a family, as it should be. We go for hikes with the children, or we play games, or we have some folk dancing, or we make music....I really don't know what he means."

I do know now. It is true that we spent the Day of the Lord as a family, praying, resting, and rejoicing together. I'm sure Father Joseph did not object to that. But what he felt was that we did it unthinkingly, as a matter of routine, because everybody in Austria in those days did it like this. It had become a tradition. Father Joseph must have sensed the great danger to a nation once people observe religious customs only because "everybody does it" or "for hundreds of years it has been done this way." He knew that every generation has to rediscover for its own use the inheritance that has been handed down from its ancestors. Otherwise all those beautiful old customs, religious or other, lose their vitality and become museum pieces. Father Joseph noticed that increasingly people were answering, when asked why they observed certain rites, "because we have always done it that way," and he was alarmed. What he was most concerned about, however, was the celebration of Sunday.

On the crucial night, we decided that we would get together with Father Joseph the very next day and ask him to tell us all we didn't know about Sunday. So we asked him to have a cup of coffee with us. If he had a weakness, it was for coffee. With this, one could lure him always. Smiling in anticipation, he took his cup when my husband asked quite casually, "Father, would you mind telling us all about Sunday and why you were so upset when we once wanted to go to a movie on Saturday night, or when Rupert and Werner took their bicycles apart on a Sunday afternoon?"

And now something unexpected happened. Father Joseph put his cup down, went over to my husband, took his hand in both of his, shook it heartily, and said with a voice audibly moved: "Thank you, Georg, thank you for this question. I have been praying for this moment for a long time!" And then he added, "I won't be able to tell you all about Sunday, but we can at least start...."

How well I remember it all--for I have re-lived this moment many times since, only now it is I who take Father Joseph's place and listen to some more or less impatient good Christian questioning: "May I ask what is the matter with you and your Sunday and what you are always fussing about?"

Father Joseph was right. He was not able to tell us everything in this first session. When my husband and I saw that we were on the threshold of a great discovery, we suggested that we let the older children participate. From then on we spent many, many evenings, and every Saturday evening, listening to Father Joseph explaining to us "all about Sunday."

He began by giving us a history of the development of the Sunday in Apostolic times. The first Christian community in Jerusalem remained faithful to the observation of the Sabbath Day as well as to the prayer in the Temple, as we know from the "Acts of the Apostles." But at a very early date the Apostles themselves must have instituted a new custom after the close of the Sabbath, the Christians remained assembled in prayer and meditation and chanting of hymns to spend the night in vigil and to celebrate the Holy Eucharist in the early hours of the morning. As their Lord and Saviour had risen from the dead on the day after the Sabbath--"in prima Sabbathi," as the four Evangelists call that day--the first Christian community celebrated, not the seventh day, like the Jews, but the first day of the week, and so made every Sunday into a little Easter.

Then Father Joseph suggested we read in the "Acts of the Apostles" about those times when the young Church was increasingly faced with the perplexing question whether non-Jewish converts from paganism should be obliged to observe all the Jewish laws too, as, for instance, the observation of the Sabbath Day. And we read about the Council of Jerusalem around the year 50 A.D., when the Apostles decided that the Sabbath Day need not be observed any more. From then on the "Acts of the Apostles" reveal that those two sacred days begin to conflict. St. Paul still uses the Sabbath to teach in the synagogues about Jesus Christ, but he also organizes and presides over the Sunday celebration in the new Christian communities of the Greek world. The conflict becomes more open toward the end of the first century when the Christians cease to call their holy day "Sabbath" and name it "the Lord's Day," or "Dominica," instead. We find the first mention of "the Lord's Day" in the first chapter of the Apocalypse, where St. John says that his vision took place on "the Lord's Day." St. Ignatius of Antioch will use this term again in his letters to the young Christian communities. In the Didache, one of the earliest descriptions of the lives of the first Christians, we find the sentence, "But on the Lord's Day, when you have gathered together, break bread and give thanks."

In the days of St. Ignatius, who was martyred around the year 110, the Christians went one step further in their detachment from the Old Testament, which now was considered as a symbol and prefiguration, to be fulfilled in the New Testament. St. Ignatius writes that "it is monstrous to talk of Jesus Christ and to practice Judaism." In his day, the Sunday already had completely replaced the Sabbath of the Old Law as the weekly sacred day.

Then Father Joseph told us about the situation of the Christians outside the Holy Land. In the Roman Empire, every ninth day was a holiday. The Christians in Rome and Asia Minor were unacquainted with the main characteristic of the Jewish Sabbath Day--the complete cessation of work. Living under Roman law, it would have been impossible for them to stop working, especially in periods of persecution. We now came to see that, while the act of worship of the Sabbath of old consisted in abstaining from work, the act of worship of the Sunday of the Christians consisted, from the very beginning, in the celebration of the Eucharist. To assist at the sacrifice of the Mass was strictly indispensable. Even in times of persecution, when the Church had to go underground, the Holy Eucharist was celebrated secretly in private homes early in the morning. Every Sunday morning the Christians risked their lives in order to celebrate the Holy Eucharist. We know that Rome had its very efficient secret police and that during the first three hundred years of Christianity, thousands of martyrs sacrificed their lives. What a great day Sunday must have been to those people! One of our children asked, "Father Joseph, didn't the early Christians always celebrate Holy Mass in the catacombs?" and he answered that the most recent archeological findings show that the most ancient churches in Rome were erected on the foundations of private homes; the common belief is now that the catacombs, as public cemeteries, would have been too easy a target for the Roman police. Only occasionally Holy Mass was said there, over the body of one of the martyrs; the usual Sunday celebration would take place secretly in private homes.

Next we saw the Church rising in the beginning of the fourth century. The times of persecution were over; a new life was beginning. The ceremonies of the Holy Eucharist did not have to be held in secret and in the dark of the night; they could now be celebrated in broad daylight. This led to important changes in the celebration of Sunday. From now on the Sunday liturgy begins to develop more and more. In the fourth century the great Roman basilicas were erected in different parts of the big city.

At this phase of our study, we spent many evening hours with Father Joseph, listening to his explanation of the origin of the station churches. On the main Sundays of the year, such as Pentecost and the Sundays following the Ember Days, the Pope used to go in solemn procession to celebrate Holy Mass in one of these basilicas, accompanied by all the clergy and faithful of Rome.

Father Joseph's enthusiasm was contagious. He knew Rome as well as we knew our house and garden. He brought a box with postal cards along, showing all the ancient basilicas, all the station churches, details from their architecture, and especially the mosaics. When our concert tour several years later took us to Rome, it was like coming home to a familiar place.

In the fourth century the Sunday took on a new character. Now the Church could afford to declare it the official holy day of the week. In the sixth century we see that the cessation of work has already become a law.

A new change became apparent with the flowering of monasticism. From the very beginning, the monks took up the idea of hourly prayer throughout the day and of special prayers at midnight. This had a decided influence on the celebration of the Sunday vigil, which had always been observed but was now becoming a general practice. After having spent the greater part of the night from Saturday to Sunday and the morning hours in prayer and meditation, the Sunday necessarily took on the character of a day of rest. Now the Sunday had taken over completely the function of the Sabbath. It had become both a day of worship and a day of rest.

Parallel with the development of the Sunday went the development of the liturgical year. In the beginning, the Christians celebrated only one feast: that of Easter. It began on Good Friday, rose to its height on Easter Sunday and was continued during fifty days, the Paschal season, which ended with Pentecost Sunday. The first four hundred years of Christianity did not know the season of Lent, but the Christians fasted every Friday, and later every Wednesday also.

In the fourth century a new feast came to be celebrated: the anniversary of Christ's birth; and just as Pentecost was the completion of Easter, so the feast of the Epiphany became the conclusion of the festive Christmas time. The liturgy of the fourth century, then, was centered on two big feasts Christmas and Easter. As time went on, both of these feasts developed further and added weeks of preparation, the season of Lent and the season of Advent. Now the liturgical year was formed. Its development had a most important influence on Sunday. So far the Sundays had repeated over and over again the celebration of the same mystery: Christ rising from the dead. Now, however, each Sunday took on a significance of its own. No longer were there just "Sundays," but Sundays during Advent, Sundays during Lent, Sundays after Easter, and Sundays after Pentecost. Some took on a special name, such as "Gaudete Sunday," "Laetare Sunday," "Good Shepherd Sunday," "Rogation Sunday."

Of course, our children wanted to know: "And how about the feasts of the saints?" And we learned that during the first few hundred years only a martyr was considered worthy of being commemorated on a special feast day. On the anniversary of his martyrdom Holy Mass would be said, but only at the place where his body rested. This restricted the feasts of the martyrs to specific places. Beginning with the fourth century, saints that had not died the death of martyrdom were given a special feast. Such a feast doubled the octave of the day; hence the name "double feast." For many centuries, however, the sanctoral cycle was considered secondary to the temporal cycle, which is seen, for instance, in the law that during the time of Lent no feast of a saint could be celebrated. Of course, no Sunday would ever yield to the feast of a saint, however famous.

During the Middle Ages the Sunday, besides still being the commemoration of the Resurrection of Christ, took on a special character as a day of forgiveness and mercy. From the ninth century on, the Church asked that on Sunday all military operations be suspended!

In this period falls the development of the liturgical drama. The reading of the Gospel, the reading of the Passion on Good Friday and of the Gospel of the Resurrection on Easter Sunday started it. Several members of the clergy, dressed in alb and stole, took on the different parts in order to make Holy Mass more interesting to the faithful who no longer understood Latin, the language of the Church. It became more and more common to enact parts of the Gospel stories in the sanctuary. In those times the people began to forget that the liturgy should, first and foremost, be prayer and adoration, and not entertainment for the faithful. Furthermore, throughout the Middle Ages the liturgy of the saints grew in importance. The feast of the saints were multiplying and encroaching on the Sundays. Finally, the slightest double feast had precedence over the Sunday, until, finally, in the eighteenth century only Easter Sunday and Pentecost Sunday were properly Sundays and not a saint's day. All the other liturgical Sunday Masses had vanished, even those of the Sundays of Advent and Lent. This condition lasted until, finally, the holy Pope Pius X saw the seriousness of this state of affairs and remedied it with his great reform, which gave the lost Sunday back to the Church.

This is only a brief summary of what we learned in weeks and months about the history of the Sunday. We were also made aware that Our Lord had singled out Sundays for His most solemn acts and commands--His Resurrection, the command to the Apostles to go and preach to the whole world, the institution of the Sacrament of Penance and the Descent of the Holy Ghost on Pentecost. Having realized this, the Sunday can never be a day like any other to us. It is truly a consecrated day, a day of grace.

And this launched us on a new search--for more and more knowledge about the "day of grace." From the very beginning Sunday brought to all Christians, first of all, the grace of dedication. It gave and gives them the unique chance to surrender themselves entirely to God. To what an extent this was true we came to see especially at the times of persecution. Since, from the very beginning, to assist at Mass was identical with receiving Communion, anybody who did not appear at Sunday Mass thereby excommunicated himself and was not considered a member of the Church any more. To the ones who cooperated with this grace of dedication, however, Sunday turned immediately into a day of joy, because joy is the result of dedication. As soon as we surrender ourselves completely to God, our hearts will be filled with peace and joy. Therefore, every Sunday the Church repeats in the Office the words which sound like an echo from Easter: "This is the day which the Lord hath made. Let us rejoice and be glad." So we see that, besides the grace of dedication, the liturgy of the Sunday obtains also for us the grace of joy and the grace of peace. Another grace we discovered, which is designed directly for the majority of the faithful who cannot afford to say with the psalmist, "Seven times a day I have given praise to Thee," and for whom the seven canonical hours and the nightly vigils are some kind of spiritual luxury. God, in His great mercy, has set aside for them every week a sacred day and for that day has provided the grace of contemplation, which otherwise seems reserved only for the ones who have "time to pray." Since the days of St. Jerome it has been believed that the Sunday bestows on all who celebrate it in a Christian manner the grace of contemplation. In the Middle Ages the lay people used to flock into the convents and monasteries on Sundays to talk about God and spiritual things with the ones they considered professionals--the monks and nuns--as we can read in the autobiography of St. Teresa of Avila.

Yet another grace Sunday has in store for us. As we have a right to believe eternity will be one uninterrupted Easter Sunday, so every Sunday throughout the year helps the Christian people to prepare for that great Sunday to come. It is a day of expectation, a weekly reminder that here is only the beginning of true happiness.

The theme is endless. More and more graces will be discovered as we meditate together on the mystery of the Sunday.

It is wonderful to make such discoveries together with children or young people. To them, things are either right or wrong, and as soon as they feel in their own lives that they are not as they should be, they immediately undertake "to do something about it." That is the way it was with our children and the Sunday.

Soon after our research had begun, they founded an "Association for the Restoration of the Sunday" with Father Joseph as president. It was their own idea. The association appointed one member of the family for each Sunday, and he or she had the responsibility of seeing to it that this Sunday would be observed to the best of our ability as the Day of the Lord. The more we learned about the great sanctity of this day, the more disturbed the children became over the inadequacy of our Sunday habits. From now on, Saturday evening would be kept free from any outside appointments. The "Feierabend" would no longer be kept because "everybody did it," but because Saturday night had now become the vigil of the Day of the Lord, hallowed by almost two thousand years of observance. The Sunday clothes were no longer "an old Austrian custom." They helped to stress the sacred character of the day. No one would have wanted to put on dirty work clothes in order to take one's bicycle apart.

Even the younger ones knew that "to visit the sick" and "to help the poor" on Sunday corresponds to the character of a day of mercy--"dating back to the ninth century," they would proudly explain to an unsuspecting uncle.

But, most of all and above all, the gay, joyful character of Sunday was jealously guarded, "because this is the day we should rejoice in the Lord." The children would arrange folk dances with their friends, ball games in our garden, hikes through the mountains, and home music. Through all these activities, however, the contemplative character of Sunday was always evident, with the children demanding to read the Gospels together and to discuss the liturgy even during mealtime.

After our talk with Father Joseph, our previous observation of Sunday seemed to me like a house built on unprepared ground, until a true builder saw it, straightened it up, and put a strong foundation underneath.

And then we came to America.

In the first weeks we were too bewildered by too many things to notice any particular difference about the Sunday, but I remember missing the sound of the church bells. When I asked why the bells of St. Patrick's Cathedral do not ring on Sunday morning, I was told, to my boundless astonishment, that it would be too much noise. These were the days when the elevated was still thundering above Sixth Avenue. Never before had we heard noise like this in the heart of a city!

Then we went on our first concert tour. As we were driving from coast to coast in the big blue bus, we tried to make the most of Sunday--as much as the situation permitted. On Saturday afternoon "Feierabend" was declared, and this meant no school (our children had their lessons in the bus and had to take tests twice a year). Then we met to prepare for Mass, as had become our custom under Father Joseph. Everyone took his missal and we either crowded together in the middle of the bus or met in a hotel room, all taking turns reading the texts of the Sunday Mass. This was followed by a more or less lively discussion and a question period led by Father Wasner. Sunday we would wear our Sunday dress, the special Austrian costume set apart for that day. But otherwise Sunday was the day when we were, perhaps, a little more homesick than on any other day, missing the church bells, missing the old-world Sunday.

As we got more used to being in America and as our English progressed, we made a startling discovery Saturday night in America! It was so utterly different from what we were used to. Everybody seemed to be out. The stores were open until ten, and people went shopping. Practically everybody seemed to go to a show or a dance or a party on Saturday night. And finally we discovered the consequence of the American Saturday night: the American Sunday morning. Towns abandoned, streets empty, everybody sleeping until the last minute and then whizzing in his car around the corner to the eleven o'clock Sunday service.

Once we were driving on a Sunday morning through the countryside in the State of Washington and we saw trucks and cars lined up along the fields and people picking berries just as on any other day. To see the farmers working on a Sunday all across the country is not unusual to us any more, and this happens not only during the most pressing seasons for crops.

When we lived in a suburb of Philadelphia in our second year in this country, we found that the rich man's Sunday delight seemed to consist of putting on his oldest torn pants and cutting his front lawn, or washing his car with a hose, or even cutting down a tree (doctor's orders--exercise!); while the ladies could be seen in dirty blue jeans mixing dirt and transplanting their perennials. There was none of that serenity and peace of the old-world Sunday anywhere until we discovered the Mennonites and the Pennsylvania Dutch. They even rang the church bells!

The climax of our discoveries about the American Sunday was reached when a lady exclaimed to us with real feeling, "Oh, how I hate Sunday! What a bore!" I can still hear the shocked silence that followed this remark. The children looked hurt and outraged, almost as if they expected fire to rain from heaven. Even the offender noticed something, and that made her explain why she hated Sunday as vigorously as she did. It explained a great deal of the mystery of the American Sunday.

"Why," she burst out, "I was brought up the Puritan way. Every Saturday night our mother used to collect all our toys and lock them up. On Sunday morning we children had to sit through a long sermon which we didn't understand; we were not allowed to jump or run or play." When she met the unbelieving eyes of our children, she repeated, "Yes, honestly--no play at all." Finally one of ours asked, "But what were you allowed to do?"

"We could sit on the front porch with the grownups or read the Bible. That was the only book allowed on Sunday." And she added: "Oh, how I hated Sunday when I was young. I vowed to myself that when I grew up I would do the dirtiest work on Sunday, and if I should have children, they would be allowed to do exactly as they pleased. They wouldn't even have to go to church."

This was the answer. The pendulum had swung out too far to one side, and now it was going just as far in the other direction; let us hope it will find its proper position soon.

And then we bought cheaply a big, run-down farm in northern Vermont and set up home. By and by we built a house large enough for a big family, and a chapel with a little steeple and a bell. We could celebrate Sunday again to our heart's content just as we were used to doing. Saturday is a day of cleaning and cooking in our home, and five o'clock rings in "Feierabend," when all work ceases and everyone goes to wash up and dress. If there are any guests around the supper table, Father Wasner will announce that "after the dishes are done we will all meet in the living room, everybody with his missal, for the Sunday preparation, and everyone is heartily invited to join." When we are all assembled, we start with a short prayer and then we take turns reading the different texts of the coming Sunday's Mass, everybody participating in a careful examination of these texts. First we discuss briefly the particular season of the Church year. Then we ask ourselves how this Sunday fits into the season. Do the texts suggest a special mood? Some Sundays could almost be named the Sunday of Joy, or the Sunday of Confidence, the Sunday of Humility, the Sunday of Repentance. Everybody is supposed to speak up, to ask questions, to give his opinion. It is almost always a lively, delightful discussion. At the end we determine the special message of this Sunday and what we could do during the next week to put it into action, both for ourselves and for the people around us. After this preparation for Mass, we all go into the chapel, where we say the rosary together, followed by evening prayers and Benediction.

On Sunday we often sing a High Mass, either in our chapel or in the village church, and on the big Sundays of the year we sing vespers in the afternoon. We know this should become an indispensable part of Sunday, now even more so because the Holy Father has spoken.

I remember my astonishment when our Holy Father, Pope Pius XII, found it necessary to say, in his address on Catholic Action in September, 1947 "Sunday must become again the day of the Lord, the day of adoration, of prayer, of rest, of recollection and of reflection, of happy reunion in the intimate circle of the family." Such a pronouncement, I knew, is meant for the whole world. Was Sunday endangered everywhere, then ?

In the year 1950 we traveled through Mexico, Guatemala, Panama, through the Caribbean Islands and Venezuela, through Brazil and Argentina; we crossed the Andes into Chile, we gave concerts in Ecuador, Peru, and Colombia; and after many months of travel in South America, we went to Europe on a concert tour and sang in many European countries. And I came to understand that the Christian Sunday is threatened more and more both from without and from within--from without through the systematic efforts of the enemies of Christianity, and from within through the mediocrity and superficiality of the Christians themselves who are making of Sunday merely a day of rest, relaxing from work only by seeking entertainment. There was once a time, the Old Testament tells us, when people had become so lazy that they shunned any kind of spiritual effort and no longer attended public worship, so that God threatened them through the mouth of the prophet Osee: "I shall cause all her joy to cease, her feast days and her Sabbath, and all her solemn feasts."

And now the words of our present Holy Father in his encyclical "Mediator Dei" sound a similar warning:

"How will those Christians not fear spiritual death whose rest on Sundays and feast days is not devoted to religion and piety, but given over to the allurements of the world! Sundays and holidays must be made holy by divine worship which gives homage to God and heavenly food to the soul....Our soul is filled with the greatest grief when we see how the Christian people profane the afternoon of feast days...."

Newspapers and magazines nowadays all stress the necessity of fighting Communism. There is one weapon, however, which they do not mention and which would be the most effective one if wielded by every Christian. Again the Holy Father reminds us of it: "The results of the struggle between belief and unbelief will depend to a great extent on the use that each of the opposing fronts will make of Sunday." We know what use Russia made of the Sunday. The question now is:

And how about us--you and I?

First Fruits; A Series of Short Meditations
By: Sister Mary Philip
Imprimatur 1919

God my Father
" I will arise and go to my father" (St. Luke xv. 18).

I.
No earthly father ever loved his child with a love which will even bear comparison with that of God's love for me, His child. I am His own. He has " called me by my name," nay He has " made me and fashioned me," and therefore He understands me through and through. He knows all the circumstances of my life—all the various phases through which I have passed and which have made me what I now am-and knowing all, He understands all. He can make allowances where others see no excuse, and as He loves me with an infinite love, He uses His knowledge to the utmost in my favour.

O God my Father, in whom can I trust as I can trust in Thee, Who knowest all,
seest all, understandest all? Give me the heartfelt love of a child towards Thee, Who, being my God and Creator, art at the same time my most tender Father and Friend.

II.
Am I now, to-day, giving God the love of a child? Do I turn to Him in joy, in sorrow, in disappointment? Do I take all things from His hands, the loving hands of my Father, Who cares with an infinite tenderness for the good of His child? If so, why am I troubled over the circumstances of my daily life? Why do I hesitate when He shows me His Will and asks me to do it? My God, my Father, what can I say to Thee ! Too late, far too late, have I known Thee and loved Thee ; yet, late as it is, to-day at least I can say, " I will arise and go to my Father." I will trust Him with all that concerns me : my body and my soul, my life and my death, my trials, my temptations, my perplexities and uncertainties. He will care for all I love, for all who have any claim on me, for He is m}' Father and I am His child.

III.
God wants my love. No one else can give Him this love if I refuse it to Him. My Father asks something of me, His child. Am I going to hold back ? He says to me,
" My child, give Me thy heart." It is my one treasure, the one thing I can give Him
that will please Him. Is He to turn away sad because of my refusal—He, my Father !
O most tender Father, take, take all from, me. I give Thee my heart, my love, my
affections. Give me Thy love and Thy grace.

Christ, my friend
" I have called you friends" (St. John, xv 15).

I.
Our Lord chooses His own friends. He has chosen me. " You have not chosen Me," He says, " but I have chosen you." What reason this gives me for full love and
confidence. He chose me knowing perfectly all about me; and He is not fickle as so many earthly friends are, He is" Jesus Christ, yesterday, to-day, and the same for ever" (Heb, xiii.). How, knowing all, He can have chosen me, it is impossible for me to understand, but the very mystery of it is sunshine
to my heart.

"How Thou canst think so well of us,
Yet be the God Thou art,
Is darkness to my intellect,
But sunshine to my heart."
-Faber

II.
How does Our Lord show His friendship? He is " faithful and true." He never misunderstands, never misinterprets my words or my actions, never shows me anything but infinite patience and love. He is continually sending me gifts and messages. He visits me daily Himself. He waits hour by hour for me to visit Him. Sometimes He asks me to help Him to carry His Cross, but He never leaves me to do so alone. He considers me in all the circumstances of my life. He never suffers me to be tried above that which I am able to bear. In all things He shows me nothing but love, disguised sometimes it is true, but if I have faith in Him the veil is almost a transparent one. "Such is my Beloved, and He is my Friend."

III.
On my side, how do I treat my Friend? Do I willfully refuse to do that which I know
He is asking of me? What gifts do I make Him ? Do I love Him in " deed and in
truth," or is my service mere lip-service? How often do I visit my Friend, how much
time do I give Him in the day?

O Christ my Lord, my true and faithful Friend,
Let me be a real friend of Thine.
Grant that I may give Thee love for love.
Grant that, loving Thee above all things and
in all things, I may at last be united to
Thee for ever in heaven.
" I need Thee, gracious Jesus,
I need a friend like Thee,
A friend to soothe and sympathize,
A friend to care for me."

The Holy Ghost the Comforter
"I will ask the Father, and He shall give you another Paraclete that He may abide with you for ever'' (St. John xiv. 16).

I.
The Holy Ghost is the Love of the Father and the Son. He is the Spirit of Love. There is nothing the human heart craves for as it does for love. Our desire, then, should be to be filled with the Holy Spirit. If we are in the state of grace, the Holy Ghost abides with us : " Know ye not that ye are the temples of the Holy Spirit?" (i Cor. iii.). Without this Guest of our souls we are restless and unhappy, for, as St. Augustine tells us, " Our hearts are made for Thee, O God, and they can never be at rest until they rest in Thee." This is why the Holy Ghost is called by Holy Church

"True Rest in toil and sweat.
Refreshment in excess of heat,
And Solace in our grief."

II.
The Holy Ghost is called the Paraclete, that is the Comforter. His special mission is
to enlighten, teach, and comfort the soul. If I ask Him, He will enlighten me to know
His Will, and will teach me how to accomplish it in spite of all difficulties. Then, too, He is ever near to console and strengthen me in all my trials and anxieties. The Hoi}'
Ghost comes to us first at our Baptism, then in a very special way in the Sacrament of Confirmation, and He comes "to abide with us for ever." At all times, in all difficulties, in all my doubts and fears, I can count on the guidance of the Holy Spirit Who dwells within me.

III.
Am I faithful to the inspirations of the Holy Spirit? St Paul says: "Grieve not the Holy Spirit within you." Is my conduct ever a source of displeasure to my Heavenly Guest? Do I beg His light and guidance before every important action that I do, and
before every choice that I make? Do I ask Him to guide me into the path along which He wishes me to tread? O Holy Spirit of God, take possession of me wholly. Guide me, enlighten me, instruct me. Give me the grace never to be deaf to
Thy warnings, never to leave Thy inspirations unnoticed and unattended to, but make me so faithful to Thee that even in small things I may never swerve from Thy
guidance.

"Dear Paraclete! how hast Thou waited,
While our hearts were slowly turned I
How often has Thy love been slighted,
While for us it grieved and burned I
Now if our hearts do not deceive us,
We would take Thee for our Lord !
O dearest Spirit ! make us faithful
To Thy least and lightest word."
Faber.

This week's Keeping it Catholic Monday has been replaced with another 50 Days of Easter series. Keeping It Catholic Monday posts will resume after Pentecost.

First Fruits; A series of Short Meditations
By: Sister Mary Philip
Imprimatur 1918

"Simon, son of John, lovest thou Me more than these?" (St John. xxi.)

I.
Saint Peter had thrice denied his Lord and Master during the Passion, and now Our Lord gives him an opportunity of making reparation. All during the public life, even to the very night of the Last Supper, Peter had boasted that whatever the other disciples did, he at least would be true to Our Lord. We know how he fell, and how at a look
from Our Lord he went out and wept
bitterly. Do I ever boast that I am safe from such and such a fault, that in that respect at least I have no cause for fear ? If so, let me learn a lesson from St Peter. If, unhappily, I should fall, let me strive to imitate his deep and heartfelt penitence, a sorrow which he
kept up all his life.

II.
"Lovest thou Me?" I can imagine I hear
Our Lord addressing these words to me. "Lovest thou Me? Lovest thou Me sufficiently to sacrifice thyself for My sake ? Lovest thou Me when I ask thee to do some work for My sake which is naturally distasteful to thee ? Lovest thou Me in the person of My poor? Lovest thou My will above thine own ? Lovest thou Me sufficiently to follow Me, in whatsoever state of life I may call thee to? Answer Me My child, lovest thou Me?" What am I going to answer to this tender appeal of Our Lord ? Can I with truth say to Him : " Yea, Lord, Thou knowest all things, Thou knowest that I love Thee."

III.
Our Lord said to St Peter, "Lovest thou Me more than these?" I can understand
these words as addressed to myself in two ways. First, Our Lord may say to me, "Thou sayest that thou lovest Me more than others do, but where are the proofs of thy love? Where shall I find in thee the charity of My apostles, the purity of My virgins, the zeal of My confessors, the fidelity of My martyrs? Love is proved by deeds."

Secondly, Our Lord may ask : " Lovest thou Me more than these—more than thy
pleasures, more than thy convenience, more than thy life itself?"  Lord, what can I say to Thee? Indeed, indeed I do love Thee, but I cannot compare with Thy holy ones. Increase my love that with more and more truth I may be able to say to Thee, " Lord, Thou knowest all things, Thou knowest that I love Thee."

First Fruits; A Series of Short Meditations
By: Sister Mary Philip
Imprimatur 1918

"It is the Lord" (St. John, xxi. 7).

I.
"... That night they caught nothing. But when the morning was come Jesus stood on the shore." Picture the Apostles weary with their labour during the long dreary night; they had probably started off full of hope that they would have a good night's work, and they caught—nothing ! Then, with the dawn, they drew nigh to the shore and Jesus stood there to welcome them. How often in my life do I start off full of hope? But things go wrong. Darkness seems to envelop me on every side, and I do no good. I make no progress. I seem to acquire no more virtue than I ever had. I
am not more patient, or more kind and submissive. In fact "I catch nothing" of the virtues of my Lord and Master. Then after a long and weary time the light begins
to break. Jesus shows Himself and the darkness is scattered; my weariness is
changed into joy.

II.
"The disciples knew not that it was Jesus." So often is it thus with me. Our Lord is there, but a mist hides Him partly from me, and, because my faith is weak, I do not recognize Him. Yet He is there close to me. In the early morning Mass He is there, offering Himself for me; yet my distractions, my worries, my pleasures perhaps, occupy my mind, and I do not realize that He is there. In the glare of mid-day. He is in the Tabernacle waiting for me. In the evening stillness He is raised on His throne to bless and comfort me, and yet I act as though I did not know that it was He. He comes to me in joy, and I forget that it is His joy, given in love to me. He comes to me in sorrow, and I will not rouse myself to see that it is the best gift He can give me, because it means likeness to and union with Him.

Lord, how often I know Thee not. Open my eyes that I may learn to know Thee
more and more, to recognize Thee under any disguise Thou choosest to take in order to try my faith.

III.
"It is the Lord!" It was St John, the Beloved Disciple, who first recognized Our Lord. Why? St. John was pure of heart. "Blessed are the pure of heart for they shall see God." If I want to see Our Lord in all that befalls me, and under all circumstances,
I must strive to obtain cleanness of heart. In the Blessed Sacrament we recognize
Our Lord, and say with St. John, " It is the Lord," and we know that the Banquet
Jesus has prepared for us there is sweeter far than that which He gave to His Disciples on the shore that April morning, for it is the Banquet in which He gives us His own Flesh and Blood.

O Sacred Banquet, in which Christ is received, the memory of His Passion is
renewed, the mind is filled with grace, and a pledge of future glory is given to us!

First Fruits; A Series of Meditations
By: Sister Mary Philip
Imprimatur 1918

I. "Jesus stood in the midst of them and saith to them : Peace be to you, it is I, fear not." Peace is the great treasure Our Lord desires to give us. At the Last Supper He had said: "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you : not as the world giveth do I give unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, nor let it be afraid " (St John xv.). And now we picture Him in His glorious, risen Life, come to bring this same gift of peace to His disciples, and not to them only, but to all—to me! Our Lord's peace is true peace, founded on distrust of self and boundless confidence in Him. Whatever my troubles, temptations, and trials may be, I can always count on Him. He will give me peace and say to me, "Let not your heart be troubled." "It is I, fear not!"

II. St Thomas was not present at this apparition on Easter Sunday evening. When he came in he was greeted with the words, "We have seen the Lord!" He would not believe, " Unless I shall see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into
the place of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe." How often in the past have I imitated the incredulity and distrust of St. Thomas, and how deeply has my want of trust wounded the heart of my Lord! I have wished, how often, to lay down conditions to God. By my conduct, if not by my words, I have said to Him, " Unless I see the result of my prayers, unless I get help in the exact way I want it, I will not believe!" I will kneel before Him now and ask His pardon for my want of faith, and say to Him sincerely and from the depths of my heart: "Heart of Jesus, I trust in Thee."

III. After eight days Our Lord came and, with the utmost compassion, condescended to the weakness of St Thomas. "Put in thy finger hither, and see My hands . . . and be not faithless but believing." What could St Thomas do but fall on his knees, exclaiming, "My Lord and my God!" Then came Our Lord's gentle rebuke: "Because thou hast seen Me, Thomas, thou hast believed : blessed are they that have not seen and have believed." Here is my comfort, for I have to live by faith. I have not seen, and yet, O Lord, Thou knowest that I believe in Thee. "Thy wounds, as Thomas saw, I do not see, Yet Thee confess my Lord and God to be; Make me believe Thee, ever more and more. In Thee my hope, in Thee my love to store."

This weeks Keeping It Catholic Monday has been put aside to honor the 50 days of Easter with a new post series. Keeping It Catholic will resume once the Easter Season is over. God bless!


Catholic Life; or Feasts, Fasts and Devotions
Section titled Sunday
Imprimatur 1908 Printed by Washbourne

God Almighty in the beginning of the world appointed a Sabbath, or day of rest, to be kept once a week in memory of His having accomplished the creation of the world in six days, and His resting on the seventh; and also that man might not only give rest to his body, but especially to his soul. This is done by withdrawing from the cares and pleasures of life, and raising our thoughts to consider the eternal rest in the world to come, the means to secure it, and the evils to be avoided.

Thus, the day of rest is a remembrance of God's power and goodness, and so an excellent means of increasing our love for Him, because we cannot fail to love Him Whom we know to be the most perfect Being, to Whom all creatures owe their existence, Who is our greatest benefactor. Later on, when the sanctification of the Sabbath was included in the Ten Commandments given on Mount Sinai, Almighty God prefixed the word remember, as time had shown how apt man was to forget Him and His service, by being too fond of the perishable goods and pleasures of this life.

The last day of the week was appointed to be kept holy in the Old Law, but the Church, the beloved spouse of Christ, chose Sunday in memory of our Saviour's resurrection and the descent of the Holy Ghost, both of which happened on that day. Hence it is called the Lord's Day.

We are obliged to hear Mass every Sunday, and to abstain from servile works which are not required by necessity or charity. We ought, also, to endavour to be present at the other public devotions, such as Vespers, Sermon, Benediction, or Rosary. A part of the day might be profitably spent in reading pious books, such as the "History of the Bible," the "Lives of the Saints," the "Imitation of Christ," St. Liguori's "Way of Salvation," and the publications of the Catholic Truth Society, which may be found at most church doors. These will help us to enjoy what peace of heart which is found by those who retire from the noise and tumult of life to devote some time to their eternal interests.

There is a plenary indulgence granted in some countries to the faithful who receive Holy Communion worthily on the first Sunday of the month, and afterwards say a few Paters and Aves for the Pope's intentions.

Those who have more leisure and aptitude may further sanctify the Sunday by teaching catechism in the church, collecting for the various charities, ect. A Sunday spent thus passes sweetly, having been truly sanctified by prayer and charity, and refreshed by family reunions, rest, and innocent joys. It is a guarantee of eternal rest in the kingdom of God.

"Grant I may ever, at the morning ray,
Open with prayer the consecrated Day;
Tune Thy great praise, and
bid my soul arise,
And with the mounting sun ascend the skies;
As that advances, let my seal improve,
And glow with ardour of consummate love'
Nor cease with eve, but with the setting sun
My endless worship shall be still begun."

Example.- Rudolph de Lisele. Born A.D. 1853

If there was one specially marked characteristic about Rudolph from earliest boyhood, it was his absolute fearlessness, whether of danger, ridicule, or hardship, in the discharge of duty. Many striking instances of this better part of valour are given. Take one, there was a French man-of-war station not far from his ship in one of the harbours of the Pacific Ocean. As there was Mass on board this ship, Rudolph thought it best to take his men there rather than go on shore.

Leave was asked and obtained, so a quarter of an hour before the time, he arrived with his men. He himself was invited at once by the officers into the cabin, where they showed him every politeness. But by and by,

the quarter of an hour being expired, Rudolph looked at his watch, and said: "Ah, I see 'tis Mass-time now." These French officers were Catholics, but lived, as too many of the French in that station of life do, in total disregard of religion. So when Rudolph said "It is Mass-time," they replied, "Mass! surely you are not going to Mass?" "Yes, I am," said Rudolph, and, at once taking leave, he went off and entered the place where Mass was said. About the time of the Sanctus one of the French officers slunk in. The next Sunday two or three came in; the Sunday after the whole of the officers attended Mass from every commencement, and they continued to do so for the six weeks longer that the two men-of-war were within easy reach of each other.

Sunday Morning Storyland; Sunday Sermons for Children
By: Rev. Wilfrid J. Diamond
Imprimatur 1945

Monmouth's Escape
In England many years ago there was a general named the Duke of Monmouth. His army was hopelessly defeated in battle and Monmouth was forced to flee for his life. He hid in the fields all day and traveled every night. Finally, his enemies caught up with him. They chased him into a shepherd's hut. Instead of closing the door on poor Monmouth the shepherd did a brave thing. He changed clothes with the Duke and stepped out to meet his foes. Long and well he fought, trying to delay the soldiers until Monmouth could make his escape. He held them off with his sword, for three hours, until he fell exhausted and was killed. The Duke of Monmouth by this time was far away and safe - saved by a good shepherd.

In the war against sin, people have always been pursued by the devil. But Our Lord became a man and fought the devil for three hours on the Cross of Calvary until He too was slain. During the struggle sinful man was able to escape from the devil's power. That is why Our Lord has a perfect right to call Himself the Good Shepherd Who lays down His life for His sheep. Over and over agin He tells us that He is the Shepherd of souls. "If a man has a hundred sheep and loses one, does he not leave the ninety-nine in the desert and go after that which was lost?" "Other sheep I have that are not of this fold; them also must I bring."

What wonderful things our souls must be if Christ the Good Shepherd is willing to lose his life to save them. We should always keep this in mind. We have something within ourselves which is very valuable, something which we treasure and guard. To be the Shepherd of our souls Christ came down to earth. Sheep go to the shepherd for all their needs. For food - Christ has given Himself in the Eucharist to be the food of our souls. For water - our souls drink the sweet waters of Christ in Baptism. For healing - Christ heals the wounds of our souls in the sacrament of Penance. For guidance - whenever we go astray Christ draws us back to Him as the shepherd draws back his sheep with his crook. For protection - the good shepherd will lay down his life for his sheep and Christ died on the cross for us. What wonderful things Christ has done for our souls! What wonderful things our souls must be! We should treasure them and not do anything that will make them displeasing to their Shepherd.

Just as the shepherd died to save the Duke of Monmouth, so did Christ die on Calvary to save us. That is why He has a perfect right to say, "I am the Good Shepherd. I lay down my life for my sheep."

First Fruits ~ A Series of Short Meditations
By: Sister Mary Philip
Imprimatur 1918

"Stay with us, Lord, for the day is now far spent" (St. Luke, xxiv.).

I.
The two disciples are on their way to
Emmaus and are sad. Suddenly a third
traveler joins Himself to them, but "their
eyes were held so that they should not know Him." Our Lord does not reveal Himself to them yet, but He questions them as though He knew nothing of their trouble: "What are these discourses that you hold one with another and are sad?" This shows me how anxious Our Lord is that I should tell Him all my troubles, and lay before Him all my needs. He knows it all, of course, but He delights to receive my
confidence, and indeed has made my petitions the guarantee of my receiving. " Ask and you shall receive."

II.
"Ought not Christ to have suffered thesethings and so enter into His glory." Ought
not? As though the Scourging, the Crowning with Thorns, the Cross, and all His other sufferings were quite a matter of course. What a revelation these words are of Our Lord's humility! He, Who suffered solely for my sins and the sins of the world, speaks as though even for Him suffering was the only way to glory. Next time I have something to suffer I will say to myself: "Ought not I to suffer this, and so lay up merit for heaven?"

III.
When the travelers got to the cross-roads,Jesus made as if He would go farther, but the Disciples constrained Him, saying: "Stay with us, because it is towards evening and the day is now far spent. And he went in with them,"I will store up in my heart this beautiful prayer of the Disciples ; again and again I will say to Our Lord: "Stay with me, O stay with me, my Lord"; I will "constrain Him," beg Him, persuade Him. But Our Lord needs no persuasion, He is always willing to be with me, if only I desire Him. There is no moment in which I can afford to be without Him. Especially after Holy Communion I will beg Him to remain with me. I do not know how soon the evening of my life may close in upon me ; devoutly then, and with all my heart, I will say to Jesus: Stay with me. Lord, because it is towards evening, and my day may" even now be far spent.

The Liturgical Year - Paschal Time Book 1
By: Dom Gueranger Imprimatur 1927

Our neophytes closed the Octave of the Resurrection yesterday. They were before us in receiving the admirable mystery; their solemnity would finish earlier than ours. This, then, is the eighth day for us who kept the Pasch on the Sunday, and did not anticipate it on the vigil. It reminds us of all the glory and joy of that feast of feasts, which united the whole of Christendom in one common feeling of triumph. It is the day of light, which takes the place of the Jewish Sabbath. Henceforth, the first day of the week is to be kept holy. Twice has the Son of God honoured it with the manifestation of his almighty power. The Pasch, therefore, is always to be celebrated on the Sunday; and thus every Sunday becomes a sort of Paschal feast, as we have already explained in the Mystery of Easter.

Our risen Jesus gave an additional proof that he wished the Sunday to be, henceforth, the privileged day. He reserved the second visit he intended to pay to all his disciples for this the eighth day since his Resurrection. During the previous days, he has left Thomas a prey to doubt; but to-day he shows himself to this Apostle, as well as to the others, and obliges him, by irresistible evidence, to lay aside his incredulity. Thus does our Saviour again honour the Sunday. The Holy Ghost will come down from heaven upon this same day of the week, making it the commencement of the Christian Church: Pentecost will complete the glory of this favoured day.

Jesus' apparition to the eleven, and the victory he gains over the incredulous Thomas—these are the special subjects the Church brings before us to-day.

By this apparition, which is the seventh since his Resurrection, our Saviour wins the perfect faith of his disciples. It is impossible not to recognize God in the patience, the majesty, and the charity of him who shows himself to them. Here, again, our human thoughts are disconcerted; we should have thought this delay excessive; it would have seemed to us that our Lord ought to have at once either removed the sinful doubt from Thomas's mind, or punished him for his disbelief. But no: Jesus is infinite wisdom, and infinite goodness. In his wisdom, he makes this tardy acknowledgement of Thomas become a new argument of the truth of the Resurrection; in his goodness, he brings the heart of the incredulous disciple to repentance, humility, and love; yea, to a fervent and solemn retraction of all his disbelief. We will not here attempt to describe this admirable scene, which holy Church is about to bring before us. We will select, for our to-day's instruction, the important lesson given by Jesus to his disciple, and through him to us all. It is the leading instruction of the Sunday, the Octave of the Pasch, and it behooves us not to pass it by, for, more than any other, it tells us the leading characteristic of a Christian, shows us the cause of our being so listless in God's service, and points out to us the remedy for our spiritual ailments.

Jesus says to Thomas: 'Because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and have believed!' Such is the great truth, spoken by the lips of the God-Man: it is a most important counsel, given, not only to Thomas, but to all who would serve God and secure their salvation. What is it that Jesus asks of his disciple? Has he not heard him make profession that now, at last, he firmly believes? After all, was there any great fault in Thomas's insisting on having experimental evidence before believing in so extraordinary a miracle as the Resurrection? Was he obliged to trust to the testimony of Peter and the others, under penalty of offending his divine Master? Did he not evince his prudence, by withholding his assent until he had additional proofs of the truth of what his brethren told him? Yes, Thomas was a circumspect and prudent man, and one that was slow to believe what he had heard; he was worthy to be taken as a model by those Christians who reason and sit in judgment upon matters of faith. And yet, listen to the reproach made him by Jesus. It is merciful, and withal so severe! Jesus has so far condescended to the weakness of his disciple as to accept the condition on which alone he declares that he will believe: now that the disciple stands trembling before his risen Lord, and exclaims, in the earnestness of faith, `My Lord and my God!' oh! see how Jesus chides him! This stubbornness, this incredulity, deserves a punishment: the punishment is, to have these words said to him: `Thomas! thou hast believed, because thou hast seen!'

Then was Thomas obliged to believe before having seen? Yes, undoubtedly. Not only Thomas, but all the Apostles were in duty bound to believe the Resurrection of Jesus even before he showed himself to them. Had they not lived three years with him? Had they not seen him prove himself to be the Messias and the Son of God by the most undeniable miracles? Had he not foretold them that he would rise again on the third day? As to the humiliations and cruelties of his Passion, had he not told them, a short time previous to it, that he was to be seized by the Jews in Jerusalem, and be delivered to the gentiles? that he was to be scourged, spit upon, and put to death?

After all this, they ought to have believed in his triumphant Resurrection, the very first moment they heard of his Body having disappeared. As soon as John had entered the sepulchre, and seen the winding-sheet, he at once ceased to doubt; he believed. But it is seldom that man is so honest as this; he hesitates, and God must make still further advances, if he would have us give our faith! Jesus condescended even to this: he made further advances. He showed himself to Magdalen and her companions, who were not incredulous, but only carried away by natural feeling, though the feeling was one of love for their Master. When the Apostles heard their account of what had happened, they treated them as women whose imagination had got the better of their judgment. Jesus had to come in person: he showed himself to these obstinate men, whose pride made them forget all that he had said and done, sufficient indeed to make them believe in his Resurrection. Yes, it was pride; for faith has no other obstacle than this. If man were humble, he would have faith enough to move mountains.

To return to our Apostle. Thomas had heard Magdalen, and he despised her testimony; he had heard Peter, and he objected to his authority; he had heard the rest of his fellow-Apostles and the two disciples of Emmaus, and no, he would not give up his own opinion. How many there are among us who are like him in this! We never think of doubting what is told us by a truthful and disinterested witness, unless the subject touch upon the supernatural; and then we have a hundred difficulties. It is one of the sad consequences left in us by original sin. Like Thomas, we would see the thing ourselves: and that alone is enough to keep us from the fulness of the truth. We comfort ourselves with the reflection that, after all, we are disciples of Christ; as did Thomas, who kept in union with his brother-Apostles, only he shared not their happiness. He saw their happiness, but he considered it to be a weakness of mind, and was glad that he was free from it!

How like this is to our modern rationalistic Catholic! He believes, but it is because his reason almost forces him to believe; he believes with his mind, rather than from his heart. His faith is a scientific deduction, and not a generous longing after God and supernatural truth. Hence how cold and powerless is this faith! how cramped and ashamed! how afraid of believing too much l Unlike the generous unstinted faith of the saints, it is satisfied with fragments of truth, with what the Scripture terms diminished truths. It seems ashamed of itself. It speaks in a whisper, lest it should be criticized; and when it does venture to make itself heard, it adopts a phraseology which may take off the sound of the divine. As to those miracles which it wishes had never taken place, and which it would have advised God not to work, they are a forbidden subject. The very mention of a miracle, particularly if it have happened in our own times, puts it into a state of nervousness. The lives of the saints, their heroic virtues, their sublime sacrifice -- it has a repugnance to the whole thing! It talks gravely about those who are not of the true religion being unjustly dealt with by the Church in Catholic countries; it asserts that the same liberty ought to be granted to error as to truth; it has very serious doubts whether the world has been a great loser by the secularization of society.

Now it was for the instruction of persons of this class that our Lord spoke those words to Thomas: `Blessed are they who havenot seen, and have believed.' Thomas sinned in not having the readiness of mind to believe. Like him, we also are in danger of sinning, unless our faith have a certain expansiveness, which makes us see everything with the eye of faith, and gives our faith that progress which God recompenses with a super-abundance of light and joy. Yes, having once become members of the Church, it is our duty to look upon all things from a supernatural point of view. There is no danger of going too far, for we have the teachings of an infallible authority to guide us. `The just man liveth by faith.' Faith is his daily bread. His mere natural life becomes transformed for good and all, if only he be faithful to his Baptism. Could we suppose that the Church, after all her instructions to her neophytes, and after all those sacred rites of their Baptism which are so expressive of the supernatural life, would be satisfied to see them straightway adopt that dangerous system which drives faith into a nook of the heart and understanding and conduct, leaving all the rest to natural principles or instinct? No, it could not be so. Let us therefore imitate St Thomas in his confession, and acknowledge that hitherto our faith has not been perfect. Let us go to our Jesus, and say to him: `Thou art my Lord and my God! But alas! I have many times thought and acted as though thou wert my Lord and my God in some things, and not in others. Henceforth I will believe without seeing; for I would be of the number of those whom thou callest blessed!'

This Sunday, commonly called with us Low Sunday, has two names assigned to it in the Liturgy: Quasimodo, from the first word of the Introit; and Sunday in albis (or, more explicitly, in albis depositis), because on this day the neophytes assisted at the Church services attired in their ordinary dress. In the Middle Ages it was called Close-Pasch, no doubt in allusion to its being the last day of the Easter Octave. Such is the solemnity of this Sunday that not only is it of Greater Double rite, but no feast, however great, can ever be kept upon it.

At Rome, the Station is in the basilica of St Pancras, on the Aurelian Way. Ancient writers have not mentioned the reason of this Church being chosen for to-day's assembly of the faithful. It may, perhaps, have been on account of the saint's being only fourteen years old when put to death: a circumstance which gave the young martyr a sort of right to have the neophytes round him, now that they were returning to their everyday life.

Mass

The Introit repeats those beautiful words of St Peter, which were addressed, in yesterday's Epistle, to the newly baptized. They are like new-born babes, lovely in their sweet simplicity, and eager to drink from the breasts of their dear mother, the Church, the spiritual milk of faith -- that faith which will make them strong and loyal.

Introit
As new-born babes, alleluia: desire the rational milk without guile. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.
Ps. Rejoice to God our helper: sing aloud to the God of Jacob. Glor, ect. As new-born, ect.

On this the last day of the great Octave, the Church, in her Collect, bids farewell to the glorious solemnities that have so gladdened us, and asks our Lord to grant that our lives and actions may ever reflect the holy influence of our Pasch.

Collect
Grant, we beseech thee, O almighty God, that we, who have clebrated the Paschal solemnity, may, by the assistance of thy divine grace, ever make the effects thereof manifest in our lives and actions. Through, ect.

Epistle
Lesson of the Epistle of St. John the Apostle. I Ch. V.
Dearly beloved: Whatsoever is born of God, overcometh the world: and this is the victory which overcometh the world, our faith. Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God? This is he that came by water and blood, Jesus Christ: not by water only, but by water and blood. And it is the spirit which testifieth, that Christ is the truth. And there are three who give testimony in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost. And these three are one. And there are three that give testimony on earth: the spirit, the water, and the blood, and these three are one. If we receive the testimony of men, the testimony of God is greater. For this is the testimony of God which is greater, because he hath testified of his Son. He that believeth in the Son of God, hath the testimony of God in himself.

The Apostle St John here tells us the merit and power of faith: it is, says he, a victory, which conquers the world, both the world outside, and the world within us. It is not difficult to understand why this passage from St John's Epistles should have been selected for to-day's Liturgy: it is on account of its being so much in keeping with the Gospel appointed for this Sunday, in which our Lord passes such eulogy upon faith. If, as the Apostle here assures us, they overcome the world who believe in Christ, that is not sterling faith which allows itself to be intimidated by the world. Let us be proud of our faith, esteeming ourselves happy that we are but little children when there is a question of receiving a divine truth; and let us not be ashamed of our eager readiness to admit the testimony of God. This testimony will make itself heard in our hearts, in proportion to our willingness to hear it. The moment John saw the winding-bands which had shrouded the Body of his Master, he made an act of faith; Thomas, who had stronger testimony than John (for he had the word of the Apostles, assuring him that they had seen their risen Lord), refused to believe: he had not overcome the world and its reasonings, because he had not faith.

The two Alleluia Versicles are formed of two texts alluding to the Resurrection. The second speaks of the scene which took place on this day, in the cenacle.

Alleluia, alleluia.
On the day of my Resurrection, saith the Lord, I will go before you into Galilee. Alleluia.

After eight days, the doors being shut, Jesus stood in the midst of his disciples, and said: Peace be with you. Alleluia.

Gospel
The sequel of the holy Gospel according to Jon. Ch. XX.
At that time: When it was late that same day, being the first day of the week the doors were shut where the disciples were gathered together for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in the midst, and said to them: Peace be to you. And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples therefore were glad when they saw the Lord. He said therefore to them again: Peace be to you. As the Father hath sent me, I also send you. When he had said this, he breathed on them; and he said to them: Receive ye the Holy Ghost: whose sins you shall forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you shall retain, they are retained. Now Thomas, one of the twelve, who is called Didymus, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said to him: We have seen the Lord. But he said to them: Except I shall see in his hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the place of the nails, and put my hand into his side, I will not believe. And after eight days again his disciples were within, and Thomas with them. Jesus cometh, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said: Peace be to you. Then he said to Thomas: Put in thy fingers hither, and see my hands, and bring hither thy hand, and put it into my side; and be not faithless, but believing. Thomas answered and said to him: My Lord and my God! Jesus saith to him: Because thou hast seen me, Thomas, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not see, and have believed. Many other signs also did Jesus in the sight of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written, that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God: and that believing you may have life in his name.

We have said enough about St Thomas' incredulity; let us now admire his faith. His fault has taught us to examine and condemn our own want of faith; let us learn from his repentance how to become true believers. Our Lord, who had chosen him as one of the pillars of his Church, has been obliged to treat him with an exceptional familiarity: Thomas avails himself of Jesus' permission, puts his finger into the sacred wound, and immediately he sees the sinfulness of his past incredulity. He would make atonement, by a solemn act of faith, for the sin he has committed in priding himself on being wise and discreet: he cries out, and with all the fervour of faith: My Lord and my God! Observe, he not only says that Jesus is his Lord, his Master, the same who chose him as one of his disciples: this would not have been faith, for there is no faith where we can see and touch. Had Thomas believed what his brother-Apostles had told him, he would have had faith in the Resurrection; but now he sees, he has experimental knowledge of the great fact; and yet, as our Lord says of him, he has faith. In what? In this, that his Master is God. He sees but the humanity of Jesus, and he at once confesses him to be God. From what is visible, his soul, now generous and repentant, rises to the invisible: `Thou art my God!' Now, O Thomas! thou art full of faith! The Church proposes thee to us, on thy feast, as an example of faith. The confession thou didst make on this day is worthy to be compared with that which Peter made, when he said: `Thou art Christ, the Son of the living God!' By this profession, which neither flesh nor blood had revealed to him, Peter merited to be made the rock whereon Christ built his Church: thine did more than compensate thy former disbelief; it gave thee, for the time, a superiority over the rest of the Apostles, who, so far at least, were more taken up with the visible glory, than with the invisible divinity, of their risen Lord.

The Offertory gives us another text of the Gospel relative to the Resurrection

Offertory
An angel of the Lord came down from heaven, and said to the women: He whom ye seek is risen, as he said, alleluia.

In the Secret, the Church expresses the holy enthusiasm wherewith the Paschal mystery fills her; she prays that this joy may lead her to the never-ending one of the eternal Easter.

Secret
Receive, we beseech thee, O Lord, the offerings of thy joyful Church: and as thou hast given occasion to this great joy, grant she may receive the fruits of that joy which will never end. Through, ect.

While giving the Bread of heaven to her neophytes and other children, the Church sings in her Communion Antiphon the Words spoken by Jesus to Thomas. This Apostle was permitted to touch our Lord's sacred wounds; we, by the holy Eucharist, are brought into still closer intimacy with this same Jesus: but that we may derive the profit intended by such condescension, we must have a faith lively and generous, like that which he exacted from his Apostles.

Communion
Put forth thy hand, and mark the place of the nails, alleluia: and be not incredulous, but believe. Alleluia, alleluia.

The Church concludes the prayers of her Sacrifice by asking that the divine mystery, instituted to be a support to our weakness, may give us untiring perseverance.

Post Communion
Grant, we beseech thee, O Lord our God, that the sacred mysteries thou hast give us to preserve the grace of our redemption may be our present and future remedy. Through, ect.