T)M X Institute of Social Order 3742 West Pine Blvd. St. Louis 8. Mo. Imprimi potest : Samuel Horine, S. J. Praep. Prov. Missourianae Nihil obstat: F. J. Holweck Censor Librorum Imprimatur : F Joannes J. Glennon Archiepiscopus Sti. Eudovici Sti. Ludovici, die 28 Augusti 1934 Eighth printing, October 1945 Special Edition for the NCCS Branch of USO for FREE DISTRIBUTION Copyright, 1934 THE QUEEN’S WORK, Inc, CHRIST AND HIS CHURCH THESE TWO ARE ONE Accept Christ, You Must Accept the Church “Of course like any man of even limited intelligence, I admire and respect Jesus Christ. I could almost wish I were one of His disciples. But, and you’ll forgive me for saying it, I cordially dislike the Catholic Church.” Ford Osborne had laid aside his profes- sionally humorous mood. He spoke almost grimly. And his sentences were rock-hard as he flung them out into the little group, of which Helen Webb was a sympathetic second. She sat back now with a hardly perceptible sigh. And her eyes swung quickly to the third member of the group. But Father Hall, far from rising in wrath to smite the “insulter of his faith” (as she had feared he might do), simply knocked the cold ash from his pipe, filled it in leisurely fashion, and leaned over and rang a little hand bell on his small table. Ice for Three Into the doorway popped Mary his house- keeper. Mary was to the people of Lake- side more an institution than a person. But as an institution she served Father Hall and his infrequent guests with delightful relish. “It’s hot in here,” said Father Hall to his ancient housekeeper. “I think we should all like something with ice in it. Perhaps our two New York visitors would like something more than ice?” — 1 He looked from Helen to Ford and back to Helen again. “Mary can undoubtedly find something to make you a julep with, if you’d like a julep.” “A julep?” Ford Osborne almost leaped with joy. “If I may mix my figures, father, that would be heaping coals on fire.” “Bring us two long, tall mint juleps, Mary,” said Father Hall. “And bring me an iced coffee, my own particular strength. And frost on all three glasses, please.” Spiritual “Bromides” As the housekeeper disappeared, Father Hall turned back to his guests. “Your remark, my dear Ford, was intel- ligible but stupid. I understand people who use that religious bromidiom, but I wish they knew more about both Christ and His Church.” “Thanks,” replied Osborne, a bit rue- fully. “It isn’t often that I’m told frankly that I’m stupid and talk in bromides.” “No,” commented Helen. “Your friends are usually more merciful than truthful.” “Young lady,” said Osborne, sternly, “re- member you are depending on me for your lift back to Manhattan.” “Am I? Not while there’s still hitch- hiking and I can waggle a thumb.” They all laughed and settled back in the comfortable if venerable chairs in the priest’s little rectory. Ever since their meet- ing at the Open-Mind Forum the visits of these unusually assorted three had grown more frequent. Father Hall had come to — 2— love quite sincerely the clever Ford Osborne, whose prose humor appeared in all the smart magazines; and he had grown to feel a real affection for the bright, intelligent Helen Webb, whose verse had the tang of Dorothy Parker’s without the latter’s cyni- cal malice. The fact that they were pro- fessed unbelievers with a modern slant on all things religious proved merely stimulat- ing to the priest, who found their objections exhilarating and the discussions they pre- cipitated clarifying to his own thoughts. Really One Now he swung back to the young man’s objections. “You see, admiring Christ and disliking the Church is like wanting to decapitate a man because you think his face is handsome but you dislike his body. The Church is really Christ. They are head and body of one divine personality, mystical but real. You can no more say, T love the head, Christ, but I dislike the body, the Church’ than I can say, T think you would be vastly improved if one of Herr Hitler’s headsmen went to work on you and performed a major decapitation’.” “That,” replied Osborne, “is Greek to me.” “The Greek of St. Paul perhaps,” the priest answered, “or the Greek of the New Testament. But it’s truth just the same.” Silly Ideas “You see, Protestantism has rather knocked all sense out of the concept of the Church as Christ established it. You think -— 3 — of the Church as just an organization like, let’s say, Harvard University, only not so smart; or the New York Central Railroad, only not quite so efficient; or General Motors, only lacking its ability to joggle the stock market. “Or you think of it as a building where a group of more or less congenial people meet in order to be emotionally entertained by a clever preacher and to be mildly stim- ulated by fairish music. Or it’s an assembly of people who find that they admire the same style of church architecture and the same general type of service and who meet with more or less regularity, as other groups meet for bridge or lectures on art or the discussion of politics. “Which is as far from Christ’s concept of the Church as . . He fumbled about for a term for his comparison. Mary opened the door and stood balancing a tray on which were three frosted glasses and a generously heaped plate of cakes. “Ah,” cried the priest, “as circus lemon- ade is from a rich and mellow julep ! Bring them here, Mary, and brush those books off the stool.” Identical It was only when they sat back, Helen and Ford feeling the tang of the julep against their lips and palates, Father Hall savoring the strong brown body of his iced coffee, that he resumed. “Let’s put in a phrase. The Church began at the moment of Christ’s Incarna- tion. Or inversely: Christ’s life on earth — 4— and His work will be ended only when the last Pope has laid aside his tiara at the call of Gabriel’s trumpet blasting the end of the world. You cannot separate Christ and His Church. They are one.” Ford Osborne shook his head reluctantly. “IPs not quite cricket (whatever that means) to disagree with a man over his own inspired julep.” “Besides,” interjected Helen, “he, poor man, is drinking only coffee; you should be able to talk brilliantly on alcoholic stimu- lant.” “I accept without acknowledging the handicap,” said the priest. “But,” persisted Ford, “I see no similar- ity whatsoever. Here’s an elaborate organi- zation in place of the simple Christ. Here’s a complicated system of theology and ritual replacing the carpenter and itinerant preacher of Nazareth. I love or could love Him. I find nothing lovable or attractive — except such charming persons as yourself —in the Church. And I frankly doubt if you can show me any similarity, much less identity.” “There,” cried Helen, almost as if she were the umpire, “is an honest challenge.” A light in the eyes of the priest flashed the signal that the challenge was readily accepted. Training for Organization “Let’s go back to the history of Christ and see just what He Himself was planning for His own Church. That will give us our start. — 5— “Christ’s preoccupation with His Church is one of the outstanding facts of His pub- lic life. He talks of it constantly. More important, He begins to build that Church almost from the start of His career. It was as if He knew, as certainly He did, that His own career of teaching and work- ing would be extremely short and He must build up a group to carry on His work when His death had been decreed. Loving the whole world and every man and woman in it, He wisely reached out beyond the bounds of His own time and nation and began at once to plan for the carrying of His truths and His means of salvation to all people of all races and ages. He would die and rise and ascend into heaven. But His work must go on without pause or interruption. All men must find available the truths He had come from heaven to reveal and the strength which He poured out in the bless- ing of His outstretched hands. Training Specialists “Hence quite obviously He was preoccu- pied from the beginning about His Church. For His Church was to carry on His work, as He put it Himself, ‘until the winding up of the world.’ “Christ was consummately an organizer. We find Him assembling some seventy-two men. Out of them He carefully sorts a group of twelve. And upon these He lav- ishes the most exact and careful training. He explains to them in His parables things which are hidden and mysterious. He tells them just what to say and how to say it. He walks with them, talks with them, eats with them, discusses with them His ideals — 6— and high purposes, prays for them that His Father will give them the strength and courage of their important office, promises to send the Holy Spirit into their souls and literally fulfills that promise on Pentecost, and for three years gives the major portion of His efforts, not to teaching and miracles, but to the training of a college of Apostles. “In His company they see just what He does and how He does it. He focuses their attention on those toward whom His heart goes out in special interest. And experi- mentally He sends them off to carry His message to the towns He does not person- ally visit, checking up on their success or failure when they return. “The whole process was that of a skilled organizer's imparting to his followers his spirit and ideals and purposes. He was visualizing an entire future in which they would carry forward His work. And He trained them elaborately and painstakingly for the task of carrying His name and work before all the people. With One Mind “Then He passed a step further. He identified Himself with them. They were, these cornerstones of His Church, to be one with Himself. Their voice was really His voice. ‘Who heareth you heareth me.' He was the Good Shepherd; yes; but He trans- mitted to them the task that was the Good Shepherd's; for they were to feed His lambs and His sheep. He had brought the Gospel, the good news that was to save the world; but it was their sublime privilege to ‘preach the Gospel to every creature,' car- rying on the work He had personally kept — 7— confined to the narrow boundaries of Judea and Galilee. His frequent expression, an integral part of His work for souls, was, ‘Thy sins are forgiven thee’ ; now He turns to His disciples and confers upon them the power to carry on this forgiveness of sins. Wherever they go and whatever they do, He will be with them. Time will pass and they will die; their successors will take up their work. He will still be with them. Until the ending of the world, till every- thing has been finished and done, He will be standing at their side, one with them, their strength, their inspiration, their source of power and unity. “Upon this group of specialists, who were first of all specialists in His own thought and work, He built His Church. Later St. Paul was to call Christ the cornerstone of the Church. Christ Himself had antici- pated St. Paul by choosing St. Peter as the rock on which the cornerstone and the whole Church was to rest, so that we can picture the Church rising out of the rock of Peter and imperceptibly melting into the cornerstone that was Christ and rising with- out break into the towering edifice that was the whole visible Church. Transfer of AM “It was the most complete possible trans- fer of power. No skillful business organizer laying out the plans for his corporation ever so completely identified the corpora- tion with himself as Christ identified the Church with His own person. He was the bridegroom, and the Church was the bride; but, He insisted, bridegroom and bride were really one flesh. Each important action of — 3 - His life, each significant interest of His heart He transferred to the Church. And the early Christians looking upon the identity of the bishops and Christ, of the priests and the Christ they served, called them by the lovely name of ‘Alter Christus,’ ‘Another Christ/ And St. Paul, feeling as a bishop this identity with Christ, cried out in those words, ‘I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me/ The Apostles and the early Church felt they had no individual identity; they were the living and walking continuance of the mission of Christ to the world. They spoke His words, performed His actions, loved those He had loved, lived only to see His kingdom triumphant upon earth.” “A beautiful concept and easily intelligi- ble,” Osborne agreed. “But quite aside from the fact that it has nothing to do with the Church of the present, I find it a pretty and sentimental idea and hardly a rock-fast reality.” He sipped appreciatively at his julep, watching the priest from down the long frosted sides. Father Hall lifted his own deep brown glass to his lips and then set it down on the low table at his side, carefully clearing a space among the litter of books, letters, magazines, manuscripts. Reason for Love “If I didn't believe with all my heart that the Church was merely the continuance of the work of Christ, if I were not persuaded with the deepest conviction that the thoughts of the Church were the thoughts of Christ, and its interests, ideals, activi- - 9- ties, objectives essentially His, I should not be in the slightest concerned with it. But because I am sure that the Church in all essentials uses Christ’s very words, speaks with His accents, and does only the things that He started and gave to it to carry on, I love the Church as I love Christ and only because I love Christ.” “But I think of the Church as a powerful and brilliantly managed organization like — say, the Standard Oil Company or the Penn- sylvania Railroad.” Ford Osborne was sincere in his emphasis. “Personally,” interjected Helen, “I’ve shied away from all organizations since the stock crash.” “If the Church were primarily an organi- zation,” Father Hall replied, “it would share the fate of all organizations. Pri- marily it is not. Primarily it is the con- tinuance of the work of a divine person; and that is why, while other organizations falter and crash, it moves serenely along its way. The Christ who rose from the dead holds the Church, which carries on His work and speaks with His voice, superior to the fate of other organizations. It will never fail simply because Christ cannot fail.” Still the Same “But I still don’t get the identity,” pro- tested Osborne. “We’re coming to that. Let me see how I can make it clear to you. “Well suppose we start with this. A dear friend of yours disappears for a matter of gome thirty years.” — 10 — “A modern Rip Van Winkle without the schnapps,” suggested Osborne. “Enoch Arden without a wife,” amended Helen. “He comes back as changed -— well as changed in appearance as old Rip himself. His personality has remained. His face is aged and bearded, and his lithe young figure has grown bent and sagging. How do you recognize him?” “Not from his passport pictures,” was Helens offer, which rapidly decrescendoed under Ford's “Don't be frivolous, young lady.” Identical Voice “You recognize him when he begins to talk. In all probability his voice identifies him. If it doesn't, you recognize him from the things he is interested in, the things that still are the fundamental concerns of his heart and mind. His body may have changed; but you know him when he begins to talk of the things that he loved and to press on toward the interests that have in times past engrossed him.” “That's right enough,” agreed Osborne. “Well precisely that test proves the moral identity of Christ and His Church. He said that the Church should speak with His voice, so much so that those that heard the Church would hear Him. But what He really meant was that the Church would continue to say over and over again pre- cisely the things that He had said during His mortal life. And that voice would keep repeating and stressing His fundamental interests. 11— Whence This Power? “No man who has ever heard a Catholic priest talk has failed to notice that he spoke with a certain power superior to any mere eloquence. I have quoted so often a pagan friend of mine who, when he returned from a trip through Ireland, said to me: ‘I never failed to be astonished at the Irish priests. You see, I used to drop into village churches for Sunday services; it was part of my way of learning to know the people. Well a priest would get into the pulpit, a chap who I knew was my inferior in education and experience. He might speak with a blanket- thick brogue. But do you know? when the old chap began to talk, he spoke like a person with power/ “ ‘And do you know/ I asked him, ‘that you are quotingV “He looked surprised. Same Words “ ‘When the Son of the carpenter began to preach, the people marveled and said of Him, “He speaks as one having power, and not as the Scribes and Pharisees. ,, Your Irish priest speaks with power simply because, like all the priests of the world, he speaks Sunday after Sunday with the voice of Jesus Christ. He simply repeats Christ’s message, explains a little more fully His parables, draws the inevitable conclu- sions and applications from His doctrines. But unlike many ministers, who go romanc- ing out into the fields far, far from the mind of Christ, the priest as an official of the Church knows nothing to say and noth- ing to preach that he has not found in the jnin