NIHIL OBSTAT: 

Fr. M. Albericus Wulf, O.C.S.O. 
Fr. M. Maurice Malloy, O.C.S.O. 

Censores 

IMPRIMI POTEST: 
•j< Fr. Fredricus M. Dunne, O.C.S.O. 

Abbas, B. M. de Gethsemani 

IMPRIMATUR: 
>i< Joannes A. Floersh, D.D. 

Archiepiscopus Ludovicopolitanus 

die 8 Aprilis, 1940 

1st printing 10,000 

2nd printing 10,000 

3rd printing 10,000 

4th printing 10,000 

5th printing 20,000 

COPYRIGHT 1940 

by the 

ABBEY OF GETHSEMANI, INC. 

Deaddffietf 



TO 

SISTER MARY CLARE 

M Y S I S T E R - P A L 

AND 

MY PARTNER 

IN THE 

S E R V I C E O F L O V E 

WITH THE PRAYER 

THAT WE MAY MAKE OUR LIVES 

WHAT HE PLANNED THEM — 

D I V I N E R O M A N C E S 



CONTENTS 

" I want love! I want life!" 

You've got both — Foreword 5 

Life is not a 'mess'!! 

Don't be like Nona 6 

Life is a Lover's gift 

It begins a Divine Romance 7 

Love is not blind,. .not even blindfolded 

But loved ones often are! 11 

Remove the blindfold and see! 13 

"There is nothing to live for" is a lie! 

There's a whole eternity of love to 

win! 15 

The Romance can be ruined! 17 

By listening to lying whispers 21 

By turning your back on your Lover 24 

But the Romance can be righted again 

You can "make up" with God! 25 

"Yes, Father. . .but . . .listen" 

"There is suffering.. .and. . .Death" . . 30 

Suffering is not an evil 31 

Life's happiest moment t ^ Death! . . . . 33 

Two are proposing to you, 

Asking: "Will you be mine?" 37 

You can give one of three answers, 

Dorothy's... .Helen's.. .Gertrude's . . 42 

Your Lover proves' His love " 

He gives.. .He suffers.. .He sacrifices 46 

You, the beloved, must prove yours 

By daring to be different 54 

Women who are different wanted! 56 

Do i t . . .and Heaven begins on earth! . . . . 59 



FOREWORD 

"Live and learn" was a common expression 
in my day. It has its meaning even today, 
but for the most of us, it is necessary to turn 
the expression around and read, "Learn and 
live." 

This was forcibly brought home to me some 
time ago when an eighteen-year-old stood be-
fore me and with eyes that were wide and 
brilliant passionately said, " I want love! I 
want life!" There was rebellion in the cry, 
there was intensity of soul. The lips had 
uttered the words, but the cry had come from 
the heart. As I looked into those eyes that 
were wide and earnest, eyes that were de-
termined, defiant, almost despairing, eyes that 
were pleading and hungry, eyes that were 
bewildering and yet bewildered, I realized that 
I was looking into the soul of every girl who 
has lived, is living, or shall live. " I want love! 
I want life!" is the universal cry of every 
daughter of Eve. 

As the tears trembled in the almost defiant 
eyes before me, I resolved to tell every Catho-
lic girl living, that she has love and she has 
life, but she seldom knows it ! 

I am going to press into these few pages 
the truths I told my eighteen-year-old in the 
hope that every girl from eight to eighteen to 
eighty will come to the realization that she 
has love and she has life but she is blind-
folded. I have one truth that I want to teach 
you all; it is this . . . L IFE IS A DIVINE 
ROMANCE! 

Learn that TRUTH and then L IVE ! That 
is the sum and substance of these pages. 
Learn that you are dictating a life's story 
that should be a Divine Romance; then live it. 

Our Lady's Day 
Saturday, February 17, 1940 
Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemani 
Trappist P. 0., Kentucky 

5 



LIFE IS NOT A 'MESS*! 
DONT BE LIKE NONA 

"Oh! Life is just a 'mess'!" How often 
have you heard that cry! How often have 
you yourself given vent to it ! With measure-
less disgust it surges to the lips and is out 
before we know it. But it is a lie! Life is 
not a "mess." Life cannot be a "mess." But 
we can make an awful "mess" of life if we 
are not thinkers. The trend of the times is 
away from anything like real thinking. The 
pace of the moderns is such that the mind is 
always engaged but never really occupied. 
That is why you so often hear the lie, "Oh! 
Life is just a 'mess'!" 

We may be guilty of the same lie; or worse 
still, we may make a real "mess' of life if »we 
are as shallow as was Nona. 

Nona is a modern girl, one of Hutchinson's 
creations. She lives as many modern girls 
live and thinks as most modern girls think . . . 
hurriedly and on the surface. There comes a 
time in Nona's existence when she is pretty 
well disgusted with life. To her it seems 
"just a 'mess.'" At the very time when 
everything seems wrong, Nona hears a new 
word, she hears the word "flotsam," and it 
haunts her. She doesn't know what it exactly 
means, but somehow or other, it intrigues 
her. No matter what she thinks of, no mat-
ter what she does, she is ever hearing the tiny 
echo "flotsam." In exasperation, more than 
anything else, she seizes a dictionary, deter-
mined to find out what this haunting word 
means. She finds her word and she reads its 
meaning . . . "wreckage found floating on the 
sea; drifting persons or things; driftwood." 

Nona looked at that meaning very long. 
Then she took her pen, scratched out "flotsam" 
and in its place wrote "NONA.'*. . . She 
felt that she was "driftwood on the Sea of 
Life; something cast upon the waters of the 
world; a sport for the ebb and the flood of 
the tide; something to be carried along by 
whatever current happened to catch it." 

6 



What a concept of life! What a concept of 
self! Clearly, Nona did not know what she 
was, nor why she was, nor where she was 
going. It is quite understandable that such 
a person should say, "Oh! Life is just a' 
'mess'!" for she doesn't know what life is. 

But the pity of it is that there are too many 
Nonas. There is much flotsam and jetsam on 
the Sea of Life. Thousands, just drifting. 
They know not why and they khow not whith-
er. And 'all because they have never learned 
the truth that sounds stranger than fiction, 
and. yet, is absolute feet; the truth that 
Life is a Divine Romance. 

Nona is a character in a book. She is not 
living, but she is very true to life. You, my 
good Catholic reader, you are living, and to 
prevent you from being like Nona, to prevent 
you from ever crossing out "flotsam" and writ-
ing in your own name, to prevent you from 
ever saying that "Life is just a 'mess' !" I 

, tell you the thrilling truth that life is a Divine 
Romance, that you are the beloved heroine, 
and your life's story, if you live rightly, will 
end with the last line of every rqmance: "And 
they lived happily ever afterwards." That 
"they" means YOU and your Divine Lover; 
that "ever" means ETERNITY! 
LIFE IS A LOVER'S GIFT 

IT BEGINS A DIVINE ROMANCE 
No doubt you are already saying to your-

self that I shall have td) do a lot of proving 
before you will ever accept the proposition 
that Life is a Romance. In the face of the 
awful facts of continual wdrry and fret caused 
by the complications of our modern civiliza-
tion, in the face of all the headaches and 
heartaches that come with the years, in the 
face of the fierce facts of suffering, sorrow, 
sickness and death, life looks like anything 
but a romance. 

I know that. I know all that, and yet I ac-
cept the burden; and, if you will think along 
with me, the "lot of proving" will be done. 
So>'let's start. 

7 



Did you ever make a snow-man? Wasn't 
it a thrill to roll ball after ball of fluffy white-
ness, shave off so much here, stick this much 
on there; then get his eyes and make his 
mouth! Wasn't it a big thrill to stand back 
at last and survey your creation... a glorious 
snow-man with a big, broad and glistening 
grin! 

Now let's suppose. Suppose you could have 
put life into him. Suppose you could make 
that icy mass a living man. Suppose you 
could give him eyes to • see, and a mind to 
know, and a heart to love. Suppose you could 
breathe a soul into that body of snow. Sup-
pose you did it. What would the snowman 
think of you, his creator? Would he not 
think that you were a giver of wondrous gifts? 
Before he was a frozen mass, now he has 
movement; before he was a shape without 
feeling, knowledge, love or life, now he has 
a soul. Now he can see, now he can feel, 
now he can live, now he can love! Before 
he was next to nothing, now he is an intelli-
gent snow-man. 

Go further. Suppose you created a whole 
world just for him. Made a snow-man's sun, 
that would not melt him; made a breeze that 
would not freeze him; a soil that would grow 
snow-man grain for a snow-man's granary. 
Suppose you made snow-man trees that would 
bear snow-man's fruit; rivers and seas that 
would run with snow-man fish and a forest 
in which were snow-man bird and beast. Sup-
pose you studded the heaven's with snow-man's 
stars and a snow-man's moon, threw up moun-
tains and leveled off plains, and all for your 
snow-man. What would he say of you, his 
life-giver and his life-preserver? 

Finally, suppose that it took action on your 
part to keep your snow-man and his snow-
man world in existence. Suppose that they 
were so dependent on you that, if you forgot 
them for the fraction of a second, they would 
fall back into their original next-to-nothing-
ness. Suppose that the snow-man's life was 

8 



like an organ-note; so long as you held your 
finger on the key, it would go on; if you lifted 
your hand, it ended. Suppose now that you 
kept your finger on the key; suppose that you 
kept him ever in your mind; suppose that year 
in and year out you were active to keep his 
world gojng just for him. Would he not say 
that his creator was in love with him? That 
she was always thinking of him, always work-
ing for him, always providing just for him? 
Love, you know, gives, and you gave him 
life, gave him a special world, and you keep 
on giving just that he might live. 

But perhaps you never made a snow-man. 
Then you most certainly had a doll, one you 
caressed and cared for, one you talked to and 
tucked into bed. Suppose, then, that you 
could have changed that baby-doll into a 
baby-daughter. Suppose you could have put 
flesh and blood and bone, muscle and tendon 
and tissue onto that little form. Suppose you 
could have put a heart into that tiny figure, 
a heart that would palpitate and send rich, 
red, warm blood circulating through a won-
drous series of veins and arteries, carrying 
health to every last extremity of its little 
baby-body. Suppose you could have put with-
in the baby breast, two marvelous organs for 
breathing, organs that by a mysterious selec-
tive process would take in air, separate its 
elements, keep the necessary oxygen and expel 
the noxious carbon. Suppose you could give 
your doll a subtle chemistry whereby she could 
take in bread and meat and vegetable and 
convert these lifeless things into her own liv-
ing flesh' and blood. Suppose you could give 
your little doll a nervous system, so delicately 
attuned that never a "line" is "out of order" 
or "busy" or "doesn't answer," but with in-
fallible certainty each tiny afferent nerve car-
ries its message in and each tiny efferent 
nerve carries .its message out. Oh! suppose 
you could breathe a soul into your baby-doll, 
a soul that would shine out through eyes that 
were once glass, a soul that would know and 

9 



remember and love, a soul that would never 
die, a soul that was a spirit immortal! What 
would your animated baby-doll say of life? 
Would she call it a "mess" or an untellable 
wonder? Would she not say that you were 
in love with her? For love, you know, gives! 

Now stop supposing and face facts! What 
were you a hundred years ago? . . . Nothing. 
Men lived and laughed then; little girls played 
with dolls and made snow-men; the world 
went on, and you were not even thought of. 
Not thought of by parents, by grandparents 
or by great-grandparents. But now you are. 
Now you breathe, you live, you walk, you 
think, you act. Who made you? Who put 
oxygen into the air that you might breathe? 
action into your heart that blood might cir-
culate? power into your being that food might 
be changed into flesh? Who gave you hands 
to clasp loved ones? ears to snatch melody 
from the sky? eyes to drink in the wonder 
of Nature's prodigality with beauty? Who 
gave you nostrils to rob from the rose its 
scent? Who gave you a system of sensory 
nerves so complicated as to baffle the mind, 
so delicately attuned as to cause reverent awe? 
Who holds you in the hollow of His hand 
to keep you from falling back into the absolute 
nothingness from which He called you? Who 
but God! God! God! 

Yes, stop supposing and face undeniable 
facts. One hundred years ago you were 
nothing. The world went on and you were 
not even thought of. Not thought of by man 
. . . . but you were thought of by God. He 
the omnipotent, infinite, omniscient God had 
•tiny you in mind. Before Time was and 
before the world began, almighty God loved 
you. He sent sun and moon and stars winging 
through space; because He loved you, He 
threw up majestic mountains and hollowed 
out the hills; because He loved you, He set 
the ceaseless sea in motion and gave to Mother 
Earth, growth. Because He loved you, bird 
and beast, flower and tree and shrub were 

10 



set breathing. Because He loved you, He set 
the galleons of God drifting through the skies, 
dropping gentle rain in summer, and in the 
winter, crystals of wondrous snow. This 
whole glorious world of ours was called forth 
from nothing because God was in love with 
-±-YOUl 

Yes, it is true! Absolutely true! You can't 
get blood from a stone, nor from a rose a 
radiant woman — and so with life. Life 
comes but from the Living, and mind from 
Intelligence alone. "He who is" was the 
cause of your becoming. " I who am" said, 
"Let.- you be." It was God who gave you 
life, and God it is who keeps you living. He 
is in every breath you breathe, in every blink 
of your eye, in every beat of your heart. Your 
life IS like an organ-note, and God is at the 
console.... Now, love gives, you know, and 
love keeps on giving, and you are living be-
cause God is Love! Life is a gift from your 
Lover! Life is not a "mess"; it is love I 

LOVE IS NOT BLIND. . .NOT EVEN 

BLINDFOLDED 

BUT LOVED ONES OFTEN ARE! 

The world, the very wise world, laughs at 
love; and I suppose the sophisticated world 
will smile at our first conclusion and say, " I f 
life is love, then love is certainly blind." But 
let me say that the wise world is not so wise, 
and the sophisticated world, not knowing. 
Love is NOT blind, nor is the Lover; but the 
loved ones often are. They "can't see the 
trees for the forest," nor the Lover for the 
Lover's gifts. 

Love is prodigal, but love is also purposeful. 
Infinite Intelligence did not say "Let there 
be light" because He was in a sportive mood. 
Omnipotent fingers did not fashion a form of 
clay and then breathe into it His own image 
because He was at play. Jupiter and Saturn 
and Uranus were not set on the wing because 
God liked light and motion. No! God works 
purposefully. He IS Intelligence. He has a 

11 



purpose for a Betelgeuse and a bee, for a 
moon and a sub-electron. God has an eternal 
purpose for you. He has not set you drifting. 
He has made you, "directed"... directed back 
to Him. Love, you know, is possessive, it 
wants "to have and to hold," and God is very 
much in love with you. He made you, and 
He made you for Himself. Having made you 
in Time, He wants you for Eternity, and for 
Eternity He will have you, if in Time you 
are a real creature! 

Keys are made to open locks, watches to 
tell the time, silver bells are made for ringing, 
and rose-buds to burst into bloom.' Dawn 
must grow into daylight and sunset bring on 
the night. A bee must produce its honey, and 
the moon control the sea. It is God's way. 
Every creature has its purpose, every creation 
its appropriate end; and you . . . must go to 
God. He is your beginning, and He is your 
end; for He made you to know Him and to 
love Him in Time and — for Eternity. 

Your mind must go to truth and your heart 
to all that is beautiful; and just as dolls do 
not satisfy your later years, neither will the 
trinkets of time, nor the baubles of the earth 
adequately satisfy your soul. Yet, your hun-
ger must be sated and your burning thirst 
slaked, else, God be not God, but a jester, 
one who has played a cruel joke upon man-
kind! Pharaoh, you remember, commanded the 
Jews to make bricks and then denied them 
the straw wherewith to make them. Seeing 
their discomfiture, he laughed at his own clev-
er cruelty. God would be Pharaoh, and worse 
than Pharaoh, if that questing soul of yours 
were ever to be searching for the good, the 
true and the beautiful and yet never to 
know and love Him who is Goodness, who is 
Beauty and who is Truth! 

No; Love is not blind, not even blindfolded, 
but the loved ones often are. Life has no 
"mystery," nor existence a "riddle." Both are 
simple. They have but one end, one aim, 
one object. Life is love! It was given you 
out of love, by Love and for Love. It began 
12 



because He loved you, it continues because He 
still loves you, and it is to end in His eternal 
love, if you love Him. You are the blinded 
one! So, remove the blindfold and see! See 
that Life is a Divine Romance! 

REMOVE THE BLINDFOLD AND SEE! 

Two men were standing on the southern 
rim of the Grand Canyon of the Colorado. 
They were both looking down the distant 
depths, past fantastically shaped rocks, some 
that looked like Turkish mosques with domes 
and minarets, others like battlemented castles 

. of medieval times with towers and turrets un-
countable. Down, down they looked past rocks 
that were red and brown and purple, past 
rocks that were yellow and green and gold, 
down, down to the strip of solid silver that 
was the Colorado River rushing onward to 
the sea. It was a breath-taking sight, for 
Nature, with her hammer of wind and her 
chisel of rain, has sculptured strange shapes 
from rocks that are as colored as the rainbow. 

At long last the silence caused by such 
grandeur was broken, but only by what was 
little more than a whisper. "Doesn't it all 
make you feel small?" said one. 

Before answering the other looked east and 
west, then down and down. Then he an-
swered. With almost a shout he said, "Small? 
Small? I should say NOT! It makes me feel 
big, tremendously big." Then in a more sub-
dued tone he added, " I was just thinking that 
my God has been working for ages with His 
wind and His rain, His river and His rocks, 
just so that this day I might see His glory 
and His grandeur written in this wonderland 
of stone." There is a contrast for you. One 
was breathless, felt small. The other was 
articulate, felt big. One saw rocks, a river, a 
spectacle. The other saw— God. One, you 
see, had a vision, the other had only — sight. 

To you, I say, "Remove the blindfold and 
see! See God all around you. That is the 
reason of the world, that you might see God!" 

13 



How often have you thrilled as you listened 
to "Trees"? For once music is wedded to a 
poem's soul and sense. Ah, it can hardly be 
called a poem; call it rather a poet's prayer. 
You and I look at a forest and see — growth. 
Kilmer, the prayerful poet, saw — God! Lis-
ten to his lines: 

"A tree that looks at God all day 
And lifts her leafy arms to pray." 

Then his humble and admiring close: 
"Poems are made by fools like me. 
But only God can make a tree." 

Yes, indeed. That is a poet's prayer of praise. 
That is using creatures as God meant them to 
be used. That is using creation to see the 
Creator. That is removing the blindfold and 
seeing. Creatures, you see, are like so many 
letters, that is all; just letters of the alphabet 
Put them together and they spell for you; 
they spell — God! 

Joseph Mary Plunkett was another of those 
who has removed the blindfold. Just look at 
what he saw: 

" I see His Blood upon the rose, 
And in the stars the glory of His eyes. 

His Body gleams amid eternal snows, 
His tears fall from the skies. 

" I see His Face in every flower; 
Thunder and the singing of the birds 

Are but His Voice. — And carven by His 
Power, 

Rocks are His written words. 

"All pathways by His feet are worn, 
His strong Heart stirs the ever-beating 

Sea, 
His crown of thorns is twined with every 

thorn, 
His Cross . . . is every tree." 

Oh, see as these men saw. See God, your 
Lover, in the wide world around you. "God 
is the Obvious Invisible." Be not like the un-
seeing world! Remove your blindfold and see! 
In a sunrise and a sunset, the world sees a 

14 



. beautiful sky; you see . . . your beautiful God. 
In the ocean the world sees a measureless 
waste of waters; you see. . . the Immensity 

* of your loving God. In mountains, the world 
sees mighty hills with a possibility of gold; 
you see. . . the' Eternity of your Changeless 
God. In Night, the world sees peace and a 
starlit sky; you see . . . the Holiness of God 
in the hush of the heavens and His Infinity 
in the countless stars. In a snowflake, the 
world sees frozen rain ; you see . . the Power 
of your God who smashed it off on His anvil 
of ether, see . . . the Perfection of your God in 
each tiny perfect crystal. In a raindrop, the 
world sees moisture; you see . . . the Omnipo-
tence of you Lover, for the tiny drop -is teem-
ing with life! Yes, your God is the "Obvious 
Invisible"; so, open your eyes and see. See, 
not as the world has taught you to see, but 
see as God wants you .to see. See Him! 

God is so practical! You can't love what 
you don't know, and God wants you to love 
Him, so He becomes the "Obvious Invisible." 
Microscope, telescope and naked eye reveal but 
One, the Loving One — God! He has placed 
Himself all around you, in earth and sea and 
sky, in fern and flower and fruit. No matter 
where you look or at what you look, i f you 
have clear vision, you'll see — God! And oh! 
He is so beautiful, so good, so mighty, so lov-
able that you can't help doing just what He 
wants you to do, you can't help praising, rev-
erencing and serving Him and thus saving 
your soul. You simply can't help falling in 
love with Him in Time and, if you do, He'll 
love you for all Eternity. That is the practic-
al purpose of creatures: to show you the 
Creator. That is the purpose of life: to love! 

"THERE IS NOTHING TO LIVE FOR" — 

IS A L IE ! 

THERE'S A WHOLE ETERNITY OF LOVE 

TO WIN ! 

Despite the fact that all that we have said 
is patent to any one who really thinks, there 

15 



have been those who have said: "There is . 
nothing to live for." 

Some few years ago, I clipped a small 
square from a newspaper. I t is a tiny thing, 
but what a tragedy it tells! I t is an Asso-
ciated Press report and reads: "Bodies of 
Mrs. Wilcox, thirty-four, and her twenty-one 
months old baby, were found washed up on 
the shore of Lake Ontario today. A note left 
by the woman reads: 'I am taking baby with 
me. Gossip in this town has killed me, and 
there is nothing for Caroline Mae to live for. '" 

Oh, what a tragedy! Think of it — a 
woman of thirty-four, a wife and mother, and 
y£t she had never learned what life was for. 
And poor little Caroline Mae, because her 
mother thought there was nothing to live for, 
was deprived, at twenty-one months, of the 
possibility of living a Divine Romance! 

Had you met Mrs. Wilcox just before the 
fatal plunge, what would you have said to her? 
Would you not have cried, "No! No! Don't do 
it ! Life is not a 'mess.' Life is love. Caroline 
Mae has much to live for. She has an Eternity 
of love to live for! God loves her. God wants 
her. God has planned for her a Royal Ro-
mance. According to His plan, her life is a 
love-story. He made her out of love, He sus-
tains her out of love. This whole world of 
ours, He made just that she might know Him, 
love Him and serve Him. She is to live accord-
ing to His plan, and, if she does, she will have 
love everlasting. That is God's plan for your 
baby-girl. Don't you see that she has much 
to live for? Don't you see that she has love 
to live for . . . a whole eternity of love to win?" 

Would you not have taken the baby from 
her arms and said, "Oh, my dear Mrs. Wil-
cox, this baby is not yours; it is God's! Look! 
Just look at this marvel of Omnipotence. Look 
at baby hands and baby feet, look at darling 
baby head. See the eyes, the ears and the 
mouth, see the precious baby nose. Oh, Mrs. 
Wilcox, only God could create such a beautiful 
thing! Feel baby's pulse. That means that 

16 



within baby's breast a baby heart is beating 
and sending blood from tip of toe to crown of 
head. Only God could set that heart beating. 
Do look at these pink and shell-like ears, they 
can hear. These baby eyes can see, her tongue 
can taste and her baby hands feel. Oh, only 
God could give such power to weakness! And, 
Mrs. Wilcox, the day will come when she shall 
know and love you, not as she does now, by 
instinct, but with intelligence; for Caroline 
Mae has a soul, an immortal, spiritual soul. 
This soul, Mrs. Wilcox, makes her like God. 
He is spirit, so is Caroline Mae's soul. He is 
eternal, her soul is immortal; He is a Trinity 
in Unity, she has three faculties in one soul; 
He is infinite, the desires of her soul are al-
most the same; He is Past and Present and 
Future, she can remember the past, know the 
present, and plan for the future; God is Truth, 
that is all that her mind wants; God is Beauty, 
that is her soul's one wish; God is Love, her 
soul must have Him! Oh, Caroline Mae is 
your baby, it is true, but it is much more true 
that she is God's child. She may have your 
face and your features, your eyes and your 
identical nose, but her soul, her immortal, 
spiritual soul is stamped deep and indelibly 
with the very image of God. She belongs to 
God, to you she was only lent. She belongs to 
God alone! He made her, and He made her 
for Himself!" 

It is too late to talk to Caroline Mae or her 
mother, but it is not too late to talk to your-
self Everything that you have said about that 
baby-girl is true about yourself. God "has 
loved you with an everlasting love," and be-
cause of it you will live everlastingly and have 
love everlastingly, if you live according to His 
plan. No! Life is not a 'mess'! Love is not 
blind There is much, very much, there is an 
eternity of love to live for. Indeed, Life is a 
Divine Romance . . . BUT—it can be ruined! 

THE ROMANCE CAN BE RUINED 
God made us for Himself, it is true, but it 

is also true that He made us free. He gave 
us a plan of life, really a plot for a Divine 

17 



Romance, but He does not force us to follow 
it. I f we do follow, we shall produce a real 
romance; but with the same materials, the 
same characters, in the same settings, we can 
produce a tragedy if we listen to the worldly 
world, the pagan world, the villainous world, 
which is a cheat and a liar. 

Lady Macoeth, as you remember, had tre-
mendous will power. Had she employed it on 
its proper object, she would have been the 
heroine of a saintly saga. She could have 
taken her husband to the heights, just as she 
drove him to the depths, but Lady Macbeth 
listened to a cheat and a liar. She listened 
to the voice of the world. It whispered, "Get 
power" . . . and murder followed. 

But why go to Shakespeare and to fiction' 
Look at history and at Sacred Scripture and 
see there the contrast between one who lis-
tened to the lying whispers of the world, and 
one who listened only to her soul. With all 
reverence look at the sharp contrast presented 
by Cleopatra of Egypt and Mary, the Maid 
of Nazareth. 

Cleopatra listened to a world that said, "Be 
great,' and she devoted all her beauty, all her 
time and all her talents to one only end 
to enslaving men of power that she might use 
them as stepping-stones to a throne. She is 
reputed to have been beautiful. I suppose she 
was. I know that she was clever, and I also 
know that she concentrated all her energies 
to the one purpose. Cleopatra arrived. She 
became Queen of Egypt. 

But look at Nazareth's' Maid. She listened 
only tq her soul. It, too, had whispers for her 
It said, You were made by God and for God! 
Be holy." And Mary consecrated all her time 
and all her talents to the praise, the reverence 

the service of her Maker. The Immaculate 
Maid of Nazareth "knew not man," but she 
won—God! 

Now, Anthony may have gone to Cleopatra 
because of the beauty of her body: I know 
God came to Mary because of the beauty of 
her soul. Cleopatra became queen, queen of a 

18 



tiny kingdom that is no longer heard of; Mary 
became Mother of God, then Mother of men, 
and finally Queen of Heaven, a kingdom of 
which there shall be no end. To end her life, 
Cleopatra took asps to her breasts and most 
likfely damned her soul; when Mary died, 
she was taken body and soul into everlasting 
happiness. Isn't the world a liar? Would you 
call Cleopatra a success or a colossal failure? 
Would you name her life's story a romance or 
a hideous tragedy? Would you say that she 
had had real life, real love, or only counter-
feits? As for Mary Immaculate . . . why, all 
generations have, all generations do, and all 
generations will, "call her blessed." 

The world has many whispers and the world 
has countless conquests, but for all that, the 
world is still a cheat and a liar. It talks of 
wealth and pleasure arid popularity, it whis-
pers of fame and beauty and power. It tells 
you of 'good times,' of ease and comfort and 
security; it talks of freedom from work and 
worry; it slyly whispers how to avoid the 
natural consequences to natural acts, how to 
frustrate the designs of the God of Nature; 
it tells you the awful lie that "you can eat your 
cake and have it, too." The world is ever 
whispering half-truths and untruths and all 
to get you to ruin your romance, to get you to 
lose your immortal soul. 

Oh! Be wary! Be wise! Who are the 
truly wise of the world? Not the wealthy or 
the healthy or the mighty, but the holy! Who 
are the foolish? Those who listen to the ly-
ing whispers of the world, who so love pleasure 
that it means more to them than purity; who 
so love favor in-the eyes of men that for it 
they forfeit the grace of God; who think more 
of beautifying their body than of adorning 
their soul; who would prefer to be popular 
rather than virtuous; who would rather have 
money than goodness; who seek the heady, in-
toxicating joys of the flesh, rather than walk 
the ways of God. These are the fools of the 
world! 

Tell me . . . where are the beautiful women 

19 



of twenty years ago? They were the "talk of 
the town." They had men worshiping at their 
feet. But beauty fades, and men have very 
short memories. Where are the wealthy 
women of just a few years back? Depression 
struck like a thunderbolt, and there followed 
in its wake, smashed homes and suicides for 
women had set their hearts on money. Where 
are the great queens of only a century ago? 
Mouldering in their graves, and the thrones 
from which they dominated have fallen or 
been usurped. 

When the longing for power comes, think of 
Elizabeth of England and then of Elizabeth 
of Hungary. Contrast the "good queen Bess" 
and God's lovable saint. For a few short 
years they had their grandeur and their glory; 
glory and grandeur to which you may not 
even aspire. Then they had to leave it all 
and face their Maker, who asked, not, "Did 
you gain power and glory and grandeur?" 
but, "How did you use the world of creatures 
that I gave you? Did you live according to 
My plan, or did you listen to the lying world? 
Have you written a Romance or have you 
ruined one?" 

When the world whispers of money (and it 
wil l !) , think of Dives; then remember Laza-
rus. One had money and all that it can buy, 
the other was poor, pitiably poor; the one 
ended in hell, the beggar-man won heaven. 
When the world whispers of riches (and it 
will!), think of Dives; then remember Laza-
Gospel ; then remember John the Evangelist. 
One kept his riches and lost an apostleship 
with Jesus Christ, the other left all and be-
came the "beloved disciple.". When the world 
whispers of pleasure (and it always will !) , 
think of Herod; then remember John the Bap-
tist. One had all this world can give, he 
reveled in luxury, the other dwelt in the 
desert and knew nothing of the joys of sense. 
Christ wouldn't even speak to the one; of thé 
other, He said, "greater had not been born of 
woman." When the world whispers of beauty 
(and oh, it wil l !) , think of Cleopatra; then re-
member Mary Immaculate. The one won men, 
20 



the other won God. When the world whispers 
of fame, popularity and the favor of the 
powerful (and it most certainly wil l !) , think 
of Herodias and her daughter Salome; they 
were the "first ladies of the land" as long as 
Herod ruled; then remember Mary Magdalene 
—even Scribes and Pharisees sneered at her, 
but Jesus, the God-Man, loved His repentant 
saint! 

BY LISTENING TO LYING WHISPERS 

Do be wise! Know well that the lying 
whispers of the world are only meant to ruin 
your Romance. One of the most dangerous 
and- most horrible lies that it tells is: "Just 
this once! Let's—just this once." 

Twenty-odd years ago on the concrete high-
way that stretches like a ribbon of cement 
tying Albany to New York there was a smash-
up. Early one gray November morning, an 
auto, in which a young man of twenty was 
driving a girl of eighteen, crashed, into a 
fence, hurling the girl through the wind-shield 
and on to her death. 

She had been a good girl. She had been a 
very beautiful girl. Carried home, she was 
laid out in white, and it was enough to wring 
the heart of the sternest to look down upon 
the frozen beauty of the face forever stilled 
in death. The undertakers had restored most 
of the broken beauty, and it did not seem 
fair that one so young and so beautiful should 
be dead. 

As so often happens, the driver of the 
machine was not seriously hurt. The night 
before the burial, he came to the wake and 
looked down on the dead beauty of the one 
he had loved. Suddenly he shook all over, 
gasped, gave a scream of horror and then ran 
from the room. A doctor who happend to be 
present followed him out and, grasping him 
rather roughly, wheeled him around saying: 
"Control yourself, man . . . " but there he 
stopped and looked more closely into the eyes 
of the boy, who was crying, "She's lost! She's 
lost!" No wonder he stopped, for he was look-
ing into the eyes of a man who had lost his 

21 



mind, a man who could only weirdly whisper, 
and kept on weirdly whispering, " I drove her 
to death. I hurled her into hell." Today, 
that man is still in the insane asylum, and 
today you can hear him whisper, " I drove her 
to death. I hurled her into hell." 

The story is that, on that night, they had 
both listened to the lying whisper, "Let's— 
just this once," and they had sinned. They 
sinned that night, and death took her in her 
sin! 

Oh, the mockery of that wake! No wonder 
the boy went mad. To look down on beauty 
in white and to know that her soul was likely 
in hell! Oh! the irony of it all! She died in 
front of a house in which there were more 
than fifty priests, but death came before any 
one of them absolved her! That was twenty 
years ago and, undoubtedly, if she didn't re-
pent in the last moments, for all those twenty 
years she has burned in hell, and for all the 
twenty years to come she shall burn there, a 
thing of hate to the eyes of the loving God 
who made her out of love and for love; and 
all because she listened to lying whispers. Th? 
worst of all the lying whispers, the one that 
says, "Let's — just this once." 

How many have listened to that other lying 
whisper: "Everybody does it." Oh, that whis-
per has filled the world with broken hearts, 
broken homes, ruined lives. "Everybody does 
it" has wielded the two-edged sword of Herod 
in the slaughter of the innocents, and many a 
woman is now like Rachel, "weeping for her 
children who should be and are not." "Every-
body does it" has caused many a girl to sacri-
fice that which is priceless. "Everybody does 
it" has robbed the modern world of love, loyal-
ty, honesty, innocence, modesty and decency. 
And it's a lie! Everybody does NOT do it. In 
fact, nobody does it, nobody who realizes what 
life is and what she herself is, nobody who 
realizes that God is her Lover and that life is 
a Divine Romance! 

When you hear that whisper again, "Every-
body does it," think of Reno, think of the very 

22 



well filled state and private insane asylums, 
think of the countless nervous wrecks that pay 
good money to psycho-analysts and nerve-
specialists, all because they listened to the lie 
"Everybody does it." Yes, everybody DOES 
it •— everybody who is stupid enough to think 
that Nature can be frustrated and that the 
God of Nature can be mocked. Oh, be wise! 
Know that "Everybody does it" is a devil's 
lie! 

But perhaps the worst of all the whispers 
is, "Be modern." Yes, "Be modern! Don't be 
so medieval!" "Be broad-minded! Don't be 
a narrow-minded Puritan!" "Oh! Be human!" 
It runs the whole gamut, but the dominant note 
is "Be modern." What it really is saying is, 
"Be stupid! . . . S i n ! " Will you tell me what 
is modern about sin? It started with Adam 
and Eve in the Garden. Why, it started even 
before that! It started with Lucifer at Crea-
tion's dawn. The angels sinned, just once, and 
became devils. Our first parents sinned, just 
once, and the story of mankind is that of 
"Paradise Lost." That's how modern sin is! 

And what is broad-minded about it? All 
selfishness is narrow, and every sin is selfish! 
Will you tell me just what is human about it? 
Man was made a rational animal, the king of 
the visible creation; sin is subjection to the 
lower part of human nature, it is subjection 
to creatures! Oh, it is all a lie! A devilish 
lie! "Be modern" — as if the Ten Command-
ments of God could ever grow old! As if the 
eternal God with His promise of Eternity could 
ever become ancient! As if love, real love, was 
•something antique! 

Child of God, learn that the world is a 
dangerous world, a dirty world, a deadly 
world. \ou know that you can't , handle pitch 
and be clean, don't you? Then why READ 
what you do? The daily paper in all its pages, 
the modern magazines, the day's "best seller." 
Aren't they all pitch? Isn't the tale of murder 
divorce, debauchery, of lust and "free-love" 
unclean? You can't handle pitch and be clean; 
then why LOOK at what you do? The movies, 

23 



the shows, the pornographic literature, the 
parading of the flesh? You can't handle pitch 
and be clean; then why TALK as you do? 
Smutty stories and suggestive jokes may be 
clever, they most certainly are not clean! You 
can't handle pitch and be clean; then why 
DRINK as you do? God made wine to ex-
hilarate, not to inebriate! You can't handle 
pitch and be clean; then why SEEK what you 
do? Money for money's sake, fame, favor, 
popularity, pleasure, just for themselves! You 
are abusing God's creatures! You are listen-
ing to the,world's lying whispers! You are 
handling pitch! You are ruining your Ro : 
mance by SIN! 

BY TURNING YOUR BACK ON YOUR 

LOVER 

Now understand me. Money and food and 
drink, parties and dances and pleasures, health 
and happiness, popularity, beauty, fame, power 
—all, all of these things are good. They came 
from God, and He can give only good things. 
But He gave them for use; we often take them 
for abuse! 

Health is a blessing; but I can make it a 
curse. I f a glowing health makes me proud 
and boastful, if a sturdy frame makes me a 
"bully," if a sound body takes me from the 
service of God, then I have made a curse of a 
blessing. And you . . . if you make bodily 
beauty an end instead of a means, if you allow 
a graceful figure and a good complexion to lead 
you to vanity, conceit, sin, then you have made 
of a blessing a curse. So also with pleasure 
and popularity, they are good. God gave me 
life and laughter and friends, but He gave 
them for use, not abuse. I f a dance and a 
drink means more to you than decency, if you 
compromise your Catholic principles and allow 
unlawful familiarities for the sake of some-
one's company, if place in a certain social set 
means more to you than the externals of your 
religion, then you are abusing what was meant 
for use, you are turning your back on your 
Lover. 

24 



Yes, it is a deliberate turning your back on 
God! And, oh, the trifles that .cause some 
girls to take that foolish turn! For silk stock-
ings, a fur coat, and temporal security, some 
have sacrificed goodness! For the friendship 
of a man "who owned a car," some have sur-
rendered virtue! For a passing, selfish thrill, 
some have forfeited what can not be bought, 
nor ever restored! 

Why turn your back on your Lover? Why 
ruin your Romance? Why be selfish? Why 
sin? It has never paid! The wages of sin 
have ever been and ever will be — death! 
The wages of unrepented mortal sin is death 
eternal! 

Turning one's back on one's lover has ever 
meant a bleeding heart and ever will. In the 
case of the abuse of creatures, in the case of 
sin, it means a bleeding heart for you, for "the 
worm of conscience never dies"; but it means 
more, it means a bleeding of the Sacred Heart! 
It means a broken Heart to God! That's how 
deeply He loves you! 

Pray often, as Louise Imogen Guiney does 
in her poem, "Deo Optimo Maximo": 

"All else for use; One only for desire. 
Thanksgiving for the good, but thirst for Thee. 
Up from the best, of which no man need tire, 

Impel Thou me!" 
Use creatures, don't abuse them! Don't turn 
your back on your God! Don't sin! 

BUT THE ROMANCE CAN BE RIGHTED 
AGAIN 

YOU CAN "MAKE UP" WITH GOD 
Sin is an infinite thing, for it is an insult to 

an infinite God. Sin is an infinite thing, and 
it merits an infinite punishment. Sin is an 
infinite thing, and it puts between the Lover 
and the beloved a distance that is infinite. 
But your Romance and my Romance do not 
end because we have sinned.- In strict justice, 
they should; but God is Mercy. Paradise was 
lost; but ours is the Romance of "Paradise 
Regained." Love found a way. Love always 
finds a way. Love found a way to span the 

25 



infinite abyss, a way to unite the hearts that 
were infinitely separated, a way to satisfy for 
the insult that was infinite. Eden was pol-
luted, but red streams of Blood Divine ran 
down Calvary's mound, and our Romance was 
righted. Paradise was regained! 

Oh! What a lavish Lover our God is! You 
and I have forfeited all right to consideration. 
You and I had been as blind as Mrs. Wilcox. 
You and I had drowned our soul in sin, and 
as far as our Royal Romance^ was concerned,-
we were as dead as was Caroline Mae the day 
they found her body on the shore of Ontario's-
lake. We had listened to the lying whispers 
of the world. It said, "Let's — just this once," 
and we sinned. It said, "Everybody does it," 
and we sinned again. It said, "Oh, be modern! 
Be human!" and we sinned and sinned and 
sinned. Time after time we have turned our 
back on our Lover. Time after time we have 
set the Sacred Heart bleeding. Time after 
time we have broken the very Heart of God, 
and what does He do? Determined to have us 
despite the world, the flesh and the devil, de-
termined to have us despite our stupid blind-
ness and our disgusting selfishness, determined 
to have us despite our infinite sin, He finds a 
way, He finds a sacred way, He makes a Sac-
rament ! 

This time love IS blind, and so is the Lover 
—blind to all our stupidities, our insults, our 
infinite sins, blind to all that is past, if we but 
say and mean, "I 'm sorry, I won't do it again." 
We had wrecked a Romance; He would have 
us right it, and the righting of it is simple. 
Only God, only an infinite God, could make it 
so simple! 

What a lavish Lover God is! Though His 
Heart is broken and bleeding, He is "The 
Hound of Heaven," and, though we "flee Him 
down the nights and down the days," though 
we "flee Him down the arches of the years," 
though we "hide from Him," He'll "follow 
after, ever after." Though we leave the fold, 
He is the Good Shepherd. We may wander 
far, He'll leave the ninety-nine to find us! 

26 



He is the Father of the Prodigal, and though 
we leave home, live riotously, squander a pa-
trimony, He'll run out to meet us if we but 
start to come back. He'll run out and kiss us, 
though we be dirty, soul-sick, sin-sick, if we 
are but ashamed! 

But why use figures? Why talk? Just say, 
"He is God!" That tells the whole story; for 
only an infinite and an infinitely loving God 
could invent the tribunal of Confession, making 
the feet of His anointed priests a trysting 
place for parted lovers, the rendezvous for 
Omnipotence and the sin-sick soul, the secret 
meeting-place of God and His wayward child. 

Oh, how easy it is to "make up" with God! 
How easy it is to right a ruined Romance! 
How easy it is to heal broken hearts, both His 
and ours! How easy it is to stop bleeding 
hearts, both His and ours! How easy it is to 
set failing hearts beating together again, just 
His and ours! 

What a forgiving and forgetting Lover is 
God! You and I tore off our engagement ring 
and threw 'it in His face every time that we 
abused creatures. Every time that passion 
or pleasure or pride, every time that anger, 
envy, gluttony or sloth was wilfully courted, 
every time that our sinful self sought its sin-
ful self, just so often did we tear off our en-
gagement ring and throw it into the face of 
our loving" God. And yet, if we but turn back 
now, no matter how long we have been away, 
i f we. turn back how and say, "I 'm sorry," and 
really mean it, if we say, " I won't do it again," 
He'll smile, brush away our tears and put the 
ring back on again. Isn't life a Royal Ro-
mance? 

Oh, what a lover is our loving God! For 
our denials worse than Peter's, He has the 
same loving look to recall us to our senses; 
for our betrayals worse than Judas's, He has 
a cheek that will not spurn a kiss, ai.d a 
tongue that will say "Friend"; for all our 
scandals, worse than Magdalen's, He has the 
same loving words of forgiveness; for our 
cruel crucifixions, much worse than that of the 
Jews, He prays His father for pardon! 

27 



Just look at how thoughtful is our Lover. 
Had we to kneel before His very face, what 
a trial and a torture would be confession! 
Then fear and awe and shame would rob us 
of speech. Had we to kneel to an angel, how 
dread and difficult confession would be! What 
does Michael or Gabriel or Raphael know of 
the weakness of the flesh? What do cherubim 
and seraphim know of passion or the enchant-
ing whispers of the world? What do angels or 
archangels know of the hungers of the human 
heart? But to none of these do we have to 
kneel. Our Lover makes it easy for us. He 
has us kneel to a man, one like ourselves, one 
of flesh and blood, one who lives in a world 
that whispers, one who has a human heart 
that ever wants to be wayward, one who has 
passions and impulses and concupiscence, one 
just like ourselves! How easy God has made 
it for us! He has us kneel to one, like our-
selves, who can really understand, and one, 
unlike ourselves, who can really pardon. He 
has us kneel to an anointed and a consecrated 
man, a man set apart, a man who has been 
trained as only the Church can train a man, 
a man in whom the Church has placed the 
experience of twenty centuries of dealing with 
human souls, a man, like and yet unlike our-
selves, for he is sealed with the deep seal of 
Christ; and therefore, is a man who can love 
without loving, a man with discretion, a man 
with a mind strange to curiosity, vanity or 
fear, with a heart that is like an immense 
well, into which all our sins can be dropped; 
but a well so deep that no sound ever comes 
back from the depths to any ear that might 
be bent to listen. This is the man whom God 
has made His plenipotentiary, who can give us 
back our engagement ring and reconcile us to 
an outraged God. 

Not only does our Lover forgive and forget, 
but He even provides for the future. Know-
ing us better than we know ourselves, He 
gives us something to strengthen our weak-
ness, something to cure our blindness, some-
thing to sharpen our hearing and to clarify 
our judgments. He knows that the world is 

28 



going to whisper again and that we may listen. 
He knows that there is a possibility that we 
may put on the blindfold again, that we may 
once again look at creatures and see only 
creatures. He knows that we may be fools 
enough again to tear off the engagement ring, 
so He gives us pr- grace! 

Oh, what a Lover is God! At a time when 
justice would demand punishment, expulsion 
and complete abandonment, He not only for-
gives, but He also gives. He not only forgets 
the past, but He looks forward into the future. 
He not only takes care of sin but even pro-
vides for our sinfulness. Truly the Sacra-
ment of Penance is a miracle of mercy. It 
makes life livable, it makes life lovable again, 
for it makes it possible for you and for me 
to get to God. 

How fittingly, then, has Father LeBufTe, 
S.J., put it when he says: 

"God is Love and I'm c. lover 
Who would, fain be deep in love. 

"God is Love and I'm a lover, 
Life is Love's brief Tournament." 

What would you think of the "woman taken 
in adultery," if she had gone back to her adul-
tery the minute God had saved her from a 
stoning? What would you think of the "para-
lytic who was let down through the roof" if, 
as soon as Christ had set his feet dancing, he 
hurried out to his selfsame sins? What would 
you have thought of Magdalene if, after the 
public forgiveness in Simon's house, she had 
gone out and become again the public sinner? 
What would you have thought of the lepers 
whom Jesus cured if, the moment they were 
made clean, they went back to their old haunts 
that reeked with lepers and leprosy? What 
would you think of the dumb whose tongues 
He loosed if, the moment they could talk, they 
fell to cursing, swearing, blaspheming, to 
back-biting, slanders and lies, to talking scan-
dals and smut? What, then, can you think of 
yourself if, after confession, you again turn 
your back on your Lover; if, after "making 

29 



up," you again tear off the ring from your 
finger; if, after absolution, you again ruin your 
Romance? What can you honestly think of 
yourself if, after confession, you again walk 
into the occasions of sin? 

"YES, FATHER, BUT. . . L ISTEN. . . 

THERE IS SUFFERING. . . AND . . . DEATH" 

I can well imagine that by this time you 
are puzzled by the absolute logic of the theme 
that Life is a Divine Romance. You can't get 
away from the truth of it; for a Romance is 
a love-story, about lovers, who, after a com-
plication, find themselves in one another's 
arms to "live happily ever after." That is the 
universally accepted definition of a Romance.. 
Then, when you look at what you are and why 
you are, where you came from and where you 
are going, you find that love, love, love is the 
story of your existence, you see the complica-
tion, you see also the happy ending. You can't 
escape the truth that Life is a Divine Ro-
mance, and yet, you are saying, "Yes, Father, 
but listen . . . " 

"Yes, Father . . . it's all true . . . but listen 
. . . there's an awful lot of pain and sorrow in 
life. Some one has well said, 'We begin it 
with a cry and end it with a sigh,' and oh! 
Father, the measureless mountain of woe be-
tween the two! Think of the veritable sea of 
tears that falls between our first baby cry and 
our last sigh of life. You see, Father, what 
you say about life is true in the abstract, but 
we must face facts! In the ideal order all 
that you say is true, but in the very real, 
workaday world, in everyday life and everyday 
living there is so much headache and so much 
heartache, that life doesn't seem very much 
like a Romance. In fact, I think most of us 
would call it more tragic than romantic." 

I'm glad you said that. I'm very glad; for 
now we can look at facts. There is suffering 
in the world . . . much! There is sorrow in 
the world . . . very much! Life IS replete with 
headache and heartache, and I'm not denying 

30 



one single tear-drop in that veritable ocean 
that falls, and yet I'm still maintaining that 
Life is a Romance, and a Divine Romance. 

SUFFERING IS NOT AN EVIL 

Is suffering an evil? 

I f it is, God is an evil God! Look what He 
did to His Mother . . . seven swords pierced 
her heart! She brought forth her Baby-God 
in the bleakness, loneliness, coldness of a cattle, 
cave. She saw Him die a criminal's death on 
a cross. Hardly had He been born when she 
had to fly with Him into exile. At twelve, she 
lost Him. At thirty, He left her. At thirty-
three, He was dead. I f suffering be evil, God 
is an evil God. 

Is suffering an evil? 
I f it is, then God is a very evil God. Look 

what He did to His Son. The Lord of glory 
was born between an ox and an ass. The 
King of kings- was shunted into a pagan exile 
by a petty tyrant, called Herod. The Son 
of God had to become the Village Carpenter. 
The Teacher of all teachers was questioned 
by Scribe and Pharisee. The Ruler of the 
Temple was condemned by the Sanhedrin. The 
First of many brethren was sold by Judas, 
denied by Peter, and deserted by the Twelve. 
The Lord of life was put to death, and that, 
after a scourging, a crowning and the way of 
the cross! 

Is suffering an evil? 
I f it is, then, indeed, God is a god of evil. 

Look at how He treats His faithful ones. 
John the Baptist was murdered; Peter, His 
"Rock," was crucified. Paul, His "vessel of 
election," was beheaded, and John, His "be-
loved," cast into a caldron of boiling oil. His 
virgins He gives to beasts, His confessors as 
light for Nero's garden, His stalwart ones as 
sport for the arena. 

No! Something is wrong. Suffering cannot 
be an evil, for all of God's loved ones have 
suffered, and suffered terribly. Why, God 
Himself suffered as no one before Him or after 

31 



Him ever suffered. Suffering must be a good! 

And the same with sorrow. Jesus was the 
"Man of Sorrows," Mary the "Mother of Sor-
rows," and every true follower of Christ and 
friend of God has known sorrow, and deep 
sorrow. You'll know it, too, much of it, both 
mentally and physically, before death comes; 
but that doesn't mean that life is not a Ro-
mance. I didn't say life was a "bed of roses," 
I said life is a "love-story;" and because it is 
a love-story, it deals with the heart, and hence, 
there will be heartache. Yes, you'll know 
suffering and sorrow, but you should never 
grow sad, you should never know despondency 
and, of course, never despair, for God loves 
you, and Life IS a Divine Romance. 

Tell me, did you ever see tapestry-weavers 
at work? Well, they always work from be-
hind. They are eternally drawing threads, 
some red, some white, some black. Oh, at 
times it looks "just a mess," a maze of varied 
colors, a "crazy-quilt"; but the weavers go on, 
endlessly drawing the threads. There are 
times when it looks like nothing but a mass 
of loose ends, a mere multiplicity of meaning-
less, worthless, wasted threads; yet the weav-
ers go on, drawing the threads. Finally the 
last thread is drawn. Then the tapestry is 
turned, and the weavers see a work of art, a 
tapestry with a beautiful design. 

Our life is like that; just like that. There 
are times when we can't understand why 
suffering, sorrow, failure, even disgrace, comes 
our way. There are times when life seems 
a; "mess," a multiplicity of trials and troubles. 
We can't understand why God should take our 
loved ones, why He should strike the good with 
infirmities and the faithful with poverty. 
There is very much in life that we cannot 
fully understand, but we do know that God 
is Love and that life is a Divine Romance. 
Hence, we can say with Father Tabb: 

"My life is but a weaving 

Between my God and me. 
I may but draw the colors, 

He worketh skillfully. 

32 



I "Full oft He chooses sorrow 
And I, in foolish pride, 

Forget He sees the upper 
And I, the under side.". 

My good girl, we'll turn our weaving one of 
these days and, if we have been drawing the 
threads that God gives us, we'll see.. .Heaven! 

Remember that! For poverty, pain, priva-
tion may come; suffering and sorrow will 
come; the cross may cut deep into your 
shoulders and the crown pierce deep into your 
brain . . . but go on! go on, just drawing the 
threads, patiently, prayerfully, lovingly, for 
"He does see the upper and we the under side." 
We'll turn our tapestry at life's happiest mo-
ment — Death! 

LIFE'S HAPPIEST MOMENT — DEATH! 

There are very many people who fear Death. 
Some have a positive horror of it; but that is 
only because they have never understood life. 
Many there are who fear it, because, they 
say, "it is a leap in the dark" and they add 
that no one likes the dark. But every Catholic 
knows that Death is but a waking to the light. 
Some there are who dread it because they say 
it is a walking into the unknown; you and I 
know that it is a meeting with the All-know-
ing. There are those who fear Death because 
they know it is a time for judgment, a time for 
the settling of the question of sin and service. 
But you and I, who are trying to live accord-
ing to God's plan, who are earnestly trying to 
dictate to God's Recording Angel a life's story 
that will be a Divine Romance, you and I can-
not fear Death this way, for we have already 
"made up," we have had our rendezvous with 
our Lover in His secret trysting-place of the 
confessional. We have settled the question of 
sin and we are trying to serve. 

No, Death can cause us fear from none of 
the above accounts. The only fear that we can 
feel is the holy fear of the angels, who bliss-
fully tremble in the presence of the all-pure 
God. This ecstatic fear we can know, for to 

33 



us, Death is but a revelation of the Divinity 
and every such revelation causes a blessed, 
fearful expectancy. We are going to see God 
"face to face." Hence Death causes us a holy 
expectancy, a sort of nervous excitement that 
makes our hearts beat faster and our breath 
grow shorter, for we are about to greet . . . 
our Lover! 

Oh, Death is a happy thought. Of all life's 
happiest moments, it is by far the happiest. 
It means that we are going home! Did you 
ever see a girl who had been away for a long 
time come home? home to her father and her 
mother? home to her brothers and sisters? 
Why, it is one of life's greatest joys merely to 
witness such a reunion. Think, then, what it 
will mean to be the principal actor in such a 
return . . . that's Death! You and I have been 
away for a long, long time. Our exile began 
at birth, it ends at Death. We go home, really 
home and to all that it means: to God, our 
Father; to Mary, our Mother; to Jesus, our 
Brother; to our family, the saints and the 
angels. Oh, isn't Death beautiful? It ends 
our exile, it brings us home, it unites us to our 
parents and our family! 

Some say that Death takes all from you; 
but these some are of the worldly world, and 
these some are wrong. Death does not take, 
death gives! Death gives you everything for 
which you have been longing. Why, ever 
since reason's dim dawn you have been ask-
ing, "What?" and "Why?" and, were you to 
live till the crack of doom, you'd still be ask-
ing, "What?" and "Why?" Your mind wants 
truth, it hungers after knowledge, it craves 
to know. We have peered through telescopes 
and brought down the sun and the moon and 
the stars; we have placed them on our scien-
tific scale and have weighed them, for we must 
know. We have studied the valleys of the 
moon and patiently watched the planets as 
they whirled their way through a midnight 
sky, for we must know. We have squinted 
through microscopes and micrometer micro-
scopes to see and to measure the almost un-

34 



seeable and the almost unmeasurable, because 
we must know. We have taken pictures of 
sporulation and fission . . . in brief, we have 
scanned the skies, dug to the earth's deepest 
stratum, plunged into the very bowels of the 
sea, for we must know. And yet whole new 
vistas of the knowable are but opened up 
with each new discovery. So, if we knew all 
the knowable of earth, we would still be asking, 
"What?" and "Why?" for our minds must 
know—God! He is All-Truth. He is All-
Knowledge. He is All the knowable. Death 
gives us God and puts an end to our search-
ings. At Death "what" and "why" and "where-
fore" drop from our vocabulary, the question-
mark goes from our punctuation and there 
is left to us only the exclamation point. Isn't 
Death beautiful? 

So, too, with Beauty. Oh! how we love and 
seek for Beauty! Its every form from a shy 
anemone to a mightty moonlit ocean enchants 
us. Nature, animate and inanimate, is replete 
with Beauty and, could we drink it all in, 
could we' catch and hold the wonder of an 
eastern sky at dawning or the glory of a wes-
tern sky at sundown, could we catch and hold 
the breathless vision of pearly mountain peaks 
glistening 'neath a wintry moon or the beauty 
of the ocean's breast as she breathes under 
a starlit sky, could we beggar the very world 
of its beauty, we'd still thirst for more, for 
we must have God! He is All-Beauty. Death 
gives us God and our thirst for Beauty is 
slaked. 

Need I talk of love? Have you ever rea-
lized how hungry you are for love? Oh! how 
the human heart craves affection! From baby-
hood to old age we want to love and to be 
loved, and the years, no matter what they give, 
seem but to whet the appetite for more love. 
We have had parent-love, then brother and 
sister lpve, later came the age of sweethearts 
and finally that fully possessing love of hus-
band and wife, and yet, we are always hungry, 
hungry for more. God alone can satisfy that 
hunger. God alone can quiet the human heart. 

35 



Death gives us God, and the human heart's 
hunger is appeased, for He is All-Love. Isn't 
Death beautiful? 

You have seen a compass-needle, haven't 
you? You've seen it unvaryingly point to the 
North, no matter what the shifts of the ship 
or the compass-box. Our souls are just like 
that. Our souls are just like that needle and 
God is our North. Oh, there have been times 
when we have been truant, we have shifted 
and shunted about, but unvaryingly our souls 
swung back to God; for He made them so! 
They can't nelp it; it is their nature. They 
were made for God alone. Death ends all 
wavering. Death ends all wandering. Death 
ends all searching and seeking. Death is find-
ing God! Isn't it beautiful? 

Do you know what Death is? I'll tell you. 
It is the full-flowering of our immortal souls. 
You have seen rosebuds, haven't you? Beauti-
ful little things, but oh! "so tightly packed, so 
solidly folded, so cramped. Then they unfold, 
they open out into the full flower and become 
free and graceful and beauteous. Our souls 
are like those little rosebuds. We are tightly 
cramped, terribly, terribly cramped. Then 
comes Death and we unfold, we open out into 
the full flower of our spiritual immortality. 
Isn't Death beautiful? 

Now, do you see how stupid, foolish and 
ignorant the world is? It doesn't know any-
thing about Life, it knows still less about 
Death. It calls Death the ending of Life; we 
know it is but the beginning of real life and 
real living. It says Death is a parting from 
loved ones; we know it is but the union with 
our greatest Lover. It speaks of "closing the 
eyes in Death"; we know we are but opening 
our eyes to real vision, the "face-to-face" vision 
of God. It calls Death "eternal night"; we 
know it to be but thfi dawn of the never-ending 
day. It says Death is a last farewell,, a long 
good-bye, a leaving of everything; we know 
it is a welcome home, a greeting of our loved 
ones, the acquiring of all that we have longed 
for. Death to us is Beauty itself. 

36 



The world in its learned ignorance depicts 
Death by a skull and crossbones — hideous, 
repulsive, hateful. We know it to be a lying 
representation. I f we must have a symbol for 
Death, then let us be true to its actuality, let 
us be true to its Author; for it is the beginning 
of Life. Then let us represent it with a skull, 
if you will, but put on that skull flesh! the 
beautiful flesh and face of the most beautiful 
of all men, make Death the face of Jesus 
Christ, and then, in place of the empty skull 
and the glaring sockets, we see Death as it 
actually is, with the eyes of God and the smile 
of God, the sweetest smile human face ever 
smiled, for it is the smile of welcome from a 
Lover who has longed all a lifetime to see His 
beloved. The Angel of Death is Jesus Christ. 
He summons us with a whispered "Come, my 
love, it is time to come home." That is Death 
... Life's happiest moment. 

TWO ARE PROPOSING TO YOU . . . 

ASKING "WILL YOU BE MINE?" 

I have just told you of Christ's call at 
Death, I want you now to consider His pro-
posal in Life. 

Perhaps it might startle you to learn that 
Jesus Christ, true God and true Man, the 
Creator and the Redeemer of the world, the 
King of kings and the Lord of lords, should 
propose to tiny you, a creature, and such a 
creature! But it is true, just as true as that 
you are now reading these lines. Do you 
wonder, then, that I call Life a Divine Ro-
mance? Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is 
pleading. with YOU: "My child, give Me thy 
heart." It is a Lover's proposal! The "most 
beautiful of the sons of men," the strongest 
of all strong men, the purest of all pure hearts, 
the noblest of all noble wills, the Superman of 
all humanity, God's masterpiece of all crea-
tion, asks YOU: "Wil l you be Mine?" 

I know that this is all going to sound 
strange to you, but that is only because you 
have been listening with the ears of the body 
to the noise of the world and have not caught 

37 



the whispers of your soul. That is because 
you have been listening to false flatterers and 
not to your true Lover. Now I am going to 
talk to you. You tell me that you love beauty, 
truth, goodness, that you admire strength of 
body and strength of soul; you tell me that 
you want "your man" to be just t h a t . . . 
"yours" and "a man." You tell me that you 
want virility, real vigor, force of mind, 
strength of will and power of soul. What you 
are saying is that you want a conqueror and 
yet a gentle man. I understand. Your heart 
of hearts wants perfection, mental, moral and 
physical flawlessness, and your heart of hearts 
has it, i f it will only look and listen. Jesus 
Christ is a MAN, and Jesus Christ is YOURS! 

What does Bethlehem mean? A tiny Baby, 
beautiful, but cold and lonely. Where is the 
woman's heart that does not warm to that? 
A God you might adore and reverence, but a 
Baby, you must love; and God knew it. That 
is why God became a Baby. I t is Jesus Christ s 
first way of saying, "My child, give Me thy 
heart." 

Hurry over thirty-three years now and see 
the Baby who has grown to magnificent man-
hood. For the past three years He has been 
"going about doing good," but it has been not 
to call forth your wonder; it has been to win 
your love. Today is Good Friday, and He has 
been scourged and mocked and crowned and 
now they are nailing Him to a cross. Why? 
Why was Jesus Christ? Ah, there is only one 
answer, and in that one answer, there is only 
one word, and it is—love! From Bethlehem to 
Golgotha, from His conception to His cruci-
fixion, Jesus Christ* was pleading with YOU, 
"My child, give Me thy heart." 

Nineteen hundred years have passed, and 
He is still pleading. From out the swaddling 
clothes of Bread, from out the prison-cell of 
the Tabernacle, from behind brazen doors, the 
great God is asking YOU, "Will you be Mine?" 

It is all true, isn't it? It is a proposal, and 
a Lover's proposal; and you never heard it so 
clearly before. But is it any wonder? You 

38 



can't hear whispers when people are shouting, 
you can't hear Christ amid the clamor of the 
devil's world. 

There is another who seeks your soul. Seeks 
it with the intensity almost equal to that of 
Christ. He wants your heart almost as avidly 
as does God, and he pleads for it with vehe-
mence. There is another at your side who is 
asking, "Wil l you be mine?" His words are 
winning, he promises much, he flatters shame-
lessly. But he is not your lover despite his 
words of love, he is not enamored of your 
heart despite his protests and his pleas. His 
whispered words that thrill you are trickery; 
his pretty speeches, lies; his proposal, seduc-
tion! Satan hates you, and yet he whispers, 
"Will you be mine?" 

You start again and say, " I never thought 
of Satan as proposing to me before." And I 
answer, "Is it any wonder? Clever deceit 
deceives the cleverest." 

Did you ever read or see or hear of "Cyrano 
de Bergerac"? I f you are acquainted with 
him, then you know something of the devil's 
tactics. Cyrano was madly in love with the 
beautiful Roxane, but Cyrano had a tremen-
dous nose which threw his face out of all 
proportion. Cyrano was ugly, and hence, did 
not appeal to the eye of the beautiful maid. 
Christian, the handsome soldier, was her 
choice. But Christian could not speak. When-
ever he came into the presence of the beau-
tiful . Roxane, he was tongue-tied. The ever 
versatile Cyrano found a way to right mat-
ters. He could talk, and oh, so beautifully! 
So one night he got Christian to climb up 
upon the balcony outside Roxane's room, while 
he himself hid under it. When Roxane looked 
out she heard speeches such as no other be-
loved ever heard, and they seemed to be coming 
from the mouth of the handsome Christian. It 
was Cyrano who was doing the talking and 
he was putting all the fervor of his poet's soul, 
all the rich warmth of his loving heart, all the 
frenzy of his fertile imagination on the tongue 
of the handsome Christian. Roxane was won 

39 



that night, she was won to the body of Chris-
tian — by the soul of Cyrano! 

Now, that is how the devil works. He never 
appears himself. He is too ugly. He knows 
that your girlish sensibilities would be shocked 
if he were to appear before you and openly 
entice you to sin. But he further knows just 
what will please your eye, what will tickle 
your-ear and delight your fancy; he well 
knows just what will win your heart. So he 
hides behind all that is pleasing, all that de-
lights, all that allures . . . not to win your 
heart in love, but to damn your soul in hate! 
He uses handsome boys, winsome girls, heroic-
looking men and regal women; he uses all the 
charm of speech, the magic of music, the de-
light of the dance, the flattery of dress and 
the exhilaration of drink. He uses anything 
and everything delightful to win you to de-
struction. And he makes it all sound like a 
proposal of love! 

Contrast the two seekers of your soul: Christ 
and Lucifer. Satan doesn't love you. He 
hates you with all the hate of hell. He hated 
you the moment your mother conceived you, 
and he has hated you every moment since. 
On the day that you were baptized and marked 
indelibly as Christ's his hatred flared up anew. 
From the day you knelt in all your girlish 
innocence and made your first confess! n, he 
has worked with all the energy of tiie damned 
to get you away from your only true Lover, 
Jesus. With every worthy reception ot the 
Sacraments, Satan's hate has grown, until 
now it is a veritable fury. He will nevei rest 
now until you are either shackled to him by 
mortal sin or safe in the arms of your Lover 
in heaven! 

Do listen, and listen closely, to the two pro-
posals, and hear what they are really saying. 
One is, " I love you"; the other, " I hate you." 
Beware of Satan and his wiles. Pleasure is 
the trap that catches most, and he disguises 
it in many, many ways. Perhaps the most 
dangerous for you will be "Style," "keeping 
up to the times," and "being really modern." 

40 



Look beneath the surface! I f you look 
closely and listen attentively, you will recog-
nize the hater of your soul. Know that im-
purity is impurity, no matter what the price 
of the gown, the glitter of the jewels, the 
beauty of the form and the face, no matter 
what the cleverness of the tongue the impuie 
one may have. And this the "talkie" tries to 
disguise! Drunkenness is sin, no matter how 
witty the drunkard may be. And this again 
the movies try to masquerade! Indecency is 
degrading and disgusting, no matter who the 
indecent one is. And this the press seems to 
forget! "The pen IS mightier than the sword" 
where the slaughter of souls is concerned. So 
watch your reading! The "smartest" maga-
zine and the "best-seller" are usually the smut-
tiest; and, remember, smut is smut, no matter 
what the "smart" wrappings! 

"Being 'smart,'" "keeping up to the times," 
"being modern" and "in style" not infrequent-
ly mean being pagan, uncatholic, unchristian, 
unchristlike. The latest style in dress and 
dancing not seldom means immodesty and sug-
gestiveness. "Keeping up to the times" very 
often means keeping behind in your religion. 
And "being smart" almost always means being 
sinful! You are surrounded by dangers, for 
it is Satan's world. His disguises are count-
less. He has been known to appear as an 
angel from heaven only to lure souls to hell. 
So be wary! Be wise! Listen to your real 
Lover! 

Christ has proposed to you! He has pleaded, 
"My child, give Me thy heart!" "Will you 
be Mine?" Now you tell me that you want 
beauty of body and of soul, you want nobility 
of mind and character, you want heroicity of 
heart. You tell me that you want a con-
queror who is a gentleman. I tell you that 
Jesus Christ, the Conqueror of Satan, of hell 
and of death — the Gentle Jesus -r- the "Lamb 
of God" — the God-Man is awaiting your 
reply! 

41 



YOU CAN GIVE ONE OF THREE 
ANSWERS 

DOROTHY'S.. . HELEN'S . . . GERTRUDE'S * 

You must have read the story of Solomon 
and the wrangling women. You remember 
how the two women and the little baby were 
brought before the wisest of men. Both the 
women claimed to be the mother of the child, 
so Solomon knew that one of them was a liar. 
But which one? That was the question! 
Baby tongue couldn't tell, for baby could not 
talk. Baby face didn't tell, for there was no 
striking resemblance to either one of the 
women. Was the wisest of men lost? No! 
Not for a moment. He got a sword. He knew 
the mother's heart, so he said, "Not to you, 
nor to you; but let it be divided . . . That is 
my judgment. What do you think of it?" 

Then up spoke the false mother, "That is 
a fair judgment. Not to me, nor to her; but 
let it be divided." 

Solomon looked at the other woman and 
saw only tears. She spoke, but it was little 
more than a moan. She said, "Do not kill 
the child" . . . and Solomon settled the case. 

Now, note what the true mother said. She 
did not say, "Do not divide the baby." She 
only moaned, "Do not kill the child." You 
can't divide without killing. She knew it, and 
so did Solomon. She made his judgment easy. 

The devil will often make the same pro-
posal about your heart. "Compromise," he 
will whisper, "not to me, nor to God; but let 
it be divided." You are liable to think, "A 
fair suggestion! So much to God, so much to 
self. Let it be divided." But I plead with 
you — "Do not kill your heart." You can't 
divide without killing! You received your 
heart whole and entire from God. Give it 
back to Him whole and entire! "Divide et 
impera" was the conquering cry of the Ro-
mans, "Divide and Conquer." It is often the 
same for Satan. Compromise! Divide! and 
if you do, he will have conquered! No, I 
beg of you, do not kill your heart, and that is 

42 



exactly what you will do i f you are not like 
Gertrude. 

Let me tell you about Gertrude. One day 
three girls walked into a doctor's office. They 
were modern girls, in love with life. They 
had "looks," personality and "pep." Friends 
they could count by the scores, both male and 
female, and to these three the future was 
mighty promising. But of late all three had 
noticed a little "let-down" in their energy. 
They didn't feel so "peppy" as usual, and they 
didn't "pick-up" so fast after a dance or a 
game. So they had all decided to see a doctor. 

They saw him. After he had examined all 
three thoroughly, he called them to his office. 
He took off his glasses, placed them on the 
desk before him, tilted back in his swivel 
chair, then turned to the three anxious faces 
before him and smiled. "Girls," he said, " I 
am going to tell you the truth, then I am go-
ing to give you an infallible prescription. The 
truth may not sound pleasant, but it should 
not be terrifying, especially when I can give 
a prescription that is infallible. The truth is 
this: each of you has a tiny spot on your 
lungs. It is nothing now, but it will grow. 
We call it tuberculosis; I suppose you know 
it as 'T. B.' Now don't get excited about it. 
We all have the germs in us. I have them 
as well as you, but my resistance is such that 
they can make no headway. You three have 
allowed your vitality to become lowered late-
ly and the germs have started to feed upon 
your lungs. That is the truth." He paused 
and three frightened girls looked at one an-
other. 

"Now here is some more truth," continued 
the doctor; "these germs will continue to feed 
upon your lungs unless you build up your re-
sistance. They will eat their way right 
through your lungs and you will go into a 
rapid decline i f . . . if, I say . . . and here is 
the prescription . . . if you don't give up danc-
ing, smoking, late hours and go off to Ari-
zona." 

The doctor picked up his glasses and rose. 
"There, girls, you have the truth, the whole 

43 



truth, and nothing but the truth. Follow that 
prescription and I infallibly promise you hap-
piness, health and, naturally speaking, a long 
life. Neglect it, and I'm telling you now that 
sickness and death will come." 

The three girls thanked him in their 
frightened voices and then walked out. Now 
watch them closely. They come out, get into 
their car and, before there is a step on the 
starter, a flick of a match is heard. 

"Why, Dot! What are you doing?" says 
Gertrude. 

"I 'm lighting a cigarette," says Dorothy; 
"and if you want to know, I'm going to the 
dance tonight, and I'm not going to Arizona! 
He told us that we only had a tiny spot and 
that it was nothing now. I'm going to take 
a chance that it won't get any worse. Arizona! 
Huh! That dead place! No smokes. No 
dances. No dates. No night-life! Oh, no! 
not for me, girls! I love life!" . . . That was 
Dorothy Do-nothing. 

Seeing Gertrude's horrified face Helen says, 
"Well, I don't know. Dot is certainly right 
about Arizona, it would be a mighty dead 
place. But I think we ought to do something. 
I'll give up cigarettes, that is, I'll cut down 
on them. And I'll go to a dance only once a 
month. And I'll stay here. That ought to 
help. He said it was only a tiny spot." That 
was Helen Half-way. She ended by asking, 
"How about you, Gert?" 

"Well, girls, he told us the truth and he 
promised us health and happiness and a long 
life is we followed his prescription. Here go 
my last cigarettes," and out the window of 
the car flew an unfinished pack of "Luckies." 
"I 'm calling Jim today and telling him 'good-
bye' for a while. No dance tonight. I f he's 
willing to wait, I'll be back. And, Dot, you 
can stop right here; I'm making my reserva-
tions for Arizona right now!" That was 
Gertrude Give-all. 

I f you are interested I can tell you that six 
months from the day, down in her Arizona 
cottage, she received a black-edged envelope 

44 



telling her that Dot had been "laid away the 
past week." In two year's time she was back 
at Helen's bedside, only to hear her gasp, 
"You were wise. The 'Doc' was right. I'm Q 
going now, Good-Bye, Gert." And the fol-
lowing week, Gertrude laid flowers on the 
twin graves of her chums. 

Now, all three said that they loved life. 
Dot swore she loved it; Helen insisted again 
and again that she loved it; but only one 
proved that she really loved it. Love means 
sacrifice. Love means suffering. Love means 
success. Gertrude sacrificed. She suffered. 
She succeeded. Only Gertrude loved life! 

"A story," you say. 
And I say, "Yes, a story. But one that is 

true to life. Call it rather a parable and ap-
ply it the way it is meant to be applied." 

Don't we all say that we love God? Don't 
we all say that we want to save our souls? 
Don't we all admit that Satan is our enemy 
and God our Lover?- Don't we all know the 
truth? Yes . . . but how do we act? 

We have a soul to save. But that soul is 
tainted. Tiny germs are in it when we are 
born. We call them the effects of Original 
Sin. They are known also as the concupiscenc-
es. They are actually sin-germs. We all 
have them, and they must be kept in check. 
I f we allow our resistance to be lowered, they 
will feed on the soul, then the sickness of sin 
will follow and, finally, eternal death. Yes, 
we know the truth and we know the infallible 
prescription. I t was given us by the Divine 
Physician. "Give up all persons, places and 
things that may lead you into sin. Avoid all 
the occasions of sin and go into God's Sana-
torium — His blessed Sacraments." Oh, the 
prescription is clear and definite. What do we 
do about it? What have we done to date? 

The Dorothy Do-nothings trifle with temp-
tation. They go with the boys and the girls 
who have led them into sin in the past and 
who will again lead them into sin. They listen 
to the lying whispers of the world and believe 
them! They never go to the Sacraments. 
They die eternally! 



The Helen Half-ways say, "I'll avoid all 
mortal sin, but venial sin is only a tiny thing. 
It does not absolutely destroy the soul." They 
go to Communion very, very' seldom. They 
walk around the quicksands of mortal sin, and 
one day they sink! 

The Gertrude Give-alls say, "Thank jjfflg 
God, for telling me the truth." Out the win-
dow go all companionships that are dangerous. 
Away goes all reading matter that is salacious. 
Venial sin is shunned as a serpent. They 
hurry to purchase their tickets to God's Heart 
by a good confession and by loving and fre-
quent Communion. Only Gertrude Give-alls 
really love their God. Only Gertrude Give-alls 
want to save their souls! 

What class have you been in to date? What 
class are you going to be. in from this date? 
My good girl, you can't play with fire and not 
be burnt! You can't live in our modern, pa-
gan world and not sin; you car't live in our 
sophisticated Twentieth Century and be clean 
unless you stay close to the cleanest of all 
clean men, close, very close to your Lover, 
Jesus Christ; and the closest you can get to 
Him is in Holy Communion.' 

The Gertie Give-alls are daily communi-
cants. They really love God. Are you going 
to be like Gertrude? Your Lover is waiting 
for the answer to His proposal. He says, 
"Give Me your heart." . . . Will it be none, or 
half . . . or all? 

YOUR LOVER PROVES HIS LOVE 
HE GIVES. . . HE SUFFERS . . . 

HE SACRIFICES 

Dare you be any but Gertrude and still claim 
that you love? 

Love, I know, is a very difficult subject to 
write about or talk about. Love laughs at 
definition. It is so big, so universal, so abso-
lutely all-embracing that it refuses to be 
caught and captured within the words of a 
definition, and yet everyone knows what it is. 
Difficult though it be, I'm going to attempt 
it, for I have found Love's language. 

46 



Yes, love has a language all its own, a 
language that has no printed lexicon, yet a 
language that everybody understands. Love 
is the only universal language. • Strange as it 
may seem, Love's best speech is silence. A 
silver-haired mother and her boy, now become 
a man, speak little but love much; sweethearts 
who were always chattering say next to noth-
ing as they love one another as middle-aged 
husband and wife, and yet their silences are 
more eloquent and their love more true. In 
love, actions speak much more loudly than 
words, for doing and giving are much more 
eloquent than saying. The greatest love that 
was ever on this earth was expressed by deeds, 
not words. Christ, who loved the Father with 
a love that shook this whole firmament, never 
once said, " I love Him"; He did tell us, " I DO," 
He 'did say, " I DO always the things that 
please Him," and that doing was proof positive 
of love! Yes, Love's language is all its own; 
deeds and gifts are its nouns and verbs and 
the manner of doing and giving, its modifiers. 
So, to love, you don't need words, you must 
simply do and give. To love supremely, you 
must give all! 

I want you now to listen to God tell His love 
to you. I want you to look at His gifts and 
His deeds. God gave you life. From out of 
nothingness He called you and gave you body 
and soul. That body He had fashioned with 
fingers omnipotent on the model drawn by the 
Trinity. That soul is a breath of Himself! 
God gives you living. Earth and air and 
water, the sunshine and the dew. God gives 
you a father and a mother, God gives you 
family and friends. God gives you joy and 
laughter; God gives you life and love. 

And yet what are these? Twenty centuries 
since Christ, forty or fifty centuries before 
Him . . . why, all the unknown centuries since 
Adam' have not told us just how great are 
these gifts. Man has no balance on which to 
weigh them, no price-tag which he can attach. 
Undoubtedly, they are priceless, and yet I ask, 
what are they? What are all these great gifts 

47 



in comparison to the Gift of gifts—God Him-
self? 

You and I were under obligation to love 
God. But what could we do? One can't fall 
madly in love with a Spirit. One can't lose 
her heart to Omniscience. Neither Infinity 
nor Immensity, neither Immutability nor Om-
nipotence ever set a pulse pounding, nor 
caused the light of love to flash into an eye. 
No, we are creatures of flesh, we are creatures 
of sense, we can love only what we know, 
and we may know immediately only what we 
can see and feel and taste and touch. We 
can't go mad about a concept. We can't lose 
our hearts to an idea. And God knew it ! 
God knew that our obligation would never be 
fulfilled, our lives ruined and our hearts 
robbed, unless He became tangible. 

Yes, God knew that 'we must love someone 
or some thing, and, lest we lose our hearts to 
creatures instead of to the Creator, lest we 
fall in love with God's beauties and not with 
God, lest we hug semblances instead of sub-
stance . . . God became flesh! He had given 
us snap-shots of Himself in the beauty of the 
world around us, but these were blurred; He 
had given us images of Himself in the men 
and women of the world, but these were very 
imperfect; so He would give more, He would 
give all, He would give Himself. 

Out from the high halls of heaven He 
leaped. In one mad Lover's plunge, He dived 
deep into the dark womb of a little Jewish 
girl, hidden away in the despised town, of a 
despised province, a very much despised people. 
Nine months later, in the hills outside Bethle-
hem, the God-man was born! Oh, He well 
knew that we could not love Omniscience, In-
finity or Immensity; He know that we would 
never fall in love with Omnipotence, Divinity 
or Infinite Intelligence. He also knew that we 
could not help loving a Babe! That is why 
Omniscience looks out from Baby eyes, Infinity 
becomes a single Baby-Boy, Immensity bounds 
itself by ten Baby-fingers and ten Baby-toes. 
That is why Omnipotence becomes helpless, 

48 



Divinity hides itself in tangible humanity and 
Infinite Intelligence prattles meaningless Baby-
talk. That is why the Lord God, Creator of 
heaven and earth and all things, becomes 
Mary's Son. . . . Just that you might love Him! 
Actions do speak louder than words, and God 
is talking to you. 

Look at your Baby-God in the arms of His 
mother. Look deep into His beautiful Baby-
eyes. These eyes saw before Time began or 
Space was; these eyes saw the void whence 
was called this magnificent world of ours; 
these eyes saw all men and 'all possible men 
before Adam ever became, for these are the 
all-seeing eyes of an all-seeing God, and yet 
they are set in the face of a new-born Babe" 
. . . all for you! Look at the pudgy Baby-
arms, helpless, little, clutching things, yet 
these are the arms that uphold the world, 
these are the fingers that tossed off the stars, 
traced the courses for the planets and set the 
sun and the moon in their places. These are 
the all-powerful fingers of the all-powerful 
God, and yet they are pretty, little Baby-
fingers stretched out to twine in your hair and 
to touch the rose in your cheek. These are 
the omnipotent arms of the omnipotent God, 
and yet they are stretched out, trying to en-
circle your neck. God, the all-pure God, wants 
to be lifted in your arms and hugged to your 
heart. That is the only reason He became a 
Baby! 

Think, now, of what it meant to God to 
become a Baby. It meant that He must make 
a personal acquaintance with poverty, loneli-
ness, lovelessness and pain. In heaven He was 
surrounded by light, adoration and love. 
Angels and Archangels, Thrones and Domina-
tions, Principalities and Powers and all the 
other choirs sang in ceaseless adoration: 
"Holy! Holy! Holy!" In heaven there was 
no heartache nor heartbreak—yet, for you and 
for me, He cramped Infinity first in the dark 
womb of a little girl, then in the tiny body of 
a Baby, that He might dwell on that speck of 
the earth we call Palestine. For you and for 

49 



me, Eternal Happiness became the Man of 
Sorrows. That Omnipotence might know weak-
ness, Infinite Love' know loneliness and love-
lessness, that Everlasting Joy might feel pain, 
a tiny Baby rested on a few wisps of straw in 
the manger of cattle in a deserted stable and 
was breathed upon by an ox and an ass. 

I f sacrifice be the most eloquent language 
of love, then God is madly in love with you! 
Yes, look at your Baby Jesus in the arms of 
His mother and listen to His love. Can you 
keep from loving a Baby? a lonely Baby? a 
lovely Baby? a Shivering, helpless, little Mite, 
who is your God? 

But He has not done enough. Not enough 
to sacrifice and suffer, not enough to degrade 
Himself, not enough to become human — He 
would do more, He would do much more. 

Sacrifice is the most eloquent language of 
love, and life is the supreme sacrifice. All his-
tory tells us this, and the language of every 
land is filled with the praise of those who 
have given their all. During the World War 
we had only gold for the stars of those who 
died. Our most precious metal would pay 
tribute to those who mad€ the most precious 
sacrifice. Today in the National Cemetery at 
Arlington, a mausoleum of purest marble is 
seen; at its gate a grateful nation ever 
marches her staunchest soldiery. It is a 
solemn act of appreciation to the army of the 
UNKNOWN who died that we m'ght live in 
peace. It is only proper; for Christ Himself 
has said, "Greater love than this no man hath, 
than that he lay down his life for his friends." 
Love is proved by deeds, not by words, and it 
is sacrifice that shows the heart. 

Realizing this, look now at your dead Jesus 
in the arms of His mother. Look long at 
pierced hands and pierced feet; look long at 
spear-dug side and broken Heart; look very 
long at the thorn-crowned head and at the body 
that was flayed alive. Look intently at the 
broken, bruised, purpled face of your God, who 
is dead, and listen to Love speak! 

Why this outrage? Because of you and of 

50 



me! We had sinned, sinned mortally, and that 
meant that we were held by Satan. He had 
not kidnaped us, for we had walked into his 
trap. But he held us, and the ransom price 
was the price of blood. You and I had sold 
ourselves to sin and Ihe only money that could 
buy us back was "blood-money." You and I 
had committed crime, had been caught "red-
handed" in our guilt, and the sentence had 
come sharp and sure: "They shall die the 
death." It was a just sentence, and from it 
there was no appeal. We had committed a 
capital crime, we should pay for it by capital 
punishment. We couldn't satisfy for the 
crime, for it was infinite; but we would have 
to give our all. Then into the court of God's 
justice came a Man, a Man who loved us. He 
spoke to the Judge. He would not only "go 
bail"; He would serve our sentence, ¡even 
though it be the sentence of death. More! 
Yet more! From out His infinite source He 
would completely, satisfy our debt. He, the 
only One in the world with the price, would 
pay it, and pay it willingly. He would make 
the supreme sacrifice, because He was in love! 

We can not fully understand that, can we? 
But we do know that actions speak louder 
than words, that gifts are the language of 
love, and that sacrifice is its most eloquent 
declaration. We do know that it is a torture 
to be electrocuted, and yet it takes but a few 
seconds. We do know that the lethal-chamber 
with its gas is merciful, yet terrible. We do 
know that the gallows can be speedy and that 
the guillotine was quick and sure. We also 
know that the Crucifixion took three long 
hours, and that it was the climax to a night 
in a dungeon where He was spit upon and 
mocked, to a morning of mock-trials, a fierce 
scourging, a cruel crowning and a staggering, 
stumbling, falling way of the cross. And we 
do know that it was all for us! 

Yes, ours the head that should be thorn-
pierced and blood-drenched; ours the hands 
that should be dug through; ours the side that 
should be gaping, and ours the heart that 

51 



should be spear-stabbed. We are the ones that 
should be limp and lifeless, for we are the 
ones who sinned. We are the ones who should 
have felt the' scourge and been spit upon; we 
the ones who should have borne the weight of 
the cross; but Love gives!' Love suffers! Love 
sacrifices! and God loves us! "Greater love 
than this no man hath, than that he lay down 
his life for his friends." But what shall we 
say of (Christ? We were His enemies! 

Oh, look at your dead Jesus in the arms of 
His mother and let His silence speak His love! 

Nor is Love done yet! He knew we couldn't 
love the all-pure Spirit, so He mingled it with 
clay, and thus became the huggable little Babe 
of Bethlehem. He knew that we had lost the 
key to heaven, so He made a new one out of 
Calvary's cross. But He must do even more. 

He kne\v that the sight of Him in the arms 
of His mother as a Babe and as a broken body 
should win our love and hold it eternally. 
But He also knew that twenty centuries is an 
awfully long time, and that men and women 
are short of memory. He knew that we could 
not fall in love with a mere historical fact. He 
knew that centuries would change Calvary 
and Bethlehem, and that myth and legend 
might obscure truth. He knew that the Crib 
and the Cross would be to you and to me, 
beautiful, powerful, alluring, and yet they 
might be distant and dim. So, with the in-
genuity of the fierce Lover, He found a way to 
leap the barriers of Time and Space. Love 
always finds a way, and our "Tremendous 
Lover" found a perfect way, even though it 
called for a perpetual miracle! 

Twenty centuries ago Mary said, "Fiat," and 
God became flesh. Today a priest says, "This 
is My Body," and the same "Tremendous 
Lover" takes the same leap, but this time He 
plunges more deeply. Before it was into the 
dark womb of an Immaculate Virgin, and Sin-
lessness was with the sinless; today He 
plunges into a wafer of wheat held in the 
hands of a priest who was born in sin and 
who has most likely sinned since his birth. 

52 



Twenty centuries is a mighty long time, but 
the Mass is a daily occurrence! 

The Crib and the Cross were in Palestine, 
and yet they are at our very doors. Twenty 
long centuries ago He was born of Mary, and 
yet He lives. The Babe of Bethlehem and the 
Man of Calvary are not mere historical fact. 
He is an ever present Reality! Our loving 
Jesus is not distant; if anything, He is too 
near! 

Look at your loving God in the hands of 
the priest, and let His love speak to you. To 
create you was love beyond telling; for from 
nothing He gave you life and living. To re-
deem you was love beyond conception; for He, 
the deathless One, had to die that you might 
live.' But-what shall one say of the Eucharist? 

To support and sustain you, to comfort and 
console, to light your way and be your food, 
to be your captive Christ, bound in the bonds 
of bread and locked behind a brazen door . . . 
oh! Infinite Lover! Great God, how could You 
do it? You hid Divinity in Humanity at Beth-
lehem; and on Calvary's blood-drenched top 
You hid it even more deeply in the flayed flesh 
of the World's Criminal! These degradations 
man has never appreciated, and yet You now 
hide Humanity and Divinity in a wafer of 
wheat, even though you know that this anni-
hilation will be neglected! Oh! Great God, 
actions DO speak louder than words! I know 
YOU love us! 

Look at Him! Look at Him in Mary's arms 
and in priests' palms, and know that Beth-
lehem and Calvary are not distant. Know 
that Jesus is at your side! Look at Him. No! 
No! Don't look at Him! Don't talk to Him! 
Actions do speak much LOUDER than words! 
Deeds and gifts are Love's language! Receive 
Him! Receive Him often! That will be prov-
ing your love. That will be daring to be dif-
ferent ! 

S3 



YOU, THE BELOVED, MUST PROVE YOURS 

BY DARING TO BE DIFFERENT 

That is the motto to take. That is the motto 
to live. For that is the one way you have of 
proving your love. But let me tell you that 
you will never really dare, let alone live the 
dare, unless you are a "wise woman." Follow 
the "star" of the sanctuary lamp. It will lead 
you to Jesus! Follow it frequently. I f you 
are really wise, follow it daily! Frequent Com-
munion will be daring to be different, and it 
will help you to live up to your dare. 

You've got to live up to that dare if you 
are to be a lover. I f you would have your life 
be what it is meant to be, a Divine Romance, 
you've got to dare to be different and live 
your dare. You've got to be different from all 
the world around you. I t is pagan; you are 
Christ's. It is fleshly; you are spiritual. It 
lives only for Time, you, only for Eternity. It 
is a cheat and a liar; you the Beloved of Truth. 

You've got to be mighty different from all 
the world around you. . I t is sin-filled and 
sinning; you must be sinless. It is money-mad 
and pleasure7mad and ego-centric; you can be 
only theo-centric. It is most self-conscious 
and self-seeking; you can be only God-con-
scious and God-seeking. It is a God-oblivious, 
topsy-turvy world, every day going farther 
and farther from the God who made it; you 
must be orderly, you must know, love and serve 
the God who made you, you must so live that 
you actually grasp God. 

Dare to be different from the girls and the 
women of the world —the females of fash-
ion and the slaves of style, the individuals 
who never think, but only "feel" and "sense," 
women who do nothing from principle, but are 
guided and governed by whim, fancy and in-
clination. These, at best, can be called crea-
tures, they most certainly are not characters. 
You get sound principles; live up to them, 
and the living will chisel out that rarity of 
modern civilization . . . a woman with real 
character! You've got to be different; you've 

54 



got to think! Emotion alone will never get 
you to God, and to God you've got to get! 

Dare to be different from the modern miss 
who is totally absorbed with a man and a meal. 
Give her a place to dine and dance, give her 
the latest fashion and fiction, and she is in her 
heaven. Oh, do be different from these modern 
females, who spend hours and even days in 
the care of the body: the hands, the hair and 
the face, but of the soul? . . . once a year suffic-
es; once a month, overgenerous; once a week, 
unthinkable! Be much different from these 
style-straightened, body-worshiping, paganized 
women around you! To keep the graceful form 
of youth, these will fast as no Trappist fasts, 
and they will call it a "health diet"; but the 
Lenten fast and the days of abstinence? . . . 
"Don't be so medieval! The Church will have 
to become more modern!" 

What a crime it all is! I f the Church asked 
them to suffer for their sins the way they 
suffer for their body, they'd apostatize. Look 
at the hours of agony they undergo in the 
hands of a hairdresser, and under the "drier," 
just to get the hair's proper tint and to give 
it a "permanent wave." But for the proper 
tint to the soul, purity; for its "permanent 
wave," sanctifying grace . . . ten minutes at 
the feet of a priest is altogether too much! 

But don't think that I am against all cos-
metics; I'm not. They help, and many need 
help! But what I want you to remember is 
tha,t there is a "cleansing cream" for the soul. 
It is called Confession . . . use it ! Remember 
that there is a powder that is just suited to 
your soul's complexion; it is self-denial . . . 
use that! There is a Rouge that m i l heighten 
your soul's color and make it really beautiful.' 
Its rich redness comes from the Blood of 
Christ. You get it in Communion . . . use that 
Rouge DA ILY ! Those are the cosmetics to 
employ. That is the "compact" to have ever 
on hand. That will be being different from the 
present-day females, for that will be thinking 
how you can please the eye of God with the 
"make-up" on the soul, rather than thinking 

55 



of how to please the eye of man with the 
"make-up" on the face. 

WOMEN 'WHO ARE DIFFERENT WANTED! 

Do be different, for the world. God's way-
ward world, needs women who are different. 
The world today needs women with character, 
not females of fashion. Ibsen has said, 
"Women will solve the problems of mankind." 
But he quickly added: "But only in so far 
as they become real mothers." I go further. 
1 say, "Women will SAVE the world . . . but 
. . . only in so far as they become really Catho-
lic women; women who love Christ and live 
His Creed." Women for whom actions speak 
louder than words. Women who have heard 
Christ say, " I f you love Me, keep My com-
mandments," and are proving their love by 
keeping them. 

That is the kind of women the world needs 
—women who know their dignity and their 
duty and live up to them, women who are 
conscious of the fact that with God they are 
co-creators; women who realize that they are 
God's specially selected instruments to pro-
duce future inhabitants of heaven; women who 
so thrill to this dignity that they establish a 
real "double-standard" of morality — one so 
high for themselves that were even a Galahad 
to come along, he would find that, despite his 
angelic purity, he had to climb yet higher to 
meet the demands of the modern Catholic 
woman of character. 

Yes, that is the type of women the world 
needs today •— women who look to marriage 
not for security but for sanctity; women who 
know that wedlock is not for mutual gratifica-
tion, but for mutual sanctification; women who 
know that marriage is God's great Sacrament 
and a stepping-stone to heaven! 

What the modern world is crying for is 
women with minds and hearts and wills. 
Women who see truth and evaluate it properly. 
Women who know that grace is far more 
precious than gold; that Time's one worth-
while consideration is Eternity, and that the 

' 56 



body is to be subservient to the soul; women 
who know that real happiness is found only 
in real holiness; that life is not for gratifica-
tion but for sanctification, that this earth ol 
ours is not a playground but a battleground. 

The world wants women who will love, and 
love deeply. Women who will so love that they 
are ready and willing to suffer and sacrifice. 
Women who will bravely look into the very 
shadow of death, that an infant may see tl\e 
light of day; • women who gladly give up 
youth's graceful figure that another soul may 
have a fleshy form; women who willingly 
sacrifice self that others may live. The world 
is. crying for self-forgetting, God-absorbed 
women, women who are so taken up with God's 
little ones that they never think of self. What 
the world is calling for is women who will 
become real Catholic mothers to lead little ones 
to God. 

Yes, and that is the type of women that men 
want too — women who are different. Men 
want women who are passionate and posses-
sive; real women, who want "to have and (to 
hold"; determined women, who are going to 
have and to hold" their lofty dignity as God s 
co-workers and man's helpmates; their lofty 
standard of morality despite depression; their 
exalted office of co-redeemers of a lost man-
kind; women who are going "to have and to 
hold" their proper place, and that is one of 
leadership, leading straying man back to a 
waiting God! 

"Cherchez la femme" was written for crime, 
but it is equally true about sanctity. We 
would never have had an Augustine had there 
been no Monica; never a Bernard but for his 
mother, Alice; and I am quite sure that John, 
the Beloved, would never have stood neath 
the cross of Christ had Mary Immaculate not 
been there. Why, we would never have had 
Jesus Himself but for the whispered Fiat 
of Nazareth's pure Maid! Men are calling for 
such women today. They are seeking a way 
out . . a way out from the pagamstic, money-
seeking, flesh-saturated, God-defying, sm-be-

57 



sotted world; and the leaders must be women 
who are different! 

Know well that men are always babies! They 
want to be "mothered," and that "mothering" 
can only be done by women with hearts that 
love, wills that desire, and minds that know— 
God! Men will be saved only by passionate 
and possessive women, women who "want their 
man," but who first and foremost want—their 
Qod-Man! 

Why, even God wants women who are dif-
ferent! Nineteen hundred years ago, as He 
lived His physical life, His bravest followers 
were women who were different; today, as He 
lives His mystical life, He needs the same kind 
of brave followers, women who are very dif-
ferent! Christ wants women like His mother, 
women who are ready to suffer and thus be-
come co-redeemers of mankind; women like 
the Samaritan woman, who stood by Jacob's 
well and asked for the life-giving waters, then 
turned and preached Him to men as the Mes-
sias. Jesus wants women of strong faith, like 
unto the one who strove "to touch but the hem 
of His garment," so that He can cure them 
and prove to a doubting world that He is the 
Divine Physician. But more, God needs 
women like Magdalene, who, "because she 
loved much," had much forgiven her; women, 
who because they have sinned much, will love 
all the more ardently Him who shows them 
such depths of mercy! 

Today God needs many women. He needs 
"Marthas" who will minister unto Him. He 
needs "Mary's who will sit at His feet. He 
needs brave women like Veronica, who will 
sweep through the scoffing crowds and wipe 
His sacred face with their veils, because the 
world has spit upon it. He needs many women 
like those of Jerusalem, who will weep for 
Him, for He is being crucified. But above all, 
He needs faith-filled and faithful women, like 
unto the ".holy women"; women who will 
stand 'neath His cross, take down His body, 
prepare it for the burial and then on Easter 
morn, hurry to the tomb at first light with 

58 



spices. Such women He needs and such women 
He will reward just as He did those of nine-
teen hundred years ago; for to these He will 
appear . . . glorious and triumphant! 

God, the world and men are crying for 
women who will dare to be different and who 
will live their dare — women whose actions 
speak louder than their words; women who 
have heard, " I f you love Me," and are proving 
their love; women who keep the Ten Com-
mandments and the Six Precepts; women who 
frequent the Two Sacraments and the One 
Sacrifice; women who know the Corporal 
Works, of Mercy and perform them; women 
who are cognizant of the Spiritual Works of 
Mercy and do them; women who are always 
doing much for their neighbor because they 
know that, "whatsoever you do to the least 
of these, My little ones, you do unto Me"; 
women whose lives are summed up in the one 
word "LOVE." They love their God with their 
whole heart, their whole will, their whole mind 
and with all their strength; and they love 
their neighbor as themselves for the love of 
God! 

Such women are living according to God's 
plan. Such women dre making of their lives 
a Divine Romance. Will you be one of them? 

DO IT — AND I PROMISE YOU HEAVEN 

DO IT — AND HEAVEN BEGINS ON 

EARTH! 

Yes, do it, and I promise you — Heaven. 

"But," you say, "why talk of Heaven when 
I am on earth? Why talk of the 'after-life' 
when I am taken up entirely with the present 
life? You said that Life was a Divine Ro-
mance; I thought you meant this life." 

Life IS a Divine Romance. But note that I 
do not say "This, life," nor do I say "After-
life," I simply say "Life;" for there is no real 
division in a unit. You can't have a man 
without a soul and a body; you can't have a 
tree without a trunk and branches; you can't 
have a drama without a last act; nor can you 

59 



have life, real life, without eternity. What 
you call "after-life" is not something new and 
distinct from Life; it is merely Life's "last 
chapter." What you call death is not the end 
of Life; it is but its turning-point, its peri-
peteia, its denouement. What you call Judg-
ment is merely Life's "last line." 

Did you ever read of a romance that ended 
in death? Never! and you never shall. And 
so with our Divine Romance; it does not end at 
death, it flows on! It must flow on, for Life 
is a unit, a continual flow. It begins at birth, 
turns sharply at death, but flows on forever! 
That is the unit that constitutes the Divine 
Romance. Hence I must talk of Heaven if you 
want Life's "last chapter." I MUST talk of 
Heaven, for that is the home of the Deathless 
Lovers—you and God! 

But, what can I say of Heaven? Paul was 
there, and he came back speechless. All he 
dared say was, "Eye hath not seen, nor ear 
heard, neither hath it entered into the heart of 
man what things God hath prepared for them 
that love Him." Robert Kane, the Jesuit, who 
went blind, was a man of exceptionally fertile 
imagination and of exquisite expression. He 
wrote of Heaven, but all that he could say, 
despite his very real genius, was, "Dream on! 
Dream on!" Take the happiest moment of 
your life, infinitely enhance it, infinitely pro-
long it, then dream on! dream on! It is not 
Heaven, but it is like it, so dream on! So 
what can poor little I say? . . . Only this: 
Heaven is permanence. Heaven is possession. 
Heaven is peace! Here, we want to have and 
to hold, to grasp firmly and to call our own, 
our very own. Analyze the human heart, and 
at the very bottom we find the passion to 
possess permanently; that is the soul's deepest 
desire. We want to have and to hold! To 
have and to hold looks, position, learning, 
friends, fame. So to have and to hold that 
we can call them our own, our very own, 
whether it be money, knowledge, a home or a 
man. That is our heart of hearts. And that 
is why life's saddest pain is that we cannot 

60 



have and hold permanently. Few indeed are 
the things that we can have and hold at all; 
pleasure is fleeting, money unstable, friends 
untrue, fame and fortune fickle. But, even if 
we could have and hold them all, the final 
clause would always read, "Till death do us 
part." Why, that most intimate of all pos-
sessions, the possession of another self in mar-
riage, we know cannot be permanent, so we 
end the contract with the words: "To have 
and to hold, till death do us part." In other 
words, this side of the grave our deepest de-
sire cannot be satisfied. But on the other side 
. . . all'is permanence! 

PERMANENCE! Oh! what a ring to that 
word! Happiness is permanent. Peace is per-
manent. Love is permanent. PERMA-
NENCE ! Knowledge is permanent. Life is 
permanent. Yes, what a ring to that word! 
It is a stranger to this land of exile, this land 
of shifting shadows, this time of perpetual flux. 
PERMANENCE! No change, no instability, 
continuous, everlasting, eternal permanence! 
Strangers from a strange land; but from our 
land, our Homeland! 

Here, we look into the eyes .of a baby, and 
the innocence shining there shakes our very 
soul so that we grasp baby's head in our two 
hard hands and desperately say to uncompre-
hending ears, "Oh! if you could only stay as 
you are!" We see youth, standing tiptoe look-
ing out at Life, fresh,-unspoiled, intense and 
vibrant youth. And we sigh, "Oh! if you could, 
only stay as you are!" We look at mellow 
old age, the restless ambitioning of earlier 
years gone, a blessed, golden maturity reached, 
•and an atmosphere of serenity surrounding 
their days, and again we say, "Oh! if you 
could only stay as you are!" But we know 
that our wishes are futile, our sighs and 
prayers vain, for here there is no permanence. 
Golden days have their evenings and ecstatic 
nights their dawns. We have all had our 
moments, but that was all they are, just mo-
ments; we could not have and hold. This side 
of the grave there is no permanence! 

61 



Ah, but think of Heaven! No pain, no 
worry, no fears, no fret. No partings, no 
heartache, no sorrow, no death. No falsity, no 
fickleness, no failures, no sin. And that for-
ever! No wonder Paul was speechless. No 
wonder Father Kane said, "Dream on! Dream 
on!" Real life, real living, real love, and— 
God! Yes, think of Heaven .-.. purity, peace, 
beauty, truth; virtue, blessedness, joy, and 
God! And all that forever! Yes, dream on! 
Dream on! Dream on of Heaven! 

You crave love, you crave purity, you crave 
peace; that means you crave Heaven. You 
seek beauty, you seek truth; that means you 
seek Heaven. You want happiness, you want 
joy; that means you want Heaven. You want 
to have and you want to hold; that only means 
that you want Heaven. 

Oh, what can we say of Heaven? By a 
series of negatives we describe that which is 
most positive. Our words are weak and want-
ing, our imaginations, sterile. Some have tried 
by sight and sound to tell you of Heaven, and 
they are partly right. You shall have heaven-
ly harmony and visions and vistas that satis-
fy, but you must go higher. The real satisfac-
tion comes from the soul. 

The life you crave and the love you want 
is the life and the love of the soul; the satis-
faction that you are looking for is the satis-
faction of the mind and the heart and the will; 
and in Heaven you'll find it. 

How little absolute truth we have in life 
this side of the grave! Sift our sciences. 
Place theory and hypothesis and conjecture to 
one side, sift down our elaborate systems to 
their few fundamental and absolutely true 
principles, and what a thimbleful of absolute 
truth we have! Take the arts, count the 
canons that are universally accepted and the 
norms that cannot be changed because they 
are true, and you will find that units, not tens, 
are needed for the counting. Why, one little 
atom of absolute truth thrills our souls. But 
in Heaven we shall have absolutely all of abso-
lute truth. In Heaven we shall have absolutely 

62 



all of absolute love. For that is the land of 
no fickleness nor faithlessness, that is the land 
of absolute love. Mother will never leave us 
there, nor will father grow old; sisters and 
brothers will stay with us and friendship never 
grow cold. Heart and mind and will are satis-
fied, the soul is at perfect peace. That is 
Heaven, and yet we must go higher. 

Heaven is God! When we know God, we 
have Heaven. Our Lord said: "This is eter-
nal life, that they may know Thee, the only 
true God, and Him whom Thou hast sent, 
Jesus Christ." To know God! What a thought! 
To know a thing is to have and to hold it. 
Your own name, you know and, naturally 
speaking, no one can take that knowledge from 
you. You have it, and you hold it; it is part 
of you. You will have it, and you will hold it 
as long as life. When you know God the same 
way, you have Heaven. When He who is all 
Life and all Love has absorbed you . . . then 
you are in Heaven! Absorbed in God, by God, 
and with God . . . that's real life, that's real 
living, for that's real love; and that is Heaven. 
And it begins on earth! 

AND IT BEGINS ON EARTH! 

Yes, Heaven begins on earth, you MUST 
begin your Heaven on earth, else you'll never 
begin it at all! ' You must become God-con-
scious, God-absorbed, God-saturated this side 
of the grave, if you are going to grasp God on 
the other.side! Heaven is only the smashing 
climax to your Divine Romance; it is only 
Life's "last chapter," and to it your living must 
lead. Yes, your Heaven actually begins on 
earth when you steep yourself in Grace. For 
Grace is to God and glory what the first nrray 
light of the East is to the Dawn. It leads to 
God! And in Grace you can be literally 
steeped, if you but desire it. That is how 
much of a Lover God is — you have but to 
desire it ! * 

One thing, and one thing alone, is necessary, 
absolutely necessary, to us. It is not heat, nor 
light, nor air, though without these we natural-

63 



ly die; but they are not absolutely necessary 
to us. The one thing that you and I need, 
absolutely need, is — !Grace; for without that 
we die eternally. You don't need money, you 
don't need looks, you don't need men. Neither 
food nor water nor air do you need; why, there 
is nothing in this wide world that you absolute-
ly need to get to God but Grace! And again 
I say, in Grace you can be steeped if you but 
desire i t ! 

On St. Helena's rock, Napoleon was asked 
to name the happiest day of his life. The 
"little corporal" looked out across the waters 
and there flashed before him days of triumph 
such as, perhaps, no one else in the history of 
men has had. He heard the volley of cheers 
that greeted his very appearance. He looked 
into the eyes of full-hearted fidelity as he 
scanned his Old Guard. He recalled the unten-
able thrill of battle's triumph; then he looked 
away. Success, loyalty, love, intoxicating tri-
umph had been his, yet he put them all aside 
and, turning 'to his questioners, finally said, 
"The happiest day of my whole life was my 
First Communion Day." 

Napoleon was right. The happiest dav of 
his life and of every life is the holiest day, the 
day on which we came closest to God; for 
that day is the most heavenly day that we 
can have this side of heaven! Oh, see how 
easy God has made it for us to begin heaven 
on earth. We can get close to Him, very close! 
We can receive Him! 

Grace! Grace! Grace! That is all that we 
need to begin Heaven on earth; and Grace is 
ours for the asking. We can get Grace through 
prayer and the Mass; and a child can pray 
and assist at Mass. But the surest of all sure 
ways to get the one thing necessary, is the 
Sacraments. They are the very channels of 
Divine Grace, they are God's greatest gift to 
man. 

Oh! the folly of the shallow-minded who look 
upon religion as they do upon their evening-
gown; something to be put on for state oc-
casions and then packed away until the next 

64 



formal affair. Religion is not an accessory to 
life! Religion is life! Religion is binding our-
selves to God, and to bind ourselves to God 
is the only reason we have life! i That is why 
the life of all living is the living of religion! 
When one has become God-conscious, God-
directed, God-absorbed, then religion ceases to 
be the negative affair many make it. Real 
religion is much more than avoiding sin; it 
does not entirely consist in the non-violation 
of the Ten Commandments. Real religion is 
a mighty active thing, it is ever and always 
doing the greater, the better, the nobler thing, 
and doing them all for God! Real religion is 
grasping God, and the firmest, the surest, the 
most intimate grasp we can get on God, this 
side of Heaven, is in Holy Communion.' That 
is the Sacrament that makes Heaven on earth! 
I f you want to begin your Heaven now . . . 

GIVE HIM YOUR HEART 

Jesus Christ begged for your heart, didn't 
He? He made a proposal to you when He said, 
"My child, give Me thy heart." . I beg of you 
NOW . . . give Him your HEART! Give God 
all of your heart, and the best way to give it 
to Him is by frequent, even daily, Communion. 
Give God your heart and see what happens! 
He'll give it back to you, but He'll give it back 
... changed! Mightily changed! He'll give 
it back to you full of Faith and Hope and Love, 
full of fire and real Charity. Give it, and He'll 
give it back so strong that "Hell shall not pre-
vail against i t" ; so pure that angels will hover 
over it; so loving that the Holy Ghost will 
temple therein; so like unto His very own that 
God the Father may say, "This is My beloved 
child, in whom I am well pleased." Give it 
to Him, and He'll give it back fibered to un-
conquerable resistance, impervious to world, to 
flesh, and to devil, invulnerable to self, to Sa-
tan and to sin! Give it, and He'll give it back 
locked to all save Virtue, Goodness, Grace and 
God! Give, and your Heaven has begun on 
earth! 

65 



Give God your heart, for it NEEDS to be 
changed! It needs to be mightily changed, 
for it is anemic. Yes, no matter what your 
blood-count, I tell you that you are anemic, and 
very anemic. For the living of the Divine 
Romance, for daring to be different, for satis-
fying the need of God and man and the world, 
for being a Gertie Give-all instead of a Nona, 
you need hemoglobin, the Divine Hemoglobin. 
You need rich, red, warm, pure, noble, brave, 
Divine Blood! Injections will not help YOU. 
What you need is a Blood transfusion, and 
that can be effected only at the altar-rail. His 
Chalice is overflowing, all you need do is lift it 
to your lips! Do it ! Do it daily, and your 
Heaven has begun on earth! 

Don't think that I am rhapsodizing. I am 
telling you" absolute truth. Try it and see! 
Become a woman who is God-conscious, God-
fearing and God-loving, and you'll have a 
peace that this world cannot give nor take; 
you'll have a happiness that will last; you'll 
have .a mind that is quiet, a heart that is 
happy, a soul that is at peace, and that peace 
will be the beginning of the permanent peace 
that makes Heaven, Heaven. The Eucharist 
means Grace, Grace brings you to God, and 
God is Heaven! 

* # * 

You told me that you wanted L IFE, that 
you wanted LOVE! I believe you. In fact, 
I know that you are but speaking the longing 
of your soul; so, I say — TAKE IT! Take 
LOVE and take L I FE ! Take God! ! 

Yes, TAKE GOD! He is Love, and He is 
Life. Grasp Him NOW! Hug Him to your 
heart, and the last line of your Divine Ro-
mance is already written. It is not, however, 
the commonplace "And they lived happily ever 
after," though it means the same. The last 
line of your Romance will be, "Come, you 
blessed of My Father, possess the kingdom 
prepared for you from the foundation of the 
world." 

I f that is not the smashing climax to a very 
real Romance, then words have lost their 

66 



meaning; life is not life, love is not love, and 
God is not God! But God is God and Love 
and Life, and that is why 

L IFE IS A DIVINE ROMANCE! 
• 

EPILOGUE 

I pray that we may meet, dear reader, you 

and I.- I pray that we may meet where there 

is no parting; where we shall have Life and 

Love and God. I pray that we may meet in 

the Heart of Him who said, "My child, give 

Me thy heart." I pray that we may meet in 

Heaven because we have made our lives as 

beautiful as He planned them from the begin-

ning, because we have made them a D IVINE 

ROMANCE! 

Will you pray, too? We can do it. We can 

do it easily. He has made it not only possible, 

He has made it most easy. Holy Communion 

will do it ! 

Let us both live in such a way that the last 

line of our Life's Story will be identical with 

Death's invitation. Let us both live in Such 

a way that the Angel of Death, Jesus Christ, 

will say, "Come, My Beloved," and into the 

arms of God we shall go FOREVER! 

• 

THE ABBEY PRESS ST. MEINRAD, IND. 

67 
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