Pentecost - Twenty-Eighth Sunday
The coming of Judgment
By Rev. H. T. Henry, LL.D.
Introduction – This day, the last Sunday of the Ecclesiastical Year, calls our attention to the fact that the Church does not arrange her year in the same manner as does the world around us, which has still something more than a month before it in which to do its work, ere a New Year is marked on its calendar. Apart, however, from this interesting variation between the calendar of the world and that of the Church, this Sunday exhibits a much more striking contrast between the spirit of the world and that of the religious society which we call the Church. It is true that the religious year commemorates events of eternal value in the life of humanity, and that the world, on its side, also commemorates events of great interest to humanity in a natural way. But the world does not regard its festivals as events that mark the close of a definite period of time, so much as happy commemorations that mark the beginning of a new period. Thus, it does not celebrate the closing day of its year, but waits for the last hour of the old year to strike, so that it may greet, with wildest and, indeed, unusually unbecoming enthusiasm, the birth of a new year. The years of independence of this dear land of ours are marked with similar demonstrations of patriotic delight, not because another chapter in the history of the nation’s freedom has just been written, but rather because a new one has been begun, and the future spreads out auspiciously before us.
But the Church is a religious society, organized not for the temporal purposes of civil society, but for the eternal purposes of heaven. The closing Sunday of its year does not remind it that a new year is so soon to begin, but rather fixes its attention on the strong lesson of the ultimate fate of this world in which we live, and which may one day cease to be what it had been for so many thousands of years. The thought in the mind of our Holy Mother is not one of joy and festivity, but one of sober and solemn warning to her children, that the things which to us seem most real here in this world, shall fade away and cease utterly to exist, and that the things which to us may seem rather unreal or insubstantial, such as virtue, hope, charity, gentleness, forgiveness of injuries, and all that goes to make up the interior life of the spirit, shall on that day prove to be the only really substantial and enduring things, to last throughout eternity; that this most solid earth of ours, with its monuments of stone and brass, will then be like the dissolving vistas of a dream, the fabric of splendors built by some uneasy sleeper, an empty panorama set on the stage of the earth –
“And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yes, all which it inherit, shall dissolve;
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind.”
A. The General Judgment. – On this closing Sunday of her year, then, our Holy Mother does not rejoice that another year is so soon to open out before her children, but with stern finger points rather to the awful symbolism contained in the fact that it is the last Sunday of her heart. She chooses from the Gospel the terrible fore-shadowing by our Divine Master of the approaching end of the world, when the sun shall be darkened, and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of the heavens shall be moved. It is a tremendous picture of the upheaval of all the things we have considered as most enduring; but it is a picture only preparatory to a still more terrible vision of the coming Judge of mankind; for then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven, and then shall all the tribes of earth mourn!
The chapter of St. Matthew from which the Gospel selection is taken, gives us an account of the impressive occasion on which our Savior called the attention of His Disciples to the end of all things on earth. The end of His own Divine Life upon earth is drawing near, for His passion and death are near at hand. His last visit to the Temple has been paid, and the terrible woes against its false teachers of Israel have been uttered. He turns His back upon it, for it had ceased to do that work for which it had been erected to the Living God. Like its gorgeous Temple, the Holy City, the storied Jerusalem of ancient prophecy, the center of Jewish worship and of all the hopes of the Chosen People, had also proved faithless to its Heavenly Ruler, and our Savior had, therefore, also pronounced its doom: “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, thou that killed the prophets, and stoned them that are sent to thee, how often would I have gathered together thy children, as the hen doth gather her brood under her wings, and thou wouldst not? Behold, your house shall be left to you desolate.” He has at length shaken from off his feet the dust of its streets, as it were in testimony against that once Holy City; and He and His Disciples are now ascending the slope of Mount Olivet. A sudden turning in the path presents to the eyes of the travelers a momentary view of the Holy City and its splendid Temple. How its magnificence shone resplendent in the golden glories of the westering sun? How the snowy marble of its cloisters, the sparkling sheen of its golden spikes, must have been doubly adorned by the flood of sunshine pouring from a cloudless sky! A dream of beauty, and at the same time a most solid fact! It is any wonder that the Disciples – for probably it was at some such moment as this that they spoke to Him of all these ancient glories of their loved Temple – is it any wonder, indeed, that His Disciples should, as St. Matthew remarks, have come to Him “to show Him the building of the Temple?” But did He, like them, stand in awe and wonder at all this most impressive magnificence? On the contrary, His Divine Eye saw beyond this flimsy veil of things they thought most solid and real, into that near future when all of this splendor must be destroyed. “Do you see all these things?” He asked them; and forthwith added: “Amen I say to you, there shall not be left here a stone upon a stone that shall not be destroyed.”
Now, this prophecy of our Savior soon became a simple fact recorded in history. As we know, the destruction of Jerusalem and of its famed Temple was accomplished by the Romans so thoroughly, that not a stone upon a stone remained, and the ploughshare was driven over the olden city, in sign that it was forever to lie under the ban of the Roman Empire. A complete and most terrible destruction!
The Disciples asked our Lord when this destruction was to occur. He shows in his reply that it would very soon come to pass; but He takes occasion to point out a still more terrible and conclusive fate for the whole world. As He had weighed Jerusalem in the balance, and fund it wanting, so should He weigh in the balance of the Divine Judgment the whole vast orb of earth, when as Judge of the living and the dead, He should come again, not as a meek Savior, but as the Living God of Heaven and Judge of all things, seated upon the clouds of heaven with much power and majesty. Then must all the generations of mankind appear before His judgment-seat, to render an account even of every idle word that had fallen from their lips. Then must the innermost secrets of all hearts be laid bare to the whole world. Then the sins, long-forgotten, perhaps, of boyhood and early manhood, or of the prime of lie or of old age, be with remorse spread out, in boldest characters, for all men to read. Then shall the glory of the penitent heart be revealed, as the record is washed clear with tears long since dried, with prayers for pardon and a heartfelt sorrow long since forgotten. But then, too, shall shine forth in naked horror the sins that have not been atoned for, because we have negligently preferred our present ease of life and hardness of heart and scared state of conscience, to the slight trouble demanded of us to examine our conscience now, to strive in prayer for a new heart, to confess our misdoings to God’s minister and agent, and to receive a gracious pardon of God and a kindly phrased dismissal from His earthly tribunal.
Is it necessary for us to meditate longer on the awful scene of that Day of Judgment? Each one of us can better picture himself as standing, in his own personality, before that final tribunal of absolute justice. For it is inevitable, that the day must surely come when these things will be fulfilled. The same Divine lips that foretold the destruction of Jerusalem, foretold also, in unmistakable terms, a similar general judgment that shall be pronounced on the last day of time. As Jerusalem was utterly destroyed, so, too, must this earth of ours be destroyed.
In this General Judgment all the ways of God with man, all the dispensations of His Providence, will be justified. We see now as through a glass, darkly; but then, face to-face. The mysteries of God’s dealings with us shall then be mysteries no more. Why have some men wealth, or health, or success in all their undertakings, or – what is very different from the possession of wealth or health or success – why are some men apparently seldom happy in this life? Then it will appear that our secret envies of others are not justified; that just as wealth and health and success may not mean real happiness, so neither does poverty or sickness or ill-success mean necessarily unhappiness, Then we shall know that God has dealt justly and even most generously with every soul that He has made, giving milk to babes in the spiritual life, but meat to strong men; throwing down the erring will that He may raise it up to grater heights of power; afflicting a soul, perhaps, with much suffering, but nevertheless making it, as He made the soul of the great Apostle of the Gentiles, abound and super-abound with joy exceedingly in the very midst of its sorrows; or giving another soul much tribulation in order that He may perfect it in patience; or, finally, mixing moral good with physical evil in so wondrous a manner that the soul may at length be enabled to cry out: “I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me.” In the comparison with that great and final Judgment of the All-powerful and all-knowing God, how mean and petty and unjust, perhaps how uncharitable and cruel, will not our own present judgments of men and of things appear!
B. The Particular Judgment - I might endeavor to paint more vividly the overwhelming terrors of that great Day of General Judgment foretold by Christ in this day’s Gospel. But the very fact that it shall be a universal judgment upon all the souls that have lived on earth throughout the untold generations of mankind; that all the minutest events of earth’s long history will then be scrutinized, as well as the innumerable slightest thoughts and words of each individual person – this vast tableau may appear to our imaginations so overwhelming, and our individual part in it may appear so trivial in comparison, that its real lesson for us may not sufficiently come home to our intelligences.
Let me then narrow very much the field of observation. Let me consider a single soul standing, as it were, before the dreadful tribunal of Divine Justice. Here are no vast armies of devils, on the one side, viewing with satisfaction the everlasting ruin they have wrought upon multitudes of human souls; here are no vast legions of angels, on the other side, praising God for the multitudes of souls they have triumphantly guarded and guided, through sins and sorrow, into the haven of everlasting joy. It is rather a scene of unutterable loneliness – a single soul standing before its Judge, awaiting sentence. Let each one of us picture our own soul as that solitary culprit, standing there in perfect helplessness, without any advocate to plead for it, with no enemy to accuse it save only itself, that in its life upon earth has been its own greatest enemy. It will not see, at that awful judgment place, the Blessed Mother of God, who in life it could so easily supplicate for intercession with her Son; it will not see those heavenly Patrons, who so readily responded with their loving help to every prayer addressed to them; it will not see even that celestial guide and guardian, that Angel of God that a merciful Gather in heaven had assigned to be with it at every moment throughout its life, whispering words of comfort in sorrow, of fortitude in temptation, of guidance in doubt, of congratulation in victory over temptation. No, the soul is now alone, awfully, terribly, absolutely alone with its Judge. And that Judge – is He, the Eternal Father, who had so lovingly created it with so many graces, with so many mercies, with so many pardons for sin, with so many inspirations to virtue, with such innumerable sacramental helps to holy living? Yes, that is the Judge; but now no longer pouring out upon the soul the unceasing stream of benefits and graces, of gifts and mercies, of tendernesses and loving kindnesses that the soul had experienced on earth. That is the Judge, but now come to examine, with remorseless exactness and Divine impartiality, the manner in which that soul had used all these heavenly gifts and mercies. And before the lightning gaze of that Judge, the single soul – your soul, or my soul – stands alone, alone and helpless, alone and friendless, alone with its burden of guilt and with the Judge who is to measure that guilt and assign an unending justice to it. The judgment to be pronounced now shall be an unending judgment; it will stand forever and ever.
You will perhaps, my brethren, say that in thus picturing a narrower field of observation, I am really omitting some striking features of the General Judgment. It is true; for I am picturing for you the Particular Judgment that will follow immediately upon the death of each one of us. Here it is that the iron strikes home: for we are not contemplating an event that may not come to pass for hundreds or thousands of years, but an event which must come to pass very soon, indeed. From the fig-tree learn a parable: when the branch thereof is now tender, and the leaves come forth, you know that summer is night. From the closing Sunday of the Church Year, know that another chapter of your very brief lives has been closed. How many chapters are in the volume of life? Who knows? Who can possible – I will not say, foretell, but – even guess? The final summons may come to any one of us this day, this hour; and when it does come, it will come as a sudden surprise to us, stealthily as a thief in the night.
To-day’s Gospel has exhibited for us the many signs which shall precede the second coming of Christ as the Judge of the world. And when these signs shall begin, you will perhaps object to me, the parable of the fig-tree will have its application. Brethren, that parable has for us a nearer application. For each one of us, as I have pointed out, there is to be another Day of the Lord, not so distant as the General Judgment, but nevertheless just as certain and as terrible. How shall we learn of its near approach? The sun shall not be darkened, the moon shall not cease to give her light, the stars shall not fall from heaven, and the powers of heaven shall not be moved; neither doth the Son of Man send His angels with a trumpet and a great voice to summon the individual soul to the Judgment-seat. Yet is the coming of that dreadful day none the less certain that it is unlooked for, none the less terrible that it is unheralded by many signs and portents in the heavens and the earth. That Day of our Particular Judgment will come silently and stealthily, even as a thief in the night. And yet, although indeed “. . . the heavens make no disclosure and the earth keeps up her terrible composures” – while an immortal soul is about to leave this earth to meet her everlasting fate; still, we may reflect that, in spite of all that silence and, as it were, that stealth of the approach of death, the Particular Judgment does not really come without many warnings to us. True it is that death shall come to us as a thief in the night; but, before the thief comes, the night comes; and before the night comes, how have the shadows steadily lengthened on the dial!
Are we reading all these signs aright? Are we taking heed of all these warnings? Every hour that seems to us to pass by on leaden wings, is in reality hurrying us with awful speed toward the day of our death and of our eternal fate; for, on that day of our death, our everlasting destiny is settled.
C. The Lesson of the Judgments. – Now, brethren, our future Almighty and implacable Judge is still, in this life, our most gentle Father, our most loving Savior, our most certain Comforter and Strengthener. How easily we now may cancel the long catalogue of our sins, our frailties, our disloyalties! A humble and sorrowful acknowledgment of our wrong-doing made to God’s agent on earth, a renewed resolution of serving God with fidelity and love – and, behold, we can go forth to meet our Judge with fearlessness and even with joy. Cardinal Newman has beautifully pictured for us this sense of security on the part of the truly loving soul, in his splendid poem, “The Dream of Gerontius.” In that dream, the soul has scarce parted from its earthly tenement, when it addresses its Guardian Angel:
“Dear angel, say, Why have I
now no fear at meeting Him?
Along my earthly life, the thought of death
And judgment was to me most terrible.
I had it aye before me, and I saw
The Judge severe e’en in the Crucifix.
Now that the hour is come, my fear is fled;
And at this balance of my destiny.
Now close upon me, I can forward look
With a serenest joy.”
And the Angel answers:
“It is because then thou didst fear, that now thou does not
fear,
Thou hast forestalled the agony, and so
For thee the bitterness of death is past.
Also, because already in thy soul
The judgment is begun. That day of doom,
One and the same for all the collected world -
That solemn consummation of all flesh,
Is, in the case of each, anticipate
Upon his death; and, as the last great day
In the particular judgment is rehearsed,
So now, too, ere thou comest to the Throne,
A presage falls upon thee, as a ray
Straight from the Judge, expressive of thy lot.
That calm and joy upraising in thy soul
Is first-fruit to thee of thy recompense,
And heaven begun.”
May this happy fate, so beautifully described by Cardinal Newman, be ours!
Conclusion The lesson of this day, brethren, is therefore not one of terror, but of gentle and insistent warning. We have it in our own power, fortified by the grace of God, to make the General Judgment, and its precursor, the Particular Judgment, a source to our souls of joy and comfort rather than of quaking terror. Our Holy Mother teaches us this very plainly in the Epistle she has chose for this last Sunday of her year. In the words of St. Paul, she would have us, by contemplating the terrors of the ending day of the world, to be filled with the knowledge of the will of God, in all wisdom and spiritual understanding, that we, ”may walk worthy of God, in all things pleasing, being fruitful in every good work, and increasing in the knowledge of God.” Thus, shall love cast out fear, and thus shall a happy and loyal service of God to the grave of its victory and death of its sting.
“Dear angel, say, Why have I now no fear at meeting Him?
Along my earthly life, the thought of death
And judgment was to me most terrible.
I had it aye before me, and I saw
The Judge severe e’en in the Crucifix.
Now that the hour is come, my fear is fled;
And at this balance of my destiny.
Now close upon me, I can forward look
With a serenest joy.”
And the Angel answers:
“It is because then thou didst fear, that now thou does not fear,
Thou hast forestalled the agony, and so
For thee the bitterness of death is past.
Also, because already in thy soul
The judgment is begun. That day of doom,
One and the same for all the collected world -
That solemn consummation of all flesh,
Is, in the case of each, anticipate
Upon his death; and, as the last great day
In the particular judgment is rehearsed,
So now, too, ere thou comest to the Throne,
A presage falls upon thee, as a ray
Straight from the Judge, expressive of thy lot.
That calm and joy upraising in thy soul
Is first-fruit to thee of thy recompense,
And heaven begun.”