Sun, 5 Mar 2017 | Cover | Page 14

Lost in the Fifties, Too

"Out of the Mouths of Babes": A Brief Word on the Joy of Lent

By Walter L. Matt, RIP

(Written by the founding editor of The Remnant on March 2, 1950) Lent took me rather by surprise this year, what with all the work and troubles I’ve been telling you about lately.

One night, just a few days prior to Ash Wednesday, my seven-year-old nephew paid us his regular week-end visit at Matt Manor. He’s a bright-eyed, good little youngster, always full of surprises, and every-one of us thinks it’s a lost week-end when he doesn’t show up. But, not unlike most boys his age, he also has his moments for being obstreperous, and that particular evening seemed to be one of them. So, it wasn’t long and he had to be taken in hand. I reminded him then about the approaching season of Lent and how necessary it is to curb one’s thoughtless whims and desires, so as to be happy and carefree in our relations with our fellowmen, ourselves, and our God.

As a matter of fact, I was beginning to feel rather puffed up and proud over what seemed to me a decided change for the better that had taken possession of the youngster.

Then, suddenly, with his nose still buried in his milk glass and his innocent blue eyes dancing at me over the rim of it, he ventured this between swallows: "Uncle Walter?"

"Mm-hm."

"Sister told us at school the same things you said about Lent. She said it would be nice if we kids went to Mass every morning during Lent and she wants us to pray more."

I breathed contentedly over this and said to myself it was a chance I shouldn’t miss, to tell him a little bit more about how people should observe Lent. So I relaxed into my favorite easy-chair, lit my favorite cigarette and, between luxurious puffs, told him all about it.

I was beginning to feel the thrill of a sculptor intent upon putting the finishing touches to a soft and pliable piece of clay.

Then all of the sudden he said: "Uncle Walter?"

"Mm-hm,’ I said, through a smoke-ring.

"Uncle Walter," he exclaimed with enthusiasm, "Yesterday in church the priest said that one thing grown-ups might give up for Lent is smoking. Are you going to stop smoking during Lent, Uncle Walter?"

…Well, now, let’s see—What was it St.

Paul said about chastising one’s body and bringing it into subjection? Oh, yes: "Lest perhaps when I have preached to others, I myself should become a castaway"!

May I say, in my admittedly weak defense, that however deficient I may have been in preparing myself purposefully and prayerfully for Lent, I have thoroughly learned by now that the involuntary penance of bursitis—an affliction which came upon me and has remained my awful tormentor since Ash Wednesday—should do much to persuade me next year to accept a minor penitential role voluntarily and with joy and gratitude!

One thing I did while bursitis’ demons dug their poisoned spurs into me was to re-read the great Bishop Keppler’s Mehr Freude (More Joy). In it he tells us, among other things, how mistaken we are if we look upon Lent as a grim and splenetic taskmaster or as a kind of inescapable and dolorous evil that must somehow be stoically borne. Joy and penance go hand in hand, the one cannot do long without the other.

The penitential season of Lent is not an end in itself, but a means to an end, a means to attain closer to that sublime Happiness and Joy which the modern world is lacking and which, in last analysis, is God. The Church, therefore, with its insistence on fasting and selfdenial, is anything but a vengeful kill-joy. On the contrary, it is today’s religionless, godless world that has killed all music and song, all blessed harmonies that once kept the world, if not completely at peace, then certainly on an evener keel than today when it is skidding from one world war into another.

What the modern world craves is security. What the modern world gets is "mercy killings" and atom bombs. What the modern world wants is happiness and peace. What it gets is unrest, tension, neurosis. The modern world scoffs at penance and self-sacrifice, not realizing that these are the only means to true joy and real peace. If we, by joyfully carrying our cross, are blessed with the peace and tranquility of the Prince of Peace, the modern world sees only the ugliness of our transitory cross and is blind to its final triumph.

What the modern world needs to find out is what we Christians have still vast and almost limitless inheritances of joy which we ourselves have only begun to tap and which, for worldlings and incorrigible sinners, must forever remain a closed and impenetrable garden of darkly mysterious delights.

True, the joy of Christians has also its more somber shades. Our life’s path is no mere joyride. There is a seriousness and disciplined purposefulness which is part of the lot of all cross-bearers. And yet, as Bishop Keppler points out, even in the Old Testament with all its rigorous laws, there also was known to God’s chosen ones the nourishing sweetness of manna. Life in and with the Church, or spent within the varying seasons of the Church Year, is infinitely rich in wholesome sweetness and joy.

The sacraments are inherently related to joy. The sacrament of penance is a divine oasis for the wearied and miseryladen. The sacrament of the altar is unfathomably deep in mystical joys.

Our churches and ceremonies are rich in sublimest poetry and magnificent, soul-stirring songs. Here Christians find a heavenly home, a holy spa to rest and revitalize their souls.

And all our feast-days and holy seasons, what immeasurable joys do they instill!

What a rhapsody of joy resounds ever anew within us at Christmastide and reechoes in our souls with the Alleluia Easter chorus!

And why not? Prayer has a way of unburdening the heart of the humdrum cares of this world and drawing into our souls the clean, sweet air of another world, a purer world. Conversing with angels and saints is certainly not a depressing chore, nor will a person getting older or sourer by praying and playing at our Heavenly Mother’s feet. No, every Christian virtue has its full measure of genuine joy. And we Christians all have a garden where a wonderful variety of beautiful flowers bloom. Indeed, there is no soil so rich in joy as this soul-cleansing and mystical garden.

And yet, you may say, what has this to do with the season of Lent, with penance? In the words of Bishop Keppler I will tell you: "Even though we preach penance, as our ministry requires, and even if we insist of mortification, acts of selfsacrifice and self-denial, even then, and in fact precisely then, we are striving to bring true joy to the world and are counteracting the enemies of joy. In times such as ours it is not out of place to warn against the danger of black pessimism entering our souls and destroying that sense of wholesome and realistic optimism which never forsook the great saints….True, there is sometimes need of hail and storm and thunder showers, but we must also remember that for a young crop to grow and thrive there also is need of fresh air and sunshine….Hence we must preach and catechize joyously, and must speak to children especially about Christian joy. The Church wishes our Sundays and feast-days to be happy days, joyous days. She wishes us to bear our cross and yet sing to the Lord in our hearts, speaking to one another in psalms and hymns and canticles, being filled with the Holy Spirit. With St. James she says to us: ‘Is any of you sad? Let him pray; Is he cheerful in mind? Let him sing.’ "To present the doctrines of Christian truth is of course important and necessary; but it is also important to preach the joyful tidings of the Faith, of the sacraments, of the Church Year, of virtue and of grace; in this way we win souls to Christ and make them flee the allurements of worldliness and sin…" For those, however, who would onesidedly interpret or misinterpret these words, Bishop Keppler underscores a final word of warning: "One thing, however, that must never be forgotten is that joy is not to be looked upon as the root or stem of our being, but as an offshoot or blossom; ill-nourished roots and decayed stems leave no hope for verdant or healthy buds. In other words, we must never forget that true joy must be earned and is a blessed reward given only to those who live well-ordered Christian lives.

Hence the absolute prerequisite for joyous Christian living is the fulfillment of our Christian duties, conscientious work and effort, fidelity to our temporal and eternal vocation, and the sincere disposition to do the will of God on earth as in heaven.

"Indeed, it is impossible for the flower of true joy to take root in our souls if the weeds of sloth, intemperance, greed, envy, irresponsibility, levity and banality, mediocrity and un-charitableness and uncleanness grow there in wild profusion. On such soil only short-lived and evil-smelling flowers with poisonous berries will thrive. But for the flower of unalloyed Christian joy there is need of sunny soil and alpen air, and the great symbol is God’s grace in which alone true holiness and piety can thrive."..

So, here’s to a Lenten struggle of "more joy"! ■

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Walter L. Matt, shortly after returning home from 3 years' service in World War II