The Catholic bulletin. [volume], February 25, 1911, Image 6

About The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995

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li'
A BISHOP IN JAPAN.
Some of our readers will recall the
visit which Bishop Chatron of Osaka,
Japan, made to St. Paul a few years
ago, and will be interested in a tetter
from him which reveals his Quaint
lramor.
They will recall him as short of
stature, thin, rather dark-skinned and
resembling not a little a type of the
race to which he has been devoting
his saintly life. Bishop Chatron at
tributes this resemblance to a rice
diet, followed for thirty years. He
has lately recovered from an Asiatic
disease, the Beri-beri, for which the
Japanese cereal is also blamed.
"That devil of Beri-beri, returned
to the assault of my poor body. Day
and night I suffered torture and this
old frame of mine seemed to be fall
log to pieces. I could almost feel my
bones rattle. I never had much flesh
oA me, and even the hungriest can
nibal would have passed me by in de
spair. I am now much better and
have gained four pounds, and I can
now resume my job of the Wander
ing Jew, who is thanking you for the
five cents you put in his pocket. You
know he married Lady Poverty,
whom he espoused, and she never
brought him a cent. Maybe I do not
need money, and I don't for myself,
but I do for my poor missions. I have
with me now some of my priests ail
ing with fever, rheumatism and
every old thing. They follow my bad
example and get sick, and when I
reprove them, they say, 'Well, why
don't you keep from being sick, and
we will, too.' Tomorrow morning I
start to go and see the brave work
ers on the North Coast. Poor fel
lows. In solitude for twelve months
In the year, sowing, planting, preach
ing in the wilderness and always wait
ing for harvest. Forlorn sentinels of
Christ, but not a bit discouraged
Please have our benefactors pray for
them, for they need courage and per
severance more than they need
money. I am glad that I will be able
to give them something more than
kind words, when I see them, thanks
to our good American friends."
ONE APOSTOLIC SCHOOL.
One of the most successful of the
apostolic schools, whose sole purpose
is to train candidates for work in the
foreign field, is Mungret, Limerick,
Ireland. It is in charge of the Jesuit
Fathers, who, we learn, have in most
of the European provinces of the so
ciety schools of this kind. In pointing
out the need of such an establishment
the head of the Limerick school says
that it is easy to see how suitable and
how invaluable such a foundation is in
such a country as Ireland, where the
field opened to missionary enterprise
is limitless, and the material avail
able for the formation of missionaries
Of the very best type practically in
exhaustible. The hundreds of millions
of human souls which inhabit the
countries now possessed by English
speaking races, can be best reached by
priests whose native tongues is Eng
lish. In China, in Japan and in fact
throughout the East, where teeming
populations are waiting, English is
almost a passport to influence. Ire
land is certainly the most prolific, if
not the only notable source of supply
for English-speaking missionaries.
m»m
1
The old students of Mungret are
to be found in almost every quarter
of the globe in America here, Austral
ia, New Zealand, Africa, China, India,
Ceylon, the Philippines Islands. The
majority of them are secular priests,
though a large number are among the
Redemptorists, Vincentians, Domin
icans and Jesuits. Mungret started
with two students, we believe, and
grew with a natural growth through
the years. Such a scheme is being
planned here, but until it is well under
way, there is no need of forecasting
its future. Of its success there can be
no doubt, for it is an excellent work,
"the work of Jesus Christ Himself."
TELLS OF FAITH AMONG THE FILI­
PINOS.
The Philippines is slowly receiving a
goodly number of priests from abroad.
Some of the names are new, in fact,
the majority of them, but there are
a few that have the right sound. Down
in Bishop Dougherty's diocese of .Ce
bu is a young priest, Father Madigan.
He was appointed pastor of a place
called Bigaa, a parish of 8,000 souls.
His Bishop gave him his appointment,
his blessing and a few directions how
to reach the spot, and that was all,
but Father Madigan, following the tra
ditions of his clan, got there and re
mained there and is now everything in
the community from chief of police
down or up as you care to go. His
letter is too long for quotation, but
we take these few extracts which in
dicate that the "little brown brother'
is a pretty genuine article after all:
"The Filipinos base their love of
country on the extent of Catholicity.
They idolize Spain, love Ireland, dis
like England. Every native has heard
of Ireland. Women always wear veils
in church as a mark of reverence.
Their love for the things of God is
very deep. Their love for the Mother
of God is almost Irish in its sincerity
and simplicity. Every woman wears
a rosary around the neck in public
view and generally an ornament con
taining the Immaculate Conception.
When the Angelus rings the native
drops to his knees, while reverently
Teciting the prayer. -Confession and
SS^Pf^Wf
MISSION FIELDSA
•3w
Communion are becoming more fre
quent."
Despite the reverence of the people
for their spiritual guides, Father Mad
igan seems to indicate that th secu
lar clergy would be very acceptable,
to take up the work of the expelled re
ligious orders. Perhaps with the re
turn of a few American Bishops from
the Philippines who will tell of the
deeds of their hard missions and plead
for them with an eloquence born of
sorrow and disappointment we will
learn that there is a foreign mission of
our own that we should support more
generously. Thousands and thousands
of these Catholic Filipinos are de
prived of the ordinary blessings of re
ligion, and there should be little won
der that many of them have lapsed
from the faith.
WITH THE HOME MISSION.
There has been a revival of devo
tion to the purpose of missionary
work in the United States, or as it is
popularly known, the Home Mission,
to distinguish it from the foreign
field and the leaders in this work
acknowledge that the revival is due
to the zeal of the Holy Father in com
mending to the special care of Catho
lics in this country the Catholic
Board for Mission Work Among the
Colored People, which has national
headquarters in the Metropolitan
Building, No. 1 Madison avenue, New
York. The interest in the work .of
converting and educating the colored
race, Father John E. Burke says, is
as much due to the encouraging at
titude of the Catholic press, the ac
tual labors of those connected with
the board and the zeal of the laity.
The indications are that the cause
of the black man will shortly have
as strong a hold on Catholic devo
tion as any of the numerous activi
ties conducted by the Church. Father
Burke's resolution to raise a hun
dred thousand dollar fund is being
splendidly encouraged by the laity.
Numerous inquiries are addressed to
the general office concerning the fund
and all are promptly answered.
An instance of the favor with
which the board's work is looked upon
by Catholic women came to hand sev
eral days ago when the reverend di
rector was informed that the late
Mrs. Margaret E. Gallagher of Brook
lyn had bequeathed the sum of $1,000
to the board. Mrs. Gallagher was
deeply interested in the conversion of
the colored race. She was one of the
annual contributors to the $100,000
fund. Her will, by the way, was a
model one. It showed she was well
acquainted with the great work the
Church is doing at home as well as in
the foreign field. Each of the numer
ous activities were remembered in her
will.
FATHERS OF THE SACRED HEART
IN THE CONGO.
When the Fathers of the Sacred
Heart began their mission at Stanley
Falls there were no Christian ne
groes in the country and the natives
were in a state of. savagery. Ten
years later, the report of the mission,
sent to the general councils of the
Propagation of the Faith, gives the
number of baptized Catholics as five
thousand, with six thousand catechu
mens.
At the close of the last year there
were in the mission territory of the
Falls five thousand nine hundred and
sixty-nine baptized Catholics, seven
thousand one hundred and thirteen
catechumens, twenty-seven mission
ary priests and eleven Franciscan
Sisters of Mary. From July, 1908, to
June, 1909, the number of baptisms,
chiefly adults, was at least 1,377.
The Fathers of the Sacred Heart
now have eight stations in the Congo
Saint Gabriel, Stanleyville, Rome
Ponthierville, Pasoko, Banalya, Ava
kubi and Beni. Each of these sta
tions has its prescribed territory for
evangelization, and the missionaries
are assisted by native catechists.
MISSIONARIES AND MISSION*
ARIES.
Richard Barry, the war correspond
ent, bi Pearson's Magazine, makes this
comparison, drawn from actual life as
he witnessed it himself:
"Although I am not a Catholic, and
was raised in a Protestant Church, I
must confess that when I traveled
down the Yang Tse Kiang my alle
giance instinctively went out to three
Jesuits, who were traveling in the
steerage, wearing Oriental garb, mak
ing themselves as inconspicuous as
possible, and acting to all outward
semblance, like Chinamen, holding
faith with their triple vow to silence
poverty and obedience.
"At the same time, there were at
table with me in the first saloon, three
Protestant missionaries, of different de
nominations, each with his Chinese
servant, and each explaining to me
at different times, how he really ought
to have more money to get along prop
erly in that heathen country. Had it
come to a spiritual show down, I fear
I should have cast my lot with the
Jesuits. Their conduct accorded more
closely with my interpretation of the
New Testament"
We are educated by what calls forth
in us love and admiration, by what
creates the exalted mood and the
steadfast purpose. In bowing with
reverence to what is above us, we are
uplifted
THE CATHOLIC BULLETIN, FEBRUARY 25, 1911
(Continued from Page 3)
E I N A A W
ats a
but they did not picture him
steamboat captain.
Fast flew the years to the priest,
whose early life had been spent in
hardships and toil, unfamiliar to most
priests of the present day. It had been
a usual thing for him to say Mass in
the town where he lived, and then ride
iiiles on horseback to another small
congregation, hear confessions, say
Mass again, baptize, visit the sick and
do the many duties of the priest, who
is with his people only once a week.
On days like this it was often the
case that he got his breakfast so late
that he had small appetite for it. If
he had not brought to the work a splen
did -constitution, youth and zeal, he
could never have outlived the stress of
those first years. Now in the fullness
of his powers, he had comparative com
fort—one congregation, a pretty
church and rectory, time for the read
Vag he loved, time for the cultivation
of his roses. In the midst of this had
come the wonderful human tie of his
friendship for the boy. Peace for
himself, ambition for Joe, gave to his
present life a most harmonious tone.
The hardships of his youth, however,
had left their marks. The natural gen
tleness of his character had hidden it
self under barriers his sensitiveness
had found necessary to erect. Friend
ships and interests he had. in plenty
and the Master's work among his peo
ple was a service of love as well as
duty. But these were collective rather
than individual interests. He had no
relatives to keep alive the affections of
his youth, and while memories of his
own family were dear to him, the years
of his priesthood, with their constant
ly recurring exactions and self-efface
ments, had obscured these memories.
With the coming of Joe all this had
changed. As the hoy grew, his com
panionship cleared away the dust of
the years from the priest's heart, and
the joy of loving and being loved filled
his days with gladness.
Slow dragged the years to the eager
boy, who gave no hought to the full
meaning of their passing.
When Joe was sixteen there was a
serious talk in the little study, and the
boy and the priest came forth with a
happy light in their eyes, which
wrought a sort of likeness between
them. Joe had decided to study for
the priesthood, and Father Medhurst's
hopes had leaped beyond the years,
and he felt as if his boy was already
assured of the holy state. Joe him
self felt much the same, but the
.-thought had not been in his mind as
long as it had been in the mind of the
priest. Exaltation and perfect sym
pathy filled them with a serious happi
ness. A little of the man's mood fell
upon the boy, while the elderly priest
seemed back in those far gone years
of his own early experiences. It was
a memorable time for both of them.
Joe went off to the seminary, and his
absence would have taken the light
from the days of his guardian, if the
great hope was not always present.
Then came the vacation—happiness
for the two—three, indeed, for Mrs.
Brent was a devoted friend also.
It was during this first vacation that
Father Medhurst, coming in after a
long session in the confessional, began
telling Joe some of the difficulties of
this part of priestly work.
I have ailmost come to the conclu
sion," he said, leaning back wearily
in his big chair, "that people are
changing in their mental and spiritual
make-up."
Different environment and the en
suing different circumstances would ac
count for that, don't you think?" re
turned Joe.
"That's well put, Joe," answered
Father Medhurst, pleased, but still fol
lowing a thought of his own. "It
doesn't account for everything,
though. Not so long ago life was
more simple, to be sure and there
seemed to be a clearer knowledge of
right and wrong. Nowadays there is
a soul-sickness that must have some
thing contagious in it—so general has
it become. I mean that spirit of ques
tioning authority. Every one wants to
legislate for him or herself* and there
is a tendency to question the wisdom
of certain laws of the Church. The
less capable an individual is to judge
for himself, the mere impossible it
seems to convince him that the laws of
the Church are wiser than the highest
merely human intelligence could have
devised. Obedience to disciplinary law
is held in small esteem."
"But," Joe began, "isn't that just
what the confessional is for—isn't it
the priest's part to apply the law
"Yes," interrupted Father Med
hurst, "to apply it, but it must be
known and acknowledged, by the peni
tent before coming into the tribunal of
penance to receive judgment. There
must be no sophistry, no quibbling in
this court—no dodging the issues,
where one is one's own accuser. When
the disposition is to set one's will and
desires above everything else, and
still receive the sacraments, it is very
difficult, in the limited time of a con
fession, to convince such a one of his
lack of sincerity and humility. So
many, nowadays, have the slogan, 'I
must use my own intellect, I must
reason for myself.' These same peo
ple will not hesitate to seek legal and
medical advice and almost blindly
trust to such direction. While in the
affairs of the soul, the eternal verities,
they wish to be the arbiters of their
own destinies."
Joe's shoulders went back and-his
head went up, a trick he had when
faced with a. difficulty his fighting at
titude, Father Medhurst called it,
"Why not preach these things—wake
the people up to a realization of the
greatness, the completeness and the
power of the Sacrament of Penance?"
"They acknowledge the greatness
and power of the sacrament in coming
to confession," answered the priest,
"but they* wish to make telrms with
their own consciences and God's law.
They assert their right to the use of
their intellect, but they do not use it,
or they would realize the wisdom of
the laws of obedience, precept and dis
cipline."
"Instruction is the thing," said Joe
in a convinced way, and his eyes wid
ened with the look of one who gazes
into the future, and sees a great work.
The weariness left the priest's face
as he watched his boy the rugged
lines softened around his dark eyes,
as they looked into the blue eyes, filled
with the dream of the future.
"All I could not do," he thought, "he
will do." A line read years before
flashed into his mind: "On the earth
the broken arcs in heaven the perfect
round."
Unconsciously he spoke the remem
bered words aloud. Joe looked at him,
puzzled, unable to connect the thought
with what they had been speaking of.
"I thought I was thinking," explain
ed Father Medhurst, laughing. "It
means that I am hoping with a great
hope for your future and mine. When
my hands and voice can do no more in
the service of the Master it is a deep
comfort to feel that you will take my
place, profit by my experiences, fill
the gaps left in my work."
In that moment Joe saw the great
strength of Father Medhurst's ambi
tion for him. Strangely enough it
sent a wave of fear through the boy.
It was long before he slept that night.
Over and over he said to himself: "If
I failed, if at the last I found it could
not be, it would break his heart."
And in the terror inspired by this
thought came the first doubts of his vo
cation.
June again, and roses in profusion
gladdened the heart of Father Med
hurst. He was out in the fresh morn
ing air, bestowing the gentle care on
his favorite bush that made its flowers
so wonderful. As he bent, over his
task he hummed the chant he loved,
and his thoughts were busy with the
dreams of the future. There was only
a short time now for his boy to wait
before receiving minor orders, then a
short interval and he would be home,
after the great act, a priest, to say
his first Mass. There must be many
roses for that happy day., So busy
was he that he did not hear the gate
open, nor the lagging step on the walk.
So Joe stood watching nearly an entire
minute, before speaking. The boy now
looked at the priest through eyes
sharpened by love and apprehension
He noted every dawning sign of age
in the dear face and figure, and all
went to his own young heart with a
force that made it ache. When at last
he spoke, his voice was husky and
weak, almost like that of the fainting
man who had brought him here, fif
teen years before.
"Father!"
Father Medhurst straightened, turn
ed instantly and then stared incredu
lous.
"Why—boy——" he began, then anx
iety flashed through him. "Oh, Joe,
are you ill?"
Yes, and no, Father," said Joe: "I'll
be all right when we've had a little
talk."
Hand in hand, silently, they went in
to the house.
This thing that Joe was doing now
had been a haunting terror for weeks,
yes, even for months, and so painful
had it seemed to him, that he had
brought every force in him to avert it.
The struggle had worn him out, body
and soul but the teaching of the dear
old man, and the boy's own clear hon
est spirit had triumphed. He knew
that God did not call him to the high
state of the priesthood—that if he
forced himself into that, holy state
without the Divine call the penalties
would dwarf the gifts that were truly
his, and which he could use nobly, if he
lived true to the light within him.
The words were spoken. Joe look
ed up and drew a deep breath. It
had not been so dreadful after all. He
felt for the instant strangely light
and buoyant. Father Medhurst had
asked a question here and there in the
pauses of Joe's telling had, in fact,
made it easy for the boy to open his
mind fully. He had not even seemed
surprised, after the first words beside
the rose-bush.
What a bogey the terrible fear had
proved to be! The dear friend was
really one with him—had understood!
Such a warmth of grateful love ir
radiated the boy that he rose hastily,
and going over to Father Medhurst's
chair, knelt besides him, seizing his
hands in a strong grip. So they re
mained for a time reading each-oth
er's soul in a deep silence. Then the
priest drew his hands from the boy's
and, placing them on his shoulders,
said in a pleading way:
"You can't let this terrible disap
pointment fall on me, Joe—not without
a perfect conviction that in entering
the priesthood you would be going
against the Divine will. Dear boy,
there have been few priest who have
not had this temptation—to doubt
their own vocation. It is a tempta
tion," he insisted, as Joe looked up
with a white face, all his misery back
on him. "It is a temptation! Drop
all thought of questioning," he went
on, as Joe rose to his feet and stood
with downcast eyes "let yourself rest
in just the present. I will arrange for
you to make a retreat at Manresa. Ah
ha! Those Jesuits will soon set you
on your feet. They'll show you!
He was all feverish eagerness, and
began pacing around the room, lifting
trifles on the mantel, turning them
over and in a preoccupied way replac
ing them. For the first time In their
intercourse with each other there was
no direct meeting of the eyes the
golden cord of perfect sympathy be
tween them lay lax and lifeless.
"I will do anything you say, Father,
said Joe at last. "But I wish you
would see that the fight has been
fought. There can be no other de
cision for me, except by closing my
i "giSiV*•»*»•'• it own, ?T, 'nk*.
eyes to all the laws of my own soul,
as well as the law of the Divine call.
You have taught me too well in this
matter for me to be deceived now."
"The last law is the submission of
your own will," said the priest. Then,
suddenly vehement, he broke out with
"Every law of your life and training,
your talents and all you possess point
to this choice for you!" Then striding
over to the boy, who bent and stricken,
stood still by the empty chair—"Are
you turning aside from the perfect life
for some senseless girl?" He ques
tioned fiercely, and, in a gust of fury
at the thought, he grasped the boy by
the arms and shook him.
The surprise of the onslaught no
less than the charge made Joe speech
less for the moment. Then, as the
storm of rage died down as quickly as
it had risen, Father Medhurst put his
arms about the boy.
"Forgive me," he said in a low voice,
'but it is a terrible thing to me to
think of your being anything but a
priest. Yet, God knows I want you to
be according to His will."
"There is no girl, Father, "said Joe.
"My love for you is the strongest
human feeling in me." He tried to say
more, but found he could not so again
there was silence, until at last Father
Medhurst took his chair, and began
pulling writing materials toward him.
Joe walked restlessly about.
"I'll write," said Father Medhurst,
striving to make his voice as usual—•
"I'll write—now—to Manresa, and ar
range for a retreat." Then, with some
hesitation—"go, rest a while, Joe. We'll
have a quiet evening together, any
way."
When the door closed, he sat star
ing at the pen in his hand, unnerved,
shaken, filled with a disquiet he had
never known before. About a half
hour later he stole into the church,
only to come away more cautiously
than he had entered, for Joe knelt at
the altar steps, his head bowed, his
whole figure motionless.
"Poor boy," said the priest to him
self, "I must not disturb him!"
At dinner there was a tacit ignor
ing of anything serious between them,
a great show of cheerfulness, and
much praise of Mrs. Brent's good din
ner, though in fact neither knew the
taste of the dishes served to them.
Two days passed and then, the letter
they were waiting for having arrived,
Joe went off for the retreat.
When Mrs. Brent came to call Fa
ther Medhurst to his luncheon that day
she found him among his roses.
"Come, Father," she said kindly, and
urgently, "you ate no breakfast—come
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now while your lunch is fit to eat!"
"Presently," he answered in an ab
sent way, and, pushing his hat back
on his head, he looked at her wearily*
"I'm not in the least hungry," he pro
tested.
She could have cried, for there was
an air of quiet sadness about him that
went to her heart. Instead, however,
she twitched a dead leaf or two from
the bushes and said sternly:
"It's a wonder now, Father Med
hurst, you never tried to grow lilies on
those bushes."
"What?" he excaimed, startled. But
she threw her hands up in a disparg
ing way and walked off, muttering to
herself: "It's all sheer nonsense."
The retreat ended. As Joe stepped
onto the platform from the train that
brought him to Campden "he was sur
prised to see Father Medhurst waiting
for him. They hastened to each other,
and clasped hands.
"I see how it is, Joe,** were the
first words spoken.
"If it could have been otherwise-1—"
began Joe in a troubled voice, but
Father Medhurst interrupted him:
"Live true to yourself and the best
in you, dear boy," he said softly.
They walked off, striking (At
through an unfrequented path across
fields. When they were nearly home,
Joe said:
"I know, Father, by every law of
education, as well as of gratitude and
love, I should have chosen the life
you wished. I would have done so,
if I had not felt so certain that it
would be for that purely human reason
—sufficient, no doubt, when there is
no urging in one's mind and heart for
something different—of pleasing the
one I owed everything to. But, Father,
your own clear teaching on that very
subject, together with the knowledge
of myself that I have gained tri
umphed over such laws. I will trust to
the future to give me opportunity to
prove that I am not ungrateful, that
"Enough, enough, boy," interrupted,
Father Medhurst. "Laws," he went
on hastily, "well, there are many of
them! The final.law is the law of love,
and we shall obey that, Joe."
They had come to the porch by this
time the priest drew the boy aside,
and, pointing to the glorious mass of
bloom stirring in the breeze, exclatia
ed:
"I'll not try to grow lilies there"—
his eyes twinkled—"I'll be satisfied
with roses. I shall take God's gifts in
His own way, and not try to graft my
will over His."- M. A. Gannon in the.
ary Magazine.
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