The Young Priests Keepsake | Page 3

and an appeal to pride is generally a trump card. They will
ask--"Is it possible that gentlemen could submit themselves to the
guidance of a clergyman whose manners are unformed and whose
English is marred by provincialisms and defective accent?"
In speaking of accents, let me say here I do not ask the young priest to
commit the signal folly of attempting to ingraft an imported accent on
his own native one. No! He should speak as an Irishman, but as an
educated Irishman.
[Side note: By foreign Canons you will be judged]
The fatal mistake on the part of a young priest would be to take Irish
opinion as the standard by which he will be judged outside Ireland. In
Ireland we call these things trifles, because the people whose eyes are
filled with the rich light of warm faith see the priest alone, and are
blind, or at least generously indulgent, to the defects of the man.
Reverse this, and you have the accurate measure by which you will be
judged abroad. The man and his defects alone are seen; the priest and
the sublimity of his state are entirely lost sight of. The world judges
what it can understand--the man alone. Hence the student preparing for
the foreign mission may take this as an axiom:--_If people cannot
respect you as a gentleman, on the non-Catholic world your influence is
nil; and even on your own Catholic people it will sit very lightly_. But
he replies-- "This is not logical, for a man may be an excellent priest, a
good scholar, without social accomplishments." All that I admit, but

age and experience will teach him that logic does not rule the world;
some of its greatest actions could not bear the pressure of a syllogism.
We must meet the world as it is, not as we would make it. Is it not you
who show logical weakness in preparing for this ideal world that has no
existence outside your own dreams and ignoring the world of hard facts
you will have to face?
[Side note: No argument to be drawn from the Apostles]
You then appeal to facts and say, Look at the apostles. Let me
answer--first, you do not attempt to imply that crudity was a help to
them. If so, how? Now, the most you can say is that in spite of it they
succeeded. But you forget that they had the gift of miracles, and a
sanctity so evident that their passport was secure despite their defects.
Unless you can produce the same sanctity and miracles your argument
falls to the ground. But to the statement itself--Were not the apostles
men of manners? Some, it is true, before their call had little connection
with schools, but we may rest assured that three years under such a
teacher as they had did wonders. They must be dull indeed not to read
the living lesson their Master's character daily taught. His tenderness,
His courteous dignity, and gentle consideration for others were such
that in a man we would say they almost bordered on weakness; this was
the living model on which they daily gazed and pondered.
This Master then sent them forth to "all nations." They were to mix
with the white-robed senators in Rome, and dispute with the highest
intellects of polished Athens, to force an entrance into every circle of
social life. Could we imagine God sending them forth to that task
encumbered with defects that would paralyse their mission if not ensure
its defeat.
We must also take into account the gifts of Pentecost. What a change
these wrought! The Holy Spirit enriched their intellects and perfected
their moral virtues; their trembling wills became braced as iron pillars.
For what purpose? To prepare and equip them for their destined
mission. Is it not natural to suppose that the same Divine Power swept
their characters free from every impediment that could hamper their

ministry? So the appeal to the apostles is gratuitous.
[Side note: Culture necessary for domestic life]
In dealing with this question a young priest is to consider more than his
flock. Priests on the foreign mission live community life, in hourly
contact with each other. You cannot realise the agony a man inflicts on
others by coarse or unpolished manners. The toil of a priest's day is
severe, but the hardest day is mere summer pastime compared with the
crushing thought of having to turn home to a boorish companion. This
living martyrdom reaches its most acute stage when, in society, a man
is forced to witness a brother priest expose the raw spots of his
character to the vitriolic cynicism of the scoffer.
But the importance of this subject is by no means exclusive to the
foreign mission. In Ireland, of late, a