Crisis In Christendom, No. 17 of 17 No. 17 of 17

I lie by day behind, all around is a kind movie. The National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with the National Council of Catholic Men presents the Catholic Art. Today's program will consist of music by a unit of the Policic Choristers and then addressed by Monsignor Fulton J. Sheen. A group of the Policic Choristers open the Catholic hour this Easter Sunday singing Sazir Frank's well-known setting of the 150th Psalm, or praise you the Lord in His holy temple. The National Broadcasting Company presents the Catholic Art. The National Broadcasting Company presents the Catholic Art. The National Broadcasting Company presents the Catholic Art. The National Broadcasting Company presents the Catholic Art. The National Broadcasting Company presents the Catholic Art. The National Broadcasting Company presents the Catholic Art. Monsignor Fulton J. Sheen of the Catholic University of America will now deliver the last in his series of 18 addresses on the crisis in Christendom. His discourse today is entitled Easter. I present Monsignor Sheen. Friends, the supreme instance of all history, that the voice of the people is not necessarily the voice of God. Was the moment when a mob passed beneath the cross, flinging at the helpless figure there upon it, the blisterings near the ages. He trusted in God, let God deliver here. Two days later, early in the morning, a converted sinner is found walking in a cemetery. Sheen, whose heart had been captured by him without as other men had done laying it waste. She was in search of a tomb and a dead body which she hoped she might anoint with spices. The idea of the resurrection never seemed to add to her mind. She, who herself had risen from a tomb sealed by the seven devils of sin. Finding the two men, she broke into a fountain of tears. No one who weeps ever looks upwards. With her eyes cast down as the brightness of the early sun, Raya swept over the dew-covered grass. She vaguely perceived someone near her, her last woman. Why are we persta? Mary thinking it might have been the God in her set, because they've taken away my Lord. And I know not where they laid him. That figure before her spoke only one word. One name, and in a tone so sweet and ineffably tender, that it could be the only unforgettable voice of the world. And that one word was, Mary. No one ever could say, Mary, as he had said it. In that moment, she knew him, dropping into the aromach of her mother's speech, she answered, but one word. Robonite, master. And she fell at his feet. She was always there, anointing them at a supper, standing before them at a cross, and now kneeling before him in the glory of an Easterborn. The cross had asked the questions the resurrection had answered them. The cross had asked the question, how far can power go in the world? The resurrection answered, power ends in its own destruction, for they who sews the foe lost the day. The cross had asked the question, why does God permit evil and sin to nail justice to a tree? The resurrection answered, that sin having done its worst might exhaust itself, and thus be overcome by love that is stronger than either sin or death, and thus there emerges the Easter list, that the power of evil and the chaos of anyone moment. It can be defied and conquered, for the basis of our hope is not in any construct of human power, but in the power of God who gave to the evil of this earth its one mortal wound, an open tomb, a gaping supple care and an empty grave. If the story of Christ ended with that cry of abandonment on the cross, then what hope have we that blues, goodness, and crucified justice will ever rise triumphantly over the mass wickedness of men? If he who died to give us the glorious liberty of the children of God could not break the chains of death, then what hope is there that the enslaved peoples of your will ever rise from the slavery of their graves to a freedom where a man can call a soul his own? If there be no power of God that can raise to the units of life, he who said, I am the light of the world. Then in broken hearted misery must we say to our armed forces, out, out, brief candles, there shall not be light again. If there be no power of God to bring back to life the redeemer of our sins and the teacher of our minds, then the pathos of human mortality is deepened from the riddle of human existence darkened forever as the prison doors of death are ever lostingly shut by the jailer whose name is black despair. You say that the resurrection of our divine Lord contradicts science and human experience? I say to you that the rotting in the grave of supreme truth would contradict its 1000 times more. I can accept a universe where goodness is crucified by power, but I cannot accept one where there is no higher power to raise it to justification. I can accept a world where evil has its hour, where a Poland suffers from her enemies, where Jews and Christians are exiles, where the cost is double cost by a swastika, where 40,000 churches are closed in a land where religion is called the opium of the people. I can accept any of these things, but I cannot accept a world where in goodness does not have it Easter day to sing triumphant on the wings of victory. Apply this lesson to the dark hour in which we live. Whence is our hope for victory in this war? Whence our hope for peace? Whence our hope for the church? Whence our hope for victory? The hope for victory in this war must not be in the power of arms alone in guns and tanks and planes. For as I as a as warned, war run to them that go down to Egypt for help, trusting in horses because they are many and in horsemen because they are strong and have not trusted in the holy one of Israel and have not sought after the Lord. Rather our hope for victory is and must be in the righteousness of our cause. A righteousness that cannot be conquered because rooted in the power of God who gave to the evil of this earth is one mortal wound and open to a taping step of her and an empty grave. Whence comes our hope for peace? Our hope for peace is not in the common man on purified by faith. For once in power he will cease to be the common man or the polyterriot and will become the uncommon man or the bureaucrat and will use his power as seriously as a very cross that is in the world. Rather our hope is in the common man made uncommon by the power of God who as the declaration of independence says, gave us our rights and in the power of him who dared to say to the first totalitarian Caesar of Christian history. Now should not have any power unless it were given to the Ramadan. And be not disturbed either at the persecution of the church throughout the world. For unless the church has its good Friday it will never have its Easter Sunday. If the world loved the church the church would be no salvation to the world. If it were not hated it would be weak. It is only because the fires of its truth are blinding evil eyes and convicting them of sin and judgment that the world vanily tries to put those fires out. Be not saddened either if the modern world is tearing up all the photographs and blueprints of a society and a family based on the moral law of God. Be not saddened the church has kept the negatives. No one has better described those dark days of the church and its ultimate triumph than Francis Thompson who compared the church to the Lily of the King. King. Low lies die silver wing and long has been the hour of thine unqueen. And by sense of paradise on the night winds it knows its tires nor any take the secrets of its meaning. Or Lily of the King I speak a heavy thing. Old patience most powerful of daughters. Low the hour is at hand for the crumbling of the land and red shall be the breaking of the waters. Sweet past upon thy stock when the blasts shell withy talk with the mercies of the king for thine awning and the just understand the thine hour is at hand, thine hour at hand with power in the dawning when the nations lie in blood and their chains are broken through to look up almost powerful of daughters. Lift up thy head and talk what sounds are in the dark for his feet are coming to the on the waters. What happened before in history will happen again in the first few centuries the church was persecuted by those who had lost their faith. And it is being persecuted for the same group now. There is a story to the effect that Julian the apostate for as his name implies he had lost his faith. The Julian made a tour of the Roman Empire to investigate his success of his persecutions. He came to an ancient city of Antioch where disguising himself he entered into the him's and the taverns and the public markets to better learn the fruits of his hate. On one occasion watching thousands of people crowd into a temple dedicated to Mithra he was recognized by an old Christian friend whose name was Agathon. And pointing to the crowd and the appearance that's the best of the pagan coast Julian's fear disquestion to his friend. Agathon, what ever happened to the carpenter of Galilee? Does he have any jobs these days? To which Julian retorted. A rather Agathon he is building a coffin for the Roman Empire and for you. Six months later Julian thrust the dagger into his own heart and throwing it all to heavens against which he had revealed as his own unredemptive blood fell back upon him he uttered his last and most famous line. Oh, Calamine! Without a host of concurs he always dies. And thus re-bring to a close his theories on the air. I wonder how much good these broadcasts have done. There's only one test. And that test is not. Whether they have made me, popular. But whether they have made you love God. Our Lord said, let your light shine among men. That they may see your good works and glorify your father who is in heaven. Notice he did not say that they may glorify you. But that they may glorify God. Have these broadcasts done that? I hope they have. If I could be sure for example, within the last four months in the air. But they had brought one single Jew to an increased love of God. Or one single Protestant to his knees in adoration of the Son of God. Or brought one single fallen away Catholic back again to the faith. Or broke down Adi-Semitism in one solitary cell. Or bigotry and hate within one heart. Or if it inspired that one person to spend the daily holy hour in adoration and love of God. Or prompted another to dig where he fell and find the pearl of great price. If any broadcast did just one of these things, then it was eminently worthwhile. I do know one instance where they have helped. I received a letter from a colored man in Alabama. But once he got down to his little town, which incidentally is so small that I cannot find it on the map. He writes, I am quoting him, I have a big grassy yard and a nice front porch to preach from. And for anyone who does not want to sit on the ground, we can furnish seats and ventures. It may not be very comfortable, but people are willing to be put out to hear the word of God. Please let me hear from you. With the generous permission of his Excellency, Bishop Thomas J. Toulin, the Bishop of Alabama. I shall go down there this summer and preach from that porch and build a church and dedicate it to the one to whom these broadcasts have been dedicated. Our blessed mother. And I wish to close now in the role of a beggar. I beg you in your charity to pray for me. Will you please? Pray that the new series which I will resume on January 2, 1944 will have a double fruit. Namely that they will glorify God and save souls. To each of you who writes and assures me of your prayers, I shall write a letter of thanks. And then you will desire a prayer book for wartime. In title the shield of faith, we will gladly send it to you free. As the spiritual mendicant of the radio, begging your prayers, I now take leave of you. To each and every Jew, Protestants and Catholic. To all who whether they know it or not, our thirsting for God, my sincere affection and blessing. From a heart who is greeting to you has always been and will always be God-love you. Bye now. Bye. O Lord Jesus Christ, who in thy mercy hear us the prayers of sinners, for forth we besiege the all grace and blessing upon our country and its citizens. We pray in particular for the President, for our Congress, for all our soldiers, for all who defend us in ships, whether on the seas or in the skies, for all who are suffering the hardships of war. We pray for all who are in peril or in danger. Bring us all after the troubles of this life and to the haven of peace. And reunite us together for ever O dear Lord, in thy glorious heavenly kingdom. The address you have just heard was entitled Easter and was delivered by Monsignor Fulton J. Sheen of the Catholic University of America. This was the last in his series of eighteen addresses on the crises in Christendom. A copy of today's talk, as well as the booklet referred to by Monsignor Sheen, the shield of faith, may be obtained by writing to the National Council of Catholic Men, Washington D.C., or to the station to which you are now listening. The Catholic hour closes with Palestinians Easter hymn. Yisons and daughters of the Lord. Yisons and daughters of the Lord. Yisons and daughters of the Lord. Yisons and daughters of the Lord. Yisons and daughters of the Lord. It gives us great pleasure to welcome to the Catholic hour next Sunday at this time the Reverend Dr. Edgar Smitler, of the Order of Saint Benedict, who will give two addresses in the Catholic hour. His first address is entitled The Sacred Brown. Your announcer is John Patrick Costello. This program has been presented by the National Broadcasting Company and the independent radio stations associated with the NBC Network, in cooperation with the National Council of Catholic Men, and came to you from New York. This is the National Broadcasting Company.