One Lord, One World, No. 6 of 16 No. 6 of 16

During the next path, our national broadcasting company and its affiliated independent stations have made their facilities available to the National Council of Catholic Men as a public service for the presentation of the Catholic Hour. This evening, the right-revern Montsenier-Footen-Jay Sheehm will deliver the six in a series of sixteen addresses under the general title, One Lord, One World, a choir of the Church of the Blessed Sacrament New York City directed by Warren Foley will provide the music. This evening, the choir under Mr. Foley's direction opens the musical portion of the program with St. Thomas's famous sequence Laudatio, set to music by Felix Mendelssohn. The right-revern Montsenier-Footen-Jay Sheen now addresses the Catholic Hour audience. The title of Montsenier Sheehm's talk is the domestic conditions of world peace. We are publishing a booklet entitled Friends, which we will send free to anyone for the asking. It's purpose is to enlist Jews and Protestants and Catholics alike in a crusade for the preservation of the moral law and the social order as well as for the elimination of bigotry, anti-Semitism and anti-Christianity. Today we speak of the basic moral principle of domestic society, namely the family is the natural unit of society and the right of education belongs primarily to the parents, not to the state. The family is in the natural order the only divine institution in the world. God did not found the American Chamber of Commerce or the CIO or the National League, but in making man and woman who find their natural complement in one another and whose children are the incarnation of their mutual love, God did found the family. And since the family is the natural unit of society and precedes the state in nature and in time, it follows that the parents and not the state have the primary and normal rights of education. The teacher only supplements but never surplants either the right or the duty of the parents. The function of the state when it receives this delegation is merely to protect and to foster, but never to absorb either the individual or the family into itself or to substitute itself for them. Our parents realizing their responsibility along these lines. Unfortunately, too many parents today shift their responsibility to the school and assume that by doing so, they have fulfilled their parental obligations. Are they forgotten that the education of their children is their concern six years before it becomes the concern of the school? The child has been given to them by God. The child is so much putty in their hands and how the little ones will be molded and formed is the primary responsibility of the home. There is such a thing in the providence of God as mother craft and father craft, but there never was a time when these noble professions were in such danger of being lost. An indication of the breakdown of parental authority is the present tendency of mothers who outside of cases of necessity work in war plants to the utter neglect and detriment of their children. In Los Angeles, for example, a social worker counted forty-five infants locked in cars in a single parking lot while their mothers were at work in war plants. The root of this trouble is in the home and those who talk about more nurseries, better playgrounds, curfews, grey day milk and more dance halls are perhaps diminishing the effect, but they are not removing the cause. Behind every delinquent child is a delinquent parent. Behind every broken youth is a broken home. There are problem children only because there are problem parents. It behooves those mothers therefore who are doing defense work to the utter neglect of their children, not to flatter themselves that they are aiding the war effort. The price for working in a war plant is too high when it costs the integrity and the decency of the next generation. What kind of peace will we have during this war? These mothers turn out future mothers with a sorted background of disease and crime. Our soldiers at the front are entitled to better wives when they return or else their fighting will have been invading. This war's greatest casualties so far is the American home. I always tell young couples whenever I witness their marriage that to make a home their marriage must have three qualities. It must be unbreakable, it must be fruitful and it must also be sacrificial. First marriage is a permanent bond until death. There are only two words in the vocabulary of love. You and always you because love is unique, always because love is enduring. No one ever said I will love you for two years and six months. The modern rubbish about sex confuses feeling with love and an organic reaction with an active will. And falsely believes that when the thrill is gone, marriage is ended. Forgetful that in marriage is in running a race. There is such a thing as a second wind. What the modern calls the thrill is only the choke that starts the motor. And most people never live together long enough to enjoy the thrill of driving. The thrill is the frosting on the cake and the frosting is not the cake. And the moral law says you may not have the frosting unless you eat the cake. One of the great values of a vow is that it keeps couples together during the shock of the first cold plunge so that later on they might enjoy the swim. Love is life's courier and must not linger only in the rivers of rapture, but must launch out into the deeper and more authentic waters where the simple happiness of being together mirrors the mystery of eternity and reflects the harmonies of the triune God. And then secondly, marriage by its very nature is destined to bear fruit. All love is creative, even gods. All love tends to an incarnation, even gods. The spark of love caught from the flames of heaven's alders was not given to scorch the flesh but to sight our life. The only reason life ever surrenders itself to another life is to meet the challenge of death. And to conquer individual impotence by filling up the other's lacking measure in the birth of their mutual love. As the marriage of birth and tree is messianic to new life, so man and woman must not make a covenant with death. But in obedience to nature's laws must pay back life's loan with life and not with death. In vain will they who break the lute of God's designs ever hope to snare the music. Humanity is the quarry and the husband and wife is sculptors. And every child they beget a living stone to be fitted and compacted into the temple, the corner stone of which is God. And finally marriage can prosper only in terms of sacrifice. True love is sacrificial, even gods. It is white courtship is characterized by gift-giving, a surrender of what one has. In marriage this sacrificial love should deepen by a surrender of what one is. Because too many measure their love for another by the pleasure which the other gives, they are in reality not in love, but in the swarms of selfishness. Hence to preserve the family the greatest sorrow of each member should be to be outdone by the cherished rival in the least advantage of self-giving. In order to preserve the American home may every Jew and Protestant and Catholic who listens to me spend an hour of day in prayer. May the Catholic spend it with our Lord in the Holy Eucharist. And then too, would to heaven that Catholics would revive that beautiful custom of the family rosary every night. And Australian priest tells how his mother remembered that the last time she saw one of her boys who was lost in the war was the night they said the rosary together. They have brought the news, my darling, that I waited for so long. Faith was little news they brought me. Every story, every song that I've heard since you enlisted seemed to bear the one refrain till the whole world used to tell me that you'd never come again. The era was the use complaining when the world is all amiss, when the hope and the striving ever come to dust like this. Still I'm thankful. Oh, I'm thankful for one gold in memory that the last time spent together was to say the rosary. What do you remember, boy? We said it in my room there beyond where I have the little altar where your early prayers you can't. By the statue that I cherish of the Holy Mother fair with the blue cloak-rounder shoulders and their white hands crossed in prayer. They were singing in the parlor, then that came to say goodbye. They sang their gay songs to me. I know the reason why. They're always kind and crueble in this big warm hearted land. Ah, but their way wasn't my way, and they might not understand. So I lit the little candles and I'd beckoned you away, and you came. God bless you for it, boy, the pardon prayer to say. I, the pardon rosary, darling, I can see you kneeling there with your big broad shoulders bending and your hands joined on the chair and your man's voice like an organ rolling out its sole apart. Oh, tonight, boy, in my dream, it's thrown in my heart. Yes, we set it with the music strum and rag time songs throughout. Yes, our two cells together answering, tethered, turn about. This is a queer, queer world, Alana. When the storm can work its crest on the strong limb, while the withered limb is left in loneliness. Oh, I'm thanking God, my boy, though the aching's in my breast was he who took you from me, darling, and he know at what is best, and this holy mother marry with her baby on her knee. Sure, she lost him in his manhood, for he died at 33. There's a nummon in my heart, boy, like a cold, cold hand it grips. Oh, I'm thankful that we parted with a rosary on your lips. It has ever been my refuge. It has been my hope and stay. Been my hymn of sweet thanksgiving for what good there came my way. It has been my only comfort when the heart was sick and sore. And the bad days pass the counten, flung their troubles round my door. I was taught it by my mother. And when we crossed the sea for to seek the gold we never found, the old man there and me, sure, he stood six feet tall and higher than. And cold black was his hair. Oh, you'd never know to us him at all that old bent man in there. We set it in the slab, a strong and clear and flood and drought, just our two cells there together, answering up and giving out. We have said it by the cradle, we've said it by the cot when the waves, the angels brought us made us happy in our lot. And the house was full of children and the pride of living load. Oh, we said it till the neighbors heard his passing on the road. But he've gone and left me lonely. One by one my does, he flew. One by one the circles dwindled till the rosaries said by two. Said by two old husky voices, old and weak and wearing out, just our two old cells together, answering tother turn about. Fred won't be long, Alana, till the troubled seas come, and the beads dropped from my fingers and they bind them on my arm. You would tease me with the trimmings in the dear, dead days of old. There's another trimmin' now, my boy, every time the rosaries said, but there won't be many rosaries. For the singen's in my ears and the holy mother's deckman, I can see her through my tears. These old feet have done their journey, better leave them rest and then they will bring me to the hillside, air the green months come again. For I'll tread the house of glory where the soul is free from harm, and you'll notice me, Alana, by the rosary on my arm. You have just heard, Monsignor Sheen, deliver an address entitled, The Domestic Condition of World Peace. Pauluson has may obtain a copy of this talk by writing to the National Council of Catholic Men Washington, D.C., or to the station to which they are now listening. Last Sunday it was announced that the little booklet referred to by Monsignor Sheen, Friends, was expected off the press fairly soon. Word has just come from the printer that owing to unforeseen difficulties connected with wartime priorities and wartime shortages of paper and manpower. Post-calforded copies will not be available before the latter part of March. The National Council of Catholic Men deeply regrets this, but wishes to assure all those who have requested copies that they will get them at the earliest possible moment. Those who have not yet requested copies are urged to do so now in order that we may mail their booklets as soon as they come from the printer. Mr. Foley now directs his choir in William Webb's. Yezu do roses grow so red. The voice of Pano Solaris is Robert Wasca. Yezu do roses grow so red. Yezu do roses grow so red. The voice of Pano Solaris is Robert Wasca. The tune is a verse that sings and dies. Make thy cross-soul-ways in the skull. This is my life's love that plays with me. Yezu do roses grow so red. Yezu do roses grow so red. Yezu do roses grow so red. Yezu do roses grow so red. Yezu do roses grow so red. The voice of Pano Solaris is Robert Wasca. The voice of Pano Solaris is Robert Wasca. The voice of Pano Solaris is Robert Wasca. The voice of Pano Solaris is Robert Wasca. The voice of Pano Solaris is Robert Wasca. And now we invite all those listening to join Monsignor Sheen in offering up this prayer in time of war. O Lord Jesus Christ, who in thy mercy hear us the prayers of sinners, or 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 into the haven of peace and reunite us all together forever, O dear Lord, in thy glorious heavenly kingdom. We invite you to listen to the Catholic Hour next Sunday at this same time, when Monsignor Sheen will deliver an address entitled, the Social Condition of World Peace. The choir of the Church of the Blessed Sacrament, New York City, will provide an appropriate musical program. The choir of the Church of the Blessed Sacrament, will provide an appropriate musical program. We pray for all who are suffering the hardships of war. We pray for all who are suffering the hardships of war. We pray for all who are suffering the hardships of war. We pray for all who are suffering the hardships of war. We pray for all who are suffering the hardships of war. The musical on today's program was directed by Warren Fouley. Your answer is John Patrick Costello. The National Council of Catholic Men has presented the Catholic Hour through the facilities of the National Broadcasting Company and its independent affiliated stations, which have been made available as a public service, and there's a contribution to the religious life of America. This is the National Broadcasting Company.