Peace, No. 13 of 17 No. 13 of 17

Casting company in cooperation with the National Council of Catholic Men presents the Catholic Hour. A group of the Paulus Chorusters open the Catholic Hour, singing Vittorias Poltulei Muse. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit is the Holy Spirit. I present Monsignor Sheen. Friends, the mere fact that we ask the question, why does God permit this war, is in itself an indication of want of trust, either in the wisdom or the goodness of God? How explain this want of trust? Generally, it is due to refusal to admit. First, the possibility that God knows more than I and is better than I. And secondly, that my dignity is not lowered by submitting myself to His wisdom and His goodness, even when they go against me. The ultimate manifestation of pride is self-deafocation, setting oneself up as God. That is why the intellectually proud man will attempt to convince you of his omniscience. He steals the mantle of God's wisdom and rapes his about his own shoulders. His favorite trick in conversation is to make you think he knows everything. The result is that today we have information but not wisdom. Information is uncorrelated bits of knowledge, which, like a broken egg, can never be composed into a complete philosophy of life. Wisdom on the contrary is the knowledge of truth, human and divine. Information and quiz programs have indoctrinated us into believing that the man who knows the colors of three beers mentioned in Hamlet is wise. And that if you do not know similar patches of information, you really ought to dissolve into an emotional crumble. True wisdom on the contrary correlates information into causes and equips itself to answer such questions as, what is the purpose of life? Why are we here? And where are we going? A little child who knows the first page of the Catholicism, which sums up the wisdom of Aristotle and the best thinking of Western culture, knows more than all though university professors whose divine religion, as an Ohio professor does, as the projection into the roaring loom of time of a unified complex of psychical values. Whatever that means. The salvation of modern man lies not in the pride of what he knows, but in humidity concerning how little he knows. His own missions must give way to nations. Instead of feeling he knows everything, he must come a little closer to the truth that he really knows nothing. His belief that he knows all must surrender to the humiliating truth that someone is wiser than he. For if a man knows all, how can God teach you anything? If there is no law above him, how can he ever be wrong? If the mind is filled with self, how feel it with the wisdom of God? Not until we become humble, can there be trust? For an illustration of this turned to the book of Job. There was once a man in the land of Hus, whose name was Job. That man was simple and upright, fearing God and avoiding evil. As the story is unfolded, Jacob was, Job rather was gradually divested of all the things that clothe the spirit of a man, those things on which a man means for help and strength. First he lost his wealth, and then he lost his children, seven sons and three daughters, next his health, then the love and consolation of his wife. Job's only reflection was, if we have received good things at the hands of God, why should we not receive evil? We see now the naked spirit of the man. There were only two things that were left, God and himself. God he never denied himself, he could not escape. But between God and himself there seemed to be no place of beating, no reconciliation, for here was a man who was suffering, but not because he had done any wrong. Job begins to ask questions, why did I not die in the womb? Why received upon the knees? Why is it circled at the breasts? Why is light given to him that is in misery and life to them that are in bitterness of soul? There came Job and he asked these questions at Comforter, whose name was Aliu, who talked like a university professor who never understood his philosophy well enough to tell it in simple language. He began a long speech on the justice and the power of God, never before in the history of the world, was any speech cut short more abruptly. For it was not man but God who broke in upon the intellectual droolings of that man and out of the world when God asked, who is this that rapid ups sentence as in unskillful words? How would you feel if you sat alongside of the bed of a sick friend offering him consolation out of the depths of your great wisdom and then have God come along and cut short your consolation in your words by asking a question like that? But now that God appears on the scene, should we not expect an answer to those questions which Job asked? Certainly if a Broadway dramatist were putting on this play, he would have Gogg step onto the stage, answer all of the questions of Job, solve all the problems of evil or else ring up a cash register and give away a gold mine. Everything in the universe would click. There would be no nos edges. We would know all when we let the theater. But the God of Heaven's way does not do things like the God of Broadway. When the true God appeared on the stage, what does he do? Here was the Supreme Expert on the Supreme Quiz Program, information please. And God is here to give it. But long ago, instead of answering the questions of Job, God begins to ask Job questions. Instead of giving information, he dispensed wisdom and this is how God began. Good up thy loins like a man, Job, and I will ask thee answer thou me. Where was thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Tell me if thou hast understanding upon what our its faces ground it, or who laid the cornerstone thereof? Who shut up the sea with doors when it broke forth as issuing out of a womb? Have the gates of death been open to thee, and has thou seen its stalks and doors? Where is the way where light dwelleth, and where is the place of darkness? Did thou know thou which we born, and dost thou know the number of thei days? Has thou entered into the storehouses of the snow, or has thou beheld the treasures of the hail? Who is the father of rain? Who begoth the drops of dew? Out of who was womb came the ice, and the frost from heaven, who hath gendered it? Shall thou be able to join together the shining stars, the priorities, or canst thou stop the turning above of the archerists? Canst thou bring forth the day star in its time, and make the evening star to rise upon the churnabarth? Who hath put wisdom in the heart of man, or who gave the cock understanding? Will thee evil mount up at thy command, and make her nest in higher faces? Shall he, that contendeth with God, be so easily silenced? Surely he, that reproofeth God ought to answer him? That was the speech of God, and in that whole speech of God, no reference was made to the suffering of Joe, no explanation was offered for anything that had transpired, but God did one thing. He brought Joe face to face with the universe in which he lived. Asked him if he were equal to creating it, to governing it even to the fall of a sparrow, and made him see that he was a very small part of a vast and mighty whole, and when God finished asking Joe questions, Joe realized that the questions of God were more satisfying than the answers of man, that the true nations into whose abyss he was driven was really the beginning of wisdom. Joe saw now that he had been asking only one question. How could his individual personal problem be solved? And God's answer was that his question was but one of a million others, and until he could understand the answer to those million questions, he never could understand the answer to that one. Like Joe, none of us can understand how our own individual problems fit into the great general plan of God. It is easy for us to fall into the air of thinking that the laws of the universe should be suspended or interrupted every time a good man gets in trouble. If the business of religion was merely to get the religious out of trouble, religion would cease to be religion. It would become a kind of insurance policy. Which would be the end of religion for the simple reason that it would be faceless. A mouse that crawls into a grand piano, and has its gnawing of the keys disturbed by a great artist entertaining an audience with a most art or a show-pah, must in its own puny little brain think that the universe is without a plan. And the spider which weeds this web on the corner of a great steel beam that is lifted into a bridge cannot possibly understand how its own little plan for catching flies must give way to the engineer's greater plan of transportation. Tapas frees are woven not from the front but from the back. And if it is only when the last thread is drawn that we see the completed design as father tab put it, my life is but a weaving between my God and me. I am may but choose the colors you work with skillfully full of tea chooses sorrow and I in foolish pride forget he sees the upper and I the underside. We live in the midst of evil days it is true but it is not because God is not good. It is because the world has not been good. About one third of the civilized world today has crucified him. Another third is abandoned him and the other third while living good lives as individuals has not yet had enough influence to affect the political economic and moral life in which they live. This war let us be sure about it is not for freedom anymore than the last war was for democracy. It is for something more than that. It is rather a titanic struggle to decide whether in the next few centuries we shall live by the moral law rooted in God or in the law of force rooted in Satan. Whether we know it or not we are fighting for a moral order not just because we will that in God but because our enemies thank God have forced us into that position. It may take some time before we realize the greatness of our cause. We may first have to lose something of what we have gained but let it not be said that while unconsciously fighting for a morality rooted in God we consciously abandoned trust in God who alone can save. Does this make the plea for a daily holy hour? Rejoice and Protestants and Catholics any clearer? Do you not see that unless the Jews and the Protestants according to the light of their conscience while praying for the truth and the Catholics and the fullness of their faith and the real presence of our Lord and the altar, unless they make public daily a profession of their trust in God? We as a nation may lose the moral objective that justifies this war. We may even lose the God who gave us peace. And anyone who would like a holy hour book of meditations to assist him in this hour of meditations each day may write for it and we will gladly send it to him. Last week I received about 70 sheets of paper on which there were written tens of thousands of little crosses or dashes each of which indicated a prayer to our lady, Queen of Peace. They were sent to me by the third and fourth grade children of St. Peter's School in Deleon, Minnesota. These little children are the spiritual MacArthur's of America. The moral arsenals from which our country will draw its best citizens in years to come. And as adults, our duty is greater. And greater because guns and bullets alone will not win this war, we need them certainly. But we need more realization that some of our enemies have the devil on their side. And man is no match for the devil. That is why we will either return to God or we will perish. We will lose nothing, your trust in God. He has not failed. This is a time of probation. When you go to a mystery play in the theater, you walk out in the first act because one of the good characters is killed. Or because evil is momentarily victorious, do you judge the play by the first few lines? If you believe the dramatist has a plot, why do you not give God credit for having a plot? Perhaps this war is so far only in the first scene of the first act. As seen it, we witness the bitter fruits of our complacency and the onward march of our enemies. We may at times to sit through a few more acts before we become wise like the pothical or before we become humble. Patience and patience. He that would have cake out of wheat must carry the grinding. What wound ever healed except by degrees and our world is wounded. If you must give up your faith in everything else, in credit, in mass production and in wealth, but surrender not your faith in Himalong who can save. Save unto your soul. My soul, sit then a patient looker on. Judge not the play before the play is done. The plot has many changes. Every day speaks a new scene. The last acts frowns the play. O Lord Jesus Christ, who in thy mercy hear of the prayers of sinners, pour forth we beseech the all grace and blessing upon our country and its citizens. We pray in particular for the Presidents, 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. The address you have just heard was entitled Trust in God's Plan, and was delivered by Monsignor Fulton J. Sheen of the Catholic University of America. This was the 13th in Monsignor Sheen series of seventeen addresses on peace. A copy of today's talk, or of the Holy Hour booklet described by Monsignor Sheen, 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. Next we hear the hymn of a Maria, the Virgin and Mother. The hymn of a Maria, the Virgin and Mother. The hymn of a Maria, the Virgin and Mother. The hymn of a Maria, the Virgin and Mother. The hymn of a Maria, the Virgin and Mother. The hymn of a Maria, the Virgin and Mother. The hymn of a Maria, the Virgin and Mother. The hymn of a Maria, the Virgin and Mother.