own consciences were interpreting the Church in terms of personal experience and modern science. The fetish of ecclesiastical authority grew more and more difficult to bear. Some opposed celibacy and advocated marriage for the clergy. Some favored public-school education over parochial-school education; they recalled the late Archbishop Ireland's opposition to the existing parochial-school system and declared that time had 'proved Ireland right.'

'Why has this state of things been kept a close secret?' I asked a Catholic physician known throughout the country. He was startlingly frank.

'Because Catholic modernists on this side of the water as well as on the other side hope for a peaceful religious revolution in the Church itself. Were they to reveal themselves at this premature date, they, like Luther or the more recent Loisy, would be forced from the Church. Their Catholic influence would be gone. For officially they would be non-Catholics. As nonCatholics they would have no effective approach to nonthinking Catholics.'

'But what about conscience?' I heard myself asking.

'We are acting not only in the light of reason but according to the instinct of conscience as well. Catholic modernism is nothing but an honest and holy attempt at the resurrection of the undogmatized Church of the first three centuries. Catholics like that priestacquaintance of yours are the true Christian Catholics of to-day.'

The material concerns of a workaday world began to fill my nights and days. I paid too little heed to my innermost self. Indeed, I became almost indifferent to it. I smile as I remember the reminders of well-meaning friends. In my Christmas stocking there was always a highly polished replica of the rock of Peter. A kindly relative preached this annual sermon in stone.

The gesture amused but could no longer convince me.

Nevertheless, certain religious impulses would not be suppressed. Under their propulsion the business of living for others as well as for myself became a kind of religion. Just when I supposed I had done with formal controversy, life turned and laughed at me.

I received a packet from the halfforgotten priest of Canterbury. It was a sheaf of manuscripts in a paper folder. The postmark was an isolated monastic town in Central Europe. The writer, in a covering note, identified himself as the helpful acquaintance of long ago. He wrote briefly and to the point:—

It must be almost ten years since I heard your confession in the Canterbury Cathetry to publish it anonymously. There might dral. Will you hear mine now? Afterward,

be strengthening inspiration in it for some

dying soul. It is the life breath of my spirit, though my body, like a wheel, whirls on. (Signed) FATHER

I am thus become the literary executor of a living man.

The unexpected appointment staggered me. My ears were no strangers to the requests of the dying. But never was there such a last wish as this. There was something thrilling in the message, as of the last request of a dying soul.

I read the articles, read and reread the message. It seemed a voice beyond the grave. A moral compulsion seemed to be in the call. Here was a command which no man must gainsay.

It is in this mood that I have given these four papers to be published in successive issues of the Atlantic. Explicitly they are a modernistic philosophy of the Roman Catholic religion. In their implications they form an appealing autobiography of a wounded and loving human soul.

JOHN HEARLEY

THE series of papers of which this is the first is designed to constitute constructive criticism. In preparing them I have not been animated by any sense of bitterness or resentment. Contrariwise, I am prompted by love for the dear old Church to which I owe allegiance. She has been a tender Mother, not only to me, but to my ancestors; to them in a land where fealty to her often entailed the throes of persecution. Had I loved the Church less, my pen might have remained listless.

In fact, I have written not one word against my Church. The abuses which I attempt to delineate refer no more to the Church than they do to Christ. They are the barnacles which have grown on the bark of Peter through long centuries. I am writing, therefore, in the hope that those constituted in authority may come to see the necessity of dry-docking.

For obvious reasons I am constrained to take shelter behind the screen of anonymity. To reveal my identity would not aid the cause which I have at heart. With no name attached, the articles will necessarily be judged by their content alone. The issue will not be confused by the intrusion of a personality.

I

Why don't priests marry? Priestly celibacy is the great paradox of Catholicism. The Church insists upon the supreme importance of family life. Her priests are exhorted to be moral patterns for the people. It is not, then, a question why priests do not marry. The great problem is, Does a bachelor priesthood fit into the scheme of the modern world? Not only the lay mind, but that of many a cleric, pauses to reflect upon this grave issue.

Celibacy of the clergy does not touch directly upon the sphere of dogma. It is purely a matter of discipline. The fact is that there are thousands of priests to-day who are living in the marriage state with the blessing and sanction of Mother Church. These belong to the Ruthenian or other Oriental rites. Many of these dwell with their wives and children here in the United States.

When the ecclesiastical law of celibacy was first promulgated is not known. It is, however, not ascribed to Evangelical or Apostolic origin. Christ healed Saint Peter's mother-in-law. Hence the Prince of the Apostles was a married man. The New Testament argument for celibacy is taken from Saint Paul (I Cor. vii. 32–33): 'He that is without a wife is solicitous for the things of the Lord, how he may please God: But he that is with a wife is solicitous for the things of the world, how he may please his wife, and he is divided.' The context here, however, clearly shows that Saint Paul was speaking to 'all men,' without special reference to the clergy. No law of celibacy prevailed in the early centuries. An attempt at the Council of Nicæa (325 A.D.) to formulate such a law failed.

Be that as it may, the rule of celibacy is taught in all its force to-day. In these later times it has even achieved a certain dogmatic position. The teaching is that the vow of celibacy is implicitly contained in the ordination to the diaconate. It may surprise many to learn that priests do not pronounce a vow of celibacy. Nor are they questioned upon the subject at ordination. Every candidate knows, nevertheless, what is expected of him. The young Levite has been carried from his early

youth upon a wave of pious fervor and enthusiasm. He has been, taught that he is choosing the better part. He is aspiring to a nobler estate, from which the 'baser' concerns of the flesh are excluded.

Most priests have made their decision to renounce the world and its pleasures, particularly those 'lesser joys' of marital life, when they were as yet children. It is the custom to seek out likely boys who manifest signs of piety and to convince them that they have a vocation to the priesthood. This vocation is supposed to represent some mystic calling from God. Yet it is practically of Catholic doctrine that the priestly vocation consists in the official call to ordination which comes from the bishop. However, many boys of twelve or fourteen are admonished to follow the vocation which has 'manifested itself' (sic) in them. Sometimes they are even threatened with the loss of their soul if they fail to follow the divine call.

It is a particular mark of zeal on the part of priests and bishops to 'foster vocations' among the youth subject to their care. Lately a nation-wide campaign for vocations was conducted in the United States. If a boy consents to become a priest, he will be taken gladly and educated free of charge as soon as he completes the grades. Bishops order special collections for this purpose each year, at Pentecost. Of late years many bishops have established colleges particularly to develop vocations. The tendency is to segregate these youthful candidates from secular students. It is thought thus to guard them against the danger of losing their priestly vocation. There might be such a loss were they too much in contact with worldlyminded boys, not blessed with a vocation. Some zealots would fain apply the Italian method. In Italy boys are taken at ten or eleven years of age,

clothed with the priestly habit, and then kept apart from the seductions of home and the outside world in general. During the vacation they spend the time at a country place under the surveillance of priestly masters.

The present course of instruction prescribed for priestly candidates extends over a period of twelve years. Six years are required for classical studies, foremost among which is Latin. Then follow two years of scholastic philosophy and four years of theology. These latter six years constitute the seminary course proper. It is a course which embraces practically no modern elements. It is mediæval in character. In the first two years Aristotelian philosophy in its scholastic dress is the form and basis of the course. Modern philosophy, psychology, and the infinite research of the last two or three centuries find little place in this sacred curriculum. The philosophical textbooks are written in Latin, as are the theologies. Professors are enjoined to deliver their lectures in Latin, though they may afterward use the vernacular to explain the meaning. In theology the Church has prescribed a textbook compiled by Saint Thomas seven hundred years ago. However, modern Latin commentaries on the work are permitted. Besides theology, the students are given courses in Scripture, church history, canon law, and liturgy. In all these studies they are simply supposed to memorize the ideas handed down by great minds which have gone. before.

In the whole course of this education no individual thought is required, nor for that matter permitted. In the texts the problems, thought out centuries ago, are stated. Then follow the proofs and the line of argumentation, covering Scriptural texts, decrees of the Pope, and the like. At examinations the students are required to reproduce these

data as faithfully as possible. The teaching is polemical. In moral theology, solutions are generally obtained by casuistry. Volumes are written, filled with moral cases of which the author states the solution. The student studies these. Thus he is educated in moral principles.

In Scripture the same cut-and-dried system prevails. Texts are interpreted for the student. He has but to con these interpretations and give them out at examination. The Biblical professor, too, is provided with ready-made interpretations, from which he may not depart without endangering his reputation for orthodoxy. There is a commission at Rome established to solve all Biblical difficulties. But Rome did not feel secure even with this provision. A recent papal decree requires that all Biblical professors must attend a Roman Jesuit school, over which, incidentally, an American presides, — known as the Biblical Institute. seems that all others are subject to suspicion, liable to teach heresy. In history the student memorizes the opinions set down in the prescribed textbook. Trained in childlike trust, he accepts this deposit of knowledge as his own.

II

It

In all the years of his training the candidate for the priesthood must strive to mould his mentality to a fixed pattern. If he succeeds he is then said to possess the spirit of the priesthood. His whole seminary life is one of routine and formalism. Every hour of the day is regulated for him. He leads a community life, follows the group in his prayers, his studies, and all his activities. It is thought by these external practices to develop a man of regular habits. It is a system little adapted to produce men of thought and individuality.

The course of training for the priesthood is a narrowing process; it produces fixed ideas. Always the priesthood is glorified. The students must listen daily to pious discourses on the high dignity to which they aspire. From this continual preachment a peculiar psychology is developed in them. They become jealous of the high honors for which they are being . groomed. They feel constrained to become champions of the priestly dignity. They grow impatient when confronted with the opinions of those who have not been trained in sacred science. In this frame of mind they go out into the modern world to become leaders of men.

Then it is that the power of the priesthood makes movement in their being. Though they are yet in their early twenties, they are wise from their mediæval studies. Though they have no experience of the world and its ways, they are aglow with the supernatural graces of the holy priesthood. They are fathers of the faithful. They have been sent to preach in the name of Christ to preach the theological conclusions which they have learned by rote. They have been empowered to offer the sacrifice of the Mass. Proudly they stand at the altar, clad in sacerdotal robes, while the people kneel before them.

The people respect them, having been taught from childhood to honor the priest as God's own representative. They bow the head, lift the hat, before him. He in turn is a zealot for the honor of the priesthood which is in him. He stands before them and speaks in a strange tongue. When he baptizes their little ones, he must first address them in Latin. Then the whole ceremony is performed in this mysterious tongue. Likewise does he use that dead language when he anoints the sick; when he officiates at funerals; when he

assists at marriage; when he administers the sacrament of penance; when he says vespers and benediction; and benediction; when he offers the sacrifice of the Mass. He also trains his choir to sing this unintelligible tongue at solemn services.

'Oremus,' he says to the people. Few, perhaps, in the congregation know that he has said, 'Let us pray.' Even now that he is proceeding with. a prayer they do not comprehend one word, though he uses the first person plural. The mind halts at this strange procedure.

Strange, indeed, it is to assemble people into a church and then conduct divine services in a language which they do not understand. Why should it be so? Perhaps it has to do with the .centralization of ecclesiastical power in Rome. Who knows? But to find a rational basis for the practice is beyond the most zealous protagonist. It is said to be necessary for unity in the Church. Why, then, is it not necessary in the Orient, where some twenty languages are used in these same Catholic services? Latin is not universally used in the liturgy of the Church. It is used only in the so-called Western World.

The Catholic liturgy is beautiful. Yet how pathetic to hear a priest mumbling in a strange idiom such touching prayers on a dying person: 'Depart, O Christian soul, from this world in the name of the Father Omnipotent, in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the Living God, who suffered for thee; in the name of the Angels and Archangels . . . The use of Latin is indicative of the spirit which the Church engenders in her priests. They feel that they are officially dispensing salvation.

To be saved, it suffices for the ople to follow the routine mapped

y the priest. They are taught is their first duty to attend Mass

on Sundays and holy days of obligation. They need not bother their heads about what is going on, in Latin, between the priest and God. The law which makes it a mortal sin to miss Mass on the days appointed does not call for any intelligent attention. Physical presence fulfills the precept. However, it must be admitted that the people are not required to pray in Latin, as they were in the Middle Ages. To-day none other than priests and certain religious are bound to pray in Latin.

The priest is bound under pain of mortal sin to pray approximately one hour daily. For this purpose he has a book known as the Roman Breviary. Here the prayers, called the office, are set down for each day of the year. The law requiring him to say this daily portion of prayer does not, however, obligate him to follow the meaning of the words. He need but formulate the words with his lips and tongue. In fact, certain religious, most of whom understand no word of Latin, recite the Latin office daily. It is all based on the principle of formalism, which prevails throughout the practices of the Church. The people are taught to serve God in much the same manner as boys are taught to serve the priest at Mass. These young lads learn to make the responses in Latin without understanding what they are saying. In their haste to follow the priest they usually make elisions and abbreviations that would be ridiculous were the matter not so pathetic.

When the priest gives Communion, he holds the Sacred Host before the people and says in Latin, 'Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who taketh away the sins of the world. Lord, I am not worthy. . . May the body of our Lord Jesus Christ keep thy soul unto life everlasting.' The poor devout communicant kneels there ignorant of