The Gospel according to St. Matthew, xxiv. 15–35
"At that time Jesus said to His disciples: When you shall see the abomination of desolation, which was spoken of by Daniel the prophet, standing in the holy place: he that readeth let him understand. Then they that are in Judea let them flee to the mountains. And he that is on the housetop let him not come down to take anything out of his house; and he that is in the field let him not go back to take his coat. And woe to them that are with child and that give suck in those days. But pray that your flight be not in the winter or on the Sabbath. For there shall be then great tribulation, such as hath not been from the beginning of the world until now, neither shall be. And unless those days had been shortened, no flesh should be saved; but for the sake of the elect those days shall be shortened. Then if any man shall say to you: Lo, here is Christ, or there, do not believe him. For there shall arise false Christs and false prophets, and shall show great signs and wonders, insomuch as to deceive (if possible) even the elect. Behold I have told it to you beforehand. If, therefore, they shall say to you: Behold He is in the desert, go ye not out: Behold He is in the closet, believe it not. For as lightning cometh out of the east, and appeareth even into the west: so shall also the coming of the Son of man be. Wheresoever the body shall be, there shall the eagles also be gathered together. And immediately after the tribulation of those days the sun shall be darkened and the moon shall not give her light, and the stars shall fall from heaven, and the powers of heaven shall be moved. And then shall appear the sign of the Son of man in heaven; and then shall all tribes of the earth mourn; and they shall see the Son of man coming in the clouds of heaven with much power and majesty. And He shall send His angels with a trumpet, and a great voice; and they shall gather together His elect from the four winds, from the farthest parts of the heavens to the utmost bounds of them. And from the fig-tree learn a parable: When the branch thereof is now tender, and the leaves come forth, you know that summer is nigh. So you also, when you shall see all these things, know ye that it is nigh, even at the doors. Amen I say to you, that this generation shall not pass till all these things be done. Heaven and earth shall pass, but My words shall not pass."
Summary of the Morrow's Meditation
We will meditate tomorrow upon the end of the world, of which the gospel of the day speaks to us, and we shall see: 1st, that the end of the world may arrive for us at any moment; 2nd, that the world, for the very reason that it does pass away, ought to be as nothing to us. We will then make the resolution: 1st, not to attach ourselves to anything whatever here below, or to worldly possessions which we shall soon have to quit, or to the esteem of men who will soon forget us; 2nd, always to place in the topmost line the interests of our salvation and of our eternity, and to look upon all the rest as secondary and accessory only. We will retain as our spiritual nosegay these words of Holy Writ: "The fashion of this world passeth away, and only the grave remained" (I. Cor. vii. 31; Job xvii. 1).
Meditation for the Morning
Let us adore the eternal God beholding all the generations passing by the foot of His throne, and being lost in eternity, even as the waters of a river cast themselves into the ocean. Yes, verily, O Lord my God, everything passes away, "but Thou art always the self-same" (Ps. ci. 28). Thou alone art just, because Thou alone art eternal (Hymn, Gloria in excelsis). To the immortal King of ages be honor and glory for ever and ever!
FIRST POINT
The End of the World may Arrive for us at any Moment.
The world will end for us at our death, and death may seize upon us at any moment, as well in youth and in the maturity of our strength as in our declining years and in old age. People die when they least expect it, and we are not sure of one single moment of enjoyment. Each may say to himself: It is possible that death may strike me in the place where I am, and that I may be carried from here to the grave; it is possible that death may interrupt the action in which I am engaged and that I may not finish it, may steal me away from the present hour, of which I may not see the end. Night and day with its sword suspended over my head, it only awaits a word from God to let it fall; at this very moment I may be no more, and everything to which I am attached may be taken away from me forever. Now, in such a position, how can we allow our hearts to become attached to possessions which, more fragile than glass, may be broken in our hands at any moment? How can we torment ourselves to amass a fortune, honors, knowledge, when we know that after many labors, violent desires, anxious hopes, at the moment when we count upon enjoying all these things death may seize upon the too confident possessor, and cast him into eternity? O vanity of vanities! O nothingness of the goods of this world! O blindness of the heart which attaches itself to them!
SECOND POINT
The World, for the Sole Reason that it Passes Away, ought to be as Nothing to us.
The time of enjoyment, were it as certain as it is uncertain, would lose all right to any interest for the very reason that it must end. The human heart has need of a possession infinite in its duration as well as in its perfections, and that death cry, "We must one day quit all and descend into the earth" is for the man who reflects a thunderclap, as it were, which breaks down all his attachments and all his ties. Everything which charmed him until now is no longer anything more to him than a quicksand which gives way under his feet, than a shadow which passes, smoke which is dissipated, and he no longer has anything but vain chimeras in his joys, because they are fugitive; in his pleasures, because they are temporary; in his hopes, because they are fragile. The longest life, when it has passed away, is no more than a dream of the night of which only a confused idea remains in the morning; it is an arrow which we have hardly seen pass us, a flash of lightning which disappeared almost at the same moment that we saw it, a vapor which a breath of wind dissipated, a speck, an atom. Now is such a little space in the course of ages worth so much anxiety in order to fix ourselves in it, so much eagerness to be honored therein, to be great, rich, happy? I pass along like the traveller in the desert, who at night pitches his tent, and in the morning taking it up goes into another world; shall I be so unreasonable as to be anxious and so attach myself to it for the short night that I have to spend in the desert of life? I go away like the waters of a river whose waves push each other onward; could I have the weakness to attach myself to the banks which I hardly touch whilst passing them by? I see that all around me portends speedy ruin; that death changes, overthrows, casts down, destroys, and drags everything into the abyss of eternity; could I be so foolish as to attach myself to these fragile supports which fall before me or with me, to desire to fix myself where nothing is fixed, where all perishes from one day to another? What folly! And yet do I not indulge in this weakness?
Resolutions and spiritual nosegay as above.