But it is not only this realism of the Church’s sacramental belief which makes Catholic sacramental practice so fruitful. The Church plays an equally effective part in the psychological tact and comprehension with which she conveys the sacraments to her children. She does that partly by the positive requirement that all who would be accounted members of her communion shall attend Mass on Sundays and Holydays and so acquire for themselves the spirit of love and sacrifice for their daily life, and further by stipulating that every one who has come to the use of reason shall renew his moral life at least once a year by a good confession and at Easter receive the Body of the Lord. By these positive stipulations she ensures that all the faithful shall have at least a minimum of a supernatural moral and religious life. But, still more effectively than through these positive enactments, the Church promotes sacramental piety by wisely embedding the reception of the sacraments in the rhythm of everyday life, in the course of a man’s personal and social life and its duties. Goethe says (op. cit. above) that “in moral and religious matters …. men do not like to do much impromptu.” The Church is aware of that fact and therefore she does not wait until men come to the supernatural of their own accord. On the contrary she sets it amid the activities of human life, so that in and through these activities men must at the same time perceive and take notice of the supernatural. That is the meaning of the ecclesiastical year and its solemnities. The whole history of redemption, beginning in Advent with the hopes of patriarchs and prophets, and passing through the Crib and the Cross to the alleluia of Easter and the mighty wind of Pentecost, is interwoven with the course of the natural year. With the revolution of the months and weeks and days there is a change also in the preaching of the Church and in her liturgy. New depths of the divine mystery are continually being disclosed, new visions of the love and grace of Christ. So the Catholic is being constantly summoned out of his everyday life and enriched with constantly new impressions, insights and powers. He is thus able in a living and progressive manner to get into touch with the Church and to maintain a sympathetic contact with her. In particular the Church’s feast-days are popular feasts in the noblest sense of the word, a joyful thanksgiving and jubilation before the Most Holy Sacrament. Nor they alone, for every day is made to serve the Church’s life and its mysteries—from the morning Angelus to the evening Ave bell. There is no day but bears some saint’s name, no week-day that is not consecrated to some special devotion. Thursday is assigned to veneration of the Sacrament of the Altar, Friday to remembrance of the Passion of Christ, Saturday to veneration of the most pure Virgin. And every month too has its special religious character. May is the month of Mary, June the month of the Sacred Heart, July the month of the Precious Blood, October the month of the Rosary, November the month of the Holy Souls. And the personal life too, like the general course of the year, is seized and permeated in its inward rhythm by the mystical power of the sacraments. Every devout Catholic has his own special feast days on which he approaches the table of the Lord. There is no joy and no sorrow that enters his life which does not take him to the altar, from Nuptial Mass to Requiem. For all his personal interests, hopes and anxieties, there are triduums and novenas before the Blessed Sacrament. And in order that the rhythm of social life may be made harmonious by religious and sacramental concords, the church approves innumerable confraternities and sodalities, confraternity altars and banners and feasts, in which religious effort aims at a specially intimate and lofty community expression. And to that extent it may be rightly said that Catholicism is the “religion of exalted moments.” From out of the infinite abundance of its wealth it is constantly, as the hours pass, bringing new gems and new treasures to light, and these give a constantly new stimulus to the faithful and enrich them and do not suffer their interest to flag. So Niebergall describes the Church as a “mistress of joy to her children.” The life and activity of the Church are irradiated with innocent joy, serene brightness, devout gladness. The source of all this devout happiness is the Tabernacle, belief in the beneficent presence of the eternal Love. All ecclesiastical art has originated in this devout gladness. “Gothic architecture,” said the Protestant Dean Lechler, “is at home only where the mass bell rings.” And he justly adds: “Without the worship of Catholicism neither Raphael nor Fra Angelico, neither Hubert Van Eyck, nor the younger Holbein, nor yet Lorenzo Ghiberti, Veit Stoss and Peter Vischer, would have produced the marvelous achievements of their art and endowed the churches of God on earth with a wealth of sacred beauty which will remain a treasure for all time.[8] I am not sure that this intimate connection of Christian art with the Holy Eucharist, of the cathedral with the Tabernacle, is generally recognized. Catholic churches, whether of ancient or modern times, with all their wealth of beauty, are eucharistic creations. They have sprung from a living faith in the sacramental Presence of our Lord. And where this faith has departed they lose their deepest meaning and are left without the idea which created and inspired them. They are beautiful but dead, bodies without a soul.