Part 13
It was ordered by the Law of Moses that all women should, at a stated time after childbirth, repair to the Temple and present themselves to the priest, in order that they might be purified. Could she who had been immaculately conceived, an immaculate Virgin and Mother, be made more pure? No, certainly not; but obedience required that she should comply with the conditions of the Law, and obedience was one of Mary’s greatest virtues. Should not her example fill us with confusion—we who are apt to murmur against any command that is in the slightest manner distasteful to our feelings? The Law also commanded that every first‐born son should be offered to God in the Temple, and then ransomed by some gift, according to the condition of the parents. Mary and Joseph were poor, so they took their humble offering of two doves and set out for Jerusalem, to present the Son of God in the Temple. As Mary walked on, with her precious Child clasped in her arms, how little the passers‐by suspected Who this first‐ born Son was! If they could have only known what He was to do for His people, how they would have bowed before Him and adored Him, poor weak Infant as He was! But no, “He came unto His own, and His own knew Him not.” “And behold there was a man in Jerusalem named Simeon, and this man was just and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Ghost was in him. And he had received an answer from the Holy Ghost, that he should not see death before he had seen the Christ of the Lord. And he came by the Spirit into the Temple. And when His parents brought in the Child Jesus, to do for Him according to the custom of the Law: he took Him into his arms, and blessed God, and said: Now Thou dost dismiss Thy servant, O Lord, according to Thy word in peace: Because my eyes have seen Thy salvation, which Thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples. A light to the revelation of the Gentiles, and the glory of Thy people, Israel.” As Simeon stands thus with the Babe in his arms, the Holy Ghost shows him the sad, sad future of the Child and Mother. Turning to Mary, he said: “Behold this Child is set for the fall, and for the resurrection of many in Israel.... And thy own soul a sword shall pierce.” Oh, the awful sorrow that fell on her young heart! For a moment she bowed down under the crushing burden of her coming pain, but only for a moment; then she stretches out her arms to receive her Child, and murmurs, “Thy will, not mine, be done; be it done unto me according to Thy word.” What a lesson for us to learn, we who are restless and impatient under every little trial! What a contrast to our disobedience and pride when God wishes to take some loved object from us! Oh, let the example of this most perfect of women sink deeply into our hearts, and may we learn from her the great virtues of charity, obedience, humility, and purity.
Prayer.
O Mother of mercy, forsake us not in our hour of trial and temptation! Never allow us to lose courage, but cheer us with thy aid, make us patient under suffering, and render our wills conformable to the will of thy divine Son. Conduct us through the dawn of penance to the fulness of thy light. Amen.
Eighth Day. Simeon’s Prophecy.
The holy Simeon had foretold that Jesus should be a stumbling block to many. By these words Mary understood that Jesus would suffer much persecution from the Jews, and her immaculate heart was deluged with sorrow. She saw Anna come into the Temple and heard her acknowledge Jesus as her God. She obeyed everything which the Law ordained, and then with Joseph and her Child returned to the city of Nazareth, with the sharp sword of sorrow within her heart. Oh, the constant grief that followed each ray of joy that lighted her soul! How she suffered at every insult offered to her divine Son—she who loved Him as no other mother ever loved a child! Every look at Jesus, every movement that He made, every word He spoke, brought to her mind the prophecy of Simeon and filled her heart with bitterness. The memory of those words were always before her, and as time passed on she saw Gethsemani and Calvary hourly drawing nearer and nearer. The words of the prophet Isaias came whispering to her heart, “He shall be led as a sheep to the slaughter, and shall be dumb as a lamb before His shearer, and He shall not open His mouth.” Yet ever and anon she murmured, “Thy will, not mine, be done.” Oh, what an example of loving resignation to the will of God! It is astonishing how shallow all human consolation is. Let Our Lady teach us how to suffer without seeking consolation. She suffered in silence; we can make our sorrows in a measure like hers by constantly uniting them to the sorrows of our dearest Lord. With confidence then we may seek the Mother of sorrows, and ask her to be the Mother of our sorrow, to help us bear our burdens to the very end—to be like her, loving and patient with those who cause us pain. It is a consolation to those who mourn to know that our blessed Lady was a lifelong mourner. So let us take up our sorrow bravely, and following in the footsteps of our dear Mother, walk cheerfully on.
Prayer.
O Mary, Mother of sorrows, my refuge, neglect not to pray for me in all my tribulations! First of all in the blood of Jesus Christ, then in thy prayers, do I trust for my eternal salvation. In thee, O Lady, have I hoped; I will say to thee with St. Bonaventure, “I shall not be confounded forever.” Obtain for me the grace to love my God in this life and in eternity, and I ask for nothing more. Amen.
Ninth Day. The Flight into Egypt.
Filled with joy and praising God, the Magi left the stable with the intention of going to Herod, so that he might share in the happiness. But an angel appeared to them, warning them not to return to Herod, for he sought to destroy the Christ, the new‐born Messias, so they turned their camels’ heads and went another way into their own country. Herod did not intend, however, to be deprived of his Victim, and lest he should miss taking the life of the new‐born King, he gave orders that all the children of two years and under in and around Bethlehem should be killed. While Herod is thus plotting the Infant’s death, an angel appears to Joseph in a dream, to warn him, saying, “Rise, take the Child and His Mother and fly into Egypt: and be there until I shall tell thee. For it will come to pass that Herod will seek the Child that he may destroy Him.” Joseph and Mary immediately obeyed the command, for poverty has but few preparations to make. Not a murmur or complaint escaped their lips, though our hearts can imagine how difficult it must have been for Mary to leave home again, and to face the hardships of the wilderness. Trembling with apprehension from the dread of Herod’s followers, and suffering from heat and cold in their severest forms, they travelled on for many a weary day. But God had so ordained it, and they were ready to do His holy will. What a lesson of perfect obedience! They knew that they were carrying Jesus, yet they did not look for miracles to lighten their burden. We may reverently follow them on their journey in our meditations. Tradition tells us of trees that bowed down their leafy heads to shade with their fan‐like plumes the Mother and her Child. It also tells us that the images of the heathen gods fell from their pedestals when the true God went by. And there, amid the Egyptian idolaters, Mary, the frail, girlish Mother, and Joseph, so patient and uncomplaining, with the holy Babe dwelt for seven years. Joseph pursued his trade of carpenter, and Mary no doubt contributed her share to the support of the modest household, while Jesus grew in beauty day after day. When Herod died an angel came to Joseph, saying, “Arise, and return into Judea, for they who sought the life of the Child are dead.” This was glad news to Mary and Joseph, and joyfully they returned to commence anew their life in Nazareth of Galilee.
Prayer.
Hail, Mother of mercy, Queen of heaven, thou art our life, our sweetness, and our hope! Obtain for me the grace of the Holy Ghost, that He may dispose of me in all things according to His will, that He may direct my body, elevate my soul, guide my life, rule my conduct, inspire my actions, maintain within me holy thoughts, pardon my sins of the past, correct those of the present, and preserve me from sin in the future. Amen.
Tenth Day. The Three Days’ Loss.
From the time of the return from Egypt, history is silent as to the life of the Holy Family, until the time when they went to keep the Easter festival at Jerusalem. According to the Law, the Jews were obliged to go up to Jerusalem to worship God three times a year, unless they were legitimately hindered. The first time was at the Pasch, instituted in remembrance of the exodus from Egypt, and corresponding to our Easter; the second time was the feast of weeks, which was Pentecost or Whitsuntide; the third was the feast of tabernacles. St. Luke, in his gospel, gives us this account of the occurrence: “When Jesus was twelve years old, they went up to Jerusalem according to the custom of the feast.” Unknown and unnoticed, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph passed into the holy city. Mary’s heart was filled with joy at the thought that she was leading to the Temple God’s only Son made man. As she looked at the surging crowd around her both within and without the Temple, she thought to herself, “Ah, if you could but know that this Boy, Whom you think is only the son of a carpenter, is the Son of the most high God! He is your King.” But the week of unleavened bread came to a close. Thousands as usual had thronged the holy city to worship God. After the festival was over, the custom was that all the women should depart by one gate of the city, the men by another, in order to reunite at the halting‐place of the first night. The children might go either with the father or with the mother. Thus it was that Mary and Joseph travelled on contentedly, Mary thinking that Jesus was with Joseph, while Joseph on his side supposed the Child to be with His Mother. The night had fallen before the two bands of men and women met; imagine the consternation of the holy parents when they discovered the absence of their precious charge. They asked among their kinsfolk and acquaintances if He were with them, but Mary knew it would be all in vain. She knew if He were in the company He would long since have joined her; so in all haste, alone and silent, Mary and Joseph retraced their steps to the holy city. For three days they searched in sorrow for their loved Child; they made inquiries everywhere, but all to no purpose. On the third day they heard of a wonderful Child Who sat daily in the Temple disputing with the doctors. With eager steps Mary and Joseph went to the Temple; as they came along Mary’s ear has caught the sound of a voice which it is impossible for her to mistake—it is the voice of Jesus. What a sight greets their eyes as they enter—the great doctors of the Law sitting around, and her Boy in the midst of them answering questions! “My Son, my Son,” Mary cries, “Why hast Thou done so to us? Behold, Thy father and I have sought Thee sorrowing.” The Son of God lifted His eyes and looked at her, saying, “Why have ye sought Me? Did ye not know that I must be about My Father’s business?” Nevertheless, He went down to Nazareth and was subject to them. And His Mother kept all these things in her heart. And Jesus advanced in age and grace with God and man. When we sin we too lose Jesus, Our Father and Friend; but do we, like Mary, search for Him until we find Him? We must not wait for Him to come back to us; we must go and find out where He is. Sometimes Jesus permits us to suffer pain and anguish. When this is so, think of Mary, and how sweetly and patiently she suffered during those three days when she was separated from Jesus. Let us also dwell on the obedience of Jesus; the Son of God, Our Creator, was subject to His creature. Oh, my God, give us grace to understand this great mystery and strength to follow it!
Prayer.
What relief do I feel in my miseries, and what consolation in my tribulation; what strength do I not find in the midst of temptations, when I remember and call thee, O my Mother, to my aid? O my most sweet and most holy Mother Mary, my own Mother, do thou console me! I see myself loaded with sins and surrounded by enemies, without virtue, and cold in my love towards God. Comfort me, and let me begin a new life, a life which will be pleasing to thy Son and to thee. Amen.
Eleventh Day. Meeting Jesus with the Cross.
We have now come to the morning of Good Friday—to Mary’s meeting Jesus with the cross, which is one of her seven dolors. It is twenty‐one years since the three days’ loss, and the heart of Mary has traversed a world of mysteries since then—always in joy, yet always with her lifelong sorrow before her. It would be impossible to make any calculations of the sum of love which these years produced in Mary’s heart. But now the time has come when Mary must give Jesus up, to be scourged and to be put to death. The Passion may be said to begin on the Thursday in Holy Week. The first Mass took place that night, Our Lord’s first unbloody sacrifice, to be followed on the morrow by the dreadful one of blood. By a miraculous grace Mary is enabled to go through all the dreadful tortures of that long night of pain. She hears the sound of the scourging, and sees the cruel soldiers crown Him with thorns, bandage His eyes, and dare to bend the knee in mockery before Him Who has one day to be their Judge. She has heard Pilate say, “Behold the man,” and the cry of the people, “Crucify Him, crucify Him!” and when Pilate said, “I am innocent of the blood of this just man; look you to it,” she heard the dreadful imprecation that was shouted by the demons around her, “His blood be upon us, and upon our children! Crucify Him, crucify Him!” Then they lead Him away to pronounce the final sentence. The streets are filled with a great concourse of people, all going in one direction towards Calvary. What a journey for Mary, yet she never shrinks. Oh, how can we, when we look at our sinless Mother suffering so patiently, how can we murmur at the petty trials that God sends us? Mary, with St. John and Magdalen, stands at the corner. She does not even tremble. Hark, that hoarse shouting, that trampling and hurrying of feet! The procession comes in sight; the centurion leads the way, the soldiers dragging Jesus and His heavy cross—then the maddened crowd surge around, about and behind her. She approaches to embrace Him, but the soldiers thrust her rudely back. He staggers, and falls with a dull, heavy sound upon the street. O God of heaven! He falls, and His sweet Mother must stand and look on. Well may she say, “Look and see if there be sorrow like unto my sorrow.” Men crowd around Him, and with curses and blows drag Him up, and sweep on again on the way to Calvary, to finish their impious designs. O my Mother, I too was one of the agents in that cruel work! Surely, when I see all that my most sorrowful Mother had to undergo, it will cost me no great effort to have a loving devotion to her. Can we look on this sinless, uncomplaining Mother, standing in the streets of Jerusalem, gazing on her Son and her God torn and bruised, crowned with cruel thorns, bending under the heavy cross which we gave Him, and refuse to bear the little crosses which He gives us? Oh, no! Let us look at our Mother, and like her see all the beauty of our Jesus in the blood‐stained countenance of the God made man, and carry most gladly all trials that our loving Lord may send us.
Prayer.
O most holy Mary, in the great battle in which I am now engaged with hell, do thou always help me! And when thou seest me wavering, and likely to fall, O my Lady, do thou extend thy hand and sustain me. Mary, my hope, my refuge, my strength, do thou protect me, and never allow me to lose the grace of God. And on my part, I resolve always and instantly to have recourse to thee in all temptations, saying, “Help me, Mary, help me.” Amen.
Twelfth Day. The Crucifixion.
The way of the cross is ended, and they have come to Calvary. They have stripped Jesus of His garments, and have laid Him on the hard bed of the cross. Now commences the dreadful work of nailing His blessed hands and feet to the cross. The right hand is nailed to the cross first, but through some mistake the left hand will not reach; then a fearful scene takes place. The brutal soldiers pull with all their force, until, dislocating the arm, they succeed in stretching the hand to its place. Picture Mary looking in mute agony on that dreadful scene! His legs are stretched out, one foot crossed upon the other, and through them the nail is driven. Now the cross is raised on high, and Jesus hangs upon it. In the past few moments Mary has suffered a world of woe. The sacrifice of the Mother was inseparable from that of the Son; it would have cost her much less to have given her own life, and for this reason she is justly styled the Queen of martyrs. The first hour of the three long hours of agony has passed; still Jesus is silent. The second hour begins. There are fewer persons around the cross; all is silent, and then His lips move. Mary listens with all her heart: “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” Beautiful, beautiful prayer—true of all sins and of all sinners—“they know not what they do.” Beautiful prayer also because it discloses the heart of a God. For God alone could teach such charity as this, and Mary, joining her Son in His prayer, looks up to heaven and repeats, “Father, forgive them; they know not what they do.” The third hour begins, and His first word in this last hour goes through her very soul: “I thirst.” Well might He thirst. Since the night before nothing has crossed His lips, and Mary, His Mother, is unable to give Him a drink to cool them, parched and swollen as they are; she cannot even reach to wipe away the blood that has congealed there. Thus for three long hours she watches Him in His death‐agony, unable to afford Him the slightest alleviation; until at last He cries out with a loud voice, “Father, into Thy hands I commend My spirit.” And bowing His head, Jesus dies. Such were the sufferings endured by the Mother of that divine Son. Jesus dies for love of us, and we live to torture and crucify Him afresh. What sublime lessons Mary here gives us, and how perfectly is she the model of those souls whom God permits to be sorely tried in affliction! Their trials are great, but are they to be compared with hers? Ah, do not complain, but to enable you to endure your sufferings cast your eyes on this sorrowful Mother, and ask her to obtain for you grace to imitate her firmness, her constancy, and her generosity. After Jesus on the cross, the most beautiful book one can study is Mary at the foot of the cross.
Prayer.
O most tender Mother, it was I that covered thy divine Son with wounds, and put Him to death! It was I that pierced thy heart with the most bitter sword of grief! Oh, by those wounds and by that blood, by thy sorrows and by thy tears, I conjure thee, O Mary, to be my protectress and my advocate. Pray for me, and for all sinners like me, that so many precious sufferings may not become useless to us. Amen.
Thirteenth Day. The Taking Down from the Cross.
The sorrowful day is over. All have gradually dispersed, and now only Mary and the other holy women, with the disciples, remain at the cross. The bruised and mangled body is lifted down, and laid on the Mother’s knee. When Our Lord dies we are tempted to think that Our Lady’s dolors ought to have ended there; but no, there is still more to be endured. Mary embraces the lifeless body, washes the gaping wounds, smoothes the tangled hair, and bathes away the clotted blood that dims its glory. She wraps Him tenderly in a white linen cloth, and gives Him into the reverential arms of Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. Both of these were disciples of our blessed Lord. Joseph was a good and just man, and Nicodemus was a man learned in the Scriptures, who had come to Jesus by night, for fear of the Jews, and had learned the doctrine of regeneration. Joseph had gone to Pilate and had begged the body of Jesus, which had been granted to him. Now he takes Him in his arms, and with the help of Nicodemus places Him in his own tomb. Well has our blessed Lord said, “The foxes have holes, and the birds of the air nests: but the Son of Man hath not where to lay His head.” Mary found nothing strange even in the tremendous sorrows that almost crushed the life out of her. She looks only to God’s will. No matter how uncommon, how exacting, or how apparently unreasonable, she was always found prepared, always found with these words on her lips, “O God, Thy will be done.” Let us look at our lives, and see if we, like Mary, are ever ready to do God’s will; ever looking at Our Lord crucified, and willing to bear all the disappointments, trials, and sorrows that He may send us. Let us look at our immaculate Mother, standing patient and resigned at the foot of the cross, looking on the sufferings of her dearly beloved Son, and we will never murmur—no matter how heavy the cross which our good God in His divine providence may place upon our shoulders.
Prayer.
O Mary most sorrowful! words fail to express the gratitude we owe thee, for the readiness wherewith thou didst consent to come to the rescue of our lost world. But do thou deign to receive our thanks, faint and inadequate though they may be. May the enjoyment of thy present bliss move thee to intercede with God in behalf of us, thy weeping, weary children. Be propitious to those who flee to thee for aid, and do thou ever intercede for those whom thy divine Son redeemed. Amen.
Fourteenth Day. The Burial of Jesus.
It is now the evening of Good Friday, and Mary is sitting at the foot of the cross with her dead Son upon her lap. It is here that mourners for future generations will come to find rest and peace. Here the widow, the orphan, and the lonely will find how good a thing it is to have their hearts crushed with sorrow, because here they will find the loving arms of their new Mother Mary around them, and through their grief they will see God. But now the time has come when Mary must give up her treasure. So giving the signal to Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, they lift the body of the dead Creator and move towards the garden tomb. Mary arranges everything; she adjusts the winding‐sheet, and then takes her last look on the lifeless body of Jesus. “Oh, look and see if there be any sorrow like unto my sorrow!” Then her adopted son, John, comes to her, drawing her away, for she is half‐dead with the grief and anguish of the past night and day. Through the same gate by which she had left the city of Jerusalem in the morning, she re‐entered it that night. Poor Jerusalem, that city of God, how often had Our Lord yearned and wept over it, longing to gather those chosen ones to Himself! But no, they had rejected Him, and now their cup of iniquity is filled. They have crucified their King; their pavements are stained with His blood. Mary knows all this, still there is no room in her heart for bitterness. Oh, what a contrast to our spirit of revenge, sometimes for even a fancied wrong. We learn from this dolor of Mary that there is no darkness like the darkness of a world without Jesus, and if His absence is caused by our own fault, our own sin, then it is the greatest of sorrows. O Mary, my Mother, keep us ever by thy side at the foot of the cross! so that remembering all that thou hast suffered, we will gladly accept all the sorrows that may come. Amen.
Prayer.