THE GLORIES OF MARY. PART SECOND: (continued 4)

They lived in Egypt, according to Brocard and Jansenius, in a district called Maturea, though, according to St. Anselm, they dwelt in Heliopolis, first called Memphis, and now Cairo. And here let us consider the great poverty they must have suffered for the seven years they were there, as St. Antoninus, St. Thomas, and others assert. They were foreigners, unknown, without revenues, without money, without kindred; hardly were they able to support themselves by their humble labors. As they were destitute, says St. Basil, it is manifest what efforts they must have made to obtain there the necessaries of life.[1442] Moreover, Landolph of Saxony has written, and let it be repeated for the consolation of the poor, that so great was the poverty of Mary there, that sometimes she had not so much as a morsel of bread, when her Son, forced by hunger, asked it of her.[1443]

St. Matthew also relates that when Herod was dead, the angel again appeared, in a dream, to St. Joseph, and directed him to return to Judea. St. Bonaventure, speaking of this return, considers the greater pain of the blessed Virgin, on account of the sufferings which Jesus must have endured in that journey, having arrived at about the age of seven years—an age, says the saint, when he was so large that he could not be carried, and so small that he could not go without assistance.[1444]

The sight, then, of Jesus and Mary wandering like fugitives through this world, teaches us that we should also live as pilgrims on the earth, detached from the goods which the world offers us, as having soon to leave them and go to eternity. “We have not here a lasting city, but seek one that is to come.”[1445] To which St. Augustine adds: Thou art a stranger, thou givest a look, and then passest on: “Hospes es, vides et transis.” It also teaches us to embrace crosses, for we cannot live in this world without a cross. The blessed Veronica da Binasco, an Augustinian nun, was carried in spirit to accompany Mary and the infant Jesus in this journey to Egypt, and at the end of it the divine mother said to her: “Child, hast thou seen through what difficulties we have reached this place? Now learn that no one receives graces without suffering.” He who wishes to feel least the sufferings of this life, must take Jesus and Mary with him: “Accipe puerum et matrem ejus.” For him who lovingly bears in his heart this Son and this mother, all sufferings become light, and even sweet and dear. Let us then love them, let us console Mary by receiving her Son within our hearts, whom, even now, men continue to persecute with their sins.

EXAMPLE.

One day the most holy Mary appeared to the blessed Colletta, a Franciscan nun, and showed her the infant Jesus in a basin, torn in pieces, and then said to her: “Thus sinners continually treat my Son, renewing his death and my sorrows; oh, my daughter, pray for them that they may be converted.”[1446] Similar to this is that other vision which appeared to the venerable sister Jane, of Jesus and Mary, also a Franciscan nun. As she was one day meditating on the infant Jesus, persecuted by Herod, she heard a great noise, as of armed people, who were pursuing some one; and then appeared before her a most beautiful child, who was fleeing in great distress, and cried to her: “My Jane, help me, hide me; I am Jesus of Nazareth, I am flying from sinners who wish to kill me, and who persecute me as Herod did: do thou save me.”[1447]

PRAYER.

Then, oh Mary, even after thy Son hath died by the hands of men who persecuted him unto death, have not these ungrateful men yet ceased from persecuting him with their sins, and continuing to afflict thee, oh mother of sorrows? And I also, oh God, have been one of these. Ah, my most sweet mother, obtain for me tears to weep for such ingratitude. And then, by the sufferings thou didst experience in thy journey to Egypt, assist me in the journey that I am making to eternity, that at length I may go to unite with thee in loving my persecuted Saviour, in the country of the blessed. Amen.

ON THE THIRD DOLOR. OF THE LOSS OF JESUS IN THE TEMPLE.

St. James the Apostle has said, that our perfection consists in the virtue of patience. “And patience hath a perfect work, that you may be perfect and entire, failing in nothing.”[1448] The Lord having then given us the Virgin Mary as an example of perfection, it was necessary that she should be laden with sorrows, that in her we might admire and imitate her heroic patience. The dolor that we are this day to consider is one of the greatest which our divine mother suffered during her life, namely, the loss of her Son in the temple. He who is born blind is little sensible of the pain of being deprived of the light of day; but to him who has once had sight and enjoyed the light, it is a great sorrow to find himself deprived of it by blindness. And thus it is with those unhappy souls who, being blinded by the mire of this earth, have but little knowledge of God, and therefore scarcely feel pain at not finding him. On the contrary, the man who, illuminated with celestial light, has been made worthy to find by love the sweet presence of the highest good, oh God, how he mourns when he finds himself deprived of it! From this we can judge how painful must have been to Mary, who was accustomed to enjoy constantly the sweet presence of Jesus, that third sword which wounded her, when she lost him in Jerusalem, and was separated from him for three days.

In the second chapter of St. Luke we read that the blessed Virgin, being accustomed to visit the temple every year at the paschal season, with Joseph her spouse and Jesus, once went when he was about twelve years old, and Jesus remained in Jerusalem, though she was not aware of it, for she thought he was in company with others. When she reached Nazareth she inquired for her Son, and not finding him there, she returned immediately to Jerusalem to seek him, but did not succeed until after three days. Now let us imagine what distress that afflicted mother must have experienced in those three days in which she was searching everywhere for her Son, with the spouse in the Canticles: “Have you seen him whom my soul loveth?”[1449] But she could hear no tidings of him. Oh, with how much greater tenderness must Mary, overcome with fatigue, and yet not having found her beloved Son, have repeated those words of Ruben, concerning his brother Joseph: The boy doth not appear, and whither shall I go? “Puer non comparet, et ego quo ibo?” My Jesus doth not appear, and I know not what to do that I may find him; but where shall I go without my treasure? Weeping continually, she repeated during these three days with David: “My tears have been my bread day and night, whilst it is said to me daily, Where is thy God?”[1450] Wherefore Pelbart with reason says, that during those nights the afflicted mother had no rest, but wept and prayed without ceasing to God, that he would enable her to find her Son.[1451] And, according to St. Bernard, often during that time did she repeat to her Son himself the words of the spouse: “Show me where thou feedest, where thou liest in the mid-day, lest I begin to wander.”[1452] My Son, tell me where thou art, that I may no longer wander, seeking thee in vain.

Some writers assert, and not without reason, that this dolor was not only one of the greatest, but that it was the greatest and most painful of all. For in the first place, Mary in her other dolors had Jesus with her; she suffered when St. Simeon uttered the prophecy in the temple; she suffered in the flight to Egypt, but always with Jesus; but in this dolor she suffered at a distance from Jesus, without knowing where he was: “And the light of my eyes itself is not with me.”[1453] Thus, with tears, she then exclaimed: Ah, the light of my eyes, my dear Jesus, is no more with me; he is far from me, I know not where he is! Origen says, that through the love which this holy mother bore her Son, she suffered more at this loss of Jesus than any martyr ever suffered at death.[1454] Ah, how long were these three days for Mary! they appeared three ages. Very bitter days, for there was none to comfort her. And who, she exclaimed with Jeremias, who can console me if he who could console me is far from me? and therefore my eyes are not satisfied with weeping: “Therefore do I weep, and my eyes run down with water, because the comforter is far from me.”[1455] And with Tobias she repeated: “What manner of joy shall be to me who sit in darkness, and see not the light of heaven?”[1456]

Secondly.—Mary well understood the cause and end of the other dolors, namely, the redemption of the world, the divine will; but in this she did not know the cause of the absence of her Son. The sorrowful mother was grieved to find Jesus withdrawn from her, for her humility, says Lanspergius, made her consider herself unworthy to remain with him any longer, and attend upon him on earth, and have the care of such a treasure.[1457] And perhaps, she may have thought within herself, I have not served him as I ought. Perhaps I have been guilty of some neglect, and therefore he has left me. They sought him, lest he perchance had left them, as Origen has said.[1458] Certainly there is no greater grief for a soul that loves God than the fear of having displeased him. And therefore Mary never complained in any other sorrow but this, lovingly expostulating with Jesus after she found him: “Son, why hast thou done so to us? Thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing.”[1459] By these words she did not wish to reprove Jesus, as the heretics blasphemously assert, but only to make known to him the grief she had experienced during his absence from her, on account of the love she bore him. It was not a rebuke, says blessed Denis the Carthusian, but a loving complaint: “Non erat increpatio, sed amorosa conquestio.” Finally, this sword so cruelly pierced the heart of the Virgin, that the blessed Benvenuta, desiring one day to share the pain of the holy mother in this dolor, and praying her to obtain for her this grace, Mary appeared to her with the infant Jesus in her arms; but while Benvenuta was enjoying the sight of that most beautiful child, in one moment she was deprived of it. So great was her sorrow that she had recourse to Mary, to implore her pity that it should not make her die of grief. The holy Virgin appeared to her again three days after, and said to her: “Now learn, oh my daughter, that thy sorrow is but a small part of that which I suffered when I lost my Son.”[1460]

This sorrow of Mary ought, in the first place, to serve as a comfort to those souls who are desolate and do not enjoy the sweet presence they once enjoyed of their Lord. They may weep, but let them weep in peace, as Mary wept the absence of her Son. Let them take courage, and not fear that on this account they have lost the divine favor, for God himself said to St. Theresa: “No one is lost without knowing it; and no one is deceived without wishing to be deceived.” If the Lord departs from the sight of that soul who loves him, he does not therefore depart from the heart. He often hides himself that she may seek him with greater desire and love. But those who would find Jesus must seek him, not amid the delights and pleasures of the world, but amid crosses and mortifications, as Mary sought him: We sought thee sorrowing, as she said to her Son: “Dolentes quærebamus te.” Learn from Mary to seek Jesus, says Origen: “Disce a Maria quærere Jesum.”

Moreover, in this world we should seek no other good than Jesus. Job was not unhappy when he lost all that he possessed on earth; riches, children, health, and honors, and even descended from a throne to a dunghill; but because he had God with him, even then he was happy. St. Augustine, speaking of him, says: He had lost all that God had given him, but he had God himself: “Perdiderat illa quæ dederat Deus, sed habebat ipsum Deum.” Unhappy and truly wretched are those souls who have lost God. If Mary wept for the absence of her Son for three days, how ought sinners to weep who have lost divine grace, to whom God says: “You are not my people, and I will not be yours.”[1461] For sin does this, namely, it separates the soul from God: “Your iniquities have divided between you and your God.”[1462] Hence, if even sinners possess all the goods of earth and have lost God, every thing on earth becomes vanity and affliction to them, as Solomon confessed: “Behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.”[1463] But as St. Augustine says: The greatest misfortune of these poor blind souls is, that if they lose an ox, they do not fail to go in search of it; if they lose a sheep, they use all diligence to find it; if they lose a beast of burden, they cannot rest; but they lose the highest good, which is God, and yet they eat and drink, and take their rest.[1464]

EXAMPLE.

We read in the Annual Letters of the Society of Jesus, that in India, a young man who was just leaving his apartment in order to commit sin heard a voice, saying: “Stop, where are you going?” He turned round and saw an image, in relief, of the sorrowful Mary, who drew out the sword which was in her breast, and said to him: “Take this dagger and pierce my heart rather than wound my Son with this sin.” At the sound of these words the youth prostrated himself on the ground, and with deep contrition, bursting into tears, he asked and obtained from God and the Virgin pardon of his sin.

PRAYER.

Oh blessed Virgin, why art thou afflicted, seeking thy lost Son? Is it because thou dost not know where he is? But dost thou not know that he is in thy heart? Dost thou not see that he is feeding among the lilies? Thou thyself hast said it: “My beloved to me and I to him who feedeth among the lilies.”[1465] These, thy humble, pure, and holy thoughts and affections, are all lilies, that invite the divine spouse to dwell with thee. Ah, Mary, dost thou sigh after Jesus, thou who lovest none but Jesus? Leave sighing to me and so many other sinners who do not love him, and who have lost him by offending him. My most amiable mother, if through my fault thy Son has not yet returned to my soul, wilt thou obtain for me that I may find him. I know well that he allows himself to be found by all who seek him: The Lord is good to the soul that seeketh him: “Bonus est Dominus ... animæ quærenti illum.”[1466] Make me to seek him as I ought to seek him. Thou art the gate through which all find Jesus; through thee I too hope to find him.

ON THE FOURTH DOLOR. OF THE MEETING OF MARY WITH JESUS, WHEN HE WENT TO DEATH.

St. Bernardine says, that to form an idea of the grief of Mary in losing her Jesus by death, it is necessary to consider the love that this mother bore to this her Son. All mothers feel the sufferings of their children as their own. Hence the woman of Chanaan, when she prayed the Saviour to deliver her daughter from the devil that tormented her, said to him, that he should have pity on the mother rather than on the daughter: “Have mercy on me, oh Lord, thou son of David, my daughter is grievously troubled by a devil.”[1467] But what mother ever loved a child so much as Mary loved Jesus? He was her only child, reared amidst so many troubles and pains; a most amiable child, and most loving to his mother; a Son, who was at the same time her Son and her God; who came on earth to kindle in the hearts of all the holy fire of divine love, as he himself declared: “I am come to cast fire on the earth, and what will I but that it be kindled?”[1468] Let us consider how he must have inflamed that pure heart of his holy mother, so free from every earthly affection. In a word, the blessed Virgin herself said to St. Bridget, that through love her heart and the heart of her Son was one: “Unum erat cor meum, et cor filii mei.” That blending of handmaid and mother, of Son and God, kindled in the heart of Mary a fire composed of a thousand flames. But afterwards, at the time of the passion, this flame of love was changed into a sea of sorrow. Hence St. Bernardine says: All the sorrows of the world united would not be equal to the sorrow of the glorious Mary.[1469] Yes, because this mother, as St. Lawrence Justinian writes: The more tenderly she loved, was the more deeply wounded.[1470] The greater the tenderness with which she loved him, the greater was her grief at the sight of his sufferings, especially when she met her Son, after he had already been condemned, going to death at the place of punishment, bearing the cross. And this is the fourth sword of sorrow which to-day we have to consider.

The blessed Virgin revealed to St. Bridget, that at the time when the passion of our Lord was drawing nigh, her eyes were always filled with tears, as she thought of her beloved Son whom she was about to lose on this earth. Therefore, as she also said, a cold sweat covered her body from the fear that seized her at that prospect of approaching suffering.[1471] Behold, the appointed day at length arrived, and Jesus came in tears to take leave of his mother before he went to death. St. Bonaventure, contemplating Mary on that night, says: Thou didst spend it without sleep, and while others slept, thou didst remain watching.[1472] Morning having arrived, the disciples of Jesus Christ came to this afflicted mother, one, to bring her this tidings, another, that; but all tidings of sorrow, for in her were then verified the words of Jeremias: “Weeping, she hath wept in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks; there is none to comfort her of all them that were dear to her.”[1473] One came to relate to her the cruel treatment of her Son in the house of Caiphas; another, the insults received by him from Herod. Finally, for I omit all the rest to come to my point, St. John came, and announced to Mary that the most unjust Pilate had already condemned him to death upon the cross. I say the most unjust, for, as St. Leo remarks, this unjust judge condemned him to death with the same lips with which he had pronounced him innocent.[1474] Ah, sorrowful mother, said St. John to her, thy Son has already been condemned to death, he is already on his way, bearing himself his cross on his way to Calvary, as he afterwards related in his Gospel: “And bearing his own cross, he went forth to that place which is called Calvary.”[1475] Come, if thou dost desire to see him, and bid him a last farewell in some of the streets through which he is to pass.

Mary goes with St. John, and she perceives by the blood with which the way was sprinkled, that her Son had already passed there. This she revealed to St. Bridget: “By the footsteps of my Son I traced his course, for along the way by which he had passed, the ground was sprinkled with blood.”[1476] St. Bonaventure imagines the afflicted mother taking a shorter way, and placing herself at the corner of the street to meet her afflicted Son as he passed by.[1477] This most afflicted mother met her most afflicted Son: Mœstissima mater mœstissimo filio occurrit, said St. Bernard. While Mary stopped in that place how much she must have heard said against her Son by the Jews, who knew her, and perhaps also words in mockery of herself! Alas! what a commencement of sorrows was then before her eyes, when she saw the nails, the hammers, the cords, the fatal instruments of the death of her Son borne before him! And what a sword pierced her heart when, she heard the trumpet proclaiming along the way the sentence pronounced against her Son! But behold, now, after the instruments, the trumpet, and the ministers of justice had passed, she raises her eyes and sees; she sees, oh God, a young man covered with blood and wounds from head to foot, with a crown of thorns on his head, and two heavy beams on his shoulders; she looks at him and hardly knows him, saying, then, with Isaias: “And we have seen him, and there was no sightliness.”[1478] Yes, for the wounds, the bruises, and clotted blood, made him look like a leper: “We have thought him, as it were, a leper;”[1479] so that he could no longer be recognized. “And his look was, as it were, hidden and despised, whereupon we esteemed him not.”[1480] But at length love recognizes him, and as soon as she knows him, ah, what was then, as St. Peter of Alcantara says in his meditations, the love and fear of the heart of Mary! On the one hand, she desired to see him; on the other, she could not endure to look upon so pitiable a sight. But at length they look at each other. The Son wipes from his eyes the clotted blood, which prevented him from seeing (as was revealed to St. Bridget), and looks upon the mother; the mother looks upon the Son. Ah, looks of sorrow, which pierced, as with so many arrows, those two holy and loving souls. When Margaret, the daughter of Sir Thomas More, met her father on his way to the scaffold, she could utter only two words, oh, father! oh, father! and fell fainting at his feet. At the sight of her Son going to Calvary, Mary fainted not; no, because it was not fitting that this mother should lose the use of her reason, as Father Suarez remarks, neither did she die, for God reserved her for a greater grief; but if she did not die, she suffered sorrow enough to cause her a thousand deaths.

The mother wished to embrace him, as St. Anselm says, but the officers of justice thrust her aside, loading her with insults, and urge onward our afflicted Lord. Mary follows. Ah, holy Virgin, where art thou going? To Calvary! And canst thou trust thyself to see him who is thy life hanging from a cross? And thy life shall be as it were hanging before thee: “Et erit vita tua quasi pendens ante te.”[1481] Ah! my mother, stop, says St. Lawrence Justinian, as if the Son himself had then spoken to her; where dost thou hasten? Where art thou going? If thou comest where I go, thou wilt be tortured with my sufferings, and I with thine.[1482] But although the sight of her dying Jesus must cost her such cruel anguish, the loving Mary will not leave him. The Son goes before, and the mother follows, that she may be crucified with her Son, as William the Abbot says: The mother took up her cross, and followed him, that she might be crucified with him.[1483] We even pity the wild beasts: “Ferarum etiam miseremur;” St. John Chrysostom has said. If we should see a lioness following her whelp as he was led to death, even this wild beast would call forth our compassion. And shall we not feel compassion to see Mary following her immaculate Lamb, as they are leading him to death? Let us then pity her, and endeavor also ourselves to accompany her Son and herself, bearing with patience the cross which the Lord imposes on us. Why did Jesus Christ, asks St. John Chrysostom, desire to be alone in his other sufferings, but in bearing the cross wished to be helped by the Cyrenean? And he answers: That thou mayest understand that the cross of Christ is not sufficient without thine.[1484] The cross alone of Jesus is not enough to save us, if we do not bear with resignation also our own, even unto death.

EXAMPLE.

The Saviour appeared one day to sister Diomira, a nun, in Florence, and said to her: “Think of me, and love me, and I will think of thee, and love thee” and at the same time he presented her with a bunch of flowers and a cross, signifying to her by this, that the consolations of the saints on this earth are always to be accompanied by the cross. The cross unites souls to God. Blessed Jerome Emilian, when he was a soldier, and leading a very sinful life, was shut up by his enemies in a tower. There, feeling deeply his misfortune, and enlightened by God to amend his life, he had recourse to the most holy Mary, and then with the help of this divine mother, he began to live the life of a saint. By this he merited to see once in heaven the high place which God had prepared for him. He became founder of the order of Sommaschi, died a saint, and has been lately beatified by the holy Church.

PRAYER.

My sorrowful mother, by the merit of that grief which thou didst feel at seeing thy beloved Jesus led to death, obtain for me the grace also to bear with patience those crosses which God sends me. Happy me, if I also shall know how to accompany thee with my cross until death. Thou and Jesus, both innocent, have borne a heavy cross; and shall I a sinner, who have merited hell, refuse mine? Ah, immaculate Virgin, I hope that thou wilt help me to bear my crosses with patience. Amen.

ON THE FIFTH DOLOR. OF THE DEATH OF JESUS.

And now we have to admire a new sort of martyrdom, a mother condemned to see an innocent son, whom she loved with all the affection of her heart, put to death before her eyes, by the most barbarous tortures. There stood by the cross of Jesus his mother: “Stabat autem juxta crucem mater ejus.” There is nothing more to be said, says St. John, of the martyrdom of Mary: behold her at the foot of the cross, looking on her dying Son, and then see if there is grief like her grief. Let us stop then also to-day on Calvary, to consider this fifth sword that pierced the heart of Mary, namely, the death of Jesus.

As soon as our afflicted Redeemer had ascended the hill of Calvary, the executioners stripped him of his garments, and piercing his sacred hands and feet with nails, not sharp, but blunt: “Non acutis, sed obtusis;” as St. Bernard says,[1485] and to torture him more, they fastened him to the cross. When they had crucified him, they planted the cross, and thus left him to die. The executioners abandon him, but Mary does not abandon him. She then draws nearer to the cross, in order to assist at his death. “I did not leave him,” thus the blessed Virgin revealed to St. Bridget, “and stood nearer to his cross.”[1486] But what did it avail, oh Lady, says St. Bonaventure, to go to Calvary to witness there the death of this Son? Shame should have prevented thee, for his disgrace was also thine, because thou wast his mother; or, at least, the horror of such a crime as that of seeing a God crucified by his own creatures, should have prevented thee.[1487] But the saint himself answers: Thy heart did not consider the horror, but the suffering: “Non considerabat cor tuum horrorem, sed dolorem.” Ah, thy heart did not then care for its own sorrow, but for the suffering and death of thy dear Son; and therefore thou thyself didst wish to be near him, at least to compassionate him. Ah, true mother! says William the Abbot, loving mother! for not even the terror of death could separate thee from thy beloved Son.[1488] But, oh God, what a spectacle of sorrow, to see this Son then in agony upon the cross, and under the cross this mother in agony, who was suffering all the pain that her Son was suffering! Behold the words in which Mary revealed to St. Bridget the pitiable state of her dying Son, as she saw him on the cross: “My dear Jesus was on the cross in grief and in agony; his eyes were sunken, half closed, and lifeless; the lips hanging, and the mouth open; the cheeks hollow, and attached to the teeth; the face lengthened, the nose sharp, the countenance sad; the head had fallen upon his breast, the hair black with blood, the stomach collapsed, the arms and legs stiff, and the whole body covered with wounds and blood.”[1489]

Mary also suffered all these pains of Jesus. Every torture inflicted on the body of Jesus, says St. Jerome, was a wound in the heart of the mother.[1490] Any one of us who should then have been on Mount Calvary, would have seen two altars, says St. John Chrysostom, on which two great sacrifices were consummating, one in the body of Jesus, the other in the heart of Mary. But rather would I see there, with St. Bonaventure, one altar only, namely, the cross alone of the Son, on which, with the victim, this divine Lamb, the mother also was sacrificed. Therefore the saint interrogates her in these words: Oh Lady, where art thou? Near the cross? Nay, on the cross, thou art crucified with thy Son.[1491] St. Augustine also says the same thing: The cross and nails of the Son were also the cross and nails of the mother; Christ being crucified, the mother was also crucified.[1492] Yes, because, as St. Bernard says, love inflicted on the heart of Mary the same suffering that the nails caused in the body of Jesus.[1493] Therefore, at the same time that the Son was sacrificing his body, the mother, as St. Bernardine says, was sacrificing her soul.[1494]

Mothers fly from the presence of their dying children; but if a mother is ever obliged to witness the death of a child, she procures for him all possible relief; she arranges the bed, that his posture may be more easy; she administers refreshments to him; and thus the poor mother relieves her own sorrows. Ah, mother, the most afflicted of all mothers! oh Mary, it was decreed that thou shouldst be present at the death of Jesus, but it was not given to thee to afford him any relief. Mary heard her Son say: I thirst: “Sitio;” but it was not permitted her to give him a little water to quench his great thirst. She could only say to him, as St. Vincent Ferrer remarks: My Son, I have only the water of my tears: “Fili, non habeo nisi aquam lacrymarum.”[1495] She saw that her Son, suspended by three nails to that bed of sorrow, could find no rest. She wished to clasp him to her heart, that she might give him relief, or at least that he might expire in her arms, but she could not.[1496] She saw that poor Son in a sea of sorrow, seeking one who could console him, as he had predicted by the mouth of the prophet: “I have trodden the wine-press alone; I looked about and there was none to help; I sought and there was none to give aid.”[1497] But who was there among men to console him, if all were his enemies? Even on the cross they cursed and mocked him on every side: “And they that passed by blasphemed him, wagging their heads.”[1498] Some said to him: “If thou be the Son of God, come down from the cross.”[1499] Some exclaimed: “He saved others, himself he cannot save.”[1500] Others said: “If he be the King of Israel, let him now come down from the cross.”[1501] The blessed Virgin herself said to St. Bridget: “I heard some call my Son a thief; I heard others call him an impostor; others said that no one deserved death more than he; and every word was to me a new sword of sorrow.”[1502]

But what increased most the sorrows which Mary suffered through compassion for her Son, was to hear him complain on the cross that even the eternal Father had abandoned him: “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?”[1503] Words which, as the divine mother herself said to St. Bridget, could never depart from her mind during her whole life.[1504] Thus the afflicted mother saw her Jesus suffering on every side; she desired to comfort him, but could not. And what caused her the greatest sorrow was to see that, by her presence and her grief, she increased the sufferings of her Son. The sorrow itself, says St. Bernard, that filled the heart of Mary, increased the bitterness of sorrow in the heart of Jesus.[1505] St. Bernard also says, that Jesus on the cross suffered more from compassion for his mother than from his own pains: he thus speaks in the name of the Virgin: I stood and looked upon him, and he looked upon me; and he suffered more for me than for himself.[1506] The same saint also, speaking of Mary beside her dying Son, says, that she lived dying without being able to die: Near the cross stood his mother, speechless; living she died, dying she lived; neither could she die, because she was dead, being yet alive.[1507] Passino writes that Jesus Christ himself, speaking one day to the blessed Baptista Varana, of Camerino, said to her, that he was so afflicted on the cross at the sight of his mother in such anguish at his feet, that compassion for his mother caused him to die without consolation. So that the blessed Baptista, being enlightened to know this suffering of Jesus, exclaimed: Oh my Lord, tell me no more of this thy sorrow, for I cannot bear it.

Men were astonished, says Simon of Cassia, when they saw this mother then keep silence, without uttering a complaint in this great suffering.[1508] But if the lips of Mary were silent, her heart was not so; for she did not cease offering to divine justice the life of her Son for our salvation. Therefore we know that by the merits of her dolors she co-operated with Christ in bringing us forth to the life of grace, and therefore we are children of her sorrows: Christ, says Lanspergius, wished her whom he had appointed for our mother to co-operate with him in our redemption; for she herself at the foot of the cross was to bring us forth as her children.[1509] And if ever any consolation entered into that sea of bitterness, namely, the heart of Mary, it was this only one; namely, the knowledge that by means of her sorrows, she was bringing us to eternal salvation; as Jesus himself revealed to St. Bridget: “My mother Mary, on account of her compassion and charity, was made mother of all in heaven and on earth.”[1510] And, indeed, these were the last words with which Jesus took leave of her before his death; this was his last remembrance, leaving us to her for her children in the person of John, when he said to her: Woman, behold thy Son: “Mulier ecce filius tuus.”[1511] And from that time Mary began to perform for us this office of a good mother; for, as St. Peter Damian declares, the penitent thief, through the prayers of Mary, was then converted and saved: Therefore the good thief repented, because the blessed Virgin, standing between the cross of her Son and that of the thief, prayed her Son for him; thus rewarding, by this favor, his former service.[1512] For as other authors also relate, this thief, in the journey to Egypt with the infant Jesus, showed them kindness; and this same office the blessed Virgin has ever continued, and still continues to perform.

EXAMPLE.

A young man in Perugia once promised the devil that if he would help him to commit a sinful act which he desired to do, he would give him his soul; and he gave him a writing to that effect, signed with his blood. The evil deed was committed, and the devil demanded the performance of the promise. He led the young man to a well, and threatened to take him body and soul to hell if he would not cast himself into it. The wretched youth, thinking that it would be impossible for him to escape from his enemy, climbed the well-side in order to cast himself into it, but terrified at the thought of death, he said to the devil that he had not the courage to throw himself in, and that, if he wished to see him dead, he himself should thrust him in. The young man wore about his neck the scapular of the sorrowing Mary; and the devil said to him: “Take off that scapular, and I will thrust you in.” But the youth, seeing the protection which the divine mother still gave him through that scapular, refused to take it off, and after a great deal of altercation, the devil departed in confusion. The sinner repented, and grateful to his sorrowful mother, went to thank her, and presented a picture of this case, as an offering, at her altar in the new church of Santa Maria, in Perugia.[1513]

PRAYER.

Ah, mother, the most afflicted of all mothers, thy Son, then, is dead; thy Son so amiable, and who loved thee so much! Weep, for thou hast reason to weep. Who can ever console thee? Nothing can console thee but the thought that Jesus, by his death, hath conquered hell, hath opened paradise, which was closed to men, and hath gained so many souls. From that throne of the cross he was to reign over so many hearts, which, conquered by his love, would serve him with love. Do not disdain, oh my mother, to keep me near to weep with thee, for I have more reason than thou to weep for the offences that I have committed against thy Son. Ah, mother of mercy, I hope for pardon and my eternal salvation, first through the death of my Redeemer, and then through the merits of thy dolors. Amen.

ON THE SIXTH DOLOR. THE PIERCING OF THE SIDE OF JESUS, AND HIS DESCENT FROM THE CROSS.

“Oh, all ye that pass by the way attend, and see if there be any sorrow like to my sorrow.”[1514] Devout souls, listen to what the sorrowful Mary says to you to-day: My beloved children, I do not wish you to console me; no, for my heart can never again be consoled on this earth after the death of my dear Jesus. If you wish to please me, this I ask of you, turn to me and see if there has ever been in the world a grief like mine, when I saw him who was all my love torn from me so cruelly. But, oh Lady, since thou dost not wish to be consoled, and hast such a thirst for suffering, I must say to thee that thy sorrows have not ended with the death of thy Son. To-day thou wilt be pierced by another sword of sorrow, when thou shalt see a cruel lance piercing the side of this thy Son, already dead, and shalt receive him in thy arms after he is taken from the cross. And now we are to consider to-day the sixth dolor which afflicted this sorrowful mother. Attend and weep. Hitherto the dolors of Mary tortured her one by one, but to-day they are all united to assail her.

To make known to a mother that her child is dead, is sufficient to kindle her whole soul with love for the lost one. Some persons, in order to lighten their grief, will remind mothers whose children have died, of the displeasure they have once caused them. But if I, oh my queen, should wish to lighten thy sorrow for the death of Jesus in this way, what displeasure has he ever caused thee, that I could recall to thy mind? Ah, no; he always loved thee, obeyed thee, and respected thee. Now thou hast lost him, and who can describe thy sorrow? Do thou who hast felt it explain it. A devout author says, that when our Redeemer was dead, the heart of the great mother was first engaged in accompanying the most holy soul of the Son, and presenting it to the eternal Father. I present thee, oh my God, Mary must then have said, the immaculate soul of thy and my Son, which has been obedient to thee even unto death: receive it, then, in thy arms. Thy justice is now satisfied, thy will accomplished; behold, the great sacrifice to thy eternal glory is consummated. And then turning to the lifeless members of her Jesus: Oh wounds, she said, oh loving wounds, I adore you, I rejoice with you, since through you salvation has been given to the world. You shall remain open in the body of my Son, to be the refuge of those who will have recourse to you. Oh how many, through you, shall receive the pardon of their sins, and then through you shall be inflamed to love the Sovereign Good!

That the joy of the following Paschal Sabbath should not be disturbed, the Jews wished the body of Jesus to be taken down from the cross; but because they could not take down a criminal until he was dead, they came with iron mallets to break his legs, as they had already done to the two thieves crucified with him. And Mary, while she remains weeping at the death of her Son, sees those armed men coming towards her Jesus. At this sight she first trembled with fear, then she said: Ah, my Son is already dead, cease to maltreat him, and cease to torture me a poor mother longer. She implored them not to break his legs: “Oravit eos, ne frangerent crura,” as St. Bonaventure writes. But while she is thus speaking, oh, God! she sees a soldier with violence brandishing a spear, and piercing the side of Jesus: “One of the soldiers with a spear opened his side, and immediately there came out blood and water.”[1515] The cross shook at the stroke of the spear, and, as was revealed to St. Bridget, the heart of Jesus was divided: “Ita ut ambæ partes essent divisæ.”[1516] There came out blood and water, for only a few drops of blood remained, and those also the Saviour wished to shed, in order to show that he had no more blood to give us. The injury of that stroke was offered to Jesus, but the pain was inflicted on Mary: Christ, says the devout Lanspergius, shared with his mother the infliction of that wound, for he received the insult and his mother the pain.[1517] The holy Fathers explain this to be the very sword predicted to the Virgin by St. Simeon; a sword, not of iron, but of grief, which pierced through her blessed soul in the heart of Jesus, where it always dwelt. Thus, among others, St. Bernard says: The spear which opened his side passed through the soul of the Virgin, which could not be torn from the heart of Jesus.[1518] And the divine mother herself revealed the same to St. Bridget, saying: “When the spear was drawn out, the point appeared red with blood; then I felt as if my heart were pierced when I saw the heart of my most dear Son pierced.”[1519] The angel told St. Bridget, that such were the sufferings of Mary, that she was saved from death only by the miraculous power of God.[1520] In her other dolors she at least had her Son to compassionate her; and now she had not even him to take pity on her.

The afflicted mother, still fearing that other injuries might be inflicted on her Son, entreats Joseph of Arimathea to obtain from Pilate the body of her Jesus, that at least after his death she may be able to guard it and protect it from injuries. Joseph went to Pilate, and made known to him the sorrow and the wish of this afflicted mother; and St. Anselm thinks that compassion for the mother softened the heart of Pilate, and moved him to grant her the body of the Saviour. And now Jesus is taken from the cross. Oh most holy Virgin, after thou with so great love hadst given thy Son to the world for our salvation, behold the world returns him to thee again! But oh, my God, how dost thou return him to me? said Mary to the world. My Son was white and ruddy: “Dilectus meus candidus et rubicundus:” but thou hast returned him to me blackened with bruises, and red, not with a ruddy color, but with the wounds thou hast inflicted upon him; he was beautiful, now there is no more beauty in him; he is all deformity. All were enamored with his aspect, now he excites horror in all who look upon him. Oh, how many swords, says St. Bonaventure, pierced the soul of this mother, when she received the body of her Son after it was taken from the cross: “O quot gladii animam matris pertransierunt!” Let us consider what anguish it would cause any mother to receive the lifeless body of a son! It was revealed to St. Bridget, that to take down the body of Jesus, three ladders were placed against the cross. Those holy disciples first drew out the nails from the hands and feet, and according to Metaphrastes, gave them in charge to Mary. Then one supported the upper part of the body of Jesus, the other the lower, and thus took it down from the cross. Bernardine de Bustis describes the afflicted mother as raising herself, and extending her arms to meet her dear Son; she embraces him, and then sits down at the foot of the cross. She sees his mouth open, his eye shut, she examines the lacerated flesh, and those exposed bones; she takes off the crown, and sees the cruel injury made by those thorns, in that sacred head; she looks upon those pierced hands and feet, and says: Ah, my Son, to what has the love thou didst bear to men reduced thee! But what evil hast thou done to them, that they have treated thee so cruelly? Thou wast my father, Bernardine de Bustis imagines her to say, my brother, my spouse, my delight, my glory, my all.[1521] Oh, my Son, behold how I am afflicted, look upon me and console me; but thou dost look upon me no more. Speak, speak to me but one word, and console me; but thou dost speak no more, for thou art dead. Then turning to those barbarous instruments, she said: Oh cruel thorns, oh nails, oh merciless spear, how could you thus torture your Creator? But what thorns, what nails? Alas! sinners, she exclaimed, it is you who have thus cruelly treated my Son.

Thus Mary spoke and complained of us. But if now she were capable of suffering, what would she say? What grief would she feel to see that men, after the death of her Son, continue to torment and crucify him by their sins! Let us no longer give pain to this sorrowful mother; and if we also have hitherto grieved her by our sins, let us now do what she directs. She says to us: Return, ye transgressors, to the heart: “Redite, prævaricatores, ad cor.”[1522] Sinners, return to the wounded heart of my Jesus; return as penitents, for he will receive you. Flee from him to him, she continues to say with Guerric the Abbot; from the Judge to the Redeemer, from the tribunal to the cross.[1523] The Virgin herself revealed to St. Bridget that she closed the eyes of her Son when he was taken down from the cross, but she could not close his arms: “Ejus brachia flectere non potui.” Jesus Christ giving us to understand by this, that he desired to remain with open arms to receive all penitent sinners who return to him. Oh world, continues Mary, behold, then, thy time is the time of lovers: “Et ecce, tempus tuum, tempus amantium.”[1524] Now that my Son, oh world, has died to save thee, this is no longer for thee a time of fear, but of love; a time to love him who has desired to suffer so much in order to show thee the love he bore thee. Therefore, says St. Bernard, is the heart of Jesus wounded that, through the visible wound, the invisible wound of love may be seen.[1525] If, then, concludes Mary, in the words of the Abbot of Celles, my Son has wished his side to be opened that he might give thee his heart,[1526] it is right, oh man, that thou shouldst give him thy heart. And if you wish, oh children of Mary, to find a place in the heart of Jesus without fear of being cast out, go, says Ubertino of Casale, go with Mary, for she will obtain grace for you;[1527] and in the following example we have a beautiful proof of this.

EXAMPLE.

The Disciple relates[1528] that there was once a poor sinner who, among other crimes, had killed his father and a brother, and therefore became a fugitive. Happening to hear one day during Lent, a sermon upon the divine mercy, he went to the preacher himself to make his confession. The confessor having heard his crimes, sent him to an altar of the sorrowful mother to pray that she might obtain for him compunction and pardon of his sins. The sinner obeyed, and began to pray, when behold, suddenly overpowered by contrition, he falls down dead. On the following day when the priest recommended to the people to pray for the deceased, a white dove appeared in the church and let fall a card at the feet of the priest. He took it up, and found these words written on it: “The soul of the dead, when it left the body, immediately went to paradise; and do you continue to preach the infinite mercy of God.”

PRAYER.

Oh afflicted Virgin! oh soul, great in virtues and great also in sorrows! for both arise from that great fire of love thou hast for God; thou whose heart can love nothing but God; ah mother, have pity on me, for I have not loved God, and I have so much offended him. Thy sorrows give me great confidence to hope for pardon. But this is not enough; I wish to love my Lord, and who can better obtain this for me than thou—thou who art the mother of fair love? Ah Mary, thou dost console all, comfort me also. Amen.

ON THE SEVENTH DOLOR. THE BURIAL OF THE BODY OF JESUS.

When a mother is by the side of a suffering and dying child, she no doubt then feels and suffers all his pains; but when the afflicted child is really dead and about to be buried, and the sorrowful mother takes her last leave of him, oh God! the thought that she is to see him no more is a sorrow that exceeds all other sorrows. Behold, the last sword of sorrow which we are to consider, when Mary, after being present at the death of her Son upon the cross, after having embraced his lifeless body, was finally to leave him in the sepulchre, never more to enjoy his beloved presence.

But that we may better understand this last dolor, let us return to Calvary, again to look upon the afflicted mother, who still holds, clasped in her arms, the lifeless body of her Son. Oh my Son, she seems then to continue to say in the words of Job, my Son, thou art changed to be cruel towards me: “Mutatus es mihi in crudelem.”[1529] Yes, for all thy beauty, grace, virtue, and loveliness, all the signs of special love thou hast shown me, the peculiar favors thou hast bestowed on me, are all changed into so many darts of sorrow, which the more they have inflamed my love for thee, so much the more cause me cruelly to feel the pain of having lost thee. Ah, my beloved Son, in losing thee I have lost all. Thus St. Bernard speaks in her name: Oh truly begotten of God, thou wast to me a father, a son, a spouse; thou wast my life! Now I am deprived of my father, my spouse, and my Son, for with my Son whom I have lost, I lose all things.[1530]

Thus Mary, clinging to her Son, was dissolved in grief; but those holy disciples, fearing lest this poor mother would expire there through agony, went to take the body of her Son from her arms, to bear it away for burial. Therefore, with reverential force they took him from her arms, and having embalmed him, wrapped him in a linen cloth already prepared, upon which our Lord wished to leave to the world his image impressed, as may be seen at the present day in Turin. And now they bear him to the sepulchre. The sorrowful funeral train sets forth; the disciples place him on their shoulders; hosts of angels from heaven accompany him; those holy women follow him; and the afflicted mother follows in their company her Son to the grave. When they had reached the appointed place, how gladly would Mary have buried herself there alive with her Son! “Oh how willingly,” said the Virgin to St. Bridget, “would I have remained there alive with my Son, if it had been his will!”[1531] But since this was not the divine will, the authors relate that she herself accompanied the sacred body of Jesus into the sepulchre, where, as Baronius narrates, they deposited the nails and the crown of thorns. In raising the stone to close the sepulchre, the disciples of the Saviour had to turn to the Virgin, and say to her: Now, oh Lady, we must close the sepulchre; have patience, look upon thy Son and take leave of him for the last time. Then, oh my beloved Son, must the afflicted mother have said, then shall I see thee no more? Receive, then, this last time that I look upon thee, receive the last farewell from me thy dear mother, and receive my heart which I leave buried with thee. The Virgin, says St. Fulgentius, earnestly desired that her soul should be buried with the body of Christ.[1532] And Mary herself made this revelation to St. Bridget: “I can truly say, that at the burial of my Son, one sepulchre contained as it were two hearts.”[1533]

Finally, they take the stone and close up in the holy sepulchre the body of Jesus, that great treasure, greater than any in heaven and on earth. And here let us remark, that Mary left her heart buried with Jesus, because Jesus was all her treasure: “Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”[1534] And where shall we keep our hearts buried? With creatures? In the mire? And why not with Jesus, who, although he has ascended to heaven, has wished to remain, not dead but alive, in the most holy sacrament of the altar, precisely in order that he may have with him and possess our hearts? But let us return to Mary. Before quitting the sepulchre, according to St. Bonaventure, she blessed that sacred stone, saying: Oh happy stone that doth now inclose that body which was contained nine months in my womb, I bless thee, and envy thee; I leave thee to guard my Son for me, who is my only good, my only love. And then turning to the eternal Father, she said: Oh Father, to thee I recommend him, who is thy Son and mine; and thus bidding a last farewell to her Son, and to the sepulchre, she returned to her own house. This poor mother went away so afflicted and sad, according to St. Bernard, that she moved many to tears even against their will: “Multos etiam invitos ad lacrymas provocabat;” so that wherever she passed, all wept who met her: “Omnes plorabant qui obviabant ei,” and could not restrain their tears. And he adds, that those holy disciples, and the women who accompanied her, mourned for her even more than for their Lord.[1535]

St. Bonaventure says, that her two sisters covered her with a mourning cloak: The sisters of our Lady wrapped her in a veil as a widow, covering as it were her whole countenance.[1536] And he also says, that passing, on her return, before the cross, still wet with the blood of her Jesus, she was the first to adore it: Oh holy cross, she exclaimed, I kiss thee and adore thee; for thou art no longer an infamous wood, but a throne of love, and an altar of mercy, consecrated by the blood of the divine Lamb, who has been sacrificed upon thee, for the salvation of the world. She then leaves the cross and returns to her house; there the afflicted mother casts her eyes around, and no longer sees her Jesus; but instead of the presence of her dear Son, all the memorials of his holy life and cruel death are before her. There she is reminded of the embraces she gave her Son in the stable of Bethlehem, of the conversations held with him for so many years in the shop of Nazareth: she is reminded of their mutual affection, of his loving looks, of the words of eternal life that came forth from that divine mouth. And then comes before her the fatal scene of that very day; she sees those nails, those thorns, that lacerated flesh of her Son, those deep wounds, those uncovered bones, that open mouth, those closed eyes. Alas! what a night of sorrow was that night for Mary! The sorrowful mother turned to St. John, and said mournfully: Ah, John, where is thy Master? Then she asked of Magdalen: Daughter, tell me where is thy beloved? Oh God! who has taken him from us? Mary weeps, and all those who are with her weep. And thou, oh my soul, dost thou not weep! Ah, turn to Mary, and say to her with St. Bonaventure: Let me, oh my Lady, let me weep; thou art innocent, I am guilty.[1537] At least entreat her to permit thee to weep with her: “Fac ut tecum lugeam.” She weeps for love, and thou dost weep through sorrow for thy sins. And thus weeping, thou mayest have the happy lot of him of whom we read in the following example.

EXAMPLE.

Father Engelgrave relates,[1538] that a certain religious was so tormented by scruples, that sometimes he was almost driven to despair, but having great devotion to Mary, the mother of sorrows, he had recourse to her in the agony of his spirit, and was much comforted by contemplating her dolors. Death came, and the devil tormented him more than ever with scruples, and tempted him to despair. When, behold our merciful mother, seeing her poor son so afflicted, appeared to him, and said to him: “And why, oh my son, art thou so overcome with sorrow, thou who hast so often consoled me by thy compassion for my sorrows?[1539] Be comforted,” she said to him; “Jesus sends me to thee to console thee; be comforted, rejoice, and come with me to paradise.” And at these words the devout religious tranquilly expired, full of consolation and confidence.

PRAYER.

My afflicted mother, I will not leave thee alone to weep; no, I wish to keep thee company with my tears. This grace I ask of thee to-day: obtain for me a continual remembrance of the passion of Jesus, and of thine also, and a tender devotion to them, that all the remaining days of my life may be spent in weeping for thy sorrows, oh my mother, and for those of my Redeemer. I hope that these dolors will give me the confidence and strength not to despair at the hour of my death, at the sight of the offences I have committed against my Lord. By these must I obtain pardon, perseverance, paradise, where I hope to rejoice with thee, and sing the infinite mercy of my God through all eternity: thus I hope, thus may it be. Amen, amen.

Whoever wishes to practise the devotion of reciting the chaplet of the dolors of Mary, will find it at the end of the book. I composed this many years since, and insert it anew here for the convenience of the servants of Mary, whom I pray in their charity to recommend me to her when they meditate upon her dolors.

Oh Lady, who dost ravish the hearts of men with thy sweetness, hast thou not ravished mine? Oh, ravisher of hearts, when wilt thou restore to me my heart? Do with it as with thine own, and place it in the side of thy Son. Then I shall possess what I hope for, because thou art our hope.[1540]

OF THE VIRTUES OF THE MOST HOLY MARY.

St. Augustine says, that in order to obtain more certainly and abundantly the favor of the saints, it is necessary to imitate them, for when they see us practising the virtues which they practised, then they are more moved to pray for us. The queen of saints, and our first advocate, Mary, after she has rescued a soul from the grasp of Lucifer, and has united her to God, wishes her to begin to imitate her example, otherwise she will not be able to enrich her, as she would wish, with her graces, seeing her so opposed to her in conduct. Therefore Mary calls those blessed who diligently imitate her life: “Now, therefore, children, hear me; blessed are they that keep my ways.”[1541] He who loves, is like, or seeks to make himself like, the person beloved, according to the celebrated proverb: Love either finds or makes like: “Amor aut pares invenit aut facit.” Hence St. Jerome tells us, that if we love Mary, we must seek to imitate her, for this is the greatest honor we can pay her.[1542] Richard says, those are and may call themselves true children of Mary, who strive to imitate her life: “Filii Mariæ imitatores ejus.” Let the child then endeavor, concludes St. Bernard, to imitate the mother, if he desires her favor; for when Mary sees that he honors her as a mother, she will treat and favor him as a child.

Although there is little recorded in the Gospels of the virtues of Mary in particular, yet, when they tell us that she was full of grace, it is given us to understand that she had all the virtues, and all in the heroic degree. So much so, that, as St. Thomas says, whereas the other saints have excelled, each in some one particular virtue, the blessed Virgin has excelled in all, and in all the virtues has been given us for an example.[1543] And St. Ambrose also says: Such was Mary, that her life alone is the example for all.[1544] And he afterwards adds: Let the virginity and life of Mary be to you as an image, in which the form of virtue shines forth. From thence obtain the model of your life ... what you should correct, what avoid, what retain.[1545] And because, as the holy Fathers teach, humility is the foundation of all the virtues, let us in the first place consider how great was the humility of the mother of God.

SECTION I. OF THE HUMILITY OF MARY.

Humility, says St. Bernard, is the foundation and guardian of the virtues;[1546] and with reason, for without humility a soul can possess no other virtue. Let her possess all the virtues, they will all depart when humility departs. On the other hand, said St. Francis of Sales, in a letter to St. Jane de Chantal, God so loves humility that he instantly hastens to the soul in which he sees it.[1547] This virtue, so lovely and so necessary, was unknown in the world; but the Son of God himself came on earth to teach it by his example, and he desired that in this we should especially strive to imitate him: “Learn of me, because I am meek and humble of heart.”[1548] And Mary, as she was the first and most perfect disciple of Jesus Christ in all the virtues, was so in that of humility, by which she merited to be exalted above all creatures. It was revealed to St. Matilda that the first virtue which the blessed mother especially practised from childhood, was humility.[1549]

The first act of humility of heart is to have an humble opinion of ourselves; and Mary always thought so lowly of herself, as was revealed to the same St. Matilda, that although she saw so many more graces bestowed upon her than upon others, she preferred all others before herself.[1550] Rupert the Abbot, explaining that passage, “Thou hast wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse ... with one hair of thy neck,”[1551] says, that this hair of the neck of the spouse was precisely that humble opinion which Mary had of herself, with which she wounded the heart of God.[1552] Not that the holy Virgin esteemed herself a sinner, for humility is truth, as St. Theresa says, and Mary knew that she had never offended God; nor that she did not confess having received greater graces from God than any other creature, for an humble heart always acknowledges the special favors of the Lord, that it may humble itself the more; but the divine mother, by the greater light she had to see the infinite greatness and goodness of her God, saw still more her own littleness, and therefore more than all others did she humiliate herself, and say with the spouse of the Canticles: “Do not consider that I am brown because the sun hath altered my color.”[1553] Approaching him, I find myself black, as St. Bernard explains it: “Appropinquans illi me nigram invenio.”[1554] Yes, adds St. Bernardine, for the Virgin had always present before her eyes the divine majesty and her own nothingness.[1555] As a beggar, when she is clothed with a costly garment which has been given her, is not made proud by it, but humbles herself more before the giver, because she is reminded then more of her poverty; thus, Mary, the more she saw herself enriched, the more humble she became, remembering that all was the gift of God; whence she herself said to St. Elizabeth, a Benedictine nun: “Know for certain that I esteemed myself most abject, and unworthy of the grace of God.”[1556] And therefore, says St. Bernardine, no creature in the world has been more exalted, because no creature has ever humbled herself more than Mary.[1557]

Moreover, it is an act of humility to conceal the gifts of heaven. Mary wished to conceal from St. Joseph the grace of having been made the mother of God, although it seemed necessary to make it known to him, in order, at least, to remove from the mind of her poor spouse the suspicions he might have of her virtue, when he saw her pregnant; or at least his perplexity, for in fact St. Joseph, on the one side, unwilling to doubt the chastity of Mary, and, on the other, ignorant of the mystery, in order to free himself from perplexity, was minded to put her away privately: “Voluit occulte dimittere eam.”[1558] And if the angel had not revealed to him that his spouse was pregnant by the operation of the Holy Spirit, he would really have left her. Moreover, an humble soul also refuses praise, and gives it all to God. Behold, Mary is disturbed at hearing herself praised by St. Gabriel. And when St. Elizabeth said to her, “Blessed art thou among women ... and whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me.... Blessed art thou that hast believed, &c.,”[1559] Mary, referring all these praises to God, answered with that humble Canticle: My soul doth magnify the Lord: “Magnificat anima mea Dominum,” as if she had said: You praise me, oh Elizabeth, but I praise the Lord, to whom alone honor is due; you wonder that I come to you, and I wonder at the divine goodness in which alone my spirit exults. And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour: “Et exultavit spiritus meus in Deo salutari meo.” You praise me because I have believed; I praise my God, because he has wished to exalt my nothingness; because he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid: “Quia respexit humilitatem ancillæ suæ.” Hence Mary said to St. Bridget: “Why did I humble myself so far, or why have I merited so much grace, unless because I thought and knew that of and from myself I was nothing, and had nothing? therefore I would have no praise for myself, but only for the Giver and Creator.”[1560] Wherefore, speaking of the humility of Mary, St. Augustine says: Oh truly blessed humility, which has brought forth God to men, opened paradise, and liberated souls from hell![1561]

It is also a part of humility to serve others; and Mary did not refuse to go and serve Elizabeth for three months. Wherefore St. Bernard has said: Elizabeth wondered that Mary should come to visit her, but she should wonder still more that she did not come to be ministered unto, but to minister.[1562] The humble retire and choose the lowest place; and therefore, as St. Bernard remarks, Mary, when her Son was preaching in a certain house, as St. Matthew relates,[1563] wished to speak with him, but would not enter the house unbidden.[1564] Therefore, when she was in the “upper room” with the apostles, she wished to take the lowest place, as St. Luke has related: “All these were persevering with one mind in prayer, with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus.”[1565] Not that St. Luke did not know the merit of the divine mother, on account of which he should have given her the first place; but because she had taken the lowest, after the apostles and the other women, therefore St. Luke described all, as a certain author remarks, just in the order of their places. Hence St. Bernard says: Justly has the last become first, who, when she was first of all, became last.[1566] Finally, the humble love contempt; therefore we do not find that Mary appeared in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, when her Son was received with so much honor by the people; but, on the other hand, at the time of the death of her Son, she did not shrink from appearing in public on Calvary, through fear of the disgrace of being known as the mother of one who was condemned as a criminal to die by an infamous death. Therefore she said to St. Bridget: “What more contemptible than to be called a fool, to be in want of all things, to believe one’s self the most unworthy of all? Such, oh daughter, was my humility, this was my joy, this my entire will, with which I thought of nothing but to please my Son.”[1567]

The venerable sister Paula of Foligno was given to understand in an ecstasy how great was the humility of the holy Virgin. In relating what she had seen to her confessor, she said, scarcely able to utter the words through astonishment: “Oh the humility of the blessed Virgin! Oh father! oh the humility of our blessed Lady! In the world there is no humility, not even the lowest degree of humility, to be compared with the humility of Mary.” And our Lord, at another time, showed St. Bridget two females, one all pomp and vanity: “This one,” he said, “is Pride; but the other whom you see with her head bent down, respectful to all, having God alone in her mind, and having no esteem for herself, is Humility, and is called Mary.”[1568] By this God wished to make known to us that his blessed mother was so humble that she was humility itself.

It is not to be doubted, as St. Gregory of Nyssa says, that for our nature, corrupted by sin, there is perhaps no virtue more difficult to practise than humility. But there is no escape; we can never be true children of Mary if we are not humble. If, says St. Bernard, you cannot imitate the virginity, imitate the humility of the humble Virgin.[1569] She abhors the proud, she invites none to come to her but the humble: Whosoever is a little one, let him come to me: “Si quis est parvulus, veniat ad me.” Mary, says Richard, protects us under the mantle of humility: “Maria protegit nos sub pallio humilitatis.” The mother of God herself explained this to St. Bridget, saying: “Come, then, oh my daughter, and hide thyself under my mantle; this mantle is my humility.”[1570] And she then added, that the contemplation of her humility was a good mantle, that keeps us warm; but, as she afterwards said: “The mantle only warms him who wears it, not only in thought but in fact; thus my humility does not profit unless every one strives to imitate it. Therefore, my daughter,” she concludes, “clothe thyself with this humility.”[1571] Oh, how dear to Mary is the humble soul! St. Bernard writes: The Virgin recognizes and loves those who love her, and she is near to all who invoke her, especially to those whom she sees like herself in chastity and humility.[1572] Wherefore the saint then exhorts all those who love Mary, to be humble: Emulate this virtue if you love Mary.[1573] Marino, or Martino d’Alberto, of the Society of Jesus, through love of the Virgin, was accustomed to sweep the house and collect the filth. The divine mother once appeared to him, as Father Nierembergh relates in his Life, and as if thanking him, said: “How dear to me is this humble action done for love of me!” Then, oh my queen, I shall never be a true child of thine, if I am not humble. But do you not see that my sins, after having rendered me ungrateful to my Lord, have also made me proud? Oh, my mother, cure me; by thy merits obtain for me that I may be humble, and thus become a child of thine. Amen.

SECTION II. OF THE CHARITY OF MARY TOWARDS GOD.

St. Anselm says, that where there is the greatest purity, there is the greatest charity: “Ubi major puritas, ibi major charitas.” The purer and more emptied of self is a heart, the more it will be filled with charity towards God. Most holy Mary, because she was all humility, and entirely emptied of self, was entirely filled with the divine love, so that she surpassed all men and all angels in love to God, as St. Bernardine teaches.[1574] Therefore St. Francis of Sales has justly called her: The queen of love. The Lord indeed has given to men the precept to love him with their whole heart: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart;”[1575] but, as St. Thomas declares, this precept will never be perfectly fulfilled by men on this earth, but in heaven.[1576] And here the blessed Albertus Magnus remarks, that in a certain sense, it would be unbecoming for God to give a commandment which none could perfectly fulfil, if the divine mother had not perfectly fulfilled it. These are the words of Albertus: Either some one fulfils this precept or no one; if any one, it is the most blessed Virgin.[1577] And this is confirmed by Richard of St. Victor, who says: The mother of our Emmanuel was perfect in all virtues. Who has ever fulfilled as she did that first commandment: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart?” In her the divine love was so ardent, that there could be no defect of any kind in her.[1578] Divine love, says St. Bernard, so penetrated and pervaded the soul of Mary, that no part was left untouched by it, so that she loved with her whole heart, her whole soul, and her whole strength, and was full of grace.[1579] Wherefore Mary might well have said: My beloved has given himself wholly to me, and I have given myself wholly to him: My beloved to me, and I to him: “Dilectus meus mihi, et ego illi.”[1580] Ah, says Richard, well might even the seraphim descend from heaven to learn from the heart of the Virgin how to love God.[1581]

God, who is love: “Deus charitas est,”[1582] came on earth to kindle in all men the flame of his holy love; but he inflamed no heart so much as the heart of his mother, who, being entirely pure from every earthly affection, was perfectly ready to be enkindled by this blessed flame. Thus St. Jerome teaches.[1583] Hence the heart of Mary became all fire and flames, as we read of her in the sacred Canticles: The lamps thereof are fire and flames: “Lampades ejus, lampades ignis, atque flammarum.”[1584] Fire burning within, through love, as St. Anselm explains,[1585] and flames shining forth upon all, by the practice of virtue. Mary, therefore, when she bore Jesus in her arms, might indeed have called herself: Fire carrying fire: “Ignis gestans ignem,” more properly than a certain woman who was carrying fire in her hand was so called by Hippocrates. Yes, for St. Ildephonsus said: As fire heats iron, the Holy Spirit so wholly inflamed Mary that nothing was seen in her but the flame of the Holy Ghost, nothing was felt but the fire of the love of God.[1586] St. Thomas of Villanova says that the bush which Moses saw entirely in flames without being consumed, was really a symbol of the heart of the Virgin. Wherefore with reason, as St. Bernard says, was she seen by St. John clothed with the sun: And there appeared a great wonder in heaven, a woman clothed with the sun: “Et signum apparuit in cœlo, mulier amicta sole.”[1587] For, says the saint, she was so united to God by love that it seems as if no creature could be more united to him. Mary, then, is justly described as clothed with the sun, for she has penetrated to an incredible depth the abyss of divine wisdom, so that, as far as it is permitted to a creature not personally united with God, she appears immersed in that inaccessible light.[1588]

Therefore St. Bonaventure asserts, that the holy Virgin was never tempted by the spirits of hell: For as flies, he says, are driven away by a great fire, so from the heart of Mary, which was one flame of love, the devils fled, and did not even dare to approach her.[1589] And Richard also says: The Virgin was terrible to the princes of darkness, so that they did not presume to approach and tempt her, for the flame of charity deterred them.[1590] Mary herself revealed to St. Bridget, that in this world she had no other thought, no other desire, no other joy, than God: I thought of nothing but God; nothing pleased me but God: “Nihil nisi Deum cogitabam, nulla mihi nisi Deus placuerunt.” So that her blessed soul being, as it were, on this earth in a continual contemplation of God, the acts of love she made were innumerable; as Father Suarez has declared: The acts of perfect love which the blessed Virgin made in this life were innumerable, for she passed almost her whole life in contemplation, and was very frequently repeating an act of love.[1591] But Bernard de Bustis pleases me more when he says, that Mary did not so much repeat the acts of love in order, as other saints do, but, by a singular privilege, always actually loved God with one continued act.[1592] Like the royal eagle she kept her eye always fixed upon the divine Sun, so that, as St. Peter Damian says, neither did the actions of life prevent her from loving, nor love prevent her from acting.[1593] Thus, says St. Germanus, Mary was prefigured by the altar of propitiation, on which the fire was never extinguished by day or by night.

Neither did sleep interrupt the love of Mary for her God. For if such a privilege was given to our first parents in the state of innocence, as St. Augustine asserts, saying: Their dreams when sleeping were as happy as their life when waking: “Tam felicia erant somnia dormientium, quam vita vigilantium,”[1594] it certainly could not be denied to the divine mother, as Suarez and Rupert the Abbot believe, with St. Bernardine and St. Ambrose, who has written concerning Mary: While her body rested, her soul watched: “Cum quiesceret corpus, vigilaret animus.”[1595] Thus were verified in her the words of the wise man: Her lamp shall not be put out in the night: “Non extinguetur in nocte lucerna ejus.”[1596] Yes, for while her blessed body, with a light sleep, took its needed rest, her soul, says St. Bernardine, freely rose to God, so at that time her contemplation was more perfect than is that of any other person when awake.[1597] Therefore could she well say with the spouse in the Canticles: I sleep and my heart watcheth: “Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat.”[1598] Happy in sleep as in waking: “Tam felix dormiendo, quam vigilando,” as Suarez says. In a word, St. Bernardine asserts, that Mary, while she lived on earth, was continually loving God: “Mens Virginis in ardore dilectionis continue tenebatur.”[1599] And he adds further, that she never did any thing that she did not know was pleasing to God; and that she loved him as much as she knew he ought to be loved.[1600] Hence, according to blessed Albertus Magnus, it may be said that Mary was filled with so great charity that a greater was not possible in any pure creature on this earth.[1601] For this reason St. Thomas of Villanova has said, that the Virgin, by her ardent charity, was made so beautiful and so enamored her God, that captivated as it were, by love of her, he descended into her womb to become man.[1602] Wherefore St. Bernardine exclaims: Behold a Virgin who by her virtue has wounded and taken captive the heart of God.[1603]

But since Mary loves her God so much, she certainly requires from her servants nothing else so much as that they should love God as much as they can. And precisely this she said to the blessed Angela de Foligno one day after communion: “Angela, may you be blessed by my Son; seek to love him as much as you can.” And the blessed Virgin herself said to St. Bridget: Daughter, if you wish to bind me to you, love my Son: “Si vis me tecum devincire, ama filium meum.” Mary desires nothing more than to see her beloved, who is God, loved by all. Novarino asks why the holy Virgin, with the spouse of the Canticles, begged the angels to make known to her Lord the great love she bore him, saying: “I adjure you, oh daughters of Jerusalem, if you find my beloved, that you tell him that I languish with love.”[1604] Did not God know how much she loved him? Why does she desire to show the wound to her beloved who gave the wound? “Cur vulnus ostendi quærit dilecto qui vulnus fecit?” The same author answers, that the divine mother did not wish by this to make known her love to God, but to us; that, as she was wounded, she might be able to wound us also with divine love: “Ut vulnerata vulneret.”[1605] And because she was wholly inflamed with the love of God, she inflames all those who love and approach her, and renders them like herself.[1606] For this reason St. Catharine of Sienna called Mary: The bearer of the flame of divine love: “Portatrix ignis.” If we also wish to burn with this blessed flame, let us always endeavor to draw near to our mother with prayers and affections.

Oh queen of love, Mary, the most lovely, the most beloved, and the most loving of all creatures, as St. Francis of Sales said to thee: Ah, my mother, thou wert always wholly inflamed with love to God; ah, deign to bestow on me at least one spark of it. Thou didst pray thy Son for that family whose wine had failed: They have no wine: “Vinum non habent,” and wilt thou not pray for us, who are wanting in love to God, whom we are under such obligations to love? Say to Jesus: They have no love: “Amorem non habent.” Do thou obtain for us this love. We ask of thee no other favor than this. Oh mother, by the great love thou hast for Jesus, graciously hear us and pray for us. Amen.

SECTION III. OF THE CHARITY OF MARY FOR HER NEIGHBOR.

Love to God and our neighbor is commanded by the same precept: “And this commandment we have from God, that he who loveth God, love also his neighbor.”[1607] And St. Thomas gives it as a reason for this, that he who loves God, loves all things which God loves. St. Catherine of Genoa one day said to God: “Oh Lord, it is thy will that I love my neighbor, and I can love none but thee.” God answered her in these words: “He who loves me, loves all things loved by me.” But as there never has been and never will be one who loves God more than Mary; so there never has been and never will be one who loves his neighbor more than Mary. Cornelius à Lapide, remarking on these words: “King Solomon hath made him a litter of the wood of Libanus ... the midst he covered with charity for the daughters of Jerusalem,”[1608] says, that this litter was the womb of Mary, in which the incarnate Word dwelt, filling the mother with charity, that she might succor all who had recourse to her.[1609] Mary was so full of charity when she was on earth, that she assisted unasked, those who were in need, just as she did at the marriage of Cana, when she told her Son of the trouble of the family: They have no wine: “Vinum non habent,”[1610] and begged him to give them wine by a miracle. Oh! how she hastened to the relief of her neighbor, when she went to the house of Elizabeth on an errand of charity: She went into the hill country in haste: “Abiit in montana cum festinatione.”[1611] She could in no way show greater charity than by offering her Son for our salvation; so that St. Bonaventure says: Mary so loved the world as to give her only-begotten Son.[1612] Therefore St. Anselm addresses her in these words: Oh, blessed among women, who dost excel the angels in purity, and the saints in pity![1613] Neither does the charity of Mary for us fail, says St. Bonaventure, now she is in heaven; but is much increased there. Because now she sees more clearly the miseries of men.[1614] Hence the saint said: Great was the mercy of Mary towards the wretched when she was still an exile on earth; but it is far greater now that she is reigning in heaven.[1615] And the angel said to St. Bridget, that there is no one who prays that does not receive graces through the charity of the Virgin.[1616] Miserable should we be were Mary not to pray for us. Jesus Christ himself also said to the same saint: “If the prayers of my mother did not interpose, there would be no hope of mercy.”[1617]

Blessed is he, says the divine mother, who hears my teachings and considers my charity, in order to practise it towards others in imitation of me: “Blessed is the man that heareth me, and that watcheth daily at my gates, and waiteth at the posts of my doors.”[1618] St. Gregory Nazianzen says, that there is nothing by which we may more surely gain the love of Mary, than by the practice of charity towards our neighbor.[1619] Hence, as God commands us, saying, “Be ye merciful, as your Father also is merciful;”[1620] so Mary appears to say to all her children: Be ye merciful, as your mother also is merciful.[1621] It is certain that God and Mary will show mercy to us, according to the charity we practise towards our neighbor. “Give, and it shall be given to you.” “For with the same measure that you shall mete withal, it shall be measured to you again.”[1622] St. Methodius said: Give to the poor and receive paradise: “Da pauperi et accipe Paradisum:” for, according to the apostle, charity towards our neighbor renders us happy in this life and the next: “But piety is profitable to all things, having promise of the life that now is, and of that which is to come.”[1623] St. John Chrysostom, remarking on the words of Proverbs, “He that hath mercy on the poor, lendeth to the Lord,”[1624] says, that he who assists the needy, makes God his debtor.[1625] Oh mother of mercy, thou art full of charity for all. Do not forget my miseries. Thou dost even now see them. Recommend me to that God who denies thee nothing. Obtain for me the grace of being able to imitate thee in holy charity towards God and towards my neighbor. Amen.

SECTION IV. OF THE FAITH OF MARY.

As the blessed Virgin is the mother of love and of hope, thus, also, is she the mother of faith. “I am the mother of fair love, and of fear, and knowledge, and of holy hope.”[1626] And justly, says St. Iræneus, since Mary repaired by her faith that loss which Eve caused by her incredulity.[1627] Eve, Tertullian also says, because she chose to believe the serpent rather than the Word of God, brought death into the world; but our queen, believing the words of the angel, that she, remaining a virgin, was to become the mother of the Lord, brought salvation to the world.[1628] For St. Augustine says that Mary, giving her consent to the incarnation of the Word, by means of her faith opened paradise to men.[1629] Also Richard, commenting on the words of St. Paul, “For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the believing wife,”[1630] says: This is the believing woman by whose faith the unbelieving Adam and all his posterity are saved.[1631] Hence, on account of her faith, Elizabeth pronounced the Virgin blessed: Blessed art thou that hast believed, because those things shall be accomplished in thee that were spoken by the Lord.[1632] And St. Augustine added: Mary is more blessed by receiving the faith of Christ than by conceiving the flesh of Christ.[1633]

Father Suarez says that the holy Virgin had more faith than all men and all the angels. She saw her Son in the stable of Bethlehem, and believed him the Creator of the world. She saw him flying from Herod, and yet believed that he was the King of kings. She saw him born, and believed him to be eternal. She saw him poor and in need of food, and believed him to be Lord of the universe; laid on straw, and she believed him omnipotent. She observed that he did not speak, and she believed him to be the infinite Wisdom. She heard him weeping, and she believed him to be the joy of paradise. Finally, she saw him in death, despised and crucified, but although the faith of others might have wavered, Mary remained firm in the belief that he was God. St. Antoninus says, remarking on the words: There stood by the cross of Jesus his mother: “Stabat juxta crucem Jesu mater ejus,” Mary stood supported by her faith, which she retained firm in the divinity of Christ.[1634] And it is for this reason, says the saint, that in the office of Tenebræ, only one candle is left lighted. St. Leo, when treating of this subject, applies to the Virgin this passage of Proverbs: “Her lamp shall not be put out in the night.”[1635] On the words of Isaias, “I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the Gentiles, there is not a man with me,”[1636] St. Thomas remarks: He says a man, on account of the Virgin, in whom faith never failed.[1637] Whence the blessed Albertus Magnus says, that Mary practised then a most perfect faith. She had faith in a most excellent degree; who, even when the disciples were doubting, did not doubt. Mary, therefore, by her great faith merited to become the light of all the faithful, as St. Methodius calls her: “Fidelium fax.” And by St. Cyril of Alexandria: The queen of the true faith: “Sceptrum orthodoxæ fidei.” And the holy Church herself attributes to the Virgin, by the merit of her faith, the destruction of all heresies: “Rejoice, oh Virgin Mary, for thou alone hast destroyed all heresies throughout the world.”[1638] St. Thomas of Villanova also says, explaining the words of the Holy Spirit, “Thou hast wounded my heart, my sister, my spouse ... with one of thy eyes,”[1639] that the eyes signify faith, by which the Virgin gave the greatest pleasure to the Son of God.[1640]

St. Ildephonsus exhorts us to imitate the faith of Mary: “Imitamini signaculum fidei Mariæ.” But how are we to imitate this faith of Mary? Faith is at the same time a gift and a virtue. It is a gift of God, in so far as it is a light which God infuses into the soul, and it is also a virtue in so far as it is exercised by the soul. Hence faith is given us not only to serve as a rule of belief, but also of action. Therefore St. Gregory says: He truly believes who, by his works, practises what he believes.[1641] And St. Augustine: Thou sayest, “I believe,” do what you say, and it is faith.[1642] And this is to have a lively faith, namely, to live according to our belief. “My just man liveth by faith.”[1643] It was thus the blessed Virgin lived, very differently from those who do not live according to what they believe, whose faith is dead, as St. James says: Faith without good works is dead: “Fide sine operibus mortua est.”[1644] Diogenes went about seeking a man upon earth: “Hominem quæro;” but God seems seeking a Christian among the many faithful: “Christianum quæro.” For very few are they who have the works, the greater part have only the name; but to these should be said what Alexander said to that cowardly soldier who was also named Alexander: Change either your name or your conduct: “Aut nomen, aut mores muta.” But, as Father Avila used to say: It would be better if these miserable creatures were put in confinement as madmen, believing as they do, that a happy eternity is prepared for him who lives well, and an unhappy eternity for him who lives ill, and yet living as if they did not believe this. St. Augustine therefore exhorts us to see things with Christian eyes, that is, to see according to faith: “Oculos Christianorum habete.” For St. Theresa was accustomed to say, that all sins arise from a want of faith. Let us therefore implore the holy Virgin, that by the merit of her faith she may obtain for us a lively faith. Oh Lady, increase our faith: Domina adauge nobis fidem.