Mary's Purification! How strangely the phrase sounds in our ears! What purification could be needed for her, who was the pattern and model of all purity? Yet Mary remained retired for forty days after the birth of her Son, and then went up to the Temple as if to be purified. Why was this? It was because she loved obedience to the law, even at the chance of being misunderstood; she sought no exemption from its precepts.

But she had another reason for her purification. She was to take part in her Son's work of Redemption, and therefore had to share His reproach. He chose the road of contempt--He was circuмcised as if a sinner; and Mary's joy was to tread the same path with Him.

Mary presented her Divine Son in the Temple: renewing on that day her consent to the Sacrifice of His Life for the sins of the world. She saw with agonizing presentiment all that He had to suffer, dimly at first and vaguely, but none the less painfully; yet joyfully, she made the sacrifice. She spared not her own Son, but delivered Him up for us all.

When Jesus was twelve years old. He went up with His parents for their annual visit to the Temple. On their return they missed Him, and for three days sought Him, and sought in vain. What must have been the agony of Mary's heart during those three days! Had Jesus left them never to return? Could it be that she had unconsciously, by some negligence, forfeited the privilege of the company of Jesus? Was she never to behold Him again? Such were thoughts that occurred to her in the piercing anguish of her heart. Let us compassionate the Holy Mother of God in her desolation.

What a cruel void in Mary's heart! The light of her eyes and the joy of her heart had gone from her. What an utter blank all else seemed without Jesus--how could she live without Him? Without Him life would be death! "How shall I comfort thee, O Virgin daughter of Sion? for great as an ocean is thy sorrow!"

Mary, then, can understand our sorrow in times of darkness and desolation. No blackness of desolation in our hearts is ever like the desolation of Mary when she had lost Jesus! In all our anguish we will cry to her! She will not be deaf to our despairing cry, but will most surely succor us and restore to us peace and joy: as to her, there returned peace and joy unspeakable when she found her Divine Son in the Temple.

When Jesus was twelve years old. He went up with His parents for their annual visit to the Temple. On their return they missed Him, and for three days sought Him, and sought in vain. What must have been the agony of Mary's heart during those three days! Had Jesus left them never to return? Could it be that she had unconsciously, by some negligence, forfeited the privilege of the company of Jesus? Was she never to behold Him again? Such were thoughts that occurred to her in the piercing anguish of her heart. Let us compassionate the Holy Mother of God in her desolation.

What a cruel void in Mary's heart! The light of her eyes and the joy of her heart had gone from her. What an utter blank all else seemed without Jesus--how could she live without Him? Without Him life would be death! "How shall I comfort thee, O Virgin daughter of Sion? for great as an ocean is thy sorrow!"

Mary, then, can understand our sorrow in times of darkness and desolation. No blackness of desolation in our hearts is ever like the desolation of Mary when she had lost Jesus! In all our anguish we will cry to her! She will not be deaf to our despairing cry, but will most surely succor us and restore to us peace and joy: as to her, there returned peace and joy unspeakable when she found her Divine Son in the Temple.

When Jesus was twelve years old. He went up with His parents for their annual visit to the Temple. On their return they missed Him, and for three days sought Him, and sought in vain. What must have been the agony of Mary's heart during those three days! Had Jesus left them never to return? Could it be that she had unconsciously, by some negligence, forfeited the privilege of the company of Jesus? Was she never to behold Him again? Such were thoughts that occurred to her in the piercing anguish of her heart. Let us compassionate the Holy Mother of God in her desolation.

What a cruel void in Mary's heart! The light of her eyes and the joy of her heart had gone from her. What an utter blank all else seemed without Jesus--how could she live without Him? Without Him life would be death! "How shall I comfort thee, O Virgin daughter of Sion? for great as an ocean is thy sorrow!"

Mary, then, can understand our sorrow in times of darkness and desolation. No blackness of desolation in our hearts is ever like the desolation of Mary when she had lost Jesus! In all our anguish we will cry to her! She will not be deaf to our despairing cry, but will most surely succor us and restore to us peace and joy: as to her, there returned peace and joy unspeakable when she found her Divine Son in the Temple.

When Jesus was twelve years old. He went up with His parents for their annual visit to the Temple. On their return they missed Him, and for three days sought Him, and sought in vain. What must have been the agony of Mary's heart during those three days! Had Jesus left them never to return? Could it be that she had unconsciously, by some negligence, forfeited the privilege of the company of Jesus? Was she never to behold Him again? Such were thoughts that occurred to her in the piercing anguish of her heart. Let us compassionate the Holy Mother of God in her desolation.

What a cruel void in Mary's heart! The light of her eyes and the joy of her heart had gone from her. What an utter blank all else seemed without Jesus--how could she live without Him? Without Him life would be death! "How shall I comfort thee, O Virgin daughter of Sion? for great as an ocean is thy sorrow!"

Mary, then, can understand our sorrow in times of darkness and desolation. No blackness of desolation in our hearts is ever like the desolation of Mary when she had lost Jesus! In all our anguish we will cry to her! She will not be deaf to our despairing cry, but will most surely succor us and restore to us peace and joy: as to her, there returned peace and joy unspeakable when she found her Divine Son in the Temple.

Jesus' first miracle was performed at the marriage-feast at Cana. Thither Mary was invited; and from the words of the Gospel it seems as if Jesus was invited because His Mother had been already asked. Thus we learn that where Mary comes, Jesus is sure to come also. He who entertains her with love and devotion will find that the love of Jesus will soon spring up in his heart.

During the marriage-feast the wine runs short. Our Lady notices it: it grieves her: she appeals to her Son in a model prayer. She simply states the need, and leaves all else to Him-- "They have no wine." Such should be our prayers. Jesus likes us to tell Him our needs. He knows them, but He makes this a condition of fulfilling our desires.

Jesus' words at first seem like a rebuke-- "Woman, what is it to Me and to thee?" He often pretends to turn a deaf ear to us. How does Mary behave under the seeming slight? She regards it as a sign that He will grant her request, and turning to the servants, bids them obey Him in all things. "Whatsoever He shall say to you, do ye." Mary knew that it is to the submissive and obedient that Christ gives His best gifts.

May the most blessed and holy will of God be done in all things! Amen.

As the time of the Passion drew near, Mary's realization of the approaching sufferings of her Son became more vivid. The sword of Simeon pierced her heart as it had never done before. How could she endure to see her Son and her God outraged and ill-treated, insulted and put to death? "Weeping, she wept in the night: there was none to comfort her among all those that were dear to her" (Lament, i. 2).

At last the storm of anguish burst upon her. The Apostles bring her the heart-breaking news: He has been seized by the Pharisees, insulted by the soldiers, dragged before Pilate, scourged, condemned to the death of the Cross. What a night and morning for the Mother of Jesus! Each moment full of an agony worse than death.

At last she could refrain no longer. She must go and meet Him whom her soul loved. What a meeting must that have been! Her darling Son, all masked in blood, toiling under the weight of the Cross. O Holy Mother, who would not be moved with compassion? "Behold and see if there be any sorrow like to that with which God hath afflicted me in the day of His fierce anger" (Lament, i. 12).

As the time of the Passion drew near, Mary's realization of the approaching sufferings of her Son became more vivid. The sword of Simeon pierced her heart as it had never done before. How could she endure to see her Son and her God outraged and ill-treated, insulted and put to death? "Weeping, she wept in the night: there was none to comfort her among all those that were dear to her" (Lament, i. 2).

At last the storm of anguish burst upon her. The Apostles bring her the heart-breaking news: He has been seized by the Pharisees, insulted by the soldiers, dragged before Pilate, scourged, condemned to the death of the Cross. What a night and morning for the Mother of Jesus! Each moment full of an agony worse than death.

At last she could refrain no longer. She must go and meet Him whom her soul loved. What a meeting must that have been! Her darling Son, all masked in blood, toiling under the weight of the Cross. O Holy Mother, who would not be moved with compassion? "Behold and see if there be any sorrow like to that with which God hath afflicted me in the day of His fierce anger" (Lament, i. 12).