
By Father Francis L. Filas, S.J.
The U.S.A.s leading authority on the subject of Saint Joseph
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"And she wrapped Him in swaddling clothes" (Luke 2:17). There are several interesting features about the swaddling clothes in which Jesus was given His first protection from cold and dampness. The custom of using swaddling bands had first been introduced while the Israelites were a wandering desert people. The binding was intended to provide warmth for the newly born infant as well as protection for his weak spine and soft bone structure. A square piece of material formed the swaddling cloth proper, across the diagonal of which the babe was laid. Then the corners were tucked together, leaving only the infant's head exposed. Finally, two or three strips of cloth were wrapped around this tiny bundle, and the baby was thus snugly enclosed in a firm, warm, and comfortable sleeping bag. It took a genius in words like Cardinal Newman to capture the overwhelming paradox of this appealing scene when he described the lovable young virgin mother as tucking in "Omnipotence in bonds." "And she laid him in a manger" (Luke 2:7). Saint Luke implicitly tells us that the Nativity occurred in a stable. The manger used in Bethlehem was a trough hewn out of wood or scooped out of the soft limestone which abounds in the Holy Land. Jesus probably rested on a bed of wheat or barley straw, for hay as we understand it was not made in Palestine. The inn in which "there was no room for them" (Luke 2:7) was no more than a small caravansary or khan, inasmuch as Bethlehem was only an insignificant hamlet. Vastly dissimilar to the hotels to which we are accustomed, the khan consisted of a courtyard for the animals, surrounded by alcoves in which the travelers spent the night. The entire enclosure was made safe against robbers by a high fence and by a gate that was strongly barred at nightfall. Mary and Joseph were not turned away by a hardhearted innkeeper, greedy for money from richer patrons. The popular misconception arose from the medieval legends and miracle plays of Europe. It contradicts the traditional hospitality found all over the East. The real reason was simply the fact that other travelers were living in the inn. Over and above this circumstance, a lodging so public was no place for Mary, whose time was fast approaching. Joseph therefore led his wife to the only refuge available -- a cave hollowed into the rock and used as a shelter by the shepherds of the vicinity. Such grottoes have served and still serve as a common place of refuge for man and beast on rainy chilly nights. Were an ox and ass present at the side of Mary when she brought forth the Savior of the world? We have no evidence. The stories of the ox and ass grew out of a pious application of a text from the prophet Isaiah, "The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib" (Isaiah 1:3). It would seem more likely that if any animals at all were in the cave, they should have been sheep that belonged to the near-by shepherds. Yet the one great question remains unanswered. What circumstances prevented Joseph, the official protector of Jesus and Mary, from obtaining adequate shelter for his dear charges when they needed it so badly? Many theories have been propounded by expert scholars who have spent long years in studying every possible clue ranging from the climate of the Holy Land to the minutest detail of the text of Holy Scripture. Perhaps Joseph tried to get shelter better than the temporary home he acquired when he first came to Bethlehem; we do not know. But this seems certain: Mary's time was suddenly shortened by the direct providence of God so that Jesus Christ, the Son of Man, by His own choice would come into the world in poor circumstances, a lesson of detachment to all men of all time. Evidently Jesus was born during the night, for "there were shepherds in the same district living in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night" (Luke 2:8). The weather may have been cool and raw, but not cold or snowy. Otherwise, the shepherds would have taken their flocks to some cave or other enclosure for shelter. Although tradition disagrees on the exact date of the first Christmas, it is rather uniform in holding that our Lord came into the world during the rainy or winter season -- that is, some time between November and April.
Thus does Saint Luke draw the curtain over the Christmas scene he has described in inimitable words -- a scene whose richness painters and poets and preachers have never been able to exhaust. It is the first appearance of the Holy Family before men: "Mary and Joseph, and the Babe lying in the manger." Mutual love shines forth in the faces of this earthly trinity: loving respect in the face of Joseph, loving adoration in the face of Mary, loving generosity in the face of the Eternal God with us. Joseph and Mary are, as it were, the mediators through whom the shepherds come to Jesus. In our own day and forever, they are the mediators through whom we, too, come to Jesus. The all-pervading indefinable sense of deep peace that belongs to Christmas has come down to us through the ages. If we carefully search for the cause of this Christmas peace, we find that it lies in the unshakable calm brought forth by security. And if we search further for the cause of this security, we find it in the knowledge that God is with us. "God with us!" We are children spoiled by twenty centuries of Christianity -- spoiled because we have God with us and we do not appreciate the fact. We have had no experience of bleak paganism where in early youth our star-seeking ideals would be thrown down again and again, as they sought to turn a rebellious nature to obey a God they were not favored to know, as we know Him. We have had no experience (as had the pagans of old) of trying to drown all those ideals in an ocean of sinful pleasure, yet finding their craving for the good and pure and the noble and unselfish still unsatisfied. We cannot appreciate the pagans' despair at having no one to turn to -- absolutely no one; because deep down in our hearts we know that even if all humans fail us, if we ourselves fail Jesus Christ, He can never and will never desert us. Yes, the source of our Christmas peace is the realization that God is with us. And not merely God in heaven spiritually and invisibly at our side, but God in heaven come down to earth, clothed in flesh-and-bone as we are, like to us in all things, sin alone excepted.
The two thousand years that separate us from the midnight of the Nativity, vanish, and we kneel beside Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and we see that we are not in the past. It is a present moment that can never become part of the past. Even if Jesus had not perpetuated His bodily presence on earth by means of the Blessed Sacrament of His love, this one moment at the cave in Bethlehem, when the earth first saw its Savior, would be so all-inclusive that the passing of time could never dim its perpetual newness. The fact that Almighty God should take on our human nature and walk among us is too stupendous to be held by one moment or even by all the moments of time. Because Christ was with us once, He is with us always. The moment when the Infinite came into the realm of time becomes, as it were, eternal. The lesson of the Nativity, then, is the bodily presence of God with us. The Preface for the Masses of Christmas Day rightly phrases this lesson as a stirring keynote. "Through the mystery of the Incarnate Word, the new light of God's glory has shone on the eyes of our mind, so that while we look upon God present to our eyes, through Him we may be drawn to the love of the invisible." From this point, "while we look upon God present to our eyes," we must rely on our faith in order that "we may be drawn to the love of the invisible." But what is our faith? It is the "substance of things to be hoped for, the evidence of things that are not seen" (Hebrews 11:2). It is our belief in the word of God that what He tells us is true, despite the lack of evidence or even the apparently contrary evidence on the part of our senses. Here in the cave at Bethlehem we see a newborn Infant, His young mother, and her stalwart husband. Our faith tells us that the Infant is God Himself, become man without ceasing to be God; the mother is the person most exquisitely fashioned by the Lord Almighty; and the husband is the foster father closest to the Virgin and her Child in awesome holiness. Before this Child came on earth, there was the law of God to be fulfilled. Like all laws it tended to be a "thing invisible," a rule hard to follow because unseen. But now that Christ is among us, the law takes shape before our eyes. We behold a Person now, no longer an abstract mandate. We see Him carry out the two great commandments of the love of God and the love of our fellow men -- "things invisible" -- to which we are drawn now because we look upon them concretized in "God present to our eyes." By the fact that Christ has come down to our earth, we are provided not only with an Exemplar to show us how to live as we ought, but also we are fired by enthusiasm and love of Him to want to live as we ought. Faith must enter into your daily life if you wish to live holily and happily. For instance, can you behold with your own eyes the sanctity and sacramental nature of Christian marriage? Hardly; yet your faith tells you that it is so. Suppose that a serious problem turns up in your married life. It might be any of the thousand-and-one problems that can and do arise -- misunderstanding, illness, financial distress, bereavement, difficulties with the children. Your faith tells you that because of the sacrament you received at the moment of your marriage, you have a right to receive from God those special benefactions, the actual graces, for carrying out the obligations of your married life. Can you believe this in a moment of trial? Can you bravely and generously go forward and attempt to solve your problems with a confident heart, serene in the knowledge that God has given you the grace to do so? You require faith, and faith requires a submission of your intellect to God's promises.
It is true that if Jesus had not come down to earth, we still would have had the consciousness of a loving Father in heaven Who tenderly remembers His children on earth. It is also true that we need faith to see in the Babe the infinite God of love and majesty. But the lesson of Bethlehem lies in this extra help to our faith, this knowledge of Christ's personal presence among us -- again to repeat from the Preface of the Christmas Masses -- "that while we look upon God present to our eyes, we may be drawn to the love of things invisible."
Each recurring Christmas Day should refresh in your mind the magnificent import of the bodily presence of God among us. As you receive Holy Communion on each occasion, the story of Bethlehem is being renewed and continued in your heart, for the cave was the first tabernacle and the manger was the first ciborium. You have the opportunity of "wrapping the Child in swaddling clothes and laying Him in the manger" of your own heart every day if you wish. In the Blessed Sacrament you will find the greatest, the most tangible help and inspiration for your family life. If you and your husband or wife can make it a practice to receive Holy Communion together, your union will be all the deeper because it is rooted all the more deeply in the love of Christ. There can be no doubt that the frequent reception of Holy Communion by husband and wife does infallibly make their marriage holier and happier. It is hardly possible to speak satisfactorily of the Blessed Sacrament. The subject is too tremendous to do it justice. Just as the moment of the Incarnation could not hold its awesome reality for itself as the one moment when the Infinite took on the limits of time, so, too, the words that try to portray the quiet majesty of Christ's reign among us in the Tabernacle cannot convey their full message of truth. Jesus Christ, God and man, is present with His glorified living Body under the appearance of bread and wine in the Blessed Sacrament. What then? The action of the frequent communicant is the only reasonable action, and the answer of the father of the possessed boy is the only reasonable answer: "Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief!" (Mark 9:23.) Every time we look on the mystery of the Nativity at Bethlehem, a little deeper sense of its meaning penetrates our souls. Sometimes for a few fleeting moments we feel that we can almost grasp the full realization of what it means to have God as man on this earth. The extension of Christ's life in the Blessed Sacrament adds to this realization still another note: "God as man is on this earth now, as my closest, dearest Friend, in whose love I can rest my love of my husband or wife, and in Whom we two are united in the ideal of the selfless love toward which we are striving." Do not be deceived by the fallacy that because of unworthiness you ought not approach Christ closely, receiving Holy Communion often. Who would be so proud as to imply that anyone could become fully worthy? To receive Communion only two things are necessary and sufficient: the state of grace and the proper disposition. The proper disposition simply consists in approaching the Holy Table for the good which the Eucharist will effect in your soul and body, not for public show or merely to please someone else. The results will be a closer union of love with Christ, the growth of every virtue in your soul, the blotting out of venial sin, strength against mortal sin, and powerful assistance to die in the peace of the Lord when your time comes. All these considerations on the meaning of the Nativity and the Blessed Sacrament have grown out of our looking more or less at the Infant Jesus. There were two other people next to Him whom we look at now -- the virgin mother and the foster father. Their radiant love is all directed toward the Babe in the manger, and because it is directed toward the Babe, it also goes through Him from husband to wife and from wife to husband in the thrill of ecstasy that takes hold of the two greatest saints as they look on their God, their Son. Again must we stress this great love of Joseph and Mary for each other as the model for every husband and wife. It is here at Bethlehem while we watch them together at the crib that we can discuss frankly and settle finally a point that sometimes bothers Catholics when they pray to Joseph instead of Mary or to Mary instead of Joseph. In venerating one they experience a sort of uneasy feeling that perhaps they are taking honor from the other. The same type of feeling can come to converts who have not yet developed the instinctive habit of praying to Mary, while realizing nevertheless that such an action not only does not derogate from God's rights, but is highly pleasing to Him. Cardinal Newman has said that ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt. So in this case. There is no doubt that devotion to Saint Joseph honors Mary and gives glory to God, and there is no doubt that Joseph, more than an other saint, wishes Mary to be honored above all mere creatures, including himself. There is merely the difficulty that we find it hard to comprehend the complete selflessness of the husband and the wife, and their total devotion to one cause alone: the Will of God. We fear that one would be jealous of the other! At any rate, in examining their love more closely as we are doing, another aspect of ideal family love will be brought into focus. In our limited human experience we rarely if ever succeed in erasing absolutely every trace of selfishness in dealing with even our nearest and dearest; but in the case of Joseph and Mary, the two know that their mutual glorification redounds to the praise of their Creator. Mary is His choicest handiwork as the most delicately beautiful person God made, conceived without stain of original sin. All her dignity arises out of the fact that she is the Mother of God, for she it was who brought this Infant Jesus into the world here at Bethlehem. In the same way, honor paid to Saint Joseph is honor paid to Mary, and through Mary, to God. The dignity of Saint Joseph ultimately stems from the fact that he is the virginal husband of the Mother of God. Because of his marriage to Our Lady, he possesses the rights of a father over this Jesus, her Son, Who lies in the manger before them. Had he not been Mary's husband, he would have been merely the guardian of Christ. He would not have had so intimate a share, as theologians tell us, in co-operating in Christ's work of redemption, by educating and protecting Him during His childhood until He was ready to begin His public life.
If only we could grasp the depth of the love of Joseph for Mary and of Mary for Joseph as they adore their Son together! Next to God, or rather in God Himself, they bear an all-generous affection toward each other that could exist only in the husband and wife of the Holy Family. Mary is not any less human because she is more holy. She looks at the Child and looks at His foster father, who is to guard Him (and act as His father) for possibly the next thirty years. She knows Joseph's fidelity and generosity and bravery. And she has another reason for her affection. She sees in him the tremendous nearness to God that made him worthy to be called the father of Christ. She wishes him to be honored for all he has done and will do for the newborn Redeemer. And on Joseph's part, he loves Mary as no one except the Infant before them has ever done or can do. No angel or saint can be closer to Mary than her husband. He sees in her the sanctity that made her worthy to become the habitation of the Son of God. Since she is the mediatrix of all graces, Joseph goes to Jesus through Mary. Yes, here in Bethlehem for the first time we behold the Holy Family, united on earth in that love and mutual confidence which continues to be
our model here while they are united in even closer intimacy in heaven.
We simply cannot honor Saint Joseph without
implicitly paying honor to Mary; and we
cannot pay homage to Our Lady without
honoring her Son,
Who is God, "to Whom be
all glory forever." We must leave the manger now and follow the further progress of the story of the Holy Family. But the manger will be our heart, and the Infant will lie there often as we receive Him again and again in the sacrament of His love. Joseph and Mary will help us welcome Him each time as they welcomed Him for that wonderful first time in Bethlehem.
Chapter Five - The Sacrifice Begins
This was the day on which Jesus received "the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend of those in heaven, on earth, and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that the Lord Jesus Christ is in the glory of God the Father" (Philippians 2:9-11). The rite of circumcision was the sign of the "testament" -- the covenant or agreement -- between God and Abraham and the sons of Abraham. Jesus subjected Himself to the law of circumcision in order to show that He had taken on our human nature in all its completeness. The rite signified the consecration of its subject to God. This held true for every Hebrew male child. How much more truly did it not apply to Jesus, Who although the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity in His divine nature, consecrated His human nature to the service and glory of His Godhead! "And when the days of Mary's purification were fulfilled, according to the Law of Moses, they took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord" (Luke 2:22). In this episode which occurred forty days after the Nativity many people are puzzled by the "purification" to which Mary subjected herself. Did it mean that motherhood among the Jews was considered something impure? The answer to this question depends on what we mean by the word "impure." The law of purification did not imply that mothers contracted a moral blemish by bearing children. Rather, it referred to a legal "uncleanness" the precise nature of which is not known. After the birth of a son, a period of forty days had to elapse before the mother could touch hallowed things and enter the sanctuary of the Temple. But this did not mean that motherhood was something sinful or less perfect. Actually, children were deemed signs of God's favor, and a childless wife considered herself cursed. The law of purification of mothers probably had its origin, as did so many of the old laws of the Hebrews, in sanitary considerations. The ceremony itself consisted of offering a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons for sacrifice. Thereupon the legal blemish was removed. One of the impressive rites of the Church which recalls Mary's visit to the Temple is the churching of women after they have given birth. In the minds of many there unfortunately exists a more or less hazy misunderstanding of the true meaning of the ceremony. Churching does not imply that women because of childbirth incur some sort of stain which must be duly removed by the prayers of the priest. It is a blessing which the Church confers on the mother; and the mother in her turn offers thanks to God for her safe delivery. The ceremony is made up of a psalm of gratitude and praise, a blessing of the mother with holy water, and various prayers suitable for the occasion. As part of the rite, the priest places the end of his stole into the mother's hand and leads her into the church, saying, "Enter into the temple of God, adore the Son of the Blessed Virgin Mary, Who has given you the fruitfulness of offspring." Then he recites a special prayer as follows: "Almighty everlasting God, Who through the delivery of the Blessed Virgin Mary has turned into joy the pains of the faithful in childbirth, look graciously upon this Thy handmaid coming in gladness to Thy holy temple to offer thanksgiving: and grant that after this life by the merits and intercession of the same blessed Mary, she may merit to arrive together with her offspring at the joys of everlasting happiness, through Christ our Lord. Amen." And to the mother the priest says, "May the peace and blessing of Almighty God, the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost, descend upon you and remain always, Amen." Since Mary had given birth to Jesus miraculously, she undoubtedly was not bound in conscience to observe the law of purification. In the same way Jesus was not obliged to be presented to the Lord, for He was already God by nature. The custom of offering the first-born to God hearkened back to the Israelites' release from captivity in Egypt. There, God struck dead all the first-born of the Egyptians, sparing, of course, the Hebrew children. In remembrance of this favor, first-born males were consecrated to God and then redeemed by the payment of a token price -- five shekels, about $3.20. There is wonderful meaning in this scene of Mary and Joseph redeeming the Redeemer. Jesus submitted to the rite of Presentation in order to show us once again how truly and fully He became one of us. When Mary and Joseph gave Jesus to the priest in the Temple to be offered to God, they united in that offering themselves -- everything they were and everything they had. It was the closeness of their union with Jesus that made them holy; and if their Son in His human nature was making the oblation of Himself to His heavenly Father, these two beloved parents were not going to stint the generosity of their co-operation with Him. They would offer themselves, too. As Mary and Joseph made their self-consecration, so should we. It is true that in a very correct sense everything we are and everything we have belongs already to God. He has given us even our free will. But in another sense God made us stewards of our talents, our bodies, our very souls, putting them into our charge to be cared for and developed so that they might ultimately be fit to be raised to eternal union with Him. In giving ourselves back to our Creator, we ask that we be employed according to His holy and all-good will. It is an offering born of love and gratitude. Sometimes people are frightened to make such an offering. They imagine that God will ask them to undergo terrible sufferings, or that He will take away from them their legitimate pleasures. No, that is not the sense of self-oblation. It is merely an explicit method of telling God that you wish His will to be accomplished in your regard. You already know His will in its general aspects. Its purpose is one and only one: that you may become holy. The means to become holy you already possess. If you observe the commandments, receive the sacraments, and carry out the duties of your state of life, you are doing God's will. When you make the offering of yourself, you are saying equivalently that you desire to fulfill these obligations ever more perfectly and confidently leave yourself in His Hands. Is there anything frightening in that? In connection with the possible Crosses you may fear, never forget that Almighty God is bound by His justice and by His own promise to give you all the graces you need to carry out anything He asks of you. Usually the worst Crosses we bear are those we create in our imagination. And even if some trial we dread does come to us, it cannot be the agonizing experience we foresaw. The reason simply is this: at the moment we are called upon to carry the Cross, we have the grace to do so. But at the moment we fear that this or that Cross will come to us, we do not have the grace to bear it. In other words God has not needlessly given us the strength to carry a Cross which He has not asked us to bear. Look back on your life and count up some of the benefits you have received. Creation -- redemption -- sanctification: the last-named of these implying that you were baptized in the Church of Christ, nourished by the sacrament of the Eucharist, restored to peace with God or increased in that peace by the sacrament of Penance. Now you are united in another wonderful sacrament, Matrimony, in a lifelong union of married love. Probably you have or will have the inestimable blessing of seeing your children and children's children gather round you. (There are thousands of childless couples whose greatest Cross is the fact that they cannot have children even though they desire them. They know what such a blessing would mean to them.) There is so much, too, in your past life for which you feel grateful. In the rush of earning a livelihood or caring for the family you perhaps have been too busy to count up explicitly all these blessings -- special favors from heaven that have been for your particular benefit. Yes, take the time, carefully itemize the list of all good things God has bestowed on you, and automatically there will rise in your heart a deep sense of thanksgiving that impels you to come to Joseph and Mary and ask them to accept the offering of yourself, to unite it to their own, and to give it to the beloved Infant so that it might arise together with the oblation of Himself to God the Father.
Preferably this Consecration should be made officially by the Reverend Pastor or some other priest, but it is sufficient if the head of the family (or all the members together) recite this formula recommended and highly indulgenced by the Church. Preferably, too, the Consecration should be offered before a picture or statue of the Sacred Heart.
After Joseph and Mary offered Jesus to His Eternal Father, there occurred that touching scene when the aged Simeon "came by inspiration of the Spirit into the Temple. And when His parents brought in the Child Jesus to do for Him according to the custom of the law, he also received Him and blessed God, saying, `Now Thou dost dismiss Thy servant, O Lord, according to Thy word in peace; because my eyes have seen Thy salvation which Thou hast prepared before the face of all peoples; a light of revelation to the Gentiles, and a glory for Thy people Israel'" (Luke 2:27-31). Simeon's canticle expresses so perfectly his joy over a life well spent that the phrase nunc dimittis (from the Latin, "now Thou dost dismiss"), has become a part of our language as an expression of satisfaction and thanksgiving to God at death's approach. As you read these lines, you probably may think to yourself that you are far from the moment when you will be called to leave this world and go to your judgment and reward. Perhaps so; but you can never forget that the moment is ever advancing. It is at the same time equally certain and uncertain. There can be no doubt that it will occur, but just when it will occur is the greatest question mark in your life and in the life of every other person now on earth. You can adopt only one sensible course about the moment of your death. Live in such a way that no matter how suddenly it comes, you will always be prepared to say your nunc dimittis with a heart trusting in the goodness of God, conscious of your lifelong efforts to serve Him and love Him faithfully. There are, of course, the usual two extremes, but neither of them is to be recommended. Some persons avoid the thought of death as if by forgetting the inevitable, they could stave it off or dodge it completely. For them the pleasures and parties of their hurried existence are emphasized out of all proper proportion. These people cannot bear the thought that one day their life will be over and they will be face-to-face with the sole reality that counts for anything: Did they or did they not save their souls by obeying the laws of God and of His Church? So much for the attitude of the sophisticates. At the other extreme is a smaller group of people who make their mistake in being "too good." True, there are not many of these, but enough are around us to serve as a warning to stay out of their class. These are the worriers who make life miserable for themselves (and incidentally for others also) by imagining God as some sort of bloodthirsty tyrant who wields over their puny heads the threat of instant death and eternal punishment. Fear rules their lives from start to finish -- fear that penetrates their most fundamental relationships with their Creator as well as their dealings with their fellow men. What is their mistake? They are concentrating on merely one facet of God's infinite perfection. They see and hear and think of only His justice and punishments. They forget that He is all-good; that the source of all that is tender and affectionate and generous in us comes from the depths of His eternal love. Probably God in His goodness will magnanimously take care of them, for they are erring, as we would say, "in the right direction." Nevertheless, theirs is a real error, and it is far removed from that spirit of Simeon's nunc dimittis which we want to develop in ourselves. The correct attitude brings serenity into our lives, peace in our dealings with others, and security and deep happiness because of our relationship to our God. We trust that we are ready at any moment to go before our Judge, and we do not worry about it. It is His part to determine when our time is fulfilled, and with His infinite knowledge and providence He knows what is best for us. We do not try to fathom the mind of the Almighty, but we do try to accomplish what we can, to have something to show in our favor on Judgment Day. An attitude of this sort can usually be implicit and pervade everything we do. The thought of death will not spoil our enjoyment of life if we accept the licit pleasures God has given us as good things that help us live as humans ought. In such a life we cherish our husband or wife, we love our children and strive to fulfill our obligations toward them, we obey the Church in its position as the divinely appointed and divinely guided teacher of faith and morals. And in doing this, we are building stone-by-stone the tower of confidence on which we can stand when death approaches. Then will we look back on a life well spent and thank the dear God for helping us during the time of our pilgrimage. At that moment, too, God will be bringing us into the place where the incomplete is made complete, the temporal is changed into the eternal, and the ties of love which we had on earth are forged into everlasting bonds of happiness uniting us and our loved ones to our Creator, our Last End. It is the realization of all this that will evoke from our lips, "Now Thou dost dismiss Thy servant, O Lord, in peace." But in the Temple at Jerusalem on that day two thousand years ago, Joseph and Mary were to hear more words from Simeon's lips, somber words that reminded them all too clearly that their own mission was just beginning, and that much suffering would be ahead of them before they could say their own nunc dimittis. "And Simeon said to Mary His mother, `Behold, this Child is destined for the fall and the rise of many in Israel, and for a sign that shall be contradicted. And thy own soul a sword shall pierce, that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed" (Luke 2:34-35).
It is in this light that we should interpret Simeon's prophecy. God did not cruelly send Our Lady an unnecessary Cross. Long before the angel had asked her if she were willing to become the Mother of God, Mary knew from the Scriptures that the Messiah would be the Man of Sorrows. When she consented, she realized what she was accepting. She would be closest to Jesus in everything -- closest in suffering and love as well as in triumph and glory. In His Passion her sympathy was to be His greatest consolation. By a triumph of His grace Our Lady's merits, dependent on those of her Son, were to help restore the fallen human race to the friendship of God which it had lost when Adam, its head, betrayed his trust. At the moment of Simeon's prophecy Joseph, too, understood what the sword of sorrow meant to his wife and what it would mean to the lovable Babe Who had just been offered to His Eternal Father. The words of Simeon were a sign from heaven that Christ's oblation had been accepted. And because Joseph was closest to Mary in holiness, after her he was closest to Jesus in the suffering that redeemed us. According to God's plan Joseph was not present during Christ's Passion and Crucifixion; but like Mary, he knew what the Scriptures had foretold of the Messiah. Because his will was one with that of Mary and Jesus, Joseph truly sympathized with them in anticipation (for "sympathy" means "to suffer with") so that he participated intimately in applying Christ's redemption to mankind. We should be careful to place the proper estimate on the attitude of the Holy Family. After Simeon's prophecy of the future martyrdom of suffering, Mary and Joseph did not live a dismal, foreboding existence in the years of preparing their Child for His future. Knowing as we do how closely they imitated Jesus, we can be quite certain of the serenity and happiness in their lives. Jesus, on His part, always had before Him the prospect of His Passion and death, yet He never let it distress Him outwardly until the night of His agony in Gethsemani. Even then His action was not one of weakness but was deliberately permitted for our instruction and consolation. Moreover, He knew the glory of His Resurrection, and He looked forward to the wonderful joy and peace which He as the risen Savior would bring to His friends, His adopted brothers and sisters. How could He have appeared to His neighbors of Nazareth as a normal boy, "the carpenter's son," if His mood had been one of despondency or never ending seriousness? No doubt He was grave and dignified in His public life, but His love of little children and the trusting affection they gave Him in return show that His demeanor was not overwrought with heavy thoughts of His future. In the same way, Joseph and Mary were not glum folk but were accepted by their friends and fellow townsmen as normal, everyday citizens. This proper picture is most important for our purpose. A one-sided presentation -- that the Holy Family exclusively thought of suffering -- would be erroneous. Their life could hardly have been the model of Catholic family life in all ages if they had permitted dread anticipation of the future to ruin their happiness constantly. It is interesting to recall that in Our Lady's Rosary there are only five Sorrowful Mysteries, but ten that are Joyful and Glorious. In an earlier chapter we spoke of the essential goodness of human nature and of everything created. Now, humor, lightheartedness, and song are creations of God and therefore must be good also. They have their place (and a very important place it is) in the life of every individual and family. True joy belongs to Christianity alone. We see the bleakness of the old pagan religions appearing in the activities of the gods, who were never pictured as laughing, but rather engaged in quarrels, jealous rivalry, and Bacchanalian feasts. There is a real need of a sense of humor and what is called common sense in family life. Undoubtedly, grave situations do arise at some time or other, but the ordinary husband and wife do not find their existence marked by constant crises. Rather, their life flows evenly, happily, and calmly. In your own case, if you were to dwell exclusively on weighty matters, believing that your religious observance was enhanced in proportion to your somber moods, you would merely be creating a useless trial for yourself and the rest of your family. Sadness cannot come from God but only from the enemy of all that is good. Idleness is not the devil's single workshop. Depression and moodiness serve him just as well. The cheery husband and wife at peace with God enjoy life without resorting to all sorts of expedients to have "a good time." Happiness comes to God's friends naturally and that is why we know that happiness came to Mary and Joseph in abundance. Even in making the application of the serious lessons in their lives, we must not infer that they knew nothing of lightheartedness. Certainly, they drew their example from Him Whose Spirit would later animate Saint Paul to write, "Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice.... Have no anxiety but in every prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving let your petitions be made known to God. And may the peace of God which surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. "For the rest, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever honorable, whatever just, whatever holy, whatever lovable, whatever of good repute, if there be any virtue, if anything worthy of praise, think upon these things.... And the God of peace will be with you" (Philipians 4:5, 6-9).
Chapter Six - The Magi
Who were the Magi? This is a much-discussed question to which no certain answer can be given. Probably, however, the "Wise men" were astrologer-priests of the Zoroastrian religion of Persia. Western Christianity thinks of them as the "Three Kings" because the liturgy for the age-old Feast of the Epiphany applies the text of Psalm 71, "The kings of Tharsis and the islands shall offer presents; the kings of the Arabians and of Sheba shall bring gifts; and all kings of the earth shall adore Him; all nations of the earth shall serve Him." When did the Magi come to Bethlehem? Apparently some time had elapsed after the birth of Christ. Since Herod later massacred "all the boys in Bethlehem who were two years old or under" (Matthew 2:16), Jesus was no more than two years old. We know that Herod died at Jericho about 4 B.C. after a lingering illness. He was not ill at the time the Magi visited him; that seems quite certain, for he was still living at Jerusalem. Evidently, then, the Magi visited Bethlehem during the year 6 or 5 B.C. How many Magi were there? Again we do not know! Early Christian art represents two; tradition of Catholics of the Latin rite mentions three; a memorial in the old Roman cemetery of Domitilla depicts four; and the tradition of the Catholics of the Eastern rites favors twelve. The Latin Catholics have called the Magi Gaspar, Melchior, and Balthasar; the Armenian Catholics give them the names of Kagba, Badadilma, etc.; and the Syrians, Larvandad, Hormisdas, Gushnasaph, and so forth up to twelve. There is the same divergence of opinion about the star which the Magi followed. Some writers hold that it was miraculous; others hold that it was probably an extraordinary conjunction of Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, and another heavenly body. The astronomer Kepler calculated that such a conjunction occurred in 7 and 6 B.C. By their contact with the Jews, the Persian astrologers may have been looking forward to the coming of the Messiah, the savior of the world. In their religion they believed that each person on earth was represented by his star in heaven. A most unusual sign in the sky would thus signify to them that the long-expected savior had come, and they would naturally go to the Jewish capital, Jerusalem, to find the exact spot where according to the Jewish prophets the Messiah would be born. For our sketch of the life of the Holy Family a most interesting feature of the story of the Magi is Saint Matthew's incidental comment, "And entering the house, they found the Child with Mary His mother" (Matthew 2:11). This seems to indicate that Christ was born in the stable only because of dire necessity. The Holy Family moved as soon as possible to a permanent residence in Bethlehem. The Magi presented gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Throughout the centuries spiritual writers have made much of the symbolic nature of these presents, but in reality the Magi probably had no idea when they set out on their journey that Christ was God. He would, they thought, be a great man, a savior of his people and of the world, perhaps a powerful conqueror. Accordingly, He deserved the gifts befitting nobility. It is more than a mere possibility that at the moment the visitors paid their homage to the infant King, a special grace illumined their souls, and they realized that their Creator lay before them, God in human form. The Magi were men of good will. They followed their conscience in what it told them was good and noble, and for this fidelity God was not to be outdone in generosity. He repaid them lavishly here on earth. They were the first Gentiles, representing the entire world, to behold the Redeemer. From this contact with the very Source of divine grace they must have won for themselves eternal life in its fullness. With us, too, God will not be outdone in generosity. Even though we are obliged to obey His commandments by reason of the fact that we are His creatures, in His goodness He will reward us for our fidelity as if we were doing Him a favor. Actually, because He is infinite, He needs nothing. By a triumph of His creative power He brought us out of nothingness, endowed with a free will. In other words He made us such faithful images of Himself that we have something to give Him freely and thus be repaid bountifully. Of course, our complete reward will not come until we have passed from this life of testing and pilgrimage into the life where the obscurity of faith is removed. Nevertheless, occasions usually occur faintly foreshadowing the munificence with which God will treat us. You yourself must certainly recall some instance when you were praying for a great favor, some spiritual or temporal grace which you needed urgently and which seemed to be for the good of your soul and body. The favor was granted -- and at that moment a spirit of thanksgiving overwhelmed you which made you feel that all the fidelity on your part was as nothing to make you worthy of receiving such a gift. God showed that He would not be outdone in generosity. Yet an experience of this sort can be at best an inadequate preview of the supernatural reward God has promised to those who love Him. If it were possible to feel shame in heaven, all of us would blush to the roots when we shall see with our own eyes so much from God in return for so little from us. That is why in this present moment we should build our "little" as high as possible, by giving back to our Creator the free will He bestowed on us, by the tribute of our faith in His word, our trust in His promises, our love of His goodness. As was mentioned in an earlier chapter, this course is not easy to follow when difficulties and discouragement come into your life. It is, however, at such a time that you can merit most, for you draw more on your love in making an act of faith in God's goodness when bereaevment or misfortune strikes. When your temporal fortunes are at high tide, it is easy to be strong in faith. By way of habit you ought to remember in times of evident blessing and prosperity that other times will come when you will not see so clearly that God is still directing your life. The words of Holy Scripture describe this attitude accurately: "If we have received good things from the Hand of God, why should we not receive evil? The Lord has given. and the Lord has taken away; as it has pleased the Lord, so is it done. Blessed be the name of the Lord" (Job 2:10; 1:21). This is the attitude of absolutely unshakable trust in God that brings down His superabundant blessings. God knows in His wisdom why He permits or sends what He does. We do not grasp these reasons, for our minds cannot comprehend the plans of creation which God has formulated from all eternity and which He is carrying out in time by means of His benign providence. We can, however, have the stanchest conviction that everything God does is for our good. With that attitude we rest content, leaving all our affairs in His Hands. "God will never be outdone in generosity" -- that is the principle without exception, ever true. Sometimes you will hear complaints, or perhaps you yourself may be tempted to complain against God's justice. You read of a lifelong criminal reared in the slums, led astray in his earliest years by hardened sinners, excelling in works of evil, and in the end dying miserably without remorse or the least preparation for eternity. Someone will say, "But the poor man never had a chance! Why should he be damned?" The answer is simple. We do not know that he is damned. God alone is aware of the state of that man's soul at the moment it appeared for judgment. We must, therefore, completely reserve all judgment on our part. A related case of this sort actually happened in one of our large cities, except that the criminal in question was baptized and received into the Church minutes before his death. Here the objection was not that the unfortunate fellow had lost his soul, for according to all external signs he saved it: but good Catholics were heard to complain that such a last-minute conversion was unfair to the faithful souls who had frequented the sacraments, performed arduous works of charity, and had in the words of the parable of the workers in the vineyard, "borne the heat of the day." It is correct doctrine that Baptism remits all temporal as well as eternal punishment, so that this particular criminal, dying immediately after Baptism, probably was received directly into heaven. On the other hand, so the complaint ran, the devoted Catholic, baptized in infancy, can die in the grace of God after a lifetime of service, yet some temporal punishment for forgiven mortal and venial sins can well remain, calling for purification in purgatory. "How can God be less fair, less generous?" Again the answer must be: "Reserve judgment!" God has His own way of evening all scores. Here on earth we see only part of the pattern of His providence. In the next life we shall see it all, and one of the greatest joys of heaven will be the answer to this problem. We shall behold the picture of all creation moving before our eyes, and all along it we shall see that justice and mercy have both triumphed, and God's generosity has always surpassed by far the generosity of the noblest of His creatures. In your own life the application is evident. If from your experience thus far you think God is treating you stingily your judgment is wrong. Perhaps you are the one at fault as far as stingy treatment is concerned. If, however, you are doing your best, the best that is in you, wait at least until the moving picture of your life is over. You will have all eternity to decide who has been more generous -- you or your Creator. Until then, wait! From the Magi you can learn that you will receive a reward tremendously greater than you expected. The visit of the Magi to the Infant Jesus has, however, a lesson equally as impressive as that of God's generosity. Theirs was the occasion of the first "Epiphany," the "showing-forth" of the Savior to the Gentile world which the Magi represented. In the early Church this feast, celebrated on January 6, rivaled and surpassed December 25 in liturgical importance (as it still does). The Christians of the first centuries considered the day of Christ's manifestation to the whole world even more momentous than the day of His birth. We in our twentieth century cannot easily understand how exclusive the worship of God in the Old Testament had been. The Hebrews were the Chosen People, and to them God confided the revelation of the one true God and the promise of the Redeemer to come. The Jews thus became a people set apart. Theirs was not the mission primarily to spread Jewry to the ends of the earth as the one and the only permanent religion. They were to preserve their heritage free from the abominations of the idolatry practiced by their pagan neighbors. They were to make converts if possible, but even here they were warned against the possibility of being corrupted (as history shows they repeatedly were corrupted) by the example of those with whom they came in contact. Fundamentally, they were to keep pure the worship of the one true God in preparation for the Messiah Who would make all things new. All this led to the mistaken notion that exclusiveness was an essential feature of the Kingdom of God. With the appearance of Christ all was changed. The years of promise were over, and the religion Jesus instituted was not to be a religion restricted to any one people or race or land. It was to be truly catholic. "Catholic" means universal, and universal means that it was to be made up of everyone everywhere. The Magi represented the multitudes of the Gentiles who were to accept the new faith when the Chosen People rejected their chance to be the first-fruits of Christ's redemption. That is why the visit of the Magi teaches the universality of the good tidings of Jesus Christ. The allness of the Church means that no one in the Church is permitted to treat any human (any potential member of the Church) in such a way as to deprive him of his basic human rights. All men have immortal souls, for whose salvation Christ died as much as for your own soul. The universality of Christ's redemption and of His Church brings before us a sharp conclusion: in God's sight there does not exist any inferior race or inferior people, and we are positively in the wrong and may be sinning against charity and justice if we treat any person unfairly because of his nationality, racial stock, or color. If we were to act thus, Mary and Joseph would be the first to reprehend us. At Bethlehem there were no sharp looks at a skin darkened by the sun of another land, no curt snubs given in return for sincere good will, no condescension as to inferiors. None of these -- for Joseph as head of the Holy Family was a just man, and Joseph knew that all men were sons of the same God, brothers in His creation. He understood that the Infant had come to save all men with no color-line distinction. Joseph treated the Magi for what they were, potential heirs of the Kingdom of Heaven, just as he and Mary were, with all the rights of human beings.
Or did Mary refuse to put the Babe into their arms to let them adore Him as grace told them Who He was? The answer is given by the shrines of Our Lady in every corner of the earth. There are madonnas that are Chinese and Mexican and Negro and French and Bohemian and Italian. In every land the Mother of God extends her universal welcome. If prejudice and early training or an unfortunate incomplete experience with a racial or national minority tend to make us forget the Church Universal, we have only to look at the Magi scene and then thank God that we were not the ones excluded on that day in Bethlehem. Had Christianity been reserved for the Jews alone (who after all, despite shortcomings preserved the knowledge of the true God and fought and died for it throughout so many centuries), would our supercilious treatment of other peoples still remain in us? Again, it is this same Saint Joseph, leading the foreign Magi to the Mother and Son, who is Patron of the Universal Church. The Church is Christ's family, and all of its members are His brothers because He has adopted them as His own in a special way. Mary is its mother, for Jesus gave her to us when He gave her to Saint John on Calvary. And Joseph, the foster father and protector of Jesus, thus becomes truly the father and protector of all the Church -- everyone, everywhere. The Magi "found the Child with Mary His mother." Wherever we seek the Child, we, too, will find Him with Mary His mother. Our best guide to Mary in turn is Saint Joseph, he who loves her more than any other creature and who is loved by her to the same degree. Familiarity dulls our perception. We hear so often of the unsurpassable holiness of the Mother of God that its magnificent attractiveness escapes us. Mary is one of ourselves, with a character so sweet that we cannot imagine its full tenderness. Her maternal compassion for all in this life is unbounded. Particularly will she aid mothers in their needs, for understanding what it means to be a mother, she understands how to love as a mother. To those who are making an effort to carry out the law of God in their lives she is ever gracious. Even to hardened and blinded sinners she is always the mother, seeking her lost children. In temptation, in difficulties of all sorts, go to Mary through Joseph. Mary will answer in some way or other every petition addressed to her. This is so certain that the Church has approved and indulgenced Saint Bernard's prayer, called the Memorare from its first word in Latin:
You will never fail to obtain the peace of Christ through your prayer to Mary, for in every instance you will find the Child with Mary His mother.
Chapter Seven - The Flight to Egypt
The rest of the story of the Magi is well known: how Herod jealously
tried to trap Jesus
in order to kill Him, and how God
in His providence warned
the Magi not to return to Herod to tell him the whereabouts of the Babe.
Herod made another attempt to murder Jesus,
even at the cost of massacring the boys of Bethlehem (of whom there must have been at most forty "two years
old or under").
Because of the necessity of secrecy, Joseph probably did not lead Jesus and Mary to the coast and then southward along it to Egypt; that route was too well traveled. Choosing the more difficult way, he went directly south in order to cross Palestine's boundaries as soon as possible. The legends locate the Egyptian home in Memphis, but it seems more likely that Jesus, Mary, and Joseph settled in the Jewish colony at Alexandria. Their trip from Bethlehem took at least twelve days and was about 350 miles long. As on that earlier trip from Nazareth to Bethlehem, Mary rode on an ass, but now she was holding Jesus in her arms while Joseph trudged alongside.
Since the Holy Family stayed in Egypt until after Herod's death (which occurred in 4 B.C.), their exile probably lasted about four years -- from 6 to 3 or 2 B.C. In our past glimpses of the life of the Holy Family we have had several occasions to point out the workings of God's providence in directing their course. In all the infancy and hidden life of Christ the story of the flight into Egypt teaches more forcibly than any other incident that God's ways are not man's ways, and that God in the end always obtains His purposes despite the deliberate attempts of man to frustrate His designs. Herod was determined to murder the Infant. He craftily plotted in secrecy; God made use of extraordinary means to bring into the open Herod's hidden designs. The cruel monarch ordered a mass bloody execution; again God, without any great effort on His part (as it would seem to us), removed the Child Jesus and His mother safely from the clutches of the tyrant. Except for the angel's warning to Joseph, no special miracle was involved. If we marvel at God's providence at work ("providence" means "seeing before," "planning ahead"), equally must we marvel at Joseph's obedience. Here is the perfect example of a creature's co-operation with the plan of his Creator. Joseph did not know the future. God alone knew what He was going to accomplish. Joseph blindly obeyed the angel, realizing that eventually he would see that this plan of action was the best because it had been ordered by God. Was it easy for him to act thus -- or is it ever easy to act on blind faith in God's promises? If it were, the good Lord would hardly have rewarded His loved ones so munificently for their faith. All through His life Jesus seemed to place a high premium on people's faith in Him and in His divine mission. He knew that they were acting against the sense of pride and material self-sufficiency which dictates, "I know what is best, I have intelligence enough to judge what is good for myself, and I believe no more than I see!" So often our Lord's words dealt with faith and its reward:
Always, the Sacred Heart of Jesus responded most warmly to the persons who had faith in Him, who trusted Him, who believed His words and His prophecies, even though they did not perceive at the moment how He would accomplish His ends. We can well understand, then, with what joy the eyes of the Babe looked up at Saint Joseph and saw him obeying promptly without a word of complaint or questioning. The angel had said, "Take the Child and His mother, and flee into Egypt, for Herod will seek to destroy Him." That was all Joseph needed. "He took the Child and His mother and withdrew into Egypt." It is the contemplation of this scene that has brought so many great writers and preachers to point out the rich depths of Joseph's character. Knowing what we do of Christ's later appreciation of those persons who had faith in Him, we see now why the Babe beheld His foster father with special approval. In a human way we could venture that Joseph's faith was enough to make even God marvel and say, "Truly have I selected a remarkable man to be My foster father on earth, a worthy companion and husband for Mary -- the wife who had heard from the lips of Elizabeth, that blessed was she who had believed, because the things promised her by the Lord should be accomplished." However, our admiration of the workings of God's providence and of Joseph's faith and obedience must not stop at mere admiration. Practically, in our own lives we must apply the lessons before us. We must draw strength from the manner in which God justified His wisdom. Difficult times can easily occur, when our trust in His providence will be sorely tried. On such occasions we will need all the strength we now have, and perhaps more. God for His part will give us sufficient grace; nonetheless, the struggle can be most difficult, and sometimes the outcome will remain long in the balance. To understand God's providence completely is impossible, as we have commented so often. God is infinite, our minds are finite. Here on this earth we cannot see the why and the wherefore of all events because we do not see the whole picture. But for God everything is one eternal present. Before Him lies all creation, from its beginning to its end. He beholds good rewarded, evil punished, and His own justice and mercy vindicated. For us during the time of our pilgrimage and testing we are looking at only the reverse side of the tapestry of creation. Hence, our judgments about divine providence are of necessity woefully incomplete. There is one way of completing their evidence, and that is the way of faith. On God's word we know that He is all-good, all-powerful, all-just, all-merciful. Nothing can happen in the world without His permission. We know, too, that He has created man with a free will. By this fact of creation He has implicitly pledged Himself not to interfere directly with the workings of that free will. He will help, He will coax, advise, admonish, but He will never force that will. Of course, we do not deny that there is a mystery here, for while man's free will ever works in full liberty despite the infinite power of God, nevertheless God's omnipotence somehow governs all things despite the freedom of man. Joseph and Mary in their superlative sanctity trusted in God almost automatically. We, however, weak and inclined to sin, must study their reasons for such trust. We have to learn these reasons as a child learns his lessons at school, so that they will be at hand to strengthen us when trials come. At the moment we obey God's providence, at the moment we trust in His goodness, we will be using the same motives Joseph and Mary used in their marvelous obedience: God is all-good and will never permit us to be tempted beyond our strength. Our vision on earth is always hampered unless we remember that temporal and created things are only means to our salvation. Life here simply is not the final goal. If it were, death would be the greatest tragedy possible.
Is this apathy? Not at all. An apathetic man shrinks back and refuses to do anything to reject misfortune. He does not have even the positive reaction of accepting for God's sake a trial which he cannot avoid. Nor is this the stoicism of the old pagans or the spinelessness of the decrepit and debasing religions of the Orient. Active conformity to God's will elevates human nature, enlightens it, lifts it to the level of the divine plan. Although you yourself do not know the exact reason why God desires this or that course in your regard, you are willing that it come to you because you know that the good Lord has chosen it for you. Relying on His word, you accept it willingly. Such trust can reach the heroic. This trust in Divine Providence is not a substitute for personal effort. Only after we have done all we can, may we leave ourselves in God's Hands complacently. In such an event our trust will never be fruitless. Perhaps you can see from all these considerations why the Church has richly indulgenced the act of resignation to death: "O my God, I accept gladly and calmly whatever death it may please Thee to send me with its pain, anguish, and suffering." To make this act of resignation -- or better still, should we not call it an act of conformity? -- to make it only once during a lifetime is sufficient to gain a plenary indulgence at the hour of death provided we have confessed our sins, received Communion, and prayed for the intention of the Holy Father at the time we say the prayer. As a daily habit, offer yourself to Divine Providence every morning. If in advance you accept what God will send for the day, you will be ready in advance. Your strength to bear the light Crosses and trials -- as well as the occasional heavy ones -- will be increased a hundredfold. The offering is simple. It can be made at home in a moment, on a busy street corner, anywhere, anytime. "My God, I accept whatever Cross and death it may please Thee to send me, whatever you send this very day." And why? "...for love of Thee." There is the great motive: "for love of Thee." Your faith has flowered into love, for in making the act of loving conformity to God's will, you are making at the same time a deep act of faith such as Christ rewarded in all His dear ones. You are trusting the good Lord for all the strength necessary. You have no fear that you will be "snowed under" by troubles. As we have already insisted, people fear that God will take advantage of their generosity if they explicitly accept what He will send them. No! In the ordinary case they undergo the same trials they would have encountered in any event. The only difference is that they themselves are changed: now no longer complaining or reluctant, but actively conformed to God's will. This conformity does not mean that you must feel perfectly calm and happy in your knowledge that you are doing what God wants you to do. The mistake of assuming that feelings are the will is only too common. To put the matter simply, what you deliberately desire is the product of your will, a rational faculty. What you feel is the product of your sense nature. It is a fact of experience that we do not have complete dominion over our sense nature. Feelings come unwanted and remain even after we wish to be rid of them. In the moral order this rebellion of our sense desires against our intellectual nature is called "concupiscence." Before Adam and Eve sinned, they were free from concupiscence and had their feelings under perfect control. However, in our own case, because of original sin our sense nature is attracted to all sorts of objects no matter whether they are good or evil. This involuntary attraction is not formally sinful in the slightest degree. Only in an analogous sense can it be called sinful, for by its drawing power it acts as temptation that inclines men to sin. What we say here of rebellious feelings, not in conformity with God's will, is equally true of temptations against faith or against purity. Your rule for judging such thoughts should be this: "Do I want to think of this or not?" If you can truthfully say that you do not want a rebellious, blasphemous, or unchaste thought -- no matter how attractive it may feel -- you need merely disregard the temptation, treating it with absolute contempt. Because of this disregard the feeling will usually disappear of its own accord because it ceases to receive attention. In all matters of this kind, it is essential to draw your attention into some legitimate, interesting channel. You can easily perceive why it is dangerous to try to fight directly against thoughts of unchastity, complaints against God, or doubts against faith. The more attention you concede such thoughts, the stronger they are to tempt you. That is why the discreet, and actually the braver method of action, is to conquer them by flight. The testimony of psychologists is very clear: certain types of thoughts should be banished by oblique defense rather than frontal attack. It is somewhat imprudent to judge yourself according to this norm: "Did I take pleasure in an illicit thought?" The difficulty in applying this standard to your conduct lies in your inability to find what degree of pleasure was voluntary, to what extent you perhaps consented to it. More safe and reliable is the rule we have already set down: "Did I want it or not?" Perhaps this further consideration of judging our thoughts seems to have taken us far afield from our glimpse of Joseph's perfect conformity to God's will. In reality we have been considering explicitly all that would be implicitly included in Joseph's method of acting. Since Joseph was so great a saint, he obeyed God in complete peace of heart. We, however, must take more elementary means which Joseph in his heights of generosity did not have to employ, in order to keep our service of God from becoming a burden which it should not be. In Saint Paul's words, our service should be reasonable. All the generosity in the world will be of little avail if we fail to use prudent helps. Our service of God can and should be made at least as attractive as the sin and the selfishness which attempt to draw our hearts with the alluring glitter of their fool's gold. For example, in the very instance of conformity with God's
will which we have been considering, let us suppose that you begin bravely
to accept every incident God permits
to befall you. While following your high ideals in yeoman fashion, rebellious
thoughts of one sort or another come into your mind.
If you thereupon stop all your progress and concentrate on obliterating
these thoughts (out of a mistaken notion
that by direct attack you could be free of them), the struggle is exhausting. It would
eventually become so one-sided that your entire campaign of following God's will in your daily life would be discarded
out of discouragement and disgust. On the other hand,
sheer contempt and lack of notice of such temptations
would prevent their further effectiveness against you. Very often the devil does not use violent temptations against good folk who try to serve God as best they can. Such people are too generous, too alert, to fall into an open pit. But they are a prey to a snare -- discouragement; and the best hook on which to hang discouragement (as Satan knows from long experience with the human race) is the idea of failure. On the road to Egypt Joseph might have given in to this discouragement as a result of his apparent failure. After all, who was he? What success had he achieved? God had chosen him to be the foster father of Jesus Christ, God made Man. He was the husband and the guardian of the virgin Mother of God; but to correspond with that dignity what had he accomplished? He was only a carpenter in moderate circumstances at best. When Jesus was born, he could offer Him not even moderate comfort. For some reason or other, despite his best efforts he could find only a stable for the Christ Child. He was a member of the Holy Family, that was true. Was he worthy to be the foster father of God Incarnate or the husband of the Blessed Virgin, of her who was chosen to be the Mother of God? Amid such sanctity any human being might feel that he is the worst sinner or at least potentially the most craven of souls. And, of all things, Joseph had authority over these two holiest! He, the carpenter of Nazareth, had been made the head of this Holy Family, and he was only Joseph, a failure. Of course Joseph did not reason in this fashion. He could have done so had he been like ourselves. In these reasonings of false humility we see the virus of discouragement grow out of the thought of failure. In God's eyes there is only one kind of grave failure, and that failure is the loss of one's soul. If you save your soul, you are essentially a success. In God's sight, no matter how you may have failed in temporalities, you are a success. In advising someone else it is a very simple thing to dispose of the problem of failure by saying that faintheartedness comes from wounded pride, and that discouragement could be avoided if one were perfectly humble. But it is an entirely different matter to feel in yourself the crippling, crushing burden that weighs down your heart and converts every sweet joy and pleasure into galling reminders of apparently unattainable happiness and satisfaction. The reasons can be so many. A man starts early in life to found a business. It fails. A woman enters on a promising marriage. She meets sickness, estrangement, or worse. Parents may sacrifice everything they have and everything they are for the sake of their children. The children callously run off into wild, unhappy marriages or lose the faith. All such tragedies cut down the promise of a lifetime at its root and seem to spell but one word: failure. Of course these are not ordinary occurrences, and they will probably never happen in your life; but you ought to remember the attitude Jesus and Mary and Joseph would have in order to help other people in difficult situations of this type. By means of your warmhearted sympathy you can bring comfort and consolation to those in distress or bereavement, and you can thus accomplish a vast amount of good as an instrument of God's mercy and love. Most people occasionally feel they are failures in the little things of life, such as the constant monotony of working for years without promotion, or simply the humdrum raising of a family. Yet as we have repeatedly insisted, this so-called humdrum raising of a family can be a very holy, happy experience; and the spirit of faith and unselfishness in family life is lavishly rewarded by the love and gratitude it evokes in others. For some persons the idea of failure occurs in their spiritual life. They have been waging a gallant struggle against strong temptation or a strong habit which they never completely overcome. After months and years of successfully making more and more progress, they still feel discouraged. The thought strikes them, "Why try any more? You're still tempted. You're a failure." To such false reasonings there is only one answer needed, just as Joseph would have answered the false difficulties put to him on the road to Egypt: "Sacred Heart of Jesus, I trust in Thee." The fact is that temptation in itself is never sinful. To resist temptation steadfastly is a great virtue. Perseverance in doing good should have but one result -- buoyant inspiration and zest for the future.
Chapter Eight - The Loss of Jesus"But when Herod was dead, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt, saying, `Arise, take the Child and His mother, and go into the land of Israel, for those who sought the Child's life are dead.' So he arose and took the Child and His mother and went into the land of Israel. But hearing that Archelaus was reigning in Judea in place of his father Herod, he was afraid to go there; and being warned in a dream, he withdrew into the region of Galilee. And he went and settled in a town called Nazareth. And the Child grew and became strong. He was full of wisdom and the grace of God was upon Him" (Matthew 2:19-23; Luke 2:40). It is quite noteworthy that Joseph carefully studied the political conditions of Judea before he settled there with his two Charges. Finding the reign of Archelaus potentially as dangerous as that of his father Herod, Joseph decided not to reside in Bethlehem but to travel eighty miles farther north to Nazareth in Galilee, which was under different rule. His actions confirm our previous estimate of his great character -- a character prudent, brave, trusting in God's word, yet not presuming that miracles would occur when human foresight and initiative would be sufficient to protect the life of the Christ Child. We can hardly make the same claim for ourselves in our own lives. When problems arise that call for immediate adjustment, we pray to God for help, almost expecting miracles to solve our difficulties. Of course, the spirit of faith and trust in God that such prayer indicates is highly laudable; and if our prayer is sincere, God will infallibly help us in one way or another. The point to remember, however, is that God in His wisdom has chosen a certain order of providence. The events which we call "ordinary" in this present order would be most stupendous miracles if God had chosen to run this world according to a different plan. Because they happen every day, we often fail to see how unswervingly they point to the wisdom and love of the Creator. The sun, for instance, rises and sets daily with precision more perfect than that of any clock; and this precision affects not only our one sun with its system of planets and its moon, but the entire vast universe with its thousands of such suns already known to us and its possible billions of which we know nothing. And all these bodies whirl in space so far extended that its huge dimensions lose meaning for our minds. You yourself speak with a fluent tongue resulting partially from a wonderful system of nervous telegraphy in your body. You present a pleasing appearance because of the health maintained in you by an automatic chemical equilibrium that is far more delicate and self-adjusting than anything possible in our best-equipped laboratories. You work with a stamina governed by the minute secretions of glands whose intricate internal structure and operations are still largely a scientific mystery. In other words God has chosen a certain order and kind of events within which He is exercising His omnipotence. He wishes us to utilize the facilities which we find at hand in this order. Only as a means of convincing incredulous human nature (and for reasons He alone fully comprehends) will He interfere with the order He has established. The lesson is simple, yet so hard to learn for all of us. It is the lesson Jesus, Mary, and Joseph have exemplified throughout: Pray as if all depended on your prayers, and co-operate with your prayer by working as if all depended on your work. Nor should you be surprised when your prayer will be answered -- most likely in an ordinary way! Such are our thoughts as we travel north with the Holy Family toward Nazareth. The years of exile are over, and now the Three are returning to the spot which for thirty years will witness the hidden life of the God of all creation. It will be a quiet life of obscurity, so overwhelmingly ordinary as to convince even the most skeptical that Christ actually did come on earth to redeem and to teach the ordinary man and woman, the "man on the street." Of the period of the hidden life we are told only one incident -- touching, human, yet veiled with mystery -- the loss of Jesus in the Temple, and His painful separation from Joseph and Mary.
It was a custom for Joseph and Mary to make the yearly trip to the Temple at Jerusalem to celebrate the Feast of the Passover. Whether or not they took Jesus with them on each occasion we do not know. However, since their Son's obligations as a Jew would formally begin with His twelfth, or as others claim with His thirteenth year, they brought Him with them on this occasion which Saint Luke describes, to perform His duties as a faithful Jew, or else at least to familiarize Him with these obligations. It may appear puzzling why Jesus, God Himself, would have to be familiarized with the duties of a faithful Jew. Did He not know all things? As God, indeed, Jesus had infinite knowledge, and as man He received abundantly all infused knowledge He would need for His mission here. However, in addition to this, He willed to be educated and to learn by experience just like every other ordinary person. His purpose was always the same: to be as much like us as possible.
Mary and Joseph committed no fault of carelessness in losing Jesus. For one thing, as He was to say Himself, He willed to remain in Jerusalem as the Eternal Father willed Him to do. Moreover, at the Passover it was customary for the Jewish boys to be grouped in a sort of catechism class. When their caravan would be due to leave the Holy City, they might travel together just as their fathers and mothers traveled in separate groups. After the slow first day's ride the family groups would reunite at evening at the first khan or caravansary several miles outside of Jerusalem. It was here that Mary met Joseph. Jesus was not to be found. We can hardly realize how much Joseph and Mary suffered at this moment. In our own lives we question God if He sends us suffering; but can we ever wonder and complain at our lot after we see here the two holiest of God's creatures being given a cup of sorrow directly from the Hand of their loving Son, God Incarnate? From the depths of His own love for Mary and Joseph, Jesus willed to remain in the Temple, knowing the agony which He would cause His parents. There was a higher obedience here which Jesus respected. Joseph and Mary remembered what the inspired prophets had written. The Messiah, the Savior of the world, was to be a man of sorrows, and He was to redeem mankind by means of suffering. But Joseph and Mary were not God; and from every indication given us by the Gospels, they themselves were not apprised of the exact future, the moment when their Son would lay down His life for His adopted brothers. The two loved Him as their Son with the love of parents. They loved Him as their God as only the two peerless saints of all ages could love Him. Nonetheless, they were always still His creatures, and they recognized their position perfectly. For all that Mary and Joseph were aware, the time for the Redemption might have arrived. Perhaps at this very moment Jesus was being subjected to the indignities and vicious attacks that were to make Him "despised and the most abject of men." His parents could not deny that they had lost Him through no fault of their own, but they always felt themselves as the two to whom He had been entrusted.
And yet how all this suffering bound Joseph to Mary and Mary to Joseph! Before, they had been united closely, as closely as possible. Now, that "possible" was increased by this suffering together. They were one as they otherwise never could have been. At this moment of desolation, with Jesus gone -- they knew not where or why or how -- they had only each other. In our own day we often pray to our Blessed Mother and offer her our sympathy in this dolor. What is our sympathy compared to that of Mary's husband? Do we realize what Joseph meant to Mary in that moment of anguish? His was the heart most closely attuned to hers, emptied of self-love in its love for her. How true it is that God, even while He permits or sends the bitterest suffering, sweetens it with some consolation to make it easier to bear! In this case, when the presence of the Sacred Heart of Jesus was withdrawn from Mary, the heart that comforted her was, after her own, the heart closest to Him Whom she had lost. Suffering is like a powerful drug. Bringing out all the nobility of the human soul, it can bind husband and wife (just as it bound Mary and Joseph) more closely than all the love of prosperous times. On the other hand, if accepted with bitterness and resentment, it acts as a force to separate even the closest of hearts and to expose the selfishness and cowardice that all of us know lie hidden in our hearts. In your own experience you have undoubtedly witnessed the tenderness of a generous husband toward a sickly wife. Perhaps you have heard a widow courageously tell of her satisfaction that she was the one who was left behind to fight life's battles, because her "George" or "Bill" or "Tom" could never have fought alone if she had been the one who was taken first by death. These are the people who in this twentieth century mirror in their lives the mutual support and affection that Joseph and Mary shared on that evening two thousand years ago, when clammy fear gripped Our Lady's heart and troubled the deep calm that had characterized Joseph's conduct in every previous trial.
"And it came to pass after three days that they found Him in the Temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, both listening to them and asking them questions. And all who were listening to Him were amazed at His understanding, and His answers. And when they saw Him, they were astonished. And His mother said to Him, `Son, why hast Thou done so to us? Behold, Thy father and I have been seeking Thee sorrowing.' And He said to them, `How is it that you sought Me? Did you not know that I must be about My Father's business?' And they did not understand the word that He spoke to them" (Luke 2:46-50) If Joseph and Mary did not understand at that time the meaning of this desolation, their loss of their dearly beloved Son, how can we expect to do so now? We reverently wait in patience, knowing that one day in heaven we shall understand (as they already have understood) how and why God sent this Cross to bless those whom He loved most. Together with Joseph and Mary, we can say that this is our mystery also. We do, however, learn this with certainty: Jesus evidently willed to separate Himself from His parents to show us that God's will must come first, above all human ties, even if the preference will cause pain. If the loss in the Temple had never occurred, we in our day might have said, "God willed something in my life which was a source of much pain to me. Was it a punishment of sin? Or am I one of the unlucky ones who are not favorites of the Almighty as were Joseph and Mary?" Now we cannot have even a pretense of justification for our complaint. The so-called favorites of the Almighty are not wrapped in heavenly bliss during their lives on earth. They have been subjected to obedience to the will of God not only as much as, but tremendously more than we have ever been or shall be. Jesus wished to indicate that His mission on earth was more important than His tenderest and closest ties. Years later, in the Garden of Gethsemani, He would show that His mission was -- in a certain sense -- even more important than any other consideration in His life: "Father, not My will but Thine be done!" The conduct of Joseph and Mary is a good example for all parents to follow when they discern the seeds of a priestly or religious vocation in their children. Mary and Joseph perceived that Jesus had reasons of His own for bringing about the temporary separation, painful though it might be; but those reasons were God's reasons, and it was not in the province of His creatures, even the two closest to the Creator, to dispute them. Mother and father will discern that their children have reasons of their own for wishing to leave home, and if those reasons are based on the desire to devote their lives entirely to the service of God, mother and father, like Mary and Joseph, will wholeheartedly acquiesce. Ordinarily, good Catholic parents will make no objection when their children find suitable partners and leave home life to found a family of their own. It is painfully surprising that sometimes these same parents are the most reluctant to permit their sons and daughters to take up lives consecrated to God in the seminary or convent. One of the most common and most shallow of arguments used to dissuade such vocations is the fallacy that the close ties of family life will thus be sundered irrevocably. Actually, a strange paradox occurs. In the religious and priestly life spiritual bonds unite parents and children much more strongly than did the former links of home life. In the case of those children who choose marriage, the objection is not made; yet it is of the very nature of married life that husband and wife relinquish their dependent connections with father and mother in order to devote themselves entirely to each other and to the home of which they are now the new founders. In the ideal Catholic home parents pray that God will call at least one of their progeny to His service. The honor of serving God specially by His own invitation is an honor bestowed on the whole family. In such a family the entire atmosphere is favorable to the development of a vocation, but at the same time there is no "forcing" of a son to look toward the priesthood or of a daughter to desire convent life. All imprudent and reprehensible urgings of an overfond parent are definitely out of place in a case where the children themselves evince no desire to follow Christ's call. They probably have not been called. Moreover, a vocation to the priesthood or to religious life as a lay brother or a nun is an invitation, not a command. To repeat: the proper attitude is neither to exert undue influence where the vocation does not exist, nor to attempt to discourage it where it does exist. If, however, hindrances are placed in the children's way, they can well reply in the words of the boy Christ that they "must be about their Father's business." A higher call has come to them, and no one has the right to interfere. In cases where interference does occur from an importunate parent, selfishly wishing to monopolize the child's affection for a lifetime, it can often be traced to the lack of realization that the years of helpless infancy and childhood are over. The once dependent boys and girls are now entering on their own lives, and they begin to possess their own rights. As parents, there should be no regret on your part that the children have at last arrived at the age of choosing their state in life. This is the time when the grandeur of your vocation as parents is ripening into full maturity. In earlier years you were sowing the seeds of your children's character by the good example and the training you gave them. Now you have the opportunity of seeing your efforts rewarded. If your son seeks the priesthood, if your daughter wishes to enter the convent, you have the joy of knowing that you have been instrumental in helping to bring forth another life consecrated to the service of God. On the other hand, if your children enter married life, your happiness will be full provided that you have given your own example of holy married life to stand out in their minds as the ideal they wish to imitate directly. All these considerations look only to the present life. The ultimate norm is eternity. The manner in which you raised your children can be judged correctly in the light of what you did to assist them to save their souls. You have a special interest in those souls. By your own action you co-operated with God's own creative power. At the moment of conception God co-operated with your parental act to create and infuse those immortal souls whose destiny you were to influence. There was the essential dignity of your parenthood. Its corresponding responsibility was to mold and guide these children entrusted to you. Why, then, should you feel regret and sorrow if you see the members of your family embarking on careers that are likely to bring them safely into their eternal destiny? The only possible regret and worry would be in the event that by your own negligence your children's salvation would be seriously imperiled. In another fashion the stewardship of parents may be terminated by the angel of death, taking one of their charges prematurely. It is pitiful to behold the broken hearts of fathers and mothers who have lost children in infancy or at any time before adult life has been reached. By all means it is a most difficult Cross, but their sorrow should be softened and sweetened by thoughts such as those on which we have been reflecting. God, the loving Master, has seen fit to take an account of His stewards earlier than ordinary. The child was entrusted to his Catholic father and mother to be prepared for eternity, as every child is entrusted. God has taken him to heaven perhaps before the inevitable frailties of human nature could tarnish the freshness of the gift of sanctifying grace he received in Baptism. As for the parents, their work is done with regard to their youngster. They can look forward now to a family in two worlds, represented by a saint in heaven praying for his brothers and sisters, and father and mother still on earth. These are not merely comforting thoughts enunciated here for the solace they impart. They participate in the absolute truth of our faith, and they are not true because they are comforting, but they are comforting because they are true. Bereaved parents can look to the bereavement of Joseph and Mary as they seek Jesus in the courts of the Temple. From Joseph and Mary they will receive the peace of Christ, and solace and hope in the day when once again their family like the Holy Family shall know the satisfying joy of reunion -- reunion in God.
Chapter Nine - The Hidden Life
Jesus returns with His parents to Nazareth, and Holy Scripture draws a veil over the hidden life of the next nearly twenty years. The Son of God faces the vast task of redeeming the world. At the same time with the purpose of being our perfect model He chooses to live a life of obscurity, prayer, and obedience amid the drab monotony of commonplace everyday life. If we would ask a proof that Christ came on earth to teach us by His example, the hidden life at Nazareth should more than satisfy us. Very few people are in the limelight. Most of us find our lives extremely ordinary. Even the relatively few who mount to fame find that the glamor and the glory soon pass, and that their private lives are fundamentally just as obscure as those of the rest of their fellows. Throughout His life on this earth Jesus was constantly making use of common things to teach us the ways of holiness. In the sacraments He elevated such everyday materials as water and oil, and bread and wine into signs that impart the grace of God Himself. So, too, He did in the case of this most common of all commodities -- obscurity. By taking on Himself an obscure life, He wished to show all men that holiness was possible and was easily attainable in a life known only to God, hidden from the world, perhaps even despised by arrogant worldlings for its lowly seclusion. Christ's obscurity, however, was not only that of an individual; it was also that of a family. Jesus recognized that a very small proportion of families would have to undergo persecution similar to that which beset the Holy Family in those early years, as when after the divinely foreseen circumstances of the Nativity and the visit of the Magi there followed the hostility of a jealous king, the need of flight to a strange land and exile there. Christ was aware of all this; and although the lessons of His first years were immensely valuable, nevertheless He willed to approach now closer to the life of the average family. He approximated this average life so closely that it would seem Saint Luke finds nothing special to relate of it -- no miracles, no preaching, no teaching of new and sublime doctrine, none of the intense martyrdom of suffering which the Passion and Crucifixion were later to bring. How successfully Jesus, Mary, and Joseph played their part in the humdrum town life of Nazareth can be judged by the incredulous remarks of their neighbors when later they refused to believe in the divinity of Christ's mission. "Is not this the carpenter's Son? Is not His mother called Mary?" (Matthew 13:55.) What, then, does Christ's obscurity mean for us? It means that we are not to give up striving for a more perfect service of God merely because our life is ordinary, humble, average. More important, however, must be our utilization of Christ's obscurity to resist temptations against trust in God as our loving Father. Such temptations cleverly allege, "You aren't anyone in particular -- why should God care for you? - - you don't have the great sanctity of Mary and Joseph and the saints -- you are living in family life out in the world, not in a monastery or convent. Why do you think that Almighty God should have a special place in His heart for your concerns and your prayers?" The temptation is insidious. Worse still, it is very, very common. Only God knows whether or not it succeeds in preventing people who live in the world from loving Him trustingly and with an open heart. Christ's obscurity brings to the fore one salient fact: the value of our life is measured only by what we are in God's sight -- not by any human standard, not even by our "feelings" that we are more or less progressing in our religious duties. God alone sees our will. He alone knows our strength and the graces given to help us. He alone is aware of the full nature of the difficulties that beset us. Hence, He alone is capable of judging us worthy of reward or punishment. Fame in the world means absolutely nothing in itself with regard to our salvation and perfection. How we might use that fame is, of course, important; but whether or not we are known by millions, or by a handful, our position in God's sight is shielded from the prying gaze of the world. For God, our true value lies in the inner life of humility, patience, and the other virtues. This is the life hidden with Christ in God, ever to be cultivated and esteemed above all else. The lesson of obscurity is not difficult to understand when applied in this manner to the difference between worldly and supernatural standards. More involved (because requiring more supernatural faith) is the application of obscurity to purely supernatural matters. For example, a great preacher works many conversions from his sermons; a radio orator succeeds in spreading universal good will toward the Church; deathbed repentances and conversions are multitudinous; huge numbers of people outside the Church die in apparent good faith, and in all likelihood have saved their souls by obeying God as their conscience indicated to them. Who prayed and worked and suffered for all this apostolic harvest? Christ's merits, of course, primarily brought it about; but cooperation with grace is also required, and in God's providence the grace to co-operate with another grace often seems to depend on the prayer or the good deed of some generous soul, offered for the purpose. Do you see now what is meant by "supernatural obscurity"? You may be living your life in what you think is a very ordinary way. In God's sight, on the contrary, you are waging a courageous battle against temptation; you are fulfilling the duties of your state of life with superior fidelity; and in general you are consistently carrying out the two great commandments of love of God manifested in love of neighbor. What of the graces you are possibly winning for the spread of Christ's spiritual kingdom? The fact that you may be ignorant of their existence does not nullify their efficacy, nor does it make your actions less pleasing in God's sight. In this manner a life that exteriorly appears to be very ordinary and very average may in reality be highly effective in the supernatural order. This is the exercise of charity, not merely for the good of the body, but also for the benefit of the soul.
Christ our Lord referred to the reward awaiting charity when He described His position as Judge at the great final Judgment: Come, blessed of My Father, take possession of the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry, and you gave Me to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me to drink; I was a stranger, and you took Me in; naked and you covered Me; sick and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me. Then the just will answer Him, saying, Lord, when did we see Thee hungry and feed Thee; or thirsty, and give Thee drink? And when did we see Thee a stranger, and take Thee in; or naked, and clothe Thee? Or when did we see Thee sick or in prison, and come to Thee? And answering, the King will say to them, Amen, I say to you, as long as you did it for one of these, the least of My brethren, you did it for Me. (Matthew 25:34-40). Jesus revealed in these words how much good is accomplished without its recognition in this life. In the case of supernatural obscurity, where good deeds win graces for the spread of Christ's kingdom, the application is equally as strong as if those good deeds were done for the welfare of the bodies instead of the souls of others. Another benefit to be derived from the sight of Christ's obscurity is a new motive against failure: a confidence that no failure can crush. If all our essential value lies only in what we are in God's sight, then what we are in the sight of the world means nothing in case we fail, even miserably. True, our feelings may perhaps react strongly, and our self-appreciation may decline because of our inability to establish ourselves in social or business prestige; but basically, deep down in our soul, we possess ourselves in peace. We cannot lose our trust in God when we lose our fame or fortune, because we know invincibly that fame and fortune are worthless in God's reckoning. Men and women with no religion, with no faith in an all-good God Who will never desert them or judge them unfairly -- these are the ones who, when temporal disaster crushes them, seek to compensate for their loss by temporarily drowning their sorrow in sin, or even by cutting off their existence in this world. How different is the case with the person who recognizes his obscurity and perceives that his actual success is to be weighed by what God reads in his soul! A businessman of the author's acquaintance was an almost complete failure throughout his entire career. He died too penniless to be a bankrupt. Nonetheless, his was a holy death, for he had always striven to serve God and his fellow men, to be a faithful father and husband, a generous provider for his family. Financially he accomplished nothing. Again-and-again throughout the years his best efforts seemed to amount to a sort of anti-Midas touch that blighted and withered what had previously been successful business ventures. The secret of his constant confidence for the future, the hope that buoyed him up even in his darkest moments, was this knowledge that his conscience gave him: "What you are in God's sight, counts. What the world thinks you are, does not count. Try again. God knows you are trying, and that you are not succeeding, but it is for no selfishness or sin on your part. Try again." It was this supernatural faith and trust that not only bore up his morale but even saved his reason. Such are the lessons of the obscurity of the hidden life. No matter what the conditions of your life may be, sanctify them by offering them to God Almighty as so many prayers of adoration, thanksgiving, reparation, and petition. This, your "hidden life" on earth, will be the glorious life in God's sight which you will see credited as merit when your turn comes to stand before the tribunal of our blessed Lord. Another great lesson of the Holy Family at Nazareth lay in the prayer they constantly practiced. Jesus, of course, was God, but in His created human nature He could and did pray to His Father. We must always remember in speaking of Jesus that His Incarnation is a mystery of mysteries, second only to the fact of the Blessed Trinity in being august and unfathomable, by our intellects. Jesus was divine, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity, and God by nature equal to the Father and the Holy Spirit. He united in Himself the nature of God and the nature of man. How this was accomplished we cannot understand. We simply know that it was done, and that it was by this means that He could pray to God His Father while being God Himself. Since the Holy Family observed the Jewish law in its perfection, we can deduce quite accurately what prayers they recited. The Psalms, of course, were the favorites. Three times a day Jesus, Mary, and Joseph said the Tephillah, "The Prayer," consisting of eighteen long invocations and blessings. Joseph (and later Jesus when He attained to manhood) was obliged to say the Shema, a sort of profession of faith in the one true God, twice daily. A very interesting Jewish custom of prayer that must have been observed in the house at Nazareth was that of the Mezuzah, "the doorpost," and the "phylacteries," small square calfskin boxes with Scripture texts written on parchment inside them. One of these texts was part of the Shema that Joseph recited: "Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one Lord. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart and with thy whole soul and with thy whole strength. And these words which I command thee this day shall be in thy heart; and thou shalt tell them to thy children, and thou shalt meditate upon them sitting in thy house, and walking on thy journey, sleeping, and rising. And thou shalt bind them as a sign on thy hand, and they shall be, and shall move between thy eyes. And thou shalt write them in the entry, and on the doors of thy house" (Deuteronomy 6:4-9). This injunction was taken so literally that Jewish men would bind the phylacteries on the left arm and the forehead when saying the prescribed prayers. The Pharisees went much further and strictly enjoined the constant wearing of ornate phylacteries, but the common people (among whom Saint Joseph would be counted) did not follow so strained and exaggerated an interpretation of Holy Scripture. Hence, Joseph probably wore them at prayer time alone.
Such was the vocal and the more or less formal prayer which Jesus, Mary, and Joseph offered in their home at Nazareth. In their hearts, however, they prayed always. Just as the Heart of Jesus was constantly united with His divinity, so were the hearts of Mary and Joseph so closely bound to God that their every action was a prayer. "But," you say, "how did the Holy Family find time to be ordinary people, as their neighbors certainly understood them to be, if they were praying constantly?" The answer is better given by another question: Why should constant prayer make anyone less neighborly? As a matter of fact, the difficulty here rests on the false assumption that prayer necessarily entails many words, a long face, and an austere disposition. This is only one of the popular misconceptions of the nature of prayer. As long as such false ideas might persist, it would be well-nigh useless to urge the imitation of the spirit of prayer that prevailed at Nazareth. For this reason and for the sake of encouraging and advancing those who already pray well, we must explain in some detail what is meant by genuine prayer. Volumes have been written on how to pray, yet essentially everything they have expounded and everything we will describe here is based on the definition of prayer. In other words, if you are raising your heart and mind to God, you are praying. Whether you use words or not, whether you say much or little, you are genuinely praying if your intention is directed to "talk" to God. There are countless ways of praying. The misunderstanding of the true nature of prayer has resulted from an artificial limitation of its meaning to perhaps one type, namely, vocal prayer. Vocal prayer is that which follows a set formula, usually composed by some one else. It has undoubtedly great value, but it is not the only way of talking to God. The other type, far more easy to practice at all times and in all places, is mental prayer. Here we speak to God as friend-to-friend, exactly as our heart dictates. There need not even be any words expressed on our part. For example, you can visit the Blessed Sacrament and let the good Lord in His holy sacrament "shine" on you from the Tabernacle. You need say nothing. Merely sit in His presence, united to Him by the love of your friendship with Him. Another kind of mental prayer is "contemplation," where you mentally behold, in the Ignatian application of this word, some event transpiring in Christ's life. This is a sort of mental moving picture. Still another type is called "meditation" in the formal meaning of the word. In meditating you tell God your reaction to what you are considering. Is it hard or easy? Do you think you would wish to act that way or differently? Do you need help to do so? Do you wish you could be better in practicing this virtue or in avoiding that fault? Then there are those fascinating combinations of vocal and mental prayer that we call "aspirations" or "ejaculations." Some modern writers have colorfully described them as "quickies." That is what they are, for you recite the aspiration so quickly that you don't have time to be distracted! In a second or two you can say, "Lord, I love you," or "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, help me always," or "Sacred Heart of Jesus, I trust in Thee," or "Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee." You can use these ejaculations in crowded buses and streetcars, out in the open country or in the busy city, a few times each day, or just as often as you please, all without the mental fatigue that eventually results from protracted prayer. Another method of combining vocal and mental prayer is to recite slowly to yourself some simple prayer which you like, such as the "Our Father," the "Hail Mary," or the "Hail, Holy Queen." Say it lingeringly and rhythmically, perhaps a word for every breath. If you have leisure and sufficient quiet to attempt more concentrated prayer, stay on each word of these prayers as long as you find relish in it. The essential thing to remember is that prayer is the candid talk of one friend to another, of yourself to God. While you must, of course, remain respectful, you should not let your respect frighten you from being familiar in your prayer. Prayer is something very private, and you have a right to speak to God in the intimate relation of creature to Creator, friend-to-Friend. Moreover, you should not restrict yourself to the prayer of petition, that is, asking God for what you require in order to live a better life spiritually and temporally. Your prayer should have other purposes also. For example, express your gratitude to God for the benefits He has bestowed on you, on your family, on the Church, on our country and the world. Or make reparation to God for so many sinners who are deliberately offending Him. You can make further reparation, too, for sins and negligences in your own life. These three types of prayer -- petition, thanksgiving, and reparation -- are more or less related to the benefits God has given us. The fourth kind, the prayer of adoration, is in itself more selfless. When we adore God and praise His goodness, His mercy, and His justice, we are adoring Him not for what we have received from Him but for what He is in Himself. On some occasion when you would like to pray mentally but do not feel inclined to attempt any particular subject, pay homage to God Himself in the prayer of adoration. The Divine Office of the Church -- its official prayer -- consists mainly of the Psalms, which themselves are made up largely of sentiments of praise and adoration. In any discussion concerning prayer the question usually arises, "How can I pray always? I have necessary occupations to attend to, I have legitimate recreations and lawful pleasures. How can I pray while engaged in them?" Pray by offering these good actions as your prayer. A most effective practice of this sort is the Morning Offering of the Apostleship of Prayer. "O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer Thee my prayers, works, and sufferings of this day for all the intentions of Thy Sacred Heart, in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass throughout the world, in reparation for my sins, for the intentions of all our associates (in the Apostleship of Prayer), and in particular for the intention selected this month by our Holy Father, the Pope." Throughout the day renew this intention occasionally. It can be done very simply and briefly by some such aspiration as "All for Thee, O Jesus," or "I wish to do everything for love of Thee, my God."
Saint Dominic was the first to preach the Rosary as a successful spiritual weapon against the Albigensian heresy in the 13th century. In 1571 the Turks were defeated at Lepanto, and Europe was thus saved from Mohammedanism at a moment when the Catholic world was reciting the Rosary in petition for so all-important a victory. In 1716 the Moslems were turned back in Hungary, again at a time when the confraternities of the Rosary at Rome were conducting solemn public prayers for the success of the Christian cause. In fact, the power of the Rosary so impressed Pope Leo XIII that during his pontificate he issued twelve encyclicals in order to urge Catholics all over the world to pray the Rosary. The fortunes of the Church in those days were in dire and precarious straits. Leo could think of nothing that was possibly more efficacious than the Rosary. In our present day, we, too, together with the Church are passing through a grave crisis. Family life has been derided, abused, and neglected to such an extent that some observers think that the family has already been destroyed. Such a pessimistic outlook we do not accept; nonetheless it is a timely warning of social deterioration that must be heeded. The family is the building block of society, the foundation of our whole modern civilization. Not only the practice of religion and the advancement of culture, but our entire modern society together with all the rights of man as a human being would be wiped out if the family were destroyed and state nurseries were put in its place. The attacks have come from without, as well as from within. Those from within the family are the more to be feared. Healthy family life can always combat successfully external adversaries. But family life cannot be healthy if divorce, race suicide, and the shirking of responsibility guide the men and women who are to bring children into the world and who are to educate them to reach their eternal destiny by means of a Christian life in this world. Divorce, race suicide, the shirking of responsibility -- these are the internal enemies so much more devastating than any others can possibly be. Hence, the practice of the family Rosary has come to the fore particularly in our times to fight them. The Holy Spirit, in His guidance of the Church, has inspired our popes, bishops, priests, and faithful to pray the Rosary as the most efficacious means of gaining assistance against the powers of evil undermining family morality and family existence. Not only does the family Rosary bring down blessings by way of Mary's intercession. In itself, looked at from a purely natural point of view, it is a bond of union. When the members of a family meet daily for ten to fifteen minutes of common prayer, they are guaranteed at least one sacrosanct period when business and social engagements will not interfere with corporate life at home. This union in prayer links the minds and hearts of all present. Supernaturally, Christ is among them in a special manner. "Where two or three are gathered together for my sake, there am I in the midst of them" (Matthew 18:20). The Rosary is so powerful a prayer because it depicts the chief mysteries of our Redemption in a manner most pleasing to Mary and to God. In the short, easy meditations on each Joyful, Sorrowful, and Glorious mystery, there stands out the part of Mary as the humble handmaid of the Lord in whom He accomplished mighty things. The merits of Our Lady are presented to Jesus again and again, so that He in His goodness bestows particular graces in order to honor His mother. She had been all-faithful in her service of her Creator and Redeemer. With Jesus she co-operated intimately in the work of His Redemption. So, too, does she co-operate with Him in intervening to distribute the fruits of His Redemption in order that it may be more effective. The very derivation of the name "rosary" indicates the homage of Our Lady which it embodies. During the Middle Ages as formerly among the Romans, persons of royal blood wore crowns of flowers called chaplets. As the custom grew with the passing of centuries, the chaplets became crowns of gold presented to kings and princes as tokens of submission and honor. In Mary's case the rosary is a triple chaplet -- three crowns made up of roses of Hail Mary's and Our Father's, during the recitation of which the story of Mary's part in our Redemption is lovingly and gratefully recalled. At Nazareth the Rosary, of course, could not be said. Something greater was done. In the hidden life of obscurity, prayer, and work, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph were drawing the pattern for every future family -- a pattern which all members of every Catholic family should examine and imitate as from eldest to youngest they recite their family Rosary together. Obscurity, prayer, work -- these were the three great characteristics of the Hidden Life. We have already seen the lesson taught us by the obscurity and prayer of the Holy Family at Nazareth. There remains a final summation -- the dignity of labor.
Reluctantly we close the chapter on the hidden life of obscurity and prayer and work and intimate family union at Nazareth. The years are passing on, and the paths of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph will soon begin to separate. The years of preparation for Jesus are over. God's work of redemption must be accomplished.
Chapter Ten - SeparationIt is quite certain that Saint Joseph died before Christ began His public life. When the infuriated Nazarenes tried to ridicule the sublimity of Christ's doctrine by naming His living relatives and thus showing how common He was, they neglected to mention His foster father (Matthew 13:55). Our strongest argument, however, is drawn from Christ's words on the Cross. To Saint John He said, "Son, behold thy mother." And to Our Lady, "Woman, behold thy son" (John 19:27). It was Joseph's right, as well as his obligation, to care for Mary. The only reasonable explanation for Christ's action of commending His mother to Saint John must be that Joseph had already passed away, to await the day of his resurrection with Christ.
Joseph's death before the public life began was providential. Had he lingered on in his position as "father" of Jesus, he might have hindered the effectiveness of Christ's preaching and Christ's manifest claims to be divine. With Joseph's passing, the holy trinity on earth was temporarily separated. For Jesus and Mary it meant the end of the quiet, long years of calm and happiness spent with him. The moment for Christ's great redemptive act was close now, and with it there also approached the initiation of Mary into her vocation as Co-redemptrix, Queen of Martyrs, and Mother of the Church. What a farewell -- an au revoir in the strictest sense -- that was at Nazareth! The work of Joseph, the just man, was completed, and with the absolute conformity of his will to the will of his foster Son, he wished that there might be accomplished in him only that which would further the cause of saving souls through Christ's atonement. This was the moment, too, when Joseph received from the lips of the Mother of God and from God Himself the words of gratitude for all he had done for them. There were no regrets, no fruitless bitter sorrow. It was the model deathbed, a lesson for all time. Joseph must have mused gently over the past. Seemingly there had been nothing in his life to mark him as outstanding. He had been just another citizen of the Empire, to his fellow townsmen, "only Joseph." A good neighbor, a quiet fellow, one who would help in time of need -- yes, he had been all of these, but thoroughly ordinary, as ordinary as any man of Nazareth. That was how he thought of himself. After all, of what could he boast? Of money? Hardly that, for with all his diligence he was able at best to keep his family in moderate circumstances. His royal blood? No, he was too candid to bask mentally in the long-vanished glory of the stock of David. He knew that his worth lay in what he actually was, not in what his ancestors had been. How could he ever forget how it had all begun! In that stalwart early manhood he had been a suitor for the hand of Mary when he first realized that a special Providence was gently changing the course of his life. There was the espousal, the agonizing perplexity, the angel's revelation bringing floods of peace, the virginal marriage to the very Mother of God. And how those next events stood out, vivid and fresh in his memory! The manger in the cave at Bethlehem, the hasty departure by night for Egypt, the careful return to Nazareth, the heartbreaking separation in the Temple incident, and then the years of obscurity and labor that were so happily spent in the company of Mary and Jesus. Always deep down in his heart he had realized that he possessed a Treasure infinite, a Treasure Whose secret he was chosen to guard. Mother and Son had been entrusted to him from on high. He, Joseph the carpenter of Nazareth, was the shadow of the Eternal Father on earth. On his labor had depended the life and the well-being of the Word Incarnate. And yet -- he was always only Joseph, in himself nothing, but by some unfathomable design of God raised to the position most privileged among all men of all time. His own strong, toil-worn hands had guided the fingers of Him Who had fashioned the universe. He had seen the lesson those other hands were teaching for all ages -- work is good, work has dignity, work can be made a meritorious prayer. Could he lead others to imitate that example of his Son?
The house was silent. The two who remained saw their task yet before them. It was the will of the Father in heaven, and that was all that counted. So, too, in your family life, there must inevitably come a day when you or your loved ones will see the hand of death take a child, a husband and father, a wife and mother. In the first shock of bereavement the dull sense of emptiness may perhaps lead to a deeper sense of hopelessness. But Jesus and Mary and Joseph have gone before. Death is the end of the time of testing, the completion of the life that must have sorrows mixed with its joys. The pilgrimage is over for the soul that has passed from the shadows of faith to the clear light of eternal reality. For those who remain behind, the house is silent. They see their task yet before them. It is the will of the Father in heaven, and that is all that counts. Saint Joseph's happy death can lead our thoughts in only one direction: our own preparation for a happy and holy death when our time comes. In an earlier chapter we touched on the peace which a well-lived life brings at the moment it draws to a close. The courageous and steadfast fulfillment of your family obligations will bring about a tranquil conscience which will withstand all worries and fears at the hour you realize that your pilgrimage on earth is soon to end. For you as a Catholic, however, another factor will be most important in helping you to die well as you have lived well -- your use of the sacraments, particularly Holy Eucharist, Penance, and Extreme Unction. In fact, Saint Joseph's intercession often shows itself most strongly in the manner in which Joseph's friends are provided with the last sacraments to be with them on their last journey. In general, our Catholics are well aware of the doctrine relating to the Blessed Sacrament and its marvelous effects. Thanks to the decree of Pope Pius X in 1905, frequent Communion has become a custom, and daily Communion commonplace among the faithful. But with regard to Penance and Extreme Unction, especially as sacraments preparing for a holy death, rather widespread misunderstanding exists which hinders the full utilization of their sacramental benefits. Hence, several cardinal points must be clarified concerning these two sacraments. Above all else, Penance is the sacrament of peace, because outside of it, ordinarily no greater assurance can be obtained on this earth that God has forgiven sin and has completely restored the sinner to His friendship. Christ our Lord instituted the sacrament of Penance primarily in order to remit all serious sins committed after Baptism. He also wished that the sacrament exercise a secondary effect as well. When received by a person who has no mortal sins to confess, Penance bestows an increase of sanctifying grace and grants extra special helps of actual grace to combat temptations and faults. One misunderstanding regarding Penance is that it cannot be received unless the penitent has committed mortal sin since the last confession. In reality, such is not the case. It is sufficient either to mention a few venial sins of which you are aware, or to make a general accusation of some sin from your past life (and here, too, a venial sin is sufficient). In this manner you are able to gain the special graces which only Penance can impart. Of course, all mortal sins committed since the preceding confession must be mentioned, although if any are forgotten in good faith, they are indirectly forgiven by being included in the act of contrition of the penitent and in the absolution of the priest. If later they come to mind, they should be specified in the next confession not in order to be forgiven (for they have already been remitted), but in order that the law of Christ concerning the confession of mortal sins might be fulfilled. This is why mortal sins are called "necessary matter" for confession, in distinction to venial sins, which are called merely "sufficient matter." Although at least one venial sin must be confessed in order to provide this "sufficient matter" (if there is nothing serious to mention), there is no obligation to confess all venial sins inasmuch as they can be forgiven outside of the sacrament by means of an act of contrition, the offering of other prayers, or the performance of good works. Nonetheless, all venial sins are forgiven in every good confession provided that the penitent includes them at least in a general, implicit fashion in his declaration and acts of contrition, including his purpose of amendment. By submitting venial sins to the tribunal of Penance, part at least of the temporal punishment is remitted. Venial sins do not incur any eternal punishment because while they are flaws in our friendship with God, they by no means constitute the wanton ingratitude and treason which we call mortal sin. In the present state of human nature our faith tells us that no one can go through life without committing venial sin, unless he or she has been given a very special grace. Our Blessed Lady certainly enjoyed this privilege, and we piously believe, Saint Joseph. In our own case, however, we know how easily we fail. Anger, jealousy, manifestations of selfishness, rash judgments, hesitation in repelling temptation -- these are some of the faults that mar our perfection, but can be gradually eliminated from our conduct. There is one particular circumstance which calls for explicit mention. Let us suppose that by some misfortune serious sin has been committed and confession at the moment is impossible. Must mortal sin remain on the soul? God in His goodness has given the weakness of our human nature a first-aid remedy even in this instance. An act of perfect contrition will remit mortal sin provided there is included at least implicitly the desire to receive the sacrament of Penance and thus have the mortal sin forgiven officially. Such serious sins must be mentioned in the next confession. To make such an act of contrition, we must regret having sinned because we have offended God Himself, Who in Himself is all-good, all-worthy of our love. In other words the motive for perfect contrition is love of God. This is more than is required for confession, where only an act of "attrition" is requisite -- that is, sorrow for sin arising from a motive of fear of punishment or detestation of the malice of sin in itself. But this sorrow is not to be without wholesome acknowledgment of, and reliance on, God's mercy and love. Such are the general principles regarding the use of Penance as a remote preparation for a happy and holy death. The frequent reception of the sacrament throughout your life will deepen ever more and more the serenity that characterizes the children of God and the adopted brothers and sisters of Jesus. In a sense, Penance is always a "last sacrament" because it provides a fund of supernatural peace to offset any worry or fear that may arise when the unpredictable moment of death approaches. Sins from one's past life are so positively forgiven when subjected to the sacrament of Penance, that years later there can be absolutely no ground for uneasiness concerning them. The misunderstandings regarding Extreme Unction are even more erroneous than those concerning Penance. Very many Catholics dread the moment when the priest must be called to administer Extreme Unction, as if by that very fact they or their loved ones will necessarily die. Often they delay the moment of reception as long as possible, so that a recovery is no longer to be hoped for and sometimes death has already supervened.
The main purpose of Extreme Unction is to fortify the soul at this critical moment of serious illness. In addition, the sacrament forgives sin and remits temporal punishment just as does Penance, in case the sick person cannot confess sins for which he or she is sorry. Extreme Unction also cleanses away the "remnants of sin." Finally, if it be expedient for the soul, Extreme Unction restores even bodily health. Daily experience confirms this teaching of the Church, for apparently desperate cases yield to treatment on many occasions only after Extreme Unction has been administered. The testimony of non-Catholic as well as Catholic doctors on this score is not difficult to obtain.
As a practical rule in every household, the priest should be summoned as soon as there is a prudently probable danger of death. The sacrament will by no means make death inevitable. Instead, it may effect a cure of the body, if expedient as it will impart strength to the soul. And if God wills that the soul should now pass on to its judgment and reward, the reception of Extreme Unction will guarantee confidence in God's mercy as well as sentiments of love, fervor, and ineffable peace. This, the moral certainty of possessing sanctifying grace and merit in God's sight, is truly what we call a happy death. It will be our means of imitating the death of Joseph in the arms of Jesus and Mary.
EpilogueAfter Joseph passed away, the two quietly went about their daily tasks, realizing how soon they would be parted. During those days before His leave-taking Christ supported His mother by the products of the carpentry Joseph had taught Him. These were precious days; and Jesus and Mary, intensely and perfectly human as they were, appreciated the last quiet moments mother and Son would spend together before the shadow of the Cross became the Cross itself. Finally there came the morning of departure. Jesus was to leave out-of-the-way Nazareth to meet the hostility of the world in founding a Kingdom of God that would last into eternity. Mary understood all that this meant. From her long years of closest contact with God, her Son, her heart was one with His. She knew that as His mother she would be closest to Him in His suffering. But all this did not matter. She loved Jesus, loved Him as only the most exquisite person created by God could love Him. Her union with Him consoled Him far more than any other creature could do. In her love for Jesus she did not forget that after the Passion and death would come the Resurrection, the triumph of the Cross and of Christian truth over Satan and the self-indulgence and rebellion that is sin. She would visit Jesus occasionally while He was preaching and teaching and healing during His public life, but never again on this earth would she have the unutterable joy of living constantly in His presence, day and night, under the same roof, sharing the same table, teaching Him in Whom are all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge. These years at Nazareth with Joseph and Jesus had been Mary's period of consolation, given her for the purpose of strengthening her for the awful moment when the full weight of the burden of the Queen of Martyrs would descend on her soul. It was the love of the Giver which she desired at all times, and in His present gifts of peace she could see only Him. After Jesus' departure, the little house at Nazareth would be empty, the memory of its two menfolk recalled constantly by the sight of the things they had made and handled. Mary would be left alone with her thoughts, her work, her prayers. Yet would she ever be really alone? No, in those prayers she would constantly unite herself with Jesus, her Son and her God. He would be doing the work for which He had come down to earth. She knew that now; and there was not that sickening uncertainty and dread that had struck Saint Joseph and herself when the Child had been lost in the Temple some twenty years ago. Would the Three ever be united again? There was no doubt of that. In God's own time Jesus and Mary and Joseph would transplant the spirit of their home at Nazareth to a new home in eternity, and the Holy Family would live together in heaven, always the model of family life, watching over fathers and mothers and children, encouraging them, loving them. But that was not yet to be. The moment of farewell had come...now. We leave the final leave-taking of Jesus and Mary to themselves. It is a scene too intimate, almost too ethereal in its winsomeness to attempt to portray, even inadequately at best. In the privacy of our hearts, however, we kneel close to the Two, just where they want us ever to be. There is a last affectionate embrace of mother and Son, no weeping for sorrow on Their part. But as we ourselves look on, the poignant beauty of Mary and Jesus overwhelms us, and we can look no more for our tears. Jesus turns, walks for the last time through that doorway through which long ago He had taken His youthful steps. But now, carrying the load of punishment for the world's sins, He gravely wends His way down the narrow, crooked street. At its bend, as He turns toward the open road and the world beyond, He waves to His mother. She stands in the doorway, waves back. She stands...our thoughts look ahead.... "At the Cross of Christ, her station keeping, stood His mother, close to Jesus to the last." Our sketch of the family life of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph is ended. In your own life by your frequent meditation on the Holy Family you can extend their lessons further so that you imitate them more closely and love them more dearly. And you can offer them yourselves -- your husband or wife, your children, your family -- in your life consecrated to the Holy Family of Nazareth.
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