"And His Mother said to Him: Son, why hast Thou done so to us? Behold, Thy father and I have sought Thee sorrowing." (St Luke ii. 48.)

1st Prelude. A picture of Mary and Joseph finding Jesus in the Temple.

2nd Prelude. Grace to seek Jesus as Our Lady sought Him.

Once more the Holy Family has come up to the Temple; and it is here that Mary speaks her next recorded word. Her Son was not yet born when she spoke her last. Since then He has been her constant companion through infancy and boyhood, in trouble and in joy, at Bethlehem, in Egypt, and at Nazareth. He is twelve years old now, and counts under the law as a man; it is time to decide His calling in life. He is old enough to go with His parents to the Passover Feast at Jerusalem. So once again the real Passover Lamb goes up to His Temple; and we can think of Mary and Joseph praying there to the Child Who is kneeling between them, Mary pondering over her last visit to the Temple with Him, when she presented Him to the Lord as a little baby and when the sword pierced her soul for the first time.

When it was all over, the Child Jesus "remained in Jerusalem," without saying anything to His parents! It was only when they halted for the night that Mary and Joseph would find out their loss, for the men and women left the Temple by different gates, and the children might go with either group. Mary had lost her Child! It was the third of the Seven Dolours, and it has been revealed to the Saints that her spiritual desolation was greater than that ever experienced by any of God's children. Not only was she suffering intense desolation, but her grief was enhanced by the fear that He had left her because she had done something of which He did not approve. She also had to bear the sight of her dearly loved spouse "sorrowing," perhaps blaming himself for his want of care, and in any case not so well able as she to bear the anxiety and grief. Mary shows us how to act in our times of desolation. Diligently she searched for Him during those three days, "in the company among their kinsfolks and acquaintance," and in all the places where He had been. Then they retraced their steps to Jerusalem. No time was lost, no pains were spared; they sought Him sorrowing for His loss, and for any fault that might be theirs. How Jesus loves to be sought thus! It is one of His reasons for hiding Himself, to force us back to the company where we enjoyed His presence, to the places where we had Him with us, and to everything that reminds us of what He said to us and what we said to Him. He is not far from the souls that thus seek Him.

It was the most natural place to find Him. Do I in my times of desolation turn instinctively to His House, where I know that He is hidden? Do I feel that I must spend all the time I possibly can close to the Tabernacle, that my body, at any rate, may be near to Him, while my spirit is calling out in its distress: "Oh, that I knew where I might find Him!"

Who can measure what must have been Mary's joy and relief when she saw her Son sitting in the midst of the doctors, listening to their teaching! She "wondered"; she was perplexed; and then it was that she uttered her fifth word. It was a word of reproach rather than of joy, though it was joy that caused it, and the reproach was full of tenderness. St Bernardine calls this word, flamma amoris saporantis, "a flame of savouring or relishing love," because, he says, it belongs to love to "distinguish and discern, and, as it were, taste the divine effects and qualities of that which is loved." It was her love which made Mary savour the intense pain caused by the absence of her Son and by the anxiety of her spouse. The flame of love within her enabled her to relish both the love and the pain. Mary does not try to conceal her pain—that is not the outcome of true love. She says straight out what she is feeling, with that holy familiarity to which her love gives her a right: "Son, why hast Thou done so to us? Behold, Thy father and I have sought Thee sorrowing." Why? None knew better than He what the agony of those three days had been to His Mother, and He could have prevented it. Why, then, has He done so? Because He was beginning the principle which He carried out all through. He was the "Man of Sorrows," and she was the "Mother of Sorrows," and He would not spare her one drop in the cup of suffering. He knew its value too well, and His love for her was too great.

When we have to undergo suffering that seems so unnecessary and that could (perhaps we think) with a little forethought have been so easily avoided, instead of allowing ourselves to give way to discontent, and regrets, and even rebellion, how much better it would be to say: Yes, it is quite true, Jesus could have prevented this, but He is treating me in some degree as He treated His Blessed Mother, not saving me the pain and trouble and inconvenience, but letting me have the opportunity of sanctifying my soul and of gaining greater merit. "Why hast Thou done so?" And He answers: "Did you not know that I must be about My Father's business?" By His answer He prepares His Mother for the future; He raises her above the human in Him to the Divine; He announces Himself, though obscurely, to the Doctors as the Messias; He teaches the great lesson of detachment, and shows that even our best natural affections must be supernaturalised. "My Father's business"—that must ever come first. "For this came I into the world," (St John xviii. 37), and I must be about it, even if by so doing I give pain to those dearest to me.

They were her Son's first recorded words, and Mary "understood" them not; they were words full of mystery and full of meaning; her mingled feelings of pain and relief, of sorrow and joy, would prevent her from seeing the gist of their meaning at once; but as time went on, and her spiritual horizon increased, she would understand more and more what His "Father's business" was, though perhaps not till she stood at the Foot of the Cross did she understand the words in all their fulness.

"Why hast Thou done so?" It is a question Mary often puts to her other children—sometimes in surprise and amazement, sometimes in anxiety and sorrow, sometimes in love and tenderness. Well for us if we can always answer, like our Elder Brother: The "Father's business." This is an answer which will always satisfy the flame of love within her which prompts the question.

Colloquy with Mary, asking for grace that I may be so taken up with my "Father's business" that I cause her no anxiety.

Resolution. To put my "Father's business" first, to-day.

Spiritual Bouquet. "Why hast Thou done so to us?"