Adam of Perseigne (Adamus Perseniae)
(Sermons and Fragments on the Blessed Virgin Mary)
Table of Contents
The Mariale of Adam, Abbot of Perseigne
In which the golden sermons and precious fragments of the same Adam concerning the praises of Mary the God-bearing Virgin are transmitted for the knowledge of posterity. A Work Hitherto Unedited. Drawn from a very ancient parchment manuscript codex, once belonging to the library of the monastery of Casamari, and furnished with notes by Fr. Hippolytus Marracci of Lucca, of the Congregation of Regular Clerks of the Mother of God. (Rome, printed by Ignatius de Lazzaris, 1652. — Published according to the copy preserved in the library of the Catholic University of Louvain, which D. Nève, keeper of the same library, most graciously communicated to the editors.)
The notes of Hippolytus Marracci to this document have been printed by Migne as a separate document. Each number in the text of the Mariale refers to the number of the note in this separate document.
And again after darkness I hope for light. Job XVII. To Adam, Abbot of Perseigne, a man most learned, most holy, and wholly devoted to Mary.
Mary, Mother of God and man, was ever an Anchor in tumult, a Harbor in shipwreck, a Support in tribulation, a Consolation in sorrow, a Help in oppression, an Aid in time of need, a Moderating force in prosperity, a Joy in expectation, a Refreshment in labor. In his judgment (and a most excellent judgment it is): to seek Mary, Queen of heaven, is Virtue; to find Her, Salvation; to lay hold of Her, Joy; to love Her, Praise and Honor; to hold Her fast and never let Her go, the highest Good.
Mary, Lady of the world — judging it by no means safe, and altogether dangerous, to depart from Her even for a moment — he clung to Her always inseparably with the tenderest affection of his heart and the most spotless purity of his morals; and he recognized Her, by the illumination of the light from on high, as the certain salvation of his soul after God, the Compendium of life, the Path to the heavenly homeland, the sole Hope of pardon, the Enlightener of the heart, and the singular Sweetness of the spirit — and he venerated Her with the deepest reverence.
Those works which he long ago — among other monuments of great genius and outstanding piety — dedicated not only with his pen but with his voice and with a heart full of devotion to the praises and encomiums of the great Mother of God, offering himself wholly, with his whole heart, as a sacred votive offering into Her most welcome hands (that they may be more acceptable) — these he gives, declares, and consecrates. The most humble of mortals, Hippolytus Marracci.
Dedication to Cardinal Franciotto
After the Marian Founders consecrated to your most illustrious name — troubled not at all by my own lowliness, for I am confident of your graciousness — I come to you again, most eminent Prince, to place the Marian Works of Adam, Abbot of Perseigne, of the Cistercian Order, hitherto untouched by the press and buried these four hundred years and more in decay and darkness, in the clear light of your protection.
I come to you a second time, not only as the first time, willingly and gladly, to declare my own and my entire congregation's due respect toward you and yours, but also because, were I to go to another, I could justly be rebuked by all as one who seeks protection without a protector. For since you alone, by decree of the Apostolic See, are the protector of the Cistercian Order, to whom could I more fittingly and rightly offer for protection this Work produced by a son of the Cistercian Order than to Your Eminence? Who truly protects if not the one whose office it is to protect?
And not only because this Work comes from the Cistercian Order, but also because it treats of the praises of the God-bearing Virgin, it is owed to you by a special right — you who, from your very birth, wholly given over to the same God-bearing Virgin, with a wondrous sense of piety, whether through your daily exercises of devotion or through your assiduous imitation of Marian virtues, have never ceased from Her praises.
On the feast of the Nativity of the most Blessed Virgin you were born into the light of this world, of most devout parents, Curtius Franciotto and Clara Balbania, patricians of Lucca, who shine no less in ancestral nobility than in the most illustrious virtue — so as to indicate that you would live, from your very birth to the last boundary of your life, with the most steadfast piety and immutable devotion toward the most August Queen of the heavens, and would with most zealous diligence foster Her cult, honor, and veneration, first in yourself, and afterward also in others, to the very end of all things.
The connection of your most noble blood with the Oak family of the Roman Pontiffs Sixtus IV and Julius II (for Luchina, niece of Sixtus and sister of Julius, was joined in marriage to Giovanni Francesco Franciotto) is in truth nothing — though in itself it is much — if compared with the most splendid adornments of your virtues, and above all with your most ardent devotion toward the great Mother of God.
I would by no means fail to touch lightly here, at least, for the eternal memory of posterity, on the shining examples of the most sweet Mother of God's kindness and benevolence toward you, and in turn on the most luminous testimonies of your most devout mind and most obedient will toward the same most sweet Mother of God — unless this my letter, submitting itself to the modesty of your spirit, were considering at present not what is owed to your virtues, but rather what your ears can bear to hear.
Moreover my Adam rejoices, and gives God worthy and immortal thanks, that by the most provident and wise goodness of the God-bearing Virgin, there has been provided for his Marian Work such a patron as even he himself could scarcely have wished for a greater or better — one who surpasses in the cult of the God-bearing Virgin and in all the other adornments of Christian virtues. His Work hopes that, having first seen the light under the most auspicious patronage of Your Eminence, it will live out all its life under the same, and will fear no adverse fortune whatsoever.
Nor does it doubt that all will rightly call it porphyrogenite — born in the purple — for it was first born under your Cardinal's purple. It delayed so long in coming to light, in order that it might see your times and present itself to you as its protector.
It has perhaps emerged from darkness later than is fitting; but it did not emerge so late without divine providence, lest, that is, the glory of your protection be defrauded. It waited long, but not badly — indeed, most excellently — for it compensated for the delay in coming forth with the happiness of your protection.
He counts it to your credit that, having been so long buried in darkness, he has been restored to life under your light and lives again in his Work; and, grateful for the benefit, though he is himself capable of repaying it, he delegates the reciprocation to the God-bearing Virgin as well, that She may reward Your Eminence with worthy advancement.
It is worthy of your protection not only because it belongs to the Cistercian Order (the protection of which has been entrusted to your care by the most prudent judgment of His Holiness Innocent X), but also because it comes from that Order which (by the testimony of Pope Gregory XI) has been singularly ascribed to the God-bearing Virgin in its devotion among all the other religious orders, and serves Her most devoutly everywhere, unanimously and with one shoulder (as Cardinal James of Vitry says in his Western History); even if you were not her protector, yet on account of your outstanding devotion to the most August Queen of heaven, it cannot be deprived of your protection.
Receive therefore, most eminent Prince, with the kindness innate to you, this Marian Work of Adam, Abbot of Perseigne, which, rescued from destruction and restored to life, I commit to your patronage as wholly owed to you by right of protection, and having embraced it with fatherly affection, cherish and protect it, both from the duty of your office and from your most ardent devotion toward the God-bearer.
Whatever is mine here (which I see how small it is, and how alien to your greatness and merits) — all of it (since I have nothing greater at present to offer) — all of it, I say, I most humbly offer to Your Eminence: both as a testimony of my most dutiful service and due reverence toward you, and as some small, however minimal, token of those benefits by which you and your most illustrious brothers Nicolaus and Bartholomaeus Franciotti, men of choicest piety and most proven virtue, hold our entire congregation most strictly obligated.
For although we can never repay — even if we wished — the kindnesses with which you deign to grace us from your generosity, yet everlasting remembrance will follow, and a grateful heart — more than this page — will keep them always most deeply impressed.
And that we may not be entirely ungrateful, we will meanwhile entreat God almighty with assiduous and most fervent prayers to increase your brothers and your whole family day by day in grace and all good things. And may He preserve you safe on earth beyond the years of Nestor by the intercession of the God-bearing Virgin and your holy patroness, so that, established in a higher rank, you may fill with a more glorious light the citadel of the Roman Empire, which you have hitherto filled and continue to fill day by day with the light of your virtues, to the happiness of the whole Christian world.
Rome, from the house of St. Mary in Campitello, on the 15th of March, in the year from the Virgin Birth 1652.
The most humble servant of Your Most Eminent Lordship, Hippolytus Marracci.
To the Reader
In the library of the monastery of Casamari (and Casamari is a celebrated abbey in the diocese of Veroli in the Roman Province, once belonging to the Benedictines, but held by the Cistercians since the year of the Lord 1140, as Gaspar Jongelinus says in his Register of Cistercian Abbeys) — in the library of this monastery, I say, there existed a certain very ancient Latin parchment manuscript codex, written in a fine but in many places corrupted hand, in which, together with other literary monuments of the ancient Fathers, the sermons of Adam, Abbot of Perseigne, were contained enclosed like gems.
Now when this codex had been given as a gift by the Fathers of the same monastery to the most reverend Father D. Hilarion Rancato, General Superior of the Cistercian Order in the Eternal City — a man who values not silver or gold, but virtue and good learning alone — and when it had afterward been communicated to me as well by his generosity (for he is most learned in virtue, and equally most generous toward his friends), perceiving that among the said sermons of Adam there were certain ones concerning the great Mother of God and eternal Virgin, hitherto buried in the darkness of oblivion, which, if they were made public property, could greatly benefit piety and bring immense fruit and profit to those who preach the praises of Mary, I resolved to publish them — together with the Marian fragments collected from other sermons of the same author — under the title of Mariale, with added notes, as a most brilliant monument of antiquity, for the common good, through the press; judging it most contrary to reason that those Marian compositions should be wrapped any longer in yet more prolonged darkness, which are most worthy of continuous human remembrance and of eternity itself.
I hope, moreover, that those will not be wanting who, by their taste of this Marian Work, will be effectively inflamed to publish all of Adam's Works. Those who accomplish this will recall to life that most learned and most eloquent Writer — not dead for four days, but dead for four hundred years and more — rescued as it were from the underworld. They will be judged to have served most excellently the splendor of the most illustrious Cistercian Order and the adornment of the Catholic Church itself, and will render themselves most fruitfully well-deserving of the republic of letters, both to those now living and to posterity.
In the meantime, friendly reader, enjoy this work safely, and take my effort in the edition of this Marian Work — such as it is — in good part. Farewell.
Sermon I: On the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin
1-11. “There shall come forth a rod from the root of Jesse (1), and a flower shall rise up from his root, and the Spirit of the Lord shall rest upon Him” (Isa. XI). As the age was now growing old, the Author of the age deigned to appear to restore mankind. The wretched world was growing ancient and aging, and was drawing near to its destruction. Against the perishing world, the Ancient of Days opposed Himself with a wondrous newness, according to the prophecy of Jeremiah: “making a new thing upon the earth, that a woman should encompass a man” (Jer. XXXI) — in the embrace of her womb.
And so, by this newness, having stripped away the old age of our ancient condition, He restored us in the new light of His immortality. He restored mercifully, I say, what He had created powerfully. For so great a work there was needed a rod from the root of Jesse, from which would spring a fruit that, when tasted, would not bring death but would reform unto life.
As the antidote, then, to the former tree, whose fruit brought death, there came forth from the shoot of the Davidic stock the Rod, bearing this life as its fruit: this Rod is the Virgin Mary; and the fruit of the Rod is the birth of the Virgin. This rod grew into so great a tree that, bringing forth the fruit of universal salvation, she who becomes the Mother of the Almighty is proclaimed Queen of the angels and Lady of the ages.
Without limit that tree spread itself abroad: “its shadow covered the mountains, and its branches the cedars of God” (Ps. LXXIX). By the mountains, understand the saints who are sublime in merit. By the shadow of our tree, understand the privilege of singular grace which the power of the Most High conferred on our Virgin, overshadowing Her, filling Her mind with the fullness of grace, and making Her womb fruitful with divine birth. This shadow has nothing shadowy in itself, nothing imaginary (13) or empty. There is found the highest and sole solidity of truth, and truth made solid: for the true Only-Begotten, in the true Virgin, assumed a true man — that is, body and soul; nature, not guilt. To the true nature He assumed, the truth of innocence was not lacking.
“For He did not sin, nor was deceit found in His mouth” (I Pet. II). Therefore, while the incorporeal light of true divinity truly united a human body to Itself, it cast a shadow on the other side from the body thus united and set before It. That shadow is true faith. True faith, which by the mystery of the Incarnation justifies the impious, glorifies the just (Prov. XVII), and makes lofty mountains out of valleys.
Of this shadow the bride says in the Song of love: “I sat down under the shadow of Him Whom I had desired” (Cant. I). O shadow so necessary for tempering illicit burning desires! If you take refuge under the shadow of that tree — that is, if you believe in and love the birth of the Virgin — “the sun shall not burn you by day, nor the moon by night” (Ps. CXX).
Its boughs are her merits, which transcend the height of the cedars — that is, the sublimity of the Angels (2). O fruitful tree, planted in the midst of paradise, spread wide in its branches, firm in its root! For it is she herself (14) who says: “I was established in Sion, and in the holy city likewise I rested” (Sir. XXIV); and: “I took root in an honorable people, and in the portion of my God is her inheritance” (ibid.).
That tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Gen. II) by its tasting conveyed the experience of evil, and took away in part the knowledge of good, and from good made man miserable. This tree, bearing the fruit of wisdom, both restores the palate of the soul to the taste of good, and unteaches the experience of evils, restoring man to the beatitude he had lost. In this way the rod grew into a tree, and the virgin advanced to become the Mother of the Most High.
In the garden of the heavenly Farmer (John XV) there are evil trees, barren trees, and fruitful trees. Evil are those which bear harmful fruits. Barren are those which bring forth no good ones. Fruitful are those which grow fat with an abundance of good fruits (Ps. LXIV). Against the evil and barren trees an axe has been laid at the root, to cut them down unless they change. Among the good trees, incomparably the best is the rod from the root of Jesse, from which the fruit of life has come forth. For that fruit is the highest good, and any tree that does not share in its goodness cannot itself be good (Matt. VII).
The goodness of this fruit, when shared, indeed confers very much even upon evil trees (15) that they may become good; and it makes the barren fruitful, that they may bear fruit; and it purges the fruitful, that they may bring forth more fruit. Those which it does not change in this way, it cuts down and throws into the fire (ibid.), that they may burn.
For this fruit is also the axe with which the fruitless trees are cut down. The axe, I say, is the incarnate Only-Begotten, Whose humanity is as the handle, while the cutting edge is the subtlety of the Divinity. Where the trees of the forest clap their hands, imitate rather the rod going forth from the root of Jesse, from which you may draw the example and the power to bear fruit — rather than the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Gen. II), from which comes your barrenness, which exposes you to the axe.
Love the fruit; fear the axe. In the Son of the Virgin, cherish mercy; dread truth: for whether it cuts in truth and is the axe, or in mercy and is the sublime fruit of the earth — mercy is owed love, and justice, cutting through judgment, is owed fear.
Let love move our barrenness, or let fear terrify it. Certainly I would not call that fear itself unfruitful, which, while it cuts away evils, by that very act empties out barrenness — because through it the hand becomes accustomed to good works (16) or at least is deterred from evils by dread of punishment.
Great is the benefit when fear — the extermination of sin, the nursery of virtue — is struck into fruitless trees; but this is of no avail unless it be laid at the root of the tree (Matt. III), that is, at the intention of the heart. For it is from the intention, because it is from the root, that a man is either useless or fruitful. Therefore the axe is laid not at the branches but at the root, because it cuts off in vain the branches of evil deeds on the outside, if the evil remains within at the root of intention.
And so, as was said, the axe laid at the root strikes fear. Why should fruitless trees not be afraid, when they see the axe making ready to cut them down and threatening to burn them? For He Who cuts with the same axe says: “Every tree that does not bring forth good fruit shall be cut down and cast into the fire” (ibid.). These are the words of John the Baptist, who, while he ran before the Savior's coming and pointed out Him coming, as it were lays the axe at the root of the trees.
Therefore, when the Son of God is proclaimed about to be born of the Virgin, it is as though an axe is promised that will go forth from the rod.
Note the mystery. The Virgin, Mother of God and man, is the rod; the God-man, Son of the Virgin (17), is the axe. The rod bends, to chastise; the axe cuts down, to destroy. The rod chastises, to correct; the axe destroys, to cast into the fire. We use the rod in the correction of children; the axe in the extermination of thorns.
The correction of the rod is in mercy, as it is written: “The just man shall correct me in mercy” (Ps. XIV) — the stroke of the axe is in fury and wrath. The rod that reproves corrects unto virtue; the axe that exterminates strikes unto destruction. Whoever is not corrected by the rod in the spirit of gentleness must inevitably await the axe in the spirit of judgment and the spirit of burning. Whoever does not correct himself after the example of the mother of mercy shall feel her terrible Son in judgment.
This is the Rod by which the world is first reproved and corrected, of which the very Founder of the world says through the Prophet: “I will visit their iniquities with a rod” (Ps. LXXXVIII). The world is reproved by the rod when, through the example and the birth of the Virgin, it is shown in what it is blameworthy and condemnable. But how merciful was this correction! It is not the fury of a judge, but the wrath of a dove, that takes vengeance on crimes. Such a punishment belongs not to hatred but to peace — the chastisement by which a father scourges his son lest he perish; for severity is not directed at the guilty person, but at the guilt, nor does the Lord show Himself as judge, but as friend.
The zeal of the Lord of hosts accomplishes this: while He visits the iniquities of the world with a rod and wears down the sins of men with as many stripes (Ps. LXXXVIII) as He illuminates the birth of the Virgin with virtues. This rod delivered as many blows to the backs of the foolish as the vices of a senseless world it overthrew by the virtues displayed in itself. And because it stood as the boundary of vices and the origin of virtues, it is rightly called the rod of virtue, as it is said: “The Lord shall send the rod of your strength out of Sion” (Ps. CIX). Not without reason is the Virgin Mary called the rod of divine virtue; through her faith, her life, and her childbirth, the age, dying away from vices, breathed again unto virtue.
This rod the Lord sent forth from Sion, because, as Isaiah says, “There came forth a rod from the root of Jesse,” the Virgin arose from the lineage of David, who, as he himself testifies of himself in the Psalm, “was established upon Sion, His holy mountain, proclaiming His precept” (Ps. II). This rod is flexible, straight, extended, and fruitful: flexible through mercy, straight through judgment, extended through the excellence of virginity, and fruitful through the conception of the Only-Begotten.
This rod drives out rod from rod (19); for through this rod of virtue it came about that the Lord did not abandon the rod of sinners — that is, the rod of the divine inheritance, of which the Psalmist says: “You have redeemed the rod of your inheritance” (Ps. LXXIII), etc. (3) This is the rod of Moses, which is read to have devoured the rods of the magicians of Egypt, because the Truth of the virginal birth exposed and destroyed the heresies of the whole world. (4) This is the rod of Aaron, which without sap flowered, put forth leaves, and produced nuts (Num. XVII), because the blessed Mother of God conceived and bore the Savior without a man.
O how flexible, how strong, and how fruitful a rod of guidance — mother of mercy, Queen of virtues, Mother of the Savior! Your immense piety makes you flexible; your uncorrupted power makes you strong; the fruitfulness of your divine childbirth makes you fertile. Your piety is as great as your power. You are as tender in sparing the wretched as you are mighty in obtaining what is asked of you.
For when do you not share in the suffering of your wretched children, O mother of mercy? Or when will you be unable to bring them aid, since you are yourself the mother of Omnipotence? Without doubt, you obtain from the Almighty, with the same ease by which our misery becomes known to your inmost depths of piety, whatever you will. (20) O how great a confidence can we have in God through you!
Just as you cannot fail to feel through compassion our sufferings, since you, most merciful mother, cannot hate your children: so you cannot fail to obtain remedy for them, if you ask, since the Son of the omnipotent Father of mercies willed to be born of you for this purpose, and for no other reason. For you are the mother of the exile, you are the mother of the King. You are the mother of the accused, you are the mother of the Judge. You are the mother of God, you are the mother of man. Through you, therefore, the accused became the brother of the Judge; through you the inheritance of the King and the exile became one. For since you are the mother of both, you have both as your son, and through you the Only-Begotten becomes the brother of the adopted.
What then should the accused fear, when in his cause the same person is both his brother and his judge — and such a judge as it belongs to, always to have mercy and to spare (Prayer for the Departed), and who causes mercy to triumph over judgment? (Jas. II.) Should he fear perishing, for whom the most merciful mother shows herself as the most devoted mother of his most clement brother and judge, and as his most powerful advocate?
You, mother of mercy — will you not intercede with the Son for the son, with the Only-Begotten for the adopted, with the Lord for the servant, with the Judge for the accused, with the Creator for the creature (21), with the Redeemer for the redeemed? You will surely intercede, because He who appointed your Son as Mediator between God and men has also appointed you as mediatrix between the accused and the Judge. For this purpose, indeed, you were chosen and taken as the mother of the Almighty, that in your childbirth the iniquity of the sinner might find a place of pardon. For this purpose the Physician raised you into His inner chamber of spices (5); that in you and through you the sick might receive healing.
If therefore you consider the cause of your such great exaltation, you owe yourself wholly to the wretched, that you may bring them the antidote of reconciliation; nor will you ever find the face of the Judge difficult, just as the accused never finds you inexorable. For you abound and superabound in the depths of piety, because the Holy Spirit did not merely fill you, but came upon you for the fullness of more abundant grace (Lk. I).
Let not our daily mounting crimes and the iniquity heaped upon iniquity turn your face away from us (Ps. L). We appeal to you as our medicine on the word of your Son, who says: “They that are whole need not the physician, but they that are sick” (Lk. V). Certainly, if the physician is necessary not for the healthy but for the sick, by the same reasoning (22) the greater care of the physician must be given to those in whom the graver wounds abound.
Because, therefore, O Lady, you have recognized that all of us are afflicted by the wounds of our sins, intercede with the Physician whom you bore for all. But upon those, O merciful one, bestow greater solicitude in whom you discern the graver infirmity.
For why would you withhold from all the aid of your magnificence — you who suffer no straitness of piety, nor any straitness of power? Your piety is infinite, your power is infinite. The outpouring of your magnificent liberality can not only never exhaust your treasures of glory, it cannot even diminish them. Give what you will — you have no less. You can enrich the poverty of each individual, yet your inexhaustible stores endure. For your fullness is He Who, since He is boundless, receives no increase; since He is simple, sustains no loss; and since He is eternal, knows no end.
Let the exiles now return to their homeland, because the mother of mercy both wills and is able to temper the sentence of judgment — she through whom God willed to adopt us as children of judgment. (23) Only hate what belongs to the world, and cast away the work of injustice, for our mother, though she is the mother of mercy, is nonetheless also the parent of justice.
For the rod of our correction is flexible through mercy, and straight through the truth of judgment. In correction it is the rod of restoration; in guidance (6) it is the staff of support: through the rod the guilty is amended lest he perish; through the staff the just man is sustained lest he fall. Both stand in need of the Mother of the Lord — both the guilty and the just. For she corrects the wayward with the rod of mercy, and sustains the corrected with the staff of her justice.
She is flexible as a rod, and strong as a staff. The blow of the rod corrects a slave into a son; the support of the staff leads the son onward to the kingdom. Therefore the one who is thus disposed cries out and says, giving thanks to God: “Your rod and Your staff — they have comforted me” (Ps. XXII). For the Mother of the Lord holds both from God: that through mercy she may be as a rod correcting the guilty and leading him back to grace; and through uprightness she may be as a staff guiding the just man and bringing him to his homeland.
The Good Shepherd made use of this rod and this staff when He sought the sheep that had strayed, and having found it, laid it upon His shoulders and carried it back to the flock (Lk. XV). (24) So great is the strength in the Mother of the Lord that in her and through her the strength of the Almighty truly humbled itself to the weakness of human flesh. For the Virgin Mary is made strong by the very fact that in her womb the Lord, strong and mighty in battle (Ps. XXIII), was made fragile and weak through the assumption of flesh.
For the love of the Virgin is truly strong as death (Cant. VIII), since it was able to invite Omnipotence to bear weakness, and merited the strength of the Almighty. O Queen of angels, Lady of the heavens, singularly strong in faith, privileged in merits, incomparable in power, singular in glory! She is indeed the iron rod by which the world is ruled, the prince of the world is cast down, and hell, shattered, is laid open.
With this strong rod the King of virtues, stronger than he, came upon the strong man armed and peacefully holding his court, and struck him and crushed him (Lk. XI). In the end, the bonds by which this strong man was bound, He — the Holy One Himself — wove and worked in the sanctuary of the virginal womb. Do you wish to know what those bonds are? The members of the body assumed by the Word, without sin.
For while the unfailing strength of the Word bore our defects in these members, by so failing It overcame the strength of the enemy who had placed his confidence ill. (25) O if the Word was so powerful in its weaknesses, what would it have been had It put forth and exercised the powers of the Godhead?
For what strength did the rod of our virtue lack, to whom the very strength of God — that is, the angel Gabriel — announced the King of virtues? For Gabriel is called the strength of God; it is he who is said to have greeted the Virgin and brought the announcement of our salvation. “Hail,” he said, “full of grace, the Lord is with you, blessed are you among women” (Lk. I). In these words of the angel, the Word God is made man, virginal integrity is made fruitful, and the solemnity of this day is consecrated.
In what he says, “full of grace,” attend to the singular merit of the Virgin. In what he says, “The Lord is with you,” note the virginal conception. When she is called “blessed among women,” he designates the eternal honor of the sovereign Virgin. How powerful is the word of the messenger! How omnipotent the Word he announces! How strong is the faith of Mary, who in a single moment, as she faithfully receives the angel's word, blessedly conceives the Word of God, and is made the Mother of God — she who scarcely presumes to call herself His handmaid.
O wondrous humility of Mary, to be proclaimed throughout all ages! (26) Foreordained from eternity as the mother of the supreme King, when she perceives through the angelic salutation the word that brings about such great exaltation, she does not exalt herself in glory, but in heart and voice humbles herself as a handmaid.
The angel speaks, greeting the Virgin on behalf of Him who commands salvation to Jacob (Ps. LXIII). The Virgin hears, is silent, and believes. She is silent reverently, she hears prudently, she believes faithfully. While all things in the Virgin were at rest and in silence — her most pure flesh free from every stirring of concupiscence, her most purified mind free from every disturbance of malice — while such silence reigned in the Virgin, the omnipotent Word was not silent, but coming from His royal throne (Wis. XVIII), found in the Virgin a dwelling place prepared for Him.
For a fitting dwelling for the Word of God is prepared where silence is kept. Otherwise, “the man of many words shall not prosper upon the earth” (Ps. CXXXVIII). For where concupiscence rages in the flesh, malice clamors in the mind, and pride blusters and chatters in the spirit — in these tumults and clamors the Word God does not speak, since to speak is to be perceived by the breath of inspiration. And indeed three silences were excellently kept in the Virgin; but of the three, the omnipotent Word most approves the middle one. (27) The first was wrought by virginity, restraining in the flesh every tumult of concupiscence; the last was wrought by incomparable charity, calming the mind from every disturbance; but the middle one was kept in a meek spirit by humility — attending to the excellence of virginity, and providing for the privilege of charity, lest from the greatness of virtues any peril of pride should arise.
While, therefore, this middle silence of humility guarded all the inner and outer faculties of the undefiled Virgin, and the singular humility of a meek spirit outwardly cherished the unfading flower of chastity and inwardly nurtured the inextinguishable fire of charity — there came, as has been said, the omnipotent Word, and gave to the voice of the Virgin the voice of virtue (Ps. LXVII), so that to the angel announcing sublime things she might respond with humble words, saying: “Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to your word” (Lk. I).
Almighty God, though He loves chastity in His mother and esteems charity far above chastity, yet by some manner prefers humility above all, and the Lord of majesty inclines Himself most familiarly toward it. For humility is capable of the fullness of grace in that, disdaining all that is rigid and (28) swollen, it ever seeks the humble level of what is lower. For water always flows downward, and the moisture flowing from the summits of mountains is accustomed to abound more fully in the plains. For it is written: “God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble” (Jas. IV; 1 Pet. V).
But if grace is not denied to the humble, what grace could she possess before all others who, surpassing all the highest things with incomparable dignity, surpassed all the lowest things with incomparable humility?
Behold how the whole wave of divinity poured itself into the valley of virginal humility. That same valley was fruitful with grain; for it is written that “the valleys shall abound with grain” (Ps. LXIV). In this valley, so irrigated, there sprang up that grain of which He says of Himself in the Gospel: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone” (Jn. XII). For with the heavens dropping dew from above and the clouds raining down the Just One, this valley opened itself to the abundance of this dew and brought forth the Savior (Isa. XLV).
From this outpouring of heavenly rain descending fully into the deep hollow of humility, there was made in our Virgin a fountain of water springing up into eternal life (Jn. IV). (29) Woe to the tree that does not send its roots toward this moisture! That tree will surely be condemned to barrenness and will dry up when the heat comes. From this fountain the gardens of spices are watered — that is, the hearts of the saints, fragrant with the spices of virtue. Along the courses of these waters the God of my justice planted the vineyard of the just (Ps. IV).
For the fruitful vine, the vine that produces the sweetness of fragrance (Sir. XXIV), is the fruitful virginity of Mary, from which came forth that great cluster of Cyprus from the vineyards of En-Gedi (Cant. I), which, pressed and wrung in the winepress of the Cross, poured out most abundantly the wine of universal grace. But now “our vineyard has blossomed” (Cant. II), for the rod from the root of Jesse has conceived the Savior. It put forth leaves when the power of the Most High overshadowed her and concealed the mystery from both angels and men. It bore fruit when she brought forth in childbirth, without pain, Him whom she had conceived without corruption. Thus we call the conception of the Virgin the flower of the rod, the veils of mystery its leaves, and the birth the nut brought forth from the rod.
The nut most aptly fits the mystery. For in the end it figures the single Person of the One being born in three substances. Refer the outer skin of the nut to the flesh, the shell to the soul (30), and the kernel to the interior sweetness of inner divinity. The outer skin has bitterness; the flesh of the Savior endured the Passion. The harder shell designates the virtue of the soul that saves the world. The oil drawn from the kernel — since it refreshes, gives light, and heals — befits the divinity, when He satisfies those who hunger for justice, illumines the blind, and heals the wounds of sinners.
For this purpose the Rod went forth from the root of Jesse: to flower thus and to bring forth such fruits for us. Do you wish to see the Virgin flowering in blossoms? If you survey the enclosed garden with the eye of chaste contemplation, you will behold and perceive therein the unfading lily of virginity shining white, the violet of inviolable humility breathing its fragrance, and the rose of inextinguishable charity blushing red. Where the blessed Virgin flowered in virtues, she put forth leaves in the merits of her works, and in bearing the Holy of Holies she bore fruit.
But someone will say to me: Why do you speak of the fruit of the rod, when the prophet spoke only of the flower? Indeed, because the flower itself is also fruit: “My flowers,” he says, “are the fruits of honor and of virtue” (Sir. XXIV). These are the words of Wisdom, but they are fittingly applied also to the person of the Mother of the Lord. Does it please you then (31) that the Son of the Virgin, God and man, be called — according to His humanity a flower, and according to His divinity a fruit?
For “fruit” (fructus) is derived from “enjoyment” (fruendo). Fruit, therefore, is the eternal divinity, in which the holy angels and the souls of the saints rejoice with perpetual delight. Nor is divinity unfittingly called fruit, since it makes those who enjoy It blessed. For we are not properly said to enjoy things except those which make us blessed. To enjoy is to cleave to something with love for its own sake alone. But since man is God and God is man, we can without any distinction call our Redeemer both flower and fruit.
Yet the tenderness of the flower more fittingly designates the frailty of the flesh assumed. For the flower has sweetness of fragrance; the fruit has solidity of savor. And though the flesh is assumed into God, and thus the flower into the fruit, nevertheless for the condition of a body still mortal and of tender age, the substance of the flesh is called by the name of flower.
The true flesh of Christ is also fruit according to that condition; but this could be said more truly and more perfectly when, through the Passion, He passed from the necessity of suffering and dying to impassibility and immortality; when through His temporal death He freed man from eternal death. (32) But since we are not yet fit to taste the savor of the fruit, let us in the meantime — for what is lesser, and sufficient for the present time, and as much as grace assists — apply the sense of smell of faith to the fragrance of this flower.
Let us contemplate the fruit of the rod according to the manner in which the prophet calls it a flower rather than a fruit, while nonetheless without doubt we hope for the fruit of our redemption in that very flower. For, according to the disposition of the Father's will, just as He deigned for man's sake to become man, so also did He will for man's sake to die as man. Otherwise His birth would have profited us nothing had our redemption not been of profit (Office for Holy Saturday).
This Flower has in its appearance beauty, in its scent sweetness, in its touch gentleness, in its substance tenderness, and in the form of flesh, fruit. How beautiful is this Flower in His rising, how bright in His radiance! The Prophet suggests His beauty to you when he calls Him fairer than the sons of men (Ps. XLIV). Understand this beauty not in the brightness of flesh, but in the innocence of life and the splendor of virtue. So beautiful is this Flower that no ugliness of sin stains Him in the least. 33 So great is the fragrance breathed from this Flower that the East breathes of it, and the first-fruits of the nations hasten toward it in the three Magi (Matt. II). They indeed brought spices with them, but the fragrance of the new Flower surpassed the smell of those spices. This fragrance drives away the stench of crimes and spreads everywhere the sweet scent of faith and virtue. What does it mean that this Flower is gentle to the touch, if not that, renewing the world by His birth, Christ is everywhere meek and humble? And yet this Flower has tenderness in its substance, because Christ as man, before He suffered, being subject to our weaknesses, was found fragile in human flesh. And in all these things the Flower promised fruit, which He gave in its season (Ps. I) — namely, when He died for our sins, freeing us from death; and rose again for our justification (Rom. IV), showing us what we ought to hope for.
But since the frailty of a passible nature made this Flower tender, it could therefore be crushed and bruised by the hands of the unbelieving Jews. For because His nature was capable of suffering, He could be slain by the Jews. Yet this crushing of the Flower did not diminish its fragrance, but increased it; did not lessen it, but heaped it up. 34 This Flower breathes out so much fragrance as it is crushed and expires, that from its scent the dead breathe again unto life. So great, I say, is its fragrance, that while He expired in the hands of the Jews, He breathed confession into the thief (Luke XXIII), faith into the centurion, and caused many bodies of the saints who had slept to breathe again unto life (Matt. XXVII). Does it not seem to you that the mind of the thief had perceived this fragrance, when, rebuking his companion and denouncing the stench of his own crimes, he said: “We indeed receive what is fitting for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong” (Luke XXIII)? Now, drawing in the fragrance of the crushed Flower with all the nostrils of his converted mind, he said: “Remember me, Lord, when You come into Your kingdom” (ibid.). As if he were saying: Wondrous indeed, Lord, is the fragrance which I perceive in Your Passion, but what delights me more is the fullness of the eternal savor which You can bestow in Your kingdom.
O fragrant Flower, whose fragrance raises the dead, whose loveliness feeds the angels! Fragrant everywhere, beautiful everywhere: Beautiful in the Branch from which He is born; beautiful in the enclosed garden from which He comes forth; beautiful in the garden where He is betrayed; beautiful in the garden where He is laid to rest; beautiful on the tree of the Cross where He is crushed; beautiful 35 in the garden of paradise, where He is tasted by the holy angels in eternal fragrance and perpetual refreshment.
Do you see how rightly He is called a Flower, Who is found almost nowhere but in a garden? From the fragrance of this Flower the guilty man breathes again toward pardon, the sinner toward forgiveness, the martyr is strengthened for victory, the pilgrim is directed toward his homeland. When our Branch brings forth this Flower, our spring begins, winter passes away, the rain departs, as the revived season of mercy wipes away the insolence of crimes and the age-worn weariness of the old life. And so at this solemnity, while flowers appear on our earth, the year of goodness and mercy begins — a year whose beginning is prepared by the word “season,” that is, the season of flowers. Understand it as the day of salvation, when the Virgin of virgins brings forth from the root of Jesse the Flower of virtues. And since the earth opens and puts forth a Savior, we may call this first month of the year that renews the world to grace a kind of April.
For April (which is called April because the bosom of mother earth opens at that season for the bringing forth of the seeds of things) befits this mystery, since this feast is celebrated in springtime, on the eighth day before the Kalends of April. 36 For on this day and in this season, the bosom of virginal humility opened to the shower of the angelic salutation; and the Virgin, conceiving by the Holy Spirit, blossomed as a Branch, when, through the aid and working of the Holy Spirit, she ministered to the birth by creating flesh from her most pure flesh. This Flower ascends from the Branch when the Son of God passes from conception to birth. This Flower ascends when the Savior advances in wisdom, age, and grace before God and men, and makes it known to men more and more that He is God.
Yet He did not advance in wisdom or grace within Himself, for He was already perfect; but He is said to have advanced in the sight of men, who were able to make progress from His perfection. Who would have thought that the cruel Jew crushed this Flower on the very same day on which the Branch of piety brought Him forth? For Christ is believed to have been slain by the Jews on the same day on which He was conceived by the Virgin His mother, namely the eighth day before the Kalends of April. Hence it is that the law of Moses, prophesying, forbids the Jew, saying: “You shall not boil a kid in its mother's milk” (Exod. XXIII). A woman is said to have milk 37 in her breasts from the hour of conception. The kid offered for sin designates Christ, Who is sacrificed for the sin of the world. But the Jew boiled the kid in its mother's milk when he applied the fire of the Passion to Christ on the day of His conception.
Nor should it pass without mention that this day falls in the month of March, a time when kings are accustomed to go forth to war. For the month of March takes its name from Mars, that is, from war. Rightly therefore does this day mark the month of March — that is, the time of war — for on it the Lord of hosts came through the Virgin as a mighty warrior to vanquish the prince of this world. Hence it is that coming to vanquish our evils, He uses both a rod and an axe: the rod as a teacher; the axe as a farmer. What then remains for us but to live more uprightly of heart, since it is established that God has done all things for us? For the rod is the teaching of virginal virtue, by which He corrects us; the axe is the terrible judgment of God, by which He cuts down those who remain uncorrected.
Let us therefore attend to the rod, and be changed so that we may imitate it. Let us attend to the axe, and be struck with fear so that we may be changed. Let us consider that mercy 38 makes the rod flexible, and truth makes it straight. For in it mercy and truth have met together. Let us learn from this example to be merciful in heart and truthful in word. The rod is made smooth — that is, without the blemish of fault — by justice, that is, by humility. For humility is called justice, just as the Lord, coming to the baptism of John, when John would have prevented Him, testified saying: “Permit it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all justice” (Matt. III), that is, all humility. But of what kind of tree is this rod? Surely it is of an olive: for the olive is the sign of peace. True peace is not accustomed to be present without a kiss. But in this Branch, “justice and peace have kissed each other” (Ps. LXXXIV). For the justice of true humility alone receives the kiss of true peace, which the swelling of pride will in no way admit.
Let us therefore also be humble in spirit after this example, so that we may be able to have peace both toward God and toward our brothers. For true humility, while it joyfully submits itself to each individual, cannot lack that good of peace by which it strives to place itself before no one. For even to suffer persecution for justice's sake does not deprive humility of peace; rather, humility itself always rejoices in tribulation. If we have already plucked these flowers from the branch of virtue 39, let us fear to lose them; if we have not yet plucked them, let us fear to perish. Yet through the terror of the axe we can breathe somewhat toward the fragrance of the Flower, that is, toward the hope of recovering virtue. The fragrance of the Flower leads to fruit, because hope invites to the kingdom. The rod and the axe work fear in us; the fragrance and the taste of the Flower kindle love. Fear and love correct our life. Fear cuts away the thorns of vices; love plants the plantings of virtues. Fear constrains you — either because you have sinned or lest you sin; love enlarges you, that you may hope and rejoice.
Those whom the rod of heavenly teaching corrects, those whom the fear of divine judgment stirs, the Flower meanwhile refreshes through its fragrance and afterward leads to the taste of the eternal fruit. For our Savior in the present life shows Himself to the elect as a fragrant Flower, promising to those who hope for eternal goods. But when they have attained those promises, the fruit will be satisfying for eternity.
But because without the grace of the Holy Spirit we can neither depart from evils nor make progress in good things at all, let us raise both the smell and the sight of the heart to the Flower Who ascends from the Branch. For the fragrance of this Flower 40 both drives away the stench of carnal concupiscence and restores the reputation of one's good name. And the beauty and loveliness of the Flower drives out the age-worn ugliness of a defiled conscience. The fragrance of the Flower is the Spirit of the Lord, Who rests most fully in Christ. For how should the goodness of the Holy Spirit not find rest in Him in Whom there is absolutely no contradiction of sin? This fragrance is that power of which it is written: “For power went forth from Him, and healed all” (Luke VI). This same Flower of the field and lily of the valleys breathed out this fragrance and offered it to the nostrils of the Jews, when, taking up the scroll in their synagogue, He read to them that word of the prophet Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me” (Isa. LXI; Luke IV). And because this made Him fragrant, He continued with what followed: “Because He has anointed Me” (ibid.). And because the dead ought to breathe again at this fragrance, He added: “He has sent Me to preach the gospel to the poor,” and so on that follows (ibid.). Hence it is that when the reading was finished He said to them: “Today this prophecy is fulfilled in your ears” (ibid.).
This same Spirit came upon the Virgin, and overshadowed her for the mystery of the Lord's Incarnation (Luke IV). But the Flower ascending from the Branch possessed that 41 Spirit in a far different manner, for the Holy Spirit rested most fully upon the Son of the Virgin; and the Spirit of the Lord dwells in the other saints as well, for without Him they cannot be holy, but not so excellently, not so truly — for they are neither one with Him through unity of substance, nor are they entirely without the stain of sin. For who will boast of having a pure heart, when the apostle John says: “If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us” (I John I)? But the only-begotten Son of God, according to what He is as God, shares the same nature with the Father and the Holy Spirit, though He is a distinct person; and according to what He is as man, He received the same Spirit without measure (John III).
Let him who greatly fears the axe of God's strict judgment correct himself in all things after the example of the Virgin Mother. Such a one strives through the laborious anxiety of fear toward the rest of love. But he does not lay hold of the rest he longs for except by reflowering at the fragrance of the Flower Who ascends from the Branch, in Whom the Spirit of the Lord rests in all fullness. For faith, hope, and love of the Lord's Incarnation meanwhile work 42 our sabbath in the repose of conscience, and from this sabbath of the heart they lead us to the sabbath of eternal rest — to which may the Son of the Virgin, the Spouse of the Church, Christ our Lord, bring us.
Sermon II: On the Birth of the Blessed Virgin
"Behold, the King comes" (Matt. XXI) — let us go out to meet our Savior. The bride rejoices all the more abundantly at the coming of the Bridegroom the more surely she is certain of Him. For she would not point out from afar the One Who is coming, unless she already saw Him as present. Unless she were rejoicing with certain consolation at the presence of the One approaching, she would in no way be inviting others to share in her joy. And so, joyful and praising, she sounds forth a proclamation of praise in an invitation, saying: "Behold, the King comes," etc. — as if to say: the Church, bride of the eternal King, not ignorant of the divine counsel, not defrauded of the desire of her expectation: Behold, "the Desired of all nations comes" (Hag. II); behold, the salvation of all comes. There will no longer be fear within our borders, for I behold the common presence of the Savior within the boundaries of our inheritance. Behold, He comes — Who was prefigured in the patriarchs, promised by the prophets, and now is presented by angels: "What is born of you, the Holy One," said the angel to Mary, "shall be called the Son of God" (Luke I). Behold, this is the voice of one who both points out and marvels and rejoices at once. She who points out the admirable One marvels at the One who can be pointed out, and through this perceives that the cause of the pointing-out is all the more lovable — finding and experiencing that it belongs to love alone. Behold, she says, He comes Whom I have always desired, Whom I have sought with all my longings, from Whom through intermediaries I have so often received promises and salutations. Behold, He comes in His own person, to kiss me with the kiss of His mouth.
From where does He come, and where does He go? What manner of One is He Who comes, and where does He pass? How does He come, and when does He come? How far down did He descend, and why did He come? To come is to pass from place to place. To come is to leave the place where one stood and to draw near to another place where one will begin to be. How then is He said to come, Who does not change? "I am God," He says, "and I do not change" (Mal. III). How is He said to pass from place to place, Who is believed in undoubting faith to be wholly everywhere? Who is affirmed to fill heaven and earth with the unlimited essence of His most present majesty? And yet He comes, when through the grace of inward inspiration He makes Himself known to human minds. He comes, when He shows Himself not to be absent through His help. He comes, when He exposes Himself visibly through the substance of flesh.
But from where He comes, He Himself declares, saying: "I have come forth from God and am come" (John VIII). God therefore comes from God — the Sun rising from on high, the Good Word from the heart of the Father, the Almighty Speech from the royal throne, the Lord from heaven, Splendor from the Sun, Power from Omnipotence, the Only-begotten Son from the bosom of the Father — just as the Father speaks to the very Son in the Psalm, saying: "From the womb before the day-star I begot You" (Ps. CIX). He comes, then — He comes, when He is born from the Father and proceeds. He comes, when He graciously makes this same ineffable generation known, drawing the hearts of men to the experience of His sweetness. He comes, when through the showing of His kindness and the assumption of human nature, going before us in all charity, He teaches how much He loves and how much He desires to be loved.
He comes from afar, however — not because He is not most present to every creature, but because He is supreme in majesty, most hidden in invisibility, most simple in subtlety, most incorruptible in truth, most just in equity, and most foreign to all iniquity. And so He comes from afar — not because He Who is most present is distant, but because the corruption that creates distance between the Creator and creature is far from Him.
But He Who comes thus, and comes from there — where does He go? Scripture says that "His face was set toward Jerusalem" (Luke IX), and therefore He was not received by the Samaritans. He Himself says: "I was not sent except to the lost sheep of the house of Israel" (Matt. XV). Behold, the Shepherd goes to the sheep — to seek and bring back those that had been lost. He willingly turns aside to Jerusalem as He comes, because true peace diligently gathers itself toward Him Whom it recognizes as striving and longing toward the vision of peace. For Jerusalem is interpreted as "the vision of peace." The vision of peace is the knowledge, approbation, and contemplation of the Trinity. In knowledge there is faith; in approbation, choice; in contemplation, experience.
"Peace" — pax — is not unfittingly applied to the Trinity, because this name pax consists of three letters, just as the divinity exists in three Persons. The first letter of this name denotes the Father; the next, the Son, Who speaks in the Apocalypse: "I am the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end" (Rev. I); and in the Gospel: "I am the Beginning, Who also speaks to you" (John VIII). For alpha is interpreted as "beginning." The double consonant X signifies the Holy Spirit, Who is the bond and consonance of both. Or it is called a double consonant for this reason: because in the hearts of the elect He works a twofold love, through which the harmony of love for God and neighbor is preserved.
Truly the Nativity of the most blessed Virgin is the vision of this peace. It is a vision, because the one being born is seen by God, angels, and men: she is seen by God, because she is foreknown; she is seen by angels, because she is foretold; she is seen by men, because she is born. Mary is therefore the vision of peace: and because she is born, peace begins to shine upon us. For it is through her that peace comes forth from eternity into time: "Before all hills I was brought forth" (Prov. VIII), says Wisdom — she by whom the Author of peace was born in time. Therefore through the nativity of the Virgin the vision of peace came to us.
See therefore the light that dawned from the Nativity of the Virgin — how far she exceeded in merit the great prophets. For after their deaths, those prophets did not see the vision of peace with men, of which now the Church rejoices in the birth of Mary. What then does this day proclaim? It proclaims the vision of peace, the nativity of grace. Here the dawn shines, here the day dawns, here the darkness of errors is dispersed, here the kingdom of peace begins, here the author of salvation enters the stage.
Now to see more clearly how great is our debt of praise for the birth of our Virgin, let us look to see what she brought us. She brought us the Author of peace; for her birth is the beginning of our salvation. She brought us the Sun of justice; for from her comes He Who is the light of the world. She brought us the Bread of heaven; for from her flesh came He Who is the Bread of life. She brought us the Fountain of mercy; for in her is received He Who is mercy itself. She brought us the Physician; for through her comes He Who heals all our diseases. She brought us every good, since she brought us Him Who is all good.
And so, in the birth of our Virgin, God meets man, mercy meets misery, eternity meets time, immensity meets limitation, life meets death, the King meets the captive, the Creator meets the creature. What wonder if we rejoice with the birth of her through whom all things are renewed, all things are made new, all things are made better?
She is born — and the world shines with greater splendor. She is born — and men receive the hope of salvation. She is born — and angels rejoice with men. She is born — and the ancient curse begins to yield to the blessing newly born. She is born — and Eve's dishonor is banished, Mary's honor is exalted. She is born — and the ancient enemy begins to tremble. For this is she who was promised to him in his pride: "I will put enmities between thee and the woman" (Gen. III).
Let us behold therefore the dignity of this Woman — she who crushes the head of the serpent; she who is the gate of paradise; she who is the path of salvation; she who is the hope of the wretched; she who is the advocate of sinners; she who is the queen of virtues; she who is the mother of mercy; she who is the comfort of the afflicted; she who is the helper of all in need.
And yet — how did this great lady come? How did she come upon the earth? She came in lowliness, in poverty, in humility, in simplicity. For not in palaces, not in royal courts, not among the rich and the powerful, but among the poor, among the humble, among the simple was she born. And yet she was foreknown from eternity, foreordained from eternity, chosen from eternity for this dignity above all women.
O virgin most holy, born in humility to be exalted above all! O lowly one, chosen for the highest honor! O simple one, predestined for the most sublime vocation! Blessed is the womb that bore you, and the breasts that gave you suck. But far more blessed are you yourself, who in your own womb bore Him who blessed all, who with your own breasts nourished Him who nourishes all.
O Lady of the world, how great is your dignity — you who are the mother of God and man! O Lady of the world, how great is your mercy — you who are the advocate of sinners! O Lady of the world, how great is your power — you who are the queen of heaven and earth! O Lady of the world, how great is your glory — you who shine brighter than all the angels in the sight of God!
Let the feast of your birth, therefore, O most blessed Virgin, be for us a feast of joy and exultation. Let it be for us a feast of hope and consolation. Let it be for us a feast of peace and reconciliation. For through your birth, O Virgin, the whole world has received the occasion of salvation, the beginning of joy, the hope of life, the light of truth.
Sing therefore to the Lord a new song (Ps. XCVII), for He has done wonderful things. He has done wonderful things in making you, O Virgin — wonderful in your conception, wonderful in your birth, wonderful in your life, wonderful in your vocation, wonderful in your honor. Sing a new song, because new are the things done: a Virgin Mother, God made man, the Creator subject to the creature, Omnipotence made infirm — these are new things, these are wonderful things, worthy of the new song of a renewed heart.
Such persons, the more they pant after the denarius of eternal reward, the more sweetly and subtly they touch the Psaltery of ten strings — which denarius number resounds with such inexpressible sweetness that its sweetness surpasses all understanding of human and angelic reason. The first string is the nativity of the eternal Word, Who is consubstantial and coeternal with His Father; the second is the secret counsel of His predestination; the third is the power by which He gave beginning to the universe through His essence; the fourth, the wisdom by which He bestowed form; the fifth, the goodness by which He applied His providence to governing; the sixth, the justice by which He exacted due vengeance upon rational creatures that sinned; the seventh, the grace by which He chose the patriarchs; the eighth, the knowledge of truth by which He gave the law; the ninth, the mercy by which He redeemed us; the tenth, the revelation of the sons of God, the expectation of which keeps creation in suspense.
The harp is either one for all — namely the manner of our liberation — or individual harps for individual players, that is, for those rejoicing in their own bodies, stripped of the sting of sin and the garment of mortality. For he who here plays on the harp the song of humble confession in the mortification of his body, will there play on the harp the song of eternal jubilation in the glorification of that same body. Since therefore we hold the psaltery, let us sing on it the new song, following the example and imitation of the Child Who was born for us (Isa. IX), Who is full of grace and truth (John I). Let us be reborn into a new infancy, that through the innocence of a more upright life we may be made capable of holy newness. On the psaltery of a pure heart and the harp of a chaste body, let us sing around the cradle of the infant Word, mingling with His infant cries also the necessary groans of tearful penitence. Let the notes of the virtues ring out in the newness of life — those notes which in the ears of the Word perfect the new song.
For there are nine things which rightly perfect this newness in us. And since we speak on the authority of Scripture of a new life and a new song, we call those nine things as it were nine notes in which the new song is arranged. The first note of our song therefore is unfeigned faith; the second, true humility; the third, continence of the flesh; the fourth, gravity of discipline; the fifth, truth of speech; the sixth, the piety of fraternal compassion; the seventh, patience in adversity; the eighth, desire for eternity; the ninth is the immovable constancy of soul in all of these. The harmony and consonance of these virtues rightly arranges the conduct of those who are making progress and aspiring toward the nine orders of angels.
The reason why the new song should be sung to the Lord is added when it is said: "For He has done wonderful things." God is wonderful in His majesty, wonderful in His saints (Ps. LXVII), wonderful in all His works; everywhere and in all things He is wonderful — He Who wrought great deeds in Egypt, wonderful things in the land of Ham, and terrible things in the Red Sea (Ps. CV). Wonderful is the work of the world's creation with its elements, but far more wonderful is the Incarnation of the Word with its sacraments. The works of nature are indeed wonderful, but since they have grown cheap through familiarity, they are as it were old things, and in the meantime do not merit the exultation of the new song.
But the new wonders by which the marvelous mercy of God renews us are new songs to be lifted up in praises. Among all the wonders which Wisdom the Craftsman has made, there are three that are singularly wonderful and wonderfully singular — which we have also touched upon to some degree above — namely: that she is mother and virgin, the Word is an infant, and God is man. These are new, because they are unheard of; and wonderful, because they surpass nature. On faith in and love of these wonders depends our renewal. For this reason the name of the Child Who was born and given to us is called "Wonderful" (Isa. IX), because in Himself He prepares, for minds to be renewed by His grace, the miracles of so stupendous a newness.
Surely when the same Father of the age to come and Prince of peace added a fourth to the three wonders named above — so that just as the blessed and mighty God became man mercifully, so the wretched man might be raised up into God wondrously — then the sound of the new song will be full, then there will be the sweet jubilus of complete joy, because "God will be all in all" (I Cor. XV).
Then He will appear as the perfect man (Eph. IV) Who is now born to us as a Child, and He Who is now given to us as a son to be a sharer in our tribulation will then offer Himself to us as the giver and prince of eternal peace. Then we shall see and overflow with abundance, we shall marvel and our heart shall be enlarged (Isa. LX), when "as we have heard, so also shall we see in the city of our God" (Ps. XLVII). Then with full experience we shall feel how great is the multitude of Thy sweetness, O Lord, which Thou hast hidden for those who fear Thee (Ps. XXX). May the Child Who was born for us, the Son given to us for this purpose, deign to prepare this for us — He Who lives and reigns with Thee and with the Holy Spirit, etc.
Sermon III: On the Birth of the Blessed Virgin
"Sing to the Lord a new song: for He has done wonderful things" (Ps. XCVII). This new song is the praise of the new birth. For the birth of the Blessed Virgin Mary is a new beginning of salvation. It is new, because it was never heard of before; it is wonderful, because it surpasses the order of nature. Before this birth, the world was in darkness; after it, the world began to see the dawn. Before this birth, hope was uncertain; after it, salvation was assured. For from her birth came she who would bear the Savior; from her birth came she who would crush the head of the serpent; from her birth came the dawn before the Sun of justice.
What is this new song but the praise of newness? What is this newness but the birth of the Virgin? What is the birth of the Virgin but the beginning of our salvation? Let us therefore sing the new song — for new is the cause, new is the occasion, new is the grace, new is the gift. New is she who is born: new in her conception, new in her birth, new in her life, new in her vocation, new in her honor, new in her glory.
But what shall we say of the manner of her birth? She was born of holy parents — of Joachim and Anna — who had long prayed and fasted and wept before the Lord, that He might open the womb of the barren woman and give them offspring for the praise of His name. And their prayer was heard, and the fruit of their devotion was given — and that fruit was Mary, the most holy, the most pure, the most humble, the most gracious of all women.
O Joachim and Anna, how blessed are you among all parents! For from you came forth she who is blessed among all women. O Joachim and Anna, how holy is your devotion! For from your devotion came forth she who is the pattern of all devotion. O Joachim and Anna, how great is your dignity! For from you came forth she who is the mother of the Most High.
Let us therefore celebrate the feast of the Nativity of the Virgin with all devotion and all joy. Let us celebrate it with the new song of a renewed heart. Let us celebrate it with the praise of a pure conscience. Let us celebrate it with the offering of our whole life to the service of the most holy Virgin. For she is worthy of all praise, worthy of all honor, worthy of all devotion — she who is the beginning of our salvation, the dawn of our grace, the gate of our life.
O most holy Virgin, born of holy parents, sanctified from your birth, consecrated from your infancy, chosen from eternity — receive the praise of our unworthy lips and the devotion of our weak hearts. Intercede for us with your Son, that He may grant us the grace to serve you worthily in this life and to enjoy your company in the life to come.
For what is born of you is holy — holy in His conception, holy in His birth, holy in His life, holy in His death, holy in His resurrection, holy in His ascension, holy in His glory. He is holy, and He has made you holy — the most holy after Himself. He is holy, and through you He has made us capable of holiness — who without you would have remained in the darkness of sin and the shadow of death.
Now the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled: "A virgin shall conceive and bear a son" (Isa. VII). Now the promise of God to Adam is fulfilled: "I will put enmities between thee and the woman" (Gen. III). Now the sign given to Gideon is explained: for as the dew came upon the fleece while the earth remained dry (Judg. VI), so the grace of God descended upon the Virgin while the rest of mankind remained dry. Now the rod of Aaron is understood: for as the rod flowered and put forth buds and brought forth almonds without the sap of a man (Num. XVII), so the Virgin conceived and bore the Son of God without the seed of a man.
These are the wonderful things which the Lord has done — wonderful in their manner, wonderful in their effect, wonderful in their purpose. Wonderful in their manner: for who has ever heard that a virgin conceived without the knowledge of a man? Wonderful in their effect: for who has ever seen that a woman bore the Son of God? Wonderful in their purpose: for who has ever thought that God would become man for the salvation of men?
Let us sing therefore the new song — for new are the things which the Lord has done for us through the birth of the Virgin. Let us sing the new song of faith and hope and love. Let us sing the new song of humility and purity and devotion. Let us sing the new song of praise and thanksgiving and supplication. For worthy is she of all praise, worthy is she of all honor, worthy is she of all devotion — she through whose birth the world has received the occasion of salvation, the beginning of joy, the hope of life, the light of truth.
Now therefore let us turn, with the eye of our heart, to the Virgin who is born — and let us consider her dignity. Her dignity is beyond all comparison, beyond all understanding, beyond all expression. For she is the Mother of God — and what dignity can surpass the dignity of the Mother of God? She is the Queen of heaven — and what honor can surpass the honor of the Queen of heaven? She is the Lady of the world — and what greatness can surpass the greatness of the Lady of the world?
And yet — how does she bear her dignity? With what humility, with what simplicity, with what modesty! She who is Queen of heaven presents herself as the handmaid of the Lord. She who is Lady of the world humbles herself beneath all. She who is Mother of God calls herself the servant of her Son. O wondrous humility! O admirable modesty! O incomparable simplicity!
Let us learn from her example. Let us learn humility from the most humble. Let us learn simplicity from the most simple. Let us learn modesty from the most modest. Let us learn devotion from the most devout. Let us learn love from the most loving. For she is our model, our example, our pattern — she in whom all virtues shine with incomparable brightness.
O most blessed Virgin, born for our salvation — help us who are born in sin. O most pure Virgin, born without stain — cleanse us who are stained with many sins. O most holy Virgin, born for the honor of God — sanctify us who dishonor God by our sins. O most humble Virgin, born in poverty and lowliness — humble us who are proud and arrogant. O most loving Virgin, born with love for all — inflame us who are cold and lukewarm in love.
For through you came He Who is our salvation, our purity, our holiness, our humility, our love. Through you came He Who forgives our sins, cleanses our stains, sanctifies our souls, humbles our pride, inflames our hearts with love. Through you, O most blessed Virgin, we have received all good things. Through you we hope to receive the highest good — eternal life in the kingdom of your Son.
May He Who was born of you, and through your birth has given us the occasion of our salvation, bring us to that eternal salvation — through the merits of your holy nativity, O most blessed Virgin Mary. Amen.
Sermon IV: On the Purification of the Blessed Mary
"They offered for Him to the Lord a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons" (Lk. 2). To keep the feast of Light with an illumined mind, the Father of lights invites the children of light. "Draw near to Him and be enlightened" (Ps. 33). For He Himself "Who dwells in unapproachable light" (1 Tim. 6) has graciously become accessible, making the cloud of flesh His descent, so that the weak and lowly might have access to Him. O descent of mercy! "He bowed the heavens" — that is, the heights of divinity — "and came down," through the presence of flesh, "and darkness was under His feet" (Ps. 17). The feet by which He came to us are mercy and truth. That He took on our flesh was the foot of mercy; that He took it on without the lie of sin was truth. Yet darkness was under His feet, because in the body which He assumed from mercy and truth — that is, without fault — the likeness of sinful flesh appeared. Hence it is written elsewhere: "Clouds and darkness are round about Him" (Ps. 96).
Cloud and darkness, because in the cloud is darkness — that is, in the flesh, the likeness of sin. O darkness necessary for the restoration of light! For when the true Light applied to Itself the cloud of flesh, made dark by the likeness of sin, through the interposing of this darkness, both the wisdom of the world, and the malice of men, and the cunning of demons were blinded. Hence blindness came upon Israel (Rom. 11), and not knowing the Lord of glory (1 Cor. 2), reckoning the true Light to be darkness, they unwittingly accomplished the work of our redemption. Therefore, from the very place where the true Light made flesh His hiding place, there the children of darkness increased their own darkness. Let flesh therefore draw near to flesh, in which it may unlearn the things of the flesh, and so let us be taught to pass gradually from flesh into spirit.
Let flesh draw near, I say, and now especially, because now to some degree the new Sun sheds abroad more of His radiance than usual: He Who until now had been confined at Bethlehem, known to few beside a narrow manger, is today presented before many in the temple of the Lord in Jerusalem. Until now, O Bethlehem, you alone rejoiced in that common light, and, proud in the privilege of its unaccustomed newness, you could even contend with the very east in equality of splendor — indeed (wondrous to say) in your narrow stable there was more light than the rising of the worldly sun is wont to bring forth. Why then did you begrudge to the whole world of creatures those rays which belong to all? Scarcely did you show that Light to a few shepherds. Scarcely did you admit three men from the East to the manger of the new Light. But now the Sun goes forth from your hidden places to illuminate the whole world; whether He has left any darkness with you, you yourself shall see.
Today, therefore, the Lord of the temple is offered in the temple, and the birds named above are offered for Him. In this presentation, a twofold offering is celebrated: one made of Him, another made for Him. And when the birds are offered for Him, an offering is redeemed by an offering. By the price of birds our price is redeemed, and our Redeemer is redeemed before we are redeemed by Him. A worthy and singular offering indeed — one redeemed now through the interposition of the price of lowly birds, yet destined in due time to redeem the human race at the inestimable price of His own blood!
The birds offered are of two kinds: turtledoves or two young pigeons. The turtledove is a bird of chaste love, faithful to its mate, dwelling in remote places, mourning when alone. The pigeon is a bird of simplicity, harmless, gentle, nesting near human habitation. Both are fitting offerings for the Lord of chastity and simplicity. For He Who is offered came to restore chastity to the world, corrupted by lust; and simplicity to the world, corrupted by cunning.
The turtledove, mourning in solitude, signifies the soul that mourns its sins in the solitude of compunction. The young pigeon, gentle and harmless, signifies the soul that has put aside all malice and guile and become simple as a child. Both are needed — both compunction and simplicity — for the one who would offer himself worthily to the Lord.
O how fitting an offering these birds make for the Lord! For He Who is offered is Himself the most chaste, the most simple, the most gentle, the most harmless of all. He Who is offered is Himself the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world. He Who is offered is Himself the Dove, who descended upon the waters of baptism. He Who is offered is Himself the Turtledove, who mourned for our sins with the cry of His Passion.
And with Him is offered His mother — for she too presents herself at the temple with Him. She too makes her offering — not of sin, for she had no sin — but of devotion, of love, of obedience to the law. For she who was above the law submits herself to the law, that through her submission we who are under the law might be freed from the law.
O most obedient Virgin! O most humble Mother of God! She who was above all law submits herself to all law. She who needed no purification submits herself to the rite of purification. She who was purer than all purification comes to be purified — not for her own sake, but for ours; not because she needed it, but because we needed the example.
Let us therefore follow the example of this most holy Virgin. Let us submit ourselves to the law of God with humility and obedience. Let us offer ourselves at the temple of God with devotion and love. Let us present ourselves before the Lord with the turtledove of compunction and the pigeon of simplicity. For thus we shall be found worthy to receive the light that comes from the Lord — the light that enlightens every man coming into this world (John 1).
This light is Christ Himself, who is presented in the temple today. This light is the light that Simeon saw and praised: "Now Thou dost dismiss Thy servant, O Lord, according to Thy word, in peace; because my eyes have seen Thy salvation" (Lk. 2). O happy Simeon, who saw with bodily eyes what we see only with the eyes of faith! O happy Simeon, who held in his arms the One whom the whole world cannot contain! O happy Simeon, who recognized in the infant the Lord of glory!
Let us too recognize the Lord of glory — not in the temple of Jerusalem, but in the temple of our own hearts. For He Who was presented in the temple of stone desires to dwell in the temple of flesh. He Who was held in the arms of Simeon desires to be held in the arms of our faith and love. He Who was seen by the eyes of Simeon desires to be seen by the eyes of our hearts.
Let us therefore prepare the temple of our hearts for His coming. Let us cleanse it from all impurity of sin. Let us adorn it with all the virtues. Let us fill it with the light of faith and the warmth of love. And then He Who came into the temple of Jerusalem will come into the temple of our hearts, and will abide there forever.
O most blessed Virgin, who presented your Son in the temple — present us also to your Son, that we may be found worthy of His presence. O most holy Mother, who offered your Son for our redemption — offer also our prayers and our devotion to your Son, that they may be accepted in His sight. O most pure Virgin, who submitted yourself to the law for our sake — intercede for us with your Son, that through His grace we may be freed from the bondage of sin and brought to the freedom of the children of God.
For while she is sanctified in the purpose of holiness through grace, she is raised by the sublimity of mind from the lowest and weakest works and is consolidated into a certain stable firmament. Such a firmament we call heaven, because, as the authority says, "God called the firmament heaven" (Gen. 1). We say, therefore, that God dwells in the saints, that is, in the heavens, because the saints, confirmed in the purpose of holiness, have also been made a firmament. But if a firmament, then also a heaven — one that is altogether alien from every dregs of human earthliness. Hence it is that in Greek agios means holy in Latin.
For agios is interpreted as "without earth."
And so the holy is what has been hallowed; the hallowed is what has been confirmed; the confirmed is he who has been made into a firmament; and the firmament is stable and firm, separated far from the earth, adorned with the wonderful variety of the stars. Such is the holy heart — firm in the purpose of inviolable holiness, estranged from earthly desires, adorned with diverse virtues as though with stars. Who, I ask, or where, shall find such a one? "Far away, certainly, and from the uttermost ends is her price." Would that you might find within yourself such a soul as your own, or, that you might be made into such a one, you would not be slow to seek and bring it from far away, even from the uttermost ends! O how far away is that honor which the soul received in its creation! How far away is the dignity of the divine likeness, adorned with which it fell into folly.
For "when man was in honor he understood not; he was compared to the senseless beasts and made like to them" (Ps. 48). Certainly the wondrous creation of the rational soul made it to be of such great worth that the inestimable price — the Word made flesh (Jn. 1) — was paid for its redemption. For when the Creator made it in His own likeness, He impressed upon it four distinguishing marks of His image: it drew from the eternity of the Creator immortality; from the sublimity of Wisdom, the excellence of reason; from the invisibility of His essence, the simplicity of its nature; from the generosity of His liberality, the freedom of free will.
How far away are those four things from which the human soul drew these four! They are far away because they surpass every sense and exceed every reason and understanding of men and angels; they are the uttermost ends, because when the saints shall have arrived at comprehending them, they require nothing further. "That you may be able," says the Apostle, "to comprehend with all the saints what is the length, the breadth, the height and the depth (Eph. 3)." The length is the eternity of the Creator; the breadth is His charity; the height is the loftiness of wisdom; the depth is the incomprehensible subtlety of the invisible essence.
O, if the rational soul had preserved with the length of immortality the long-suffering of perseverance; with the breadth of free will the freedom of justice; with the height of reason the loftiness of divine contemplation; with the depth of simple essence the simplicity of innocence — it would never have lost its price, which had come to it from so far away! Now, however, although it has lost the price of the divine likeness, because it abandoned the virtue of love, it was not altogether without price, because it has not departed from the precious image of its Author. The image, indeed, is precious — that which it has held inalienably in the knowledge of truth; but far more precious is the likeness, which, though received in the love of virtue, the all-too-hasty love of sin has worn away. But let us now return to our Virgin in heart and soul, in truth and in deed.
She is our harbor; she is the anchor of our hope; she is the strong woman, fruitful and mighty, to whom we who are destitute and weak must flee for refuge. Her fruitfulness is sufficient to drive away the beggary of her children; her strength is sufficient to set free those who presume nothing on their own powers. Mary, Star of the Sea, is necessary for one who sails on the open sea of this uncertainty. She is the harbor of all mercy for the world that suffers shipwreck. Let not the guilty despair: our Mother herself, who bore for us our Judge, has also made our Judge our Advocate. If on account of your fault you desire pardon, look confidently to Mary, and you will obtain mercy. If, placed in tribulation, you are cast down by faint-heartedness, flee with all your heart to Mary, and you will obtain the strength of patience.
If the love of the world that you have renounced pursues you, have recourse to Mary, the Lady of the world, and you will trample all worldly things under foot as dung. If the alluring softness of the flesh tempts you, invoke the Virgin, invoke Mary, and in the overshadowing which the power of the Most High made over her (Lk. 1), you will obtain refreshment from the unlawful burning. Finally, in every assault of demons, flee to Mary the Queen of angels, and at the Empress's nod the cunning of the tempter will cease. For she herself is the rising dawn, which rebukes the darkness, which sets a limit to evils, which puts an end to errors, and ministers the rays of the true light. For Mary is the Mother of grace, the Mother of mercy, the way of life, the pattern of justice, the medicine of penance, the school of patience, the example of discipline, the joy of the Church, the end of misery, the gate of paradise, and the harbor. To which harbor may Jesus Christ bring us.
Sermon V: On the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
"Who is she that goes up through the desert, as a pillar of smoke of aromatical spices, of myrrh, and frankincense, and of all the powders of the perfumer?" (Cant. III.) Today the Virgin ascends — not as smoke, but as light; not as a pillar of the desert, but as the queen of heaven. Today the Virgin is assumed — body and soul — into the glory of heaven. Today the Virgin is exalted above all the choirs of angels, and placed at the right hand of her Son. Today the Virgin enters into the joy of her Lord — the joy that was prepared for her from the beginning of the world.
O day of joy! O day of exultation! O day of triumph! Today Mary triumphs over death, over sin, over the devil, over the world. Today Mary enters into the kingdom prepared for her from the foundation of the world. Today Mary is crowned with a crown of glory, more brilliant than the sun, more beautiful than the moon, more glorious than the stars.
What is this pillar of smoke of aromatical spices? It is the soul of the most blessed Virgin, ascending to heaven in the odor of her virtues. For the life of Mary was like aromatical spices — full of the fragrance of humility, the sweetness of purity, the strength of charity, the warmth of devotion. And as she ascended, she filled all heaven with the fragrance of her virtues.
What is the myrrh in this pillar? It is the mortification of the flesh, by which Mary kept her body pure and chaste for the Lord. What is the frankincense? It is the prayer of a pure heart, which Mary offered unceasingly to God. What are the powders of the perfumer? They are the diverse virtues which Mary exercised throughout her life — humility, patience, obedience, charity, prudence, fortitude — all mixed together in the ointment of her most holy life.
O most holy Virgin, going up through the desert of this world as a pillar of smoke! For this world is indeed a desert — a desert of vanity and affliction, a desert of sin and punishment, a desert of darkness and error. And through this desert Mary passed — not as a wanderer, but as a pilgrim; not as one lost, but as one knowing where she was going; not as one afraid, but as one full of confidence in her Son.
For she knew that her Son was waiting for her at the end of her journey. She knew that the heavenly Jerusalem was prepared for her. She knew that the crown of glory was laid up for her. And so she walked through the desert of this world with joy and exultation — mourning for the sins of the world, but rejoicing in the mercy of God; afflicted by the sorrows of this life, but consoled by the hope of eternal life.
And now she has arrived. Now the desert is behind her. Now the heavenly Jerusalem is before her. Now the crown of glory is on her head. Now she sits at the right hand of her Son, interceding for us who are still wandering in the desert of this world.
O most blessed Virgin, who has gone up through the desert of this world to the glory of heaven — remember us who are still wandering in the desert. O most holy Mother, who has been assumed into heaven — intercede for us who are still on earth. O most glorious Queen, who has been crowned with a crown of glory — pray for us who are still burdened with the weight of our sins.
For you are our hope in this desert. You are our light in this darkness. You are our consolation in this affliction. You are our strength in this weakness. You are our advocate before the throne of your Son. You are our mother in this exile. You are our joy in this sorrow.
O most blessed Virgin, assumed into heaven! O most holy Mother, crowned with glory! O most glorious Queen, seated at the right hand of your Son! Look down upon us who are still on earth, and help us with your intercession. Pray for us to your Son, that He may grant us the grace to follow you through the desert of this world to the glory of heaven.
For as you went up through the desert as a pillar of smoke, so may we follow you — not in the greatness of your merits, which surpass all comparison, but in the humility of our desire and the fervency of our devotion. For you are our model, our example, our pattern — you in whom all virtues shone with incomparable brightness. You are our star, guiding us through the darkness of this life to the light of eternal life.
O star of the sea, guide us to the harbor of salvation! O light of the world, illuminate our darkness! O queen of heaven, intercede for us sinners! O mother of mercy, have compassion on our misery! O gate of paradise, open for us the way to eternal life!
May she who was assumed into heaven body and soul obtain for us the resurrection of body and soul. May she who was crowned with glory in heaven obtain for us the crown of glory. May she who sits at the right hand of her Son obtain for us a place in the kingdom of her Son. To whom be honor and glory, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, forever and ever. Amen.
Fragments on Mary
The notes of Hippolytus Maracius to this document have been printed by Migne as a separate document as columns 771 to 780. Each number in the text of the Fragmenta Mariana refers to the number of the note in this separate document.
Fragment I
Christ descended as a virgin and as one who is humble, and He descended through the virginal womb of His most humble Mother, so that He Who had undertaken to heal both natures corrupted by both diseases might abound within Himself with both antidotes. Behold how He descended, and by what way He descended. He descended truly through a virginal body; He descended as rain upon a fleece, and as drops distilling upon the earth (Ps. LXXI), so the floods of graces descended into Mary. O the necessary fleece of the impassible virginity of Mary, which so silently and so gently received the rain of saving grace! O that voluntary rain, by which while the fleece of most pure virginity was soaked through, there both accrued to the fleece itself before the world an immense brightness, and our uncleanness received a washing-place where it might be cleansed.
Sprinkle me, my Lady, with this hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me with that dew infused into you from the heart of the Father, and I shall be made whiter than snow (Ps. L). You are all pure, all bright, all drenched with the sprinkling of divine dew; and from your inviolable womb you bring forth the Lamb of singular innocence, and from your unbreached fleece you warm the souls of the saints.
Through your womb, full of the highest purity and innocence, overflowing with an abundance of mercies, Christ the river of mercies descended — flooding in a deluge of all grace, He cleansed the filth of the whole world. Through your words, distilling milk and honey of the sweetest tenderness, our little one grew into a perfect man, who in the strength of His patience bore the burdens of our insufficiency. "Truly He bore our infirmities, and He carried our sorrows (Isa. XIII)," and He had from you the shoulders with which to bear them, when He received a passible body from your flesh.
Through you He descended; through you the little one came to the humble — He who appointed you as our advocate in our cause, who gave your very self as an immense gift to the world. He chose you as the way by which He would come to us; He ordained you as the path by which we would return home. O way free from roughness and harshness, free from ignorance and error! Truly "mercy and truth have met in you (Ps. LXXXIV)." Mercy would not suffer anything harsh or hard to be in you, nor would truth suffer anything obscure to be present.
O common way of salvation, free from iniquity and malice, free from trouble and toil. In you "peace and justice have kissed (ibid.)." The equity of justice would not allow anything twisted to be in you, nor would the tranquility of peace endure anything burdensome. You are wholly pleasant and clear, wholly sweet and straight, gentle and peaceful — you who bring to us the illumination of our hearts from the heart of the Father, and speaking to the heart (Hos. II), you draw the hearts of believers to yourself. To us, as has been said, you speak to the heart, to us for whom you bring forth the lord of your heart — that is, the incarnate Word.
Let us then see how far He who descended through you descended. He descended surely as far as the assumption of our body, as far as the likeness of sinful flesh. He descended as far as the endurance of troubles, as far as the bearing of injuries. He descended as far as the outrage of the Passion; He descended as far as the ignominy of the cross and death; He descended as far as the service of the three-day burial; He descended as far as the plundering of hell.
Fragment II
But since the splendor of heavenly things is difficult for weak eyes, let us turn our bleary eyes to the pillar of cloud and fire. The pillar of cloud and fire is indeed the firm sublimity of our Virgin, from which the radiance of the Deity drew to itself a certain fire. For when the splendor of the almighty Word is wrapped in the cloud of flesh through the Virgin's conception, what else was that likeness of sinful flesh but a certain fire in a cloud? "Cloud," He says, "and fire are round about Him (Ps. XCVI)," because the splendor of the Word is enveloped in the cloud of most pure flesh, and in that same flesh is surrounded by weakness. But let us attend to the pillar we have set before us.
Let us consider how firm, how straight, how upright it is! Let us consider, I say, how firm, how strong, how straight, how smooth, how extended, how sublime! How firm is she, on whom both heaven and earth lean! How strong is she, who fights invincibly against all heresies and spiritual wickedness! How straight she is, she who knew nothing of the stain of sin! How smooth she is, who admits no wrinkle of duplicity! How upright she is, who by the height of her merits surpasses every creature! How sublime she is — she whom the Son of the Most High provided from eternity as His most worthy mother!
How blessed is she, who is God's mother and bride, gate of heaven, delight of paradise, lady of the angels, queen of the world, joy of the saints, advocate of believers, strength of those who fight, recall of the erring, medicine of the penitent! O sure salvation, O compendium of life, O sole hope of pardon, O singular sweetness! You are all things to me, my lady; in you is stored up for me the fullness of all goods. With you are laid up the inexhaustible treasures of truth and grace, of peace and mercy, of salvation and wisdom, of glory and honor.
You are for me an anchor in the tossing sea, a harbor in shipwreck, a support in tribulation, comfort in sorrow. To your own you are relief in oppression, aid in time of need, moderation in prosperity, joy in expectation, refreshment in toil. Whatever I can babble of your praises falls short of your praise — you who are most worthy of all praise — yet I am bound to praise you. If I were to speak of you with the tongues of men and of angels (I Cor. XIII), when I had poured out my whole self, it would be too little.
I turn rather to that praise of you which is sung in the song of love: "Who is she that comes forth like the rising dawn, beautiful as the moon, chosen as the sun, terrible as an army set in array?" (Cant. VI.) In these words, briefly and subtly, truly and sublimely, the fourfold praise of your glory is expressed. For when you are born, you rise like the glowing dawn. Your birth, indeed, held the place of dawn, in which the day of grace began and the night of faithlessness and ignorance came to an end.
When you conceive the Sun of justice, after the manner of the moon, you are illuminated by the gift of the shining sun. For the moon borrows light from the sun — that which the nature of its denser body denies it — so that whatever beauty it has, it has from the gift of borrowed splendor. When you give birth to the Sun of justice, you are fittingly compared to the sun by a worthy similitude: for just as the body of the sun is not corrupted or diminished by the ray it sends forth, so the bringing forth of the sacred birth does not violate you in giving birth. Now, O chosen one like the sun, what is your birth but the eternal splendor of a certain sun? This splendor shines everywhere, even in the darkness, though the darkness does not merit to comprehend it (John I). Finally, this splendor illuminates every man coming into the world (ibid.); but men have loved darkness more than light.
But to you, mother of mercy, belongs the election of the Sun — you who display the rays of splendor to all.
Moreover, when you were taken up from this wicked age to the heavenly realm, you became terrible to all spiritual wickedness, like an army set in battle array (Cant. VI). You were therefore like the rising dawn at your birth. You had the beauty of the full moon when you were made full of grace at the conception of the incarnate Word. You were rightly compared to the sun, remaining undefiled in giving birth. Terrible as an army set in array at your passing — at which, with the heavens rejoicing, the angels attending, the saints exulting, and the banners of virtues flashing, you appeared terrible to the demons.
Yet all our confidence lies in the birth of our Virgin, and although I am unworthy, I will not cease to dwell on her praises. If you are in need of mercy, it is found more abundantly in the womb of the Virgin. If you are a devotee of truth, give thanks to the Virgin, for the truth you cherish has risen for you from the earth of virginal flesh (Ps. LXXXIV). If you are a follower of peace, give thanks no less to the Virgin, for from her is born for you "the peace which surpasses all understanding (Phil. IV)." If you are an executor of justice, see that you are not ungrateful to the Virgin, for through the mediation of her womb "justice looked down from heaven (Ps. LXXXIV)."
If your faith is shaken by some assault of a troubled conscience, look to the Virgin, and what was wavering is firmly steadied. If the lust of the flesh delights you, look to the Virgin, and the danger to chastity is removed. If pride beats upon your mind, turn your gaze to the Virgin, and through the merit of virginal humility the swelling of the soul subsides. If you are inflamed by the torches of anger, lift your eyes to the Virgin, and from her tranquility you will be gentled. If ignorance or error has led you astray from the way of life, look to Mary, the star of the sea, and in her light you will be led back to the path of truth. If the vice of avarice has imposed its idolatry upon you, recall the generosity of the Virgin, and along with the love of poverty there will come to you the piety of generosity.
The Virgin's mercy comes to the aid of every danger, and is powerful enough to aid. Give thanks to her birth-giving, from whose fullness the whole community of charisms has flowed. The Virgin gave birth for us; the birth is ours; to us the child is born, and a son is given to us.
Fragment III
"My soul magnifies the Lord, says Mary (Luke I)." Consider first where she magnifies the Lord. Certainly in the hill country, in the city of Juda, in the house of Zechariah. In the hill country the Lord is magnified — He who is blasphemed in the lowlands. In the lowlands were those who, according to the prophet, "have blasphemed the Holy One of Israel, and have turned away backward (Isa. I)." In the lowlands, I say, of the curse and confusion of Adam and Eve, who, having lost the integrity of the flesh, alienated from the height of truth, made for themselves flat lowlands — for they had lost the highlands of truth and virtue. So, rising up from the valley of worldly vanity, from the depth of human corruption, from the lowlands of common iniquity, Mary went with haste into the hill country (Luke I). The hill country is the heights of perfection.
These heights are: the truth of a most enlightened mind, the virginity of most perfect flesh, and the power of the Most High overshadowing (ibid.) for the quickening of the womb. These are the hill country into which Mary ascended; this is the city of Juda; this is the house of Zechariah. A city is a large gathering of people living under one law. This people is made up of Mary's rational thoughts, her holy virtues, and her most ordered actions, which the law of charity orders in the confession of divine praise. Juda indeed means confession; Zechariah means mindful of the Lord; and the house of Zechariah is the virginal heart, retentive in its memory of God's commandments.
Placed in this hill country, the Mother of God, hearing from the prophesying Elizabeth what she is about to become; recalling what she heard from the Lord when the Angel made His announcement; attending to the purity of her conscience; weighing how her flesh is free from all foreign corruption; and perceiving that she herself is wholly lifted up to the heights by divine action — now higher than the world, now transcending every creature by the merit of her life, by the prerogative of singular grace, by the immensity of her joy — she sings a new song to the Lord, saying: "My soul magnifies the Lord."
The soul of Mary magnifies the Lord, because she herself is magnified by the Lord — for unless she were first magnified by the Lord, the soul of Mary could not magnify the Lord. She magnifies, therefore, Him by Whom she is magnified. She magnifies Him not only by the praise of her lips, not only by the holiness of her body, but by the singularity of her love. Many magnify with the tongue, but blaspheme by their deeds, and persecute with pride of heart — of whom it is written: "They profess to know God, but deny Him by their deeds (Tit. I)." These do not magnify; they rather, as far as lies in them, diminish the name of the Lord. These are they to whom the Apostle says: "Through you the good name is blasphemed among the Gentiles (Rom. II)."
But in Mary, her tongue magnifies, her life magnifies, her soul magnifies the Lord. Her tongue magnifies by speaking forth the magnificence of divine holiness in praises of His glory. Her life magnifies that same glory by meriting it through works. Her soul magnifies by loving singularly, by reaching Him through the flights of contemplation, by comprehending the incomprehensible magnificence with mind and womb. As the Lord magnifies Mary and the soul of Mary magnifies the Lord, the voice of Mary rang out. And the voice of the Virgin is in power; the voice of the Virgin is in magnificence (Ps. XXVIII).
"My soul magnifies the Lord." It is most remarkable that she says she magnifies the Lord, when in her, through her, and on account of her, the Lord was made a little less than the angels (Ps. VIII). "For the man born in her (Ps. LXXXVI), the man made from her — and by means of what He assumed from her, the Son of God was found to be less than the Father, less than the angels, subject to men. What He assumed from her is the form of a servant, to take up which — though He was in the form of God — He emptied Himself (Phil. II)" — and He who was incomprehensible in Himself was made comprehensible in Mary.
How great a diminution it is, to become comprehensible from incomprehensible! This diminution was accomplished in Mary. How then does the soul of Mary magnify the Lord, whom the reception of her flesh so greatly abbreviates? For the Lord made His Word abbreviated upon the earth within Mary.
Tell us then, Mary, how does your soul magnify God? Or perhaps, He Whom your soul magnificently praises, the flesh assumed from you abbreviates by dispensation? So it is indeed. For He Who is immeasurable is found in you as both great and small: great in the soul, small in the flesh; great in the height of the soul expanded through the fullness of grace, small within the straits of a maiden's womb. Therefore your soul magnifies the Lord, because by His own self-abbreviation He so magnifies your womb. And so Mary is wholly expanded into the magnificence of the King — the spirit is expanded, the womb is expanded. The spirit by inexpressible joy; the womb by an ineffable conception.
She magnifies the Lord, therefore, by the exultation of a devout mind — she who is magnified by the Lord in the pure weight of a chaste womb. Mary bears joy in both: joy by which the sorrow of sin is abolished, the mourning of the world is expelled, the wail of punishment is dissolved, and heavenly gladness is restored. What then is Mary's mind but a school of virtues, a ladder of angels, the education of men, a pool of mercy, and a reflection of justice? What is the Virgin's womb but a throne of the highest King, from which He sets forth the decrees of heavenly Wisdom, shows forth the examples of virtues, and renders the wisdom of the world foolish?
Mary therefore, having with her the joy of angels and men, says: "My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit has exulted in God my Savior (Luke I)." Observe what she says. Her soul magnifies the Lord; her spirit exults in God. The praise of Mary magnifies the Lord; the exultation of her spirit magnifies Mary. The Spirit of God gladdens the spirit of Mary. The Spirit of God is the Holy Spirit; the Holy Spirit is the invisible oil.
All the more truly, therefore, and all the more gloriously does Mary exult, the more distinctly she, beyond all women, is anointed with the invisible oil. For otherwise how would Christ be born of the Virgin, unless the Virgin were singularly anointed with the heavenly oil? The most prudent Virgin indeed had oil in her lamp (Matt. XXV), when she received the fullness of grace in the purity of spirit. What is it, I ask, that the spirit of Mary exulted in God, if not that the oil of gladness — enlivening the face of her inner man — abounded in the Virgin's lamp?
A lamp is indeed a glass vessel for light, wider at the top by its material, narrower at the bottom by its form, and fragile by nature. This is the life of Mary: illuminated by heavenly radiance, full of the oil of mercy, transparent in purity, widened above by charity, constrained below by poverty of spirit, strong in the female sex which is fragile by nature. Behold, you have the lamp of the most wise Virgin; you have also the oil in the lamp. Do you wish to see also in the oil the iron wick, in the iron the rush, and in the rush a kindled fire? The iron is the enduring and persevering humility of mind. The rush is a meek virginity without the knot of sin. Do not therefore look for a knot in the rush.
For if the salvation of mankind had found in Mary a knot of sin, how would He have loosed in her and through her the tangled perplexity of the world's sin? The fire in the rush is the Deity in the womb of the Virgin.
The visible rush is consumed by fire, yet virginity is not violated by the Author of integrity. The lamp of Mary is therefore unbreakable, the oil unfailing, the rush unconsumed, the fire inextinguishable. Moses marvels in the desert that the bush burns and is not consumed (Exod. III); you should marvel that in the oil of the virginal lamp the rush is in no way consumed by the fire. When the fire is applied, the rush perseveres intact — for when Mary conceives God and man, the virginal body remains undefiled. Therefore the spirit of Mary exults, because, as the oil of gladness overflows in her, and as the Holy Spirit comes upon her, her rush is kindled without being consumed, and her virginity is made fruitful without corruption. Therefore she exults. Where does she exult? In God her Savior, not in the worst of things.
Note that the exultation of the world is one thing, and the exultation of God is another. The exultation of the world consists in three things: in bodily health, in the prosperity of affairs, and in the impunity of wickedness. This exultation is not from within, but outward, in the worst of things; it is the exultation of the body, not of the spirit; therefore it is outward and from external things, not within, not from spiritual things. It is not the spirit in God the Savior, but in worldly desire. Moreover, "all the glory of the King's daughter is from within (Ps. XLIV)." "My spirit," she says, "has exulted in God my Savior."
Mary's exultation is especially weighed in three things: because from a handmaid she is made queen of the world; from a poor woman, God's mother and daughter; from a betrothed woman, a Virgin mother. Measure, if you can, how much joy these three considerations bestow upon Mary. But although she surpasses the angels in honor, although she holds with her that immeasurable One Who reaches mightily from one end to the other (Wis. VII), nevertheless the greatness of her spirit's exultation cannot be measured. She exults, therefore, even though she does not put forth the measure of her exultation.
"For He has looked upon the humility," she says, "of His handmaid (Luke I)." Behold the great humility of Mary! She does not say: He looked upon the virginity of His bride, or upon the holiness of His mother — but "He has looked," she says, "upon the humility of His handmaid." O regard of grace, which none but the humble deserve! O beautiful humility of Mary, which even the sublimity of angels admires! O most precious virginity, which by the merit of humility is made fruitful by a divine birth! Virginity would have been barren had humility been absent. But now humility gives fruitfulness to virginity; and fruitful virginity exalts and extols humility — because "he who humbles himself shall be exalted (Luke XIV)."
"He has looked upon the humility of His handmaid," she says — and rightly so. For Truth, rising from the earth of virginal flesh, merited the regard of Justice looking down from heaven. "Truth has arisen from the earth, and justice has looked down from heaven (Ps. LXXXIV)." The truth rising from the earth is the truthful and flourishing virginity, which, just as the consent of the mind did not falsify it inwardly, so the lust of the flesh does not corrupt it outwardly.
The Lord therefore looked down and descended into His garden, whence breathed the hyssop of humility, the lily of chastity bloomed, and in the midst the rose of love gave its fragrance. That very gaze was the descent. From this gaze, from this descent, so great a grace was heaped upon the Mother of God, that all generations truly call her blessed above all, blessed (Luke I); everywhere the glory of Mary is proclaimed, everywhere the excellence of Mary is extolled; than whose memory nothing is sweeter, than whose grace nothing more wholesome, than whose piety nothing more efficacious, than whose patronage nothing more secure is found.
She is the gate of heaven, the harbor from shipwreck, the garden of paradise, the staff by which the weakened world is sustained, the rod by which the iniquity of the world is corrected, the dove in whom the Holy Spirit dwells for the cleansing of impiety. A dove, I say, she is, by whose antidote of simplicity the manifold cunning of the poisonous serpent is exposed.
He who, disdaining the tumults of the world, thirsted for the spiritual rest of some secret solitude, was begging that the wings of this dove be given to him, saying: "Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly and be at rest? (Ps. LIV). What is 'I will be at rest,'" if not 'I will sleep'? Where shall I sleep, if not "in the midst of the lots?" (Ps. LXVII.) For in the midst of the lots is felt the refreshment that "the wings of the dove" bestow, and the wings of this dove are "silvered over, and her back parts in the paleness of gold (ibid)."
What various doctors have said concerning this passage, you have read, I think; or if you have not read it, search the Scriptures and read. But hear also, as you have asked — not what I speak from myself, but what the Lord God speaks in me (Ps. LXXXIV), without Whom we can do nothing (John XIV).
The wings of this dove are two, namely humility and virginity. They are silvered over, distinguished by the divine eloquence. For silver is the eloquence of God. The eloquence of God is the Word of God; the Word of God is the Son of God. What therefore is the silver in the wings of the dove, but the Son of God in Mary through the presence of the flesh? On these wings the light and unencumbered fly to heaven; for those who burn badly downward, a canopy of refreshment is prepared.
"Her back parts in the paleness of gold." Behold, Mary has preceded us to glory; following her who goes before, what do we see of the one ahead but her back? We are her back parts — all of us who, left behind her back, strive in some measure to imitate her. Understand her face as her merits, her back as her examples. The former she sent ahead; the latter she left to us, that we might be formed toward the virtue of humility and the purity of chastity.
These back parts are in the paleness of gold. By gold — than which nothing in metals is more precious — the virginity of Mary is signified, than which nothing after God is more excellent. This gold has splendor, and it also has paleness: splendor in the truth of its nature, paleness in the changeable surface of the mass — splendor, therefore, by nature; paleness, by accident. The splendor of gold is chastity uncorrupted; the paleness is chastity reformed after a fall through continence.
Both are in the gold of Mary — both splendor and paleness — because by clinging to her, some remain in the integrity of the body, while others, following her from afar, even if they have lost the flower of virginity, yet by love of chastity overcome in themselves the lust of the flesh. What then? If we have lost virginity, do we therefore in no way belong to the Virgin, or to the Son of the Virgin? Do not despair. For "her back parts" are "in the paleness of gold."
Emulate, through continence, the splendor of golden virginity through the paleness of chastity, and thus you will belong to the back parts which are in the paleness of gold. How beautiful is this dove, and how rich! She is silvered in her wings, and gilded in her back parts. In her wings silver sounds and shines; in her back gold splendors and pales. The light of silver refers to grace, its sound to doctrine; the splendor of gold to wisdom, its paleness to patience — paleness, which is the mark of an afflicted countenance, signifying patience displayed in adversity from love of God.
Therefore both the fullness of grace and the rectitude of doctrine are in the wings of the dove, that is, in the virtues of Mary; the radiance of heavenly wisdom and the paleness of patience are in the back of the dove, that is, in the outward conduct of virginal action. But why gold on the back? So that gold might be displayed on the back to those who follow and look only upon the back. What is more desirable than gold? What more conspicuous on a back that goes before? He therefore who carries gold on his back desires to have followers and imitators. Emulate therefore the better gifts (I Cor. XII). Silver is good, but gold is far better. Doctrine is good, but wisdom is far better. For doctrine without wisdom is knowledge that puffs up; wisdom is charity that builds up (I Cor. VIII).
But who is adequate for these things? To whom, I ask, is it given to behold these wings and to emulate this gold? To whom is it granted to sleep in the midst of the lots? This is a Greek expression. "In the midst of the lots" they say in place of what a Latin speaker would say: in the middle of the inheritances. Kleros means lot; lot is called inheritance. There are two lots, two inheritances of the children of men: one which they have from the fact that they are children of God, the other from the fact that they are children of men; the former is heavenly, the latter earthly; the former belongs to the soul, the latter to the body; the former is future, the latter present; the former ought to be in desire, the latter in necessary use.
He therefore who rests between the two — fleeing the tumult of the lower, seeking the quiet of the higher — by sleeping thus sees her who is beautiful as a dove ascending above the streams of waters. Hence even David, seeing that rest was good, said: "In peace, in the selfsame, I will sleep and take my rest (Ps. IV)." Hence also, wishing to have followers and companions in his sleep, he said: "If you sleep among the midst of the lots, the wings of the dove silvered, and her back parts in the paleness of gold."
The middle of the lots, where one must sleep, can be called charity, through which in the soul the tumultuous desire for the world is lulled to sleep, and the quiet desire for the eternal inheritance is awakened. Do you wish to see the middle of the lots? Behold Mary, the Mediatrix. She is the middle between heaven and earth, the middle and Mediatrix between God and man.
Let us understand her as the middle through the clemency of her condescension — she who has been raised so high above the heavens in glory. In her, therefore, one must rest, because the gracious Spirit rests upon her, without Whom every spirit is restless.
Fragment IV
And what does the Spirit of the Mediator say in the Prophet? "He shall not dwell," He says, "in the midst of my house, who practices pride (Ps. C)." The house of the Mediator is the Church; the middle of this house is either Mary, the Mediatrix and mother of the Mediator, or the truth ignorant of corners, or the virtue of the middle charity. Therefore he does not belong to the Mediatrix, does not walk in truth, does not dwell in charity, who "practices pride" — which the communion of the saints does not admit, as it is hostile to the common good and greedy for private glory.
Since, therefore, the King of virtues rightly holds the name of Mediator, and Mary herself, the queen of virtues, presents herself as the mediatrix of men, the ecclesiastical judge ought rightly to devote himself to the virtues and, through the guidance of discretion, to take care that no one does or speaks to excess. For not in vain is the infancy of the incarnate Word known in the midst of two animals.
Fragment V
Humility is so awe-inspiring that it never thinks it safe to depart from the inn of a humble conscience. There it freely contemplates Mary, star of the sea; there it happily assists at the birth of the Virgin; there it delightfully plays beside that blessed infancy; there it adapts itself wholly to the cradle of the Word, and innocence of character plays alongside the happy infant, and babbles along with its holy cries in the joy of the heart.
It counts it the most precious adornment to be clothed with those poor swaddling cloths in which the infant Word is wrapped. Thereafter it conveys itself with complete eagerness to that divine sanctuary of the most holy breast, and, as much as it is free to do so, draws from the breasts full of heaven. By such nourishments the tender infancy is for the time being delighted, so that when it has come to the measure of a perfect man and advanced to a more mature age, it may be able to bear and carry out the work of the cross.
This is indeed the work of the great — those whom a more advanced age of virtue, having faculties practiced through habit, has given a beard through the pursuits of wisdom. I am dealt with very well if my Jesus numbers me among His companions; if, having been taken at times to the breasts of His mother, He shares with me the little sips of His sweetness. For to this end the Word of life, the bread of the Father, willed to be broken up in the milk of the flesh, so that He who, in the form of God, was the solid food of angels, might, through the abbreviation of the flesh, empty Himself into a little sip for little children.
Fragment VI
If the resolve of the journey undertaken seems hard, we take refuge in the help of our Virgin, because whoever that most merciful one presents herself as a helper to will be strong in every tribulation and distress. Let us draw into ourselves the brightness of her lily-like innocence through purity of conscience, and let us not lack, along with chastity of the flesh, the urgency of fruitful work, by which virginal fruitfulness is honored. Indeed we ought to have total regard for the birth of our Virgin. And if we wish to be true novices and to be truly renewed, let us attend with full desires to the new birth of grace.
For just as through her we can obtain the grace of justification, so, with her as guide, we shall be able to arrive at glory — by the gift of Him Who was born of her, Jesus Christ our Lord.
Fragment VII
"As a beautiful olive tree in the plains" (Ecclus. XXIV). If we call our Virgin an olive tree, the oil will be the fruit of her womb. Our Virgin is indeed "a beautiful olive tree in the plains," because her grace and mercy are common to all. Placed in the plains, she brought forth the flower of the field, and from the beauty of this flower the nakedness of human shamelessness has procured for itself the most beautiful garments of the field.
The garments of the plains are the coverings of shame which all those sew for themselves from this flower who, through faith and love of the virginal birth, shamefacedly lay down their sins. She is also "beautiful in the plains" because she is the special beauty of the Churches. Beautiful indeed she is made and sweet, she from whom "beautiful in form above the children of men (Ps. XLIV)" is born — the sweetness of holy anointing.
The fields of Christ's Church can fittingly be called those which the plow of heavenly discipline tills, the teaching of the Gospel sows, and the execution of justice renders fertile. In these fields is the fruitful olive tree, the Virgin Mary, mother of mercy. From the olive tree flows the richness of oil; the mother of Christ pours out the fullness of grace and brings forth the anointing of mercy.
How pleasant, how sweet it is to cling to her, how healthful to linger within the inn of the one who has given birth! If you are sick, from that inn flows abundantly the oil for the sick. If you are well, and the health of justice smiles upon you from the witness of your conscience, you receive the oil of gladness from Mary. Gracefulness of character, the beauty of works, the glory of merits — all is received from the grace of Mary when she is loved.
For since she is full of grace and wholly abounding in the delights of mercy, we receive no grace at all that her offspring does not confer upon us. The Virgin is ours, the womb of the Virgin is ours, the birth of the Virgin is ours, ours are the things transacted with her from heaven. It is therefore dangerous to depart even a moment from her, with whom the delights of our sweetness are stored; the riches of salvation, wisdom and knowledge are kept at the Virgin's side for our use.
For in the birth of the Virgin the treasures of wisdom and knowledge are hidden for the enriching of the poor (Col. II). "Because of the misery of the needy and the groaning of the poor (Ps. XI)," Christ came from the heart of the Father into the heart of the Virgin, and placed in the womb of the Virgin a treasury for the poor. From thence the poor in spirit have been enriched — those whom the pride, vanity, and falsehood of the world did not enrich.
"Sons of men, how long will you be heavy of heart (Ps. IV)," estranged from the heart of the Virgin? "Why do you love vanity and seek after falsehood (ibid.)," when within the womb of our Virgin "the Lord has made wonderful His holy one? (ibid.)" Why do you not hasten to the oil? What is done here is yours, for by no reason would the God who is rich in all things have become poor except to adapt Himself to the poor. By no reason would He have placed a fruitful olive tree in the plains, except to show forth the mercy of the Virgin as common to all.
Hence it is that the meaning of this mystery was first made known not to kings in palaces, not to the rich in cities, but to shepherds who were in the fields, who kept watch over the care of their flocks (Luke II). O kindness of the Savior! O compassion of the newborn! O purity and piety of her who gave birth! O would that I were among the little ones to whom these things were revealed and done, so that it would not please me for the moment to philosophize about other matters!
What is sweeter than to be present at the cradle of the Word, than to be at leisure and free in the inn of Christ, and to play alongside so happy an infancy? Forgive, I beg, forgive the child, if he does not leave the breasts full of heaven, if he does not quit the most holy sanctuary of the virginal breast.
At the spotless footsteps of the Virgin a pool of piety has been placed, where children are bathed. You know that this kind of age has need of more frequent washing; it most easily contracts stains, and there is need that they be washed away by a more accustomed bath through motherly solicitude.
Therefore I do not consider it safe to go far from the company of the holy Virgin. For who would provide for me in such matters, if I were to distance myself from the mercy of that most indulgent mother? I will hold fast to her, I will not depart from her, because if her solicitous mercy should be lacking, I will easily produce an abortion.