Exercise XV: The Infancy and Hidden Life of Jesus

Evening Preparation.—In this meditation we shall see the humility of Jesus appearing in the quiet light of His hidden life; in the touching mysteries of His birth, of His presentation, of His flight into Egypt; and in the long monotonous years that flowed slowly by in the voluntary eclipse of Nazareth.

Thirty years out of thirty-three. What a marked preference! Jesus has come to speak to men, and they are all about Him; though He is only a child, He has an eloquent tongue; His young heart burns with ardent zeal, . . . . yet He is silent. Could He do anything better than save souls?—or rather, in order to save them, could He employ any better means than to show Himself and to act?

Yes, for it is humility that, by stripping a man of all selfish preoccupation which hinders the Divine action, by rendering him insensible to what is hard and disconcerting, and by keeping his heart tender and considerate towards others, paves the way to success.

But, for the acquisition of humility, human nature needs time and many victories over self. Jesus knew that our eagerness needed this lesson.

True humility also tends to self-effacement. Obscurity is her chosen place, the place where she is at ease; she tends towards it with all the force of her nature, and will remain in it if she is not called forth by God. Ama nesciri—"Love to be unknown."

This sacred and silent retreat is like a sanctuary where God reveals Himself and gives Himself more intimately. How can God refuse His favours to a heart that is full of love?

To-morrow we will read the sacred passages which tell of that period in the life of Jesus that was entirely filled with gentle humility, a period so calm and touching and beautiful.

O Mary, Joseph, and the holy angels, you who were the only witnesses of this self-annihilation, lend me your eyes and your hearts that I may worthily contemplate Jesus in His humility.

MEDITATION

FIRST PRELUDE. — To represent to ourselves the contrast between the vast and shining heavens where the Word reigns, and that poor corner of the cold earth to which the Saviour descends. To cast our eyes towards the uncreated splendour on high, and then to contemplate on earth the humility of a comfortless stable.

SECOND PRELUDE.—To ask the grace to realise deeply the love of Jesus for all that is humbling, and to see in His unnecessary self-abasement a supreme lesson for myself.

I

Et Verbum caro factum est. Let us compare the two terms: The Word, the glorious image of the Father; and the flesh, vivified dust, the lowly flesh of man. The one approaches the other until union is accomplished. This phrase factum est, seems to imprison, to hide the Word in the flesh, and, as it were, to annihilate it.

Exinanivit semetipsum! This first act was God's alone, those that followed belonged to the Man-God.

Edictum a Cæsare. Behold Him, even before His birth, submissive to a master; He accepts his exactions; Cæsar is to have another subject, and Jesus is to have neither dwelling nor cradle. Thus He wills it, thus He has chosen.

Non erat eis locus in diversorio. This was quite natural: they were poor and they were turned away.

Reclinavit eum in præsepio. The trough where the animals fed became His cradle; a handful of straw supported and surrounded His tender little body. Gentle Child, asleep in the crib, You seem to repose in humility!

Pastores erant in regione illa. Some herdsmen, poor people, these were the first to whom He gave an audience. He prefers them because He is humble.

Et hoc vobis signum. The littleness of the Saviour-God is to be His sign: invenietis infantem, a little child without word or look. In præsepio, like a feeble lamb in His nest of straw.

The shepherds adore Him and return home. Jesus remains unconscious. We are not told that the shepherds said anything, but if they did no one listened to them—they were such insignificant folk. Jesus only quits the stable to go into a poor house close by.

The angels have proclaimed the Messiah, but they have not drawn away the veils with which humility covers Him.

II

Postquam impleti sunt dies purgationis. Forty days pass. They go to Jerusalem, alone, for no one is interested in them.

In the Temple, however, they are welcomed by some prophets; Simeon, venerated by the people, declares Him to be the Light of nations, and Anna speaks of Him to those who are expecting the Redeemer of Israel.

It is a momentary glory, and then the veil of humility once more enwraps Him; and when the Magi come to seek Him in Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who has received Him in her temple, does not even know Him.

The repose of the city is troubled all day by the caravan of these sons from the East. Sages declare that the Messiah should be born, and born at Bethlehem.

Bethlehem is only two leagues away, yet no one hastens thither, nor accompanies the Magi there. What extraordinary indifference!

Surge, fuge. In the middle of the night a voice rings out: "Joseph, arise, take the child and flee!"

Is this all that God will do for His Son? Think of the power of the Almighty, and admire in Jesus His resolute will to be accounted as nothing.

The return into Galilee is just as dependent, obscure, and humble.

III

Nazareth, with its long years of oblivion, is next shown to us, a little village hidden in verdure, with two or three streets in which strangers are seldom seen, the silence of the houses only interrupted at intervals by the monotonous sound of some implements of toil. And in this obscure spot, where the days and the hours pass so slowly away, Jesus, the hidden God, dwells, unknown by those who employ Him, by those who hear Him! Mary and Joseph alone are there to adore Him, but neither do they reveal Him. His life is simply the life of a child of poor parents, nothing more! To the soul that sets herself in meditation to reproduce the scene and the details of each day, infinite prospects unfold themselves.

She sees what passes, hears what is said, and contemplates the veritable humility that is displayed in all those unnoticed actions.

O Jesus, Thy desire for annihilation is so evident and so persistent that it impresses my heart and my mind.

O Jesus, "the Way, the Truth, and Life," have pity on my pride that misleads and torments me!

Accustom me so to love Thee, that the neglect of creatures is no longer bitter to me. Teach me to efface myself, that I may attract Thee; defend me from the impulsive desire to act and to succeed.

For thirty years Thou dost prolong Thy lesson, in order to teach me to keep the spirit of it, not merely on occasion or from time to time, but every day of my life.

What hast Thou found so delightful in obscurity that Thou didst not desire to leave it? There Thou hast found the Infinite, for in the shade Its brightness shines forth, and in the silence Its voice is heard.

RESOLUTION.—To wait until the hand of God draws me out of silence and obscurity.