WHEN Mary laid Jesus Christ upon her knees, when she searched
him with her eyes, when she fed him at the breast, she did not study to
love him because she ought, she loved him because he was dear: he was her
Son. His conception had been supernatural, perplexing, affrighting;
it had called for faith in the incomprehensible, and obedience beyond the
limit of human power. His nativity was human and sweet, and the love
with which she embraced it was a natural growth, inseparable from the thing
she loved. She was blessed above all creatures, because she loved
her Maker inevitably and by simple nature; even though it needed the swordówounds
of the Passion to teach her fully that it was her Maker whom she loved.
The Son of Mary is the Son of all human kind; we embrace him with the love
of our kind, that we may be led up with Mary to a love beyond kind, a selfless
love for the supreme Goodness, when we too shall have climbed the ladder
of the cross.