Light from the Altar - The Visitation, 2 July

The Angel Gabriel had just left our Lady in the little cottage at Nazareth. Her beautiful face was lit up with joy - the joy of Divine motherhood. It was the hour of the first Communion ever celebrated on earth, and Mary was making her thanksgiving. But as the sun rose over the Sea of Galilee, and a few of its bright rays shone through the window upon the tiled floor, Mary left her prayer and began her preparation for a journey. The angel's last words to her were as a command. They told her that her cousin, Saint Elizabeth, had been blessed by God and was to have a son in her old age. Elizabeth lived far off, down among the hills of Judea, at least four days' travel from Nazareth. But distance was nothing to Mary when there was question of a kindness. So "in haste" she left her home and set forth upon her way. It was the Spring of the year, the lowliest time in Galilee. Flowers of the brightest hues grew around in thousands; there were gaudy tulips, blood-red anemones everywhere, lilies and poppies in the meadows, in the hedges, in the corn-fields, by the roadside. The sun shone brightly on the restless Jordan water; a slight breeze stirred the olives and palms and fig-trees. Mary saw it all and whispered love-songs to her God. On the road she met men and women going to keep the Pasch at Jerusalem and she joined their company. She made all welcome - the poor, the sinful, the sorrowful, the outcast; she shunned none, she kept aloof from none. She was too near God Himself to be exclusive.

There have been saints whom God has drawn into solitude and whose virtues have grown and brought forth fruit far away from men. But Mary was not of these. We find her all through her life answering the call of charity, no matter from whence it came nor whither it led. Today it leads her to the wealthy house of the priest Zachary; soon it will bid her welcome the rough shepherds from the mountain side, then the high-bred strangers from the East. We shall find her in the crowded company returning from Jerusalem "amongst her kins-folk and acquaintances"; later again in the throng with the brethren, seeking Jesus; we see her a wedding-guest at Cana, a mourner at the foot of the Cross with reviling crowds around. Mary's life like our Lord's was spent with the people, consoling, rejoicing, and helping. So this is why we see her now, upon the highroad, beaming with holy joy, pure as the lily flower; so full of grace that she seems to impart it to others as by radiation.

As the days passed the travellers drew near to Jerusalem, and the way grew more rugged; the road crossed hills and descended again through rocky ravines; the flowers grew more scarce; and but for some red anemones ceased altogether as Jerusalem rose to the view. At the western gate Mary parted with most of her company and went southward into the hill country. At last Ain Karim, "the city of Juda," was reached, and Mary stood on the threshold of her cousin's house. Oh, then there was joy! Elizabeth came out of her retirement with wondering surprise and great humility. "Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb. And whence is this that the mother of my Lord should come to me!"

Then Mary's lips were unsealed for the first time. Elizabeth knew her secret and called her blessed, and Mary revealed to her the inner-most feelings of her soul. She is blessed, and so shall she be called by all generations, she says; but it is the blessedness of a lowly one made great by the Most High; of a humble one exalted by the might of God's arm. Nor is this greatness hers alone. Israel, the chosen people, has now obtained its desire of a thousand years. God has shown mercy to Abraham's children, the Word is made flesh. So Mary "magnifies the Lord and rejoices in God her Saviour."

Mary and Elizabeth! See them standing together on the threshold. See the exultation in the dear faces. Until Elizabeth's greeting, Mary had been silent in her joy; but Elizabeth's praise called forth into speech Mary's overflowing gratitude and humility and wondering acknowledgment of God 's great gifts. And so we got the "Magnificat."

Three months Mary passed in Zachary's house. The old man was deaf and dumb; cut off from friends and kindred and servants, but Mary was there to do him loving service, to gladden his eyes with her beaming beauty, to soothe his heart with her kind attentions and by her sanctity help him to a holy resignation. She was there to assist Elizabeth and do her such services as a child would do for its mother.

And these little things were the purport of Mary's visit; in one word kindness, not charity merely, but loving-kindness which has to do with manner rather than with the act itself. And oh! what a difference manner makes! Let any one in a family, father, mother, child, or servant, alter his way of doing (if need be); let him adopt a cheerful, joyous manner, bestow smiles instead of frowns, freely praise, give alms with a kind word, listen with true interest, congratulate with unfeigned joy, compassionate with a feeling heart, and he will change any household in less than a month. True joyous kindness, Saint Philip Neri's special gift, is wonder-worker compared to which other miraculous powers are insignificant.

Try it, you gentle souls, who pine to convert your neighbor, to sanctify your own souls, to do good to all men. Be charitable kindly, cheerfully, and you will bring our Lord near to many a heart which otherwise would never know him. Let Mary, the Mother-Maid, in her sweet Visiting, teach us how to love each other in God our Savior.

- taken from Light from the Altar, edited by Father James J McGovern, 1906