A boy's twelfth birthday was a great event in a Jewish family. Up to this age he was called "little," afterwards he was called " grown up " and became a "Son of the Law." He must put away now the things of a child and behave and be treated as a man. The same strict subjection to his parents as before was not expected of him. He was consulted as to the trade or profession he wished to follow. In the synagogue he wore the phylacteries, narrow bands of parchment inscribed with sacred texts. And he was bound to go up to the Temple at the three great yearly festivals.

The first of these was the Pasch. It commemorated the preservation of the first-born of the Jews on the night when all the first-born of the Egyptians were killed. It lasted seven days. The first-fruits of the barley harvest were offered to God on this Feast. Seven weeks, or fifty days later, came the Feast of Pentecost, commemorating the giving of the Law to the Israelites on Mount Sinai. On this Feast the first-fruits of the wheat harvest were offered. Lastly, in the autumn, when the fruits of the vineyards and the cornfields had been fully gathered, came the Feast of Tabernacles in memory of that time in the desert when the people lived in tents. This was a festival of thanksgiving for the blessings of the year.

Every Jew who had come of age was bound to be present in Jerusalem at each of these Feasts. So great were the numbers congregated together at these times that they often exceeded two millions.

When Jesus, therefore, was twelve years old, He accompanied His parents to Jerusalem for the Feast of the Pasch, joining the caravan which was going up from Galilee. For greater safety against robhers many thousands travelled together, the men and the women in separate companies, the children with either father or mother. As they neared Jerusalem and fell in with other caravans, the concourse of pilgrims grew more and more dense, and in the neighbourhood of the Holy City husbands and wives reunited and finished the journey together.

See Mary and Joseph walking with Jesus between them. There is bustle and noise all around, but they are not distracted; their eyes are ever turned towards Him; their ears catch each sound of His voice. We are told of Him at this age that He advanced in wisdom and grace before God and men; that is, He showed more and more of the wisdom and grace which were perfect in Him from the first. If ordinary neighbours perceived this, how much more Mary and Joseph.

Each day He was more beautiful and more winning, more lovable and more loving. The Temple to which they were journeying held nothing so holy as this Child of theirs, this little Pilgrim of twelve, and when from the summit of Mount Olivet the dazzling roof of the Holy Place appeared to view, and a shout of joy broke from every heart, they turned to the Boy between them and worshipped Him with profoundest adoration. Yet they were glad to go to the Temple, and, during the seven days the Feast lasted, the blessed Three were seen continually at the various services.

The Paschal lamb had to be without blemish; to be slain in the evening and carefully prepared for the supper, for not a bone must be broken. It was eaten with unleavened bread and wild lettuce. The youngest present had to ask his father the meaning of these sacred rites, and the father was to tell him it was to remind God's people how on the night their fathers were delivered from the slavery of Egypt, a lamb was slain and its blood sprinkled on the doorpost of their houses that the destroying Angel who was to pass in the night and slay the firstborn throughout the land, might spare the dwellings marked by that sign. God had commanded that every year they were to keep the anniversary of that night by eating the Paschal lamb till He should come whom the lambs of the Passover had represented.

So when the Holy Family meets for the supper, Jesus asks the meaning of the ceremonies, and St. Joseph tells the story whilst Jesus and Mary listen. See Mary looking with tenderness and pain on the Boy by her side. His eyes are fixed, now on the lamb before Him, now on the unleavened bread; His thoughts seem far away.

When the Feast is over, the caravan from Galilee returns home. Joseph travels with the men, Mary with the women as before, both generously rejoicing in the happiness of the other. Jesus had gone, of course, with His Mother, Joseph thinks. He is with His father, Mary says to herself again and again through the long desolate day; what joy it will be to see Him when evening comes.

At last a halt is called. The vast multitude stops its march and prepares to encamp for the night. Such a scene of confusion as it is. Such unlading of asses, and setting up of tents, and preparation for supper; husbands coming in search of their wives, children running about, delighting in the hubbub and the prospect of camping out. Joseph and Mary meet. Each is alone. Their troubled look says plainer than words: "Where is Jesus?" Neither has seen Him since they started. They make inquiries but can hear nothing of Him. They go here and there, threading their way among the various parties settling down for the night. No one has time to listen to them, rough or careless words are the only replies they receive. Darkness falls and with it a stillness. Perhaps now He will come to them. They sit by the roadside and wait and pray. The hours go by. They cannot disturb the sleeping camp, and surely He would have come to them before now had He been anywhere there. He must have remained behind in Jerusalem. Joseph looks at Mary, tired out with her day's march and weary search, but she smiles through her tears and tries to cheer him. " Yes, surely, Jesus will be in the Temple," she says, " let us go to Him." And they set out. She is quite spent by the time they reach Jerusalem. But there can be no rest for her till Jesus is found. They go to the Temple; they search the Courts and the colonnades; they question the talkers; they look among the worshippers. No, He is not here. They go out and wander up and down the still thronged streets of the Holy City, feeling for each other at every new disappointment, trying to keep up each other's hope. Three days they search; the market, the bazaars or shops, the synagogues—all are visited, the Temple again and again. Joseph wonders how Mary keeps up. The anguish of her heart can be seen on her face, but there is never a complaint, never anything in the tone of her voice to tell of aught but patient suffering and resignation to God's Will.

On the third day, as they are passing a group of rabbis or doctors, met, as was their wont, in one of the porticos of the Temple to discuss difficult questions of the Law, Mary is startled by the sound of a Voice coming from the midst of that attentive throng. There is no other voice like that. She lays her hand on Joseph's arm and they stand and listen. Now they can see within the circle. There He sits, the carpenter's Son, the centre of that learned gathering. Every eye is fixed on Him in wonder and admiration. He has put questions to which none can reply; simple questions they seemed and in keeping with His years, and asked with the reverence with which a child should address his elders, yet He waits in vain for an answer. Old men are there whose lives have been spent in the study and explanation of the Law. But they have found their Master to-day and are forced to keep silence before Him.

"Who is this Child? Does anyone know anything of Him?" they ask each other.

Mary and Joseph wait. They must not interrupt Him. He has a work to do here. They wait patiently and delightedly as He answers His own questions and explains hard passages of the Scripture and clears away difficulties from the minds of these men. He shows them that the time of the Messiah as foretold by the prophets is come and that they must be ready for Him. There is no disputing what He says, for He speaks with authority and such wisdom that all are astonished. Silent and thoughtful, one after another leaves the group. Now the Child Teacher is alone, and Mary and Joseph come up to Him.

"Son, why hast Thou done so to us? Behold Thy father and I have sought Thee sorrowing."

At last her full heart finds vent. There has been no word of complaint to Joseph, but to Him who knows her pain and her submission to His Will in all things, to Him who cannot misunderstand, she may say in loving complaint:

"Why hast Thou done so to us ?" He looks up into her tear-stained face and says tenderly:

"How is it that you sought Me; did you not know that I must be about My Father's business?"

Mary understood Him and His words and ways better than any other has ever done. But He was God, and what He did and said was not always plain even to her. We are told she did not understand Him here. It was to give her an opportunity of practicing many virtues that He did not tell her He was staying behind in Jerusalem. And He had another reason. He wanted her to know by experience the misery and the pain of separation from Him, that she might be able to feel for those who lose Him by sin, and to pray for them that they may find Him again. He wished also to give an example to those many followers of His who would have to go through the agony of leaving father and mother in order to do their Father's business by working for the salvation of souls. He would comfort them by bearing this trial first Himself. For His was the tenderest of hearts, and it cost Him very much to grieve those who were dearer to Him than all the world beside, and who were so worthy of His love. God's way is to try His servants for a little while and then to reward them. He filled with overflowing joy the hearts of Mary and Joseph as, with the Holy Child between them, they set out on their way home. How sadly they had trod that road three days before! But what a difference the presence of Jesus makes now! They held Him fast, one by each hand. They had Him all to themselves, for the caravan was far ahead. And He was making up to them in all manner of sweet ways for the pain they had had.

When they got home they wondered if He would be any different; if the time was come for Him to be less subject to them; if He was going to continue the work of teaching He had begun in the Temple. No, He was just the same as before ; the twelfth birthday had made no change. There was the same ready obedience, the same eagerness to find out their wishes, to spare them trouble, to make the little home happy for them.
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If their home at Nazareth was dear to Mary and Joseph before they left for Bethlehem, what was it now when the sound of little feet was heard upon its floor, and a childish voice called for "Father" or for " Mother!'' Joseph's trade, that kept him away all the morning and afternoon, seemed harder than ever, but he consoled himself by thinking that his loss was Mary's gain.

Yes, she had the Child all to herself during those early years. He sat at her feet as she spun, or stood by as she did the kneading, or the baking, or the washing of the little house. When she dropped anything, He was quick to pick it up. He noticed what she wanted before she knew herself, and ran to fetch it; and as soon as He was able He helped in the household work. Neighbors would stand at their doors to watch the young mother and her beautiful Boy as they went together to the fountain. They were all in all to each other, it was plain, and His manner towards her, so reverent and so tender, was delightful to see.

How happy were Mary and Joseph, when, sitting down to their simple meal, they had the little Jesus between them; when, morning and evening, they knelt beside Him, knowing that He whose prayer went up with theirs was Himself the God to whom they prayed.

See them—how reverent they are, how still, how attentive. Was there ever a scene on earth more beautiful than morning and night prayers at Nazareth! In the synagogue they heard the Prophecies read which told of the coming Messiah . . . "Despised and the most abject of men, a man of sorrows . . . I have not turned away my face from them that spat upon me." What did Mary feel as she watched the calm, grave face of her Boy and thought of the dishonor that was to come!

On Sabbath evenings they walked together through the flowery fields or up the grassy slopes of Nazareth, drinking in every word, as the Child spoke to them of the God who had made all these things for our use and enjoyment, who so loved the world as to give His only Son to save it.

As Jesus grew older, He swept the house, washed the dishes, ground the corn, and at last went with Joseph to the workshop to learn such rough carpentry as His Foster-father could teach Him. No work was too lowly or too commonplace for Him who had made all things out of nothing. Mary and Joseph were never tired of watching Him and admiring the care with which all was done and finished; not once or twice, or when the work was interesting or new to Him, but day after day, year after year when it was dull and tiresome.

They never forgot who He was; never got used to the thought that He who came at their call, and went errands, and brought home the modest pay for Joseph's work, was the Lord of Angels and of men. "Whence art Thou?” their hearts would cry, as they saw the readiness with which He obeyed their slightest wish, the cheerfulness and grace with which He served them. It must have been from Mary's lips that St. Luke gathered all we know of those long years at Nazareth which we call the Hidden Life. Twice in the same chapter he speaks of her habit of pondering the words and actions of her Divine Son, and all that befell Him. And he tells us what about Him was most marvelous to that pondering heart of hers:" He was subject to them." He—to them!

Indeed, He was the Hidden God of Nazareth. His cousins, James and Joseph, and Simon, and Jude, little thought that He who played with them, or with sweet words settled their childish disputes, was the Desired of all nations, the long-promised Messiah whom the whole world was expecting. And their elders, who, as we are told, would say in their troubles:" Let us go and have a talk with the Son of Mary," did not know that He was able to dry their tears and refresh the heavy-laden—because He was God.

We wonder, perhaps, why He gave so much time—twenty years and more—to this Hidden Life, or why He remained hidden at all. He was to be on earth only three and thirty years. There was so much to teach and to do, and He could have begun at once. But do we not all know that the best teaching is by example? Whether the lesson is needlework, or swimming, or painting, or drill, what we want is, not merely to be taught by words, but to be shown by our teacher what we have to do.

We may be sure our Blessed Lord did not want to lose time, for no one knew as He did how much had to be done. He had us all to teach—men, women, and children—and to teach in the best way, by example. Therefore He would begin at once, as soon as He came into the world. And He would begin with the children. They are His first class. He calls them all round Him, the children of America, and Europe, and Africa, and Asia, and says to them: "Look at Me in My home. It might have been a rich home, provided with all kinds of comforts and conveniences. But because most of My followers would be poor and unable to have these things, and all of them would be inclined to care far too much for the pleasant things of this life, I chose to be poor. We had nothing unnecessary at Nazareth, nothing pretty or curious—a table, a few stools and mats, a meal-tub, a chest for clothes. My Foster-father had to rise early to go to his work. My Mother mended and washed for us and cooked our homely meals; we had no servant. For all of us it was hard labour, early and late.

"Will not those who are poor among you be comforted by seeing Me poor? Will not those who are better off deny themselves something for My sake, and give to those who are poor like Me? And will not all children try to give up their own way, to obey cheerfully, to reverence father and mother as well as love them when they see how for long years I did all these things in My little home at Nazareth.”

A printable file of this chapter can be found below. 

 One day a party of strangers on richly trapped camels passed through the streets of Jerusalem causing great excitement. Their riders, noble looking men, wore the high head-dress and mantle thrown back over the shoulders, which marked them as Persians.

They told a strange story. Months ago, whilst studying the midnight heavens, as was their wont, a star of extraordinary brightness had suddenly shone forth. They felt that it was sent to announce some great event. They knew that the whole world was expecting a Deliverer, and that the holy books of the Jews said a star should arise out of Jacob. This must be the star of the great King, sent to call them to His feet. They must go at once with the costliest gifts they could provide and offer Him their homage. Their people had mocked them; their families had tried to keep them back; but they were resolved to seek and find the Messiah at any cost. And so they had set out, three of them, towards Jerusalem, where they supposed He would be found.

" Where, then," they asked, " is He that is born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and are come to adore Him ?"

Those who heard all this shook their heads and muttered as they turned away that it was a pity these travellers did not know what kind of a ruler Herod was, and that no man who valued his life would dream of speaking in Jerusalem of another king.

The news of their arrival and of their errand soon reached the palace, and Herod in great alarm summoned all the chief priests and the scribes to inquire of them where Christ should be born. They answered as with one voice:

"In Bethlehem of Juda, for so it is written by the prophet: And thou, Bethlehem, the land of Juda, art not the least among the princes of Juda, for out of thee shall come forth the captain that shall rule My people Israel."

The strangers now receive a courteous invitation to visit the king, with the assurance that he will do all in his power to aid them in their search. Simple and unsuspecting, they present themselves before him as he lies, splendidly robed, on his magnificent couch. He makes careful inquiries as to the star:

"What was it like? When and where had they first seen it? How long had they been on their journey?"

They are delighted to find him so interested and tell him the whole story. He shows himself very gracious and says he is pleased to be able to give them the information they require. Bethlehem, six miles south of Jerusalem, is to be the birthplace of the Messiah. It is a little place, they cannot fail to find Him there:

"Go," he says, " and diligently inquire after the Child, and when you have found Him, bring me word again that I also may come and adore Him."

The Magi thank him and set off without delay.  No one cares to go with them; the priests and scribes who have told them where to find Christ do not trouble to seek Him themselves. " Herod was troubled and all Jerusalem with him." Thus did His own people receive the good news the strangers brought.

Surprised, but not disheartened, the Magi pursue their way, when, suddenly, the star they had seen in the East appears again and goes before them until it comes and stands over the place where the Child is. And, seeing the star, they rejoice with exceeding great joy. And entering into the house they find the Child with Mary His Mother, and, falling down, they adore Him.

They expected to see the King of kings in a splendid palace surrounded by courtiers. Instead of this they find in a poor cottage a child without attendants or comforts of any kind. Only a youthful mother and a humble tradesman keep watch beside Him. Can this be really a king? Can this be the great Deliverer the world is awaiting? Yes, such is their faith they believe Him to be both. They spread a carpet at His feet in Eastern fashion, humbly kneel down before Him, and, opening their treasures offer Him gifts—gold, frankincense and myrrh. In the East no king is ever approached without gifts. The Magi have brought the most precious their country produces, and very suitable gifts they are, for gold is a fit tribute to a king, incense is offered to God, and myrrh, the herb used for preserving bodies from corruption, shows that our Lord, though truly God, is man as one of us.

We are specially told that they found the Child "with Mary His Mother." It was by Mary that our Blessed Lord came to us: in the Holy Bible the Son and the Mother appear side by side, and in the Catholic Church they are never separated. His Mother was the dearest treasure our Lord had in this world, and, poor as He was, He had this treasure to the end. How glad we ought to be that when He came to this cold and sinful world, where there was no room for Him, He had her arms to fold Him, and her immaculate heart on which to rest His head!

He did not speak as He lay in her lap. Was He then like any other child? "Whence art Thou?" we can imagine the Magi asking as they knelt before Him. Mary answered for Him. She told them that He who had sent His star to fetch them was a real, little human child, but He was also the God of Heaven and earth, and they must worship Him. He had two natures, the human nature which they could see, the Divine Nature which they could not see, but He had only one Person, which was the Person of God the Son. They listened humbly, and bowed down, and kissed the little feet, and adored Him. And Mary gave them His little hand to kiss and blessed them with it.

At last they had to go. They were so happy, so glad that they had come. They would go back now to their own land and tell their people all they had seen and heard. And as long as they lived they would remember their visit to Bethlehem, and keep in their hearts the memory of the Mother and the Son. They had arranged to return by way of Jerusalem, but, being told by God not to go back to Herod, they went to their own country another way.

Meanwhile the king was waiting and wondering. Why did not the Magi come back? Could they have found him out and have tricked him who thought himself so clever in tricking others? How foolish he had been not to have them followed and watched by some of his own people. Finding at last that he had been outwitted by these simple-looking men, he was furious, and, sending his soldiers, killed all the male children that were in Bethlehem and in all the country round from two years old and under. In vain did the poor mothers try to hide or to defend their little ones. At their play, in their cradles, in the very arms of their mothers, these innocents were seized and slain, while shrieks and piteous cries were heard on every side.
 
And where was He whose life the cruel king was seeking ?

The night after the departure of the Magi, as Joseph slept, an Angel of the Lord appeared to him: "Arise," he said, " and take the Child and His Mother, and fly into Egypt, and be there until I shall tell thee. For it will come to pass that Herod will seek the Child to destroy Him."

Without asking a single question, Joseph arose, went to Mary and told her of the order. Like him, asking no questions, she rose quickly, put together some provisions, took her little Babe and wrapped Him up in the few garments she had, whilst Joseph collected his tools and went out to saddle the ass. Then he helped Mary to mount, laid the Holy Child in her arms, closed the door of the cottage and went out into the night.

Days and weeks they journeyed on, first through wild and hilly country, then across the trackless desert. There was no shelter for them when the rays of the sun beat fiercely down by day and the chilly dews fell at night. Day after day that dreary waste of sand stretched out before them. Springs of water were rare, and they suffered terribly from thirst. As they plodded on under the white light of the moon, or lay down to rest, they heard the bark of the jackal and the roar of the distant lion. The burning breath of the sirocco, with its whirling sand, might overtake them, robbers might swoop down upon them. But they were not afraid, for they knew that the little Child they had with them—was God.

At last the yellow wilderness is broken up by patches of refreshing green; further on they come upon fertile fields and the dwellings of men, and Joseph begins to look about for a place where they can settle down. But the idolaters view with suspicion these Jewish strangers; no one knows them, and they are homeless wanderers till Joseph is able to hire a little house. Then it is hard to get work, and though he and Mary stint themselves for the sake of the Child, they are so poor that many a time when He asks for bread they have none to give Him.

It seems to have been soon after the slaughter of the Innocents that Herod died and went to Judgment. What an awful account he had to give! To keep a throne of which death must soon deprive him, he had murdered his nearest and dearest, the priests of the Temple, and at last a whole troop of little children, among whom he hoped was the Saviour of the world.

There was nothing now to keep the Holy Family in exile, and the Angel who had ordered the Flight into Egypt appeared in sleep to Joseph saying: "Arise, and take the Child and His Mother and go into the land of Israel, for they are dead that sought the life of the Child." And he arose and took the Child and His Mother and came into the land of Israel. But hearing that Archelaus reigned in Judea in the room of Herod his father, he was afraid to go thither. He therefore determined to return to Nazareth in Galilee and settle
there.

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