O Virgin of virgins, how shall this be? For neither before you was any like you, nor shall there be after. Daughters of Jerusalem, why do you marvel at me? The thing which you behold is a divine mystery.
O Virgo Virginum
Who are the daughters of Jerusalem, Who glimpse you still as you transform their seeing? Whom have you called to this mysterium, And bathed in the blithe fountain of your being? Daughters of sorrow, daughters of despair, The cast-aside, the overlooked, the spurned The broken girls who scarcely breathe a prayer The ones whose love has never been returned. O Maid amongst the maidens, turn your face, For when we glimpse you we are not alone, O look us out of grief and into grace, Lift us in love made stronger than our own, Summon the spring in our worst wilderness, And make us fruitful in your fruitfulness.
Poem: Malcolm Guite; Image: Laura Kestly
Mary is the Virgin of virgins, the glory of Jerusalem, the pride of Israel, and the boast of all humanity; she is all God’s and all ours. Let us never fear to draw near and question her, to ask a way deeper into mystery. Let us find ourselves beneath her mantle with all those who weep, and so learn to look on them with the eyes of a mother. Let us learn to let Mary look at us, let us dwell beneath her gaze, and so receive our share in her overshadowing. May we find echoing in our hearts too the dialog: “Hail, favored one, the Lord is with you! … May it be done to me according to your word” (Lk 1:28, 38), and so may our lives swell with the fruit of God’s charity: Jesus.