Memorial of the Immaculate Heart of the Blessed Vi

The Lord has consumed without pity all the dwellings of Jacob; He has torn down in his anger the fortresses of daughter Judah; He has brought to the ground in dishonor her king and her princes. On the ground in silence sit the old men of daughter Zion; They strew dust on their heads and gird themselves with sackcloth; The maidens of Jerusalem bow their heads to the ground. Worn out from weeping are my eyes, within me all is in ferment; My gall is poured out on the ground because of the downfall of the daughter of my people, As child and infant faint away in the open spaces of the town. In vain they ask their mothers, “Where is the grain?” As they faint away like the wounded in the streets of the city, And breathe their last in their mothers’ arms. To what can I liken or compare you, O daughter Jerusalem? What example can I show you for your comfort, virgin daughter Zion? For great as the sea is your downfall; who can heal you? Your prophets had for you false and specious visions; They did not lay bare your guilt, to avert your fate; They beheld for you in vision false and misleading portents. Cry out to the Lord; moan, O daughter Zion! Let your tears flow like a torrent day and night; Let there be no respite for you, no repose for your eyes. Rise up, shrill in the night, at the beginning of every watch; Pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord; Lift up your hands to him for the lives of your little ones Who faint from hunger at the corner of every street.  

R. (19b) Lord, forget not the souls of your poor ones. Why, O God, have you cast us off forever? Why does your anger smolder against the sheep of your pasture? Remember your flock which you built up of old, the tribe you redeemed as your inheritance, Mount Zion, where you took up your abode. R. Lord, forget not the souls of your poor ones. Turn your steps toward the utter ruins; toward all the damage the enemy has done in the sanctuary. Your foes roar triumphantly in your shrine; they have set up their tokens of victory. They are like men coming up with axes to a clump of trees. R. Lord, forget not the souls of your poor ones. With chisel and hammer they hack at all the paneling of the sanctuary. They set your sanctuary on fire; the place where your name abides they have razed and profaned. R. Lord, forget not the souls of your poor ones. Look to your covenant, for the hiding places in the land and the plains are full of violence. May the humble not retire in confusion; may the afflicted and the poor praise your name. R. Lord, forget not the souls of your poor ones.

R. Alleluia, alleluia. Blessed is the Virgin Mary who kept the word of God and pondered it in her heart. R. Alleluia, alleluia.

Each year Jesus’ parents went to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover, and when he was twelve years old, they went up according to festival custom. After they had completed its days, as they were returning, the boy Jesus remained behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Thinking that he was in the caravan, they journeyed for a day and looked for him among their relatives and acquaintances, but not finding him, they returned to Jerusalem to look for him. After three days they found him in the temple, sitting in the midst of the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions, and all who heard him were astounded at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him, they were astonished, and his mother said to him, “Son, why have you done this to us? Your father and I have been looking for you with great anxiety.” And he said to them, “Why were you looking for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But they did not understand what he said to them. He went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them; and his mother kept all these things in her heart.