principle that animated his apostles after the descent of the Holy
Spirit was, "Yea, though we have known Christ after the flesh, yet
now, henceforth, know we him no more." His family life with his
mother would doubtless have opened lovely pages; but it must remain
sealed up among those many things spoken of by St. John, which, if
they were recorded, the "world itself could not contain the books
that should be written." All that we have, then, to build upon is
the brief account given in the Gospels. The first two chapters of
St. Matthew and the first two chapters of St. Luke are our only
data, except one or two very brief notices in St. John, and one
slight mention in the Acts.
In part, our conception of the character of Mary may receive light
from her nationality. A fine human being is never the product of one
generation, but rather the outcome of a growth of ages. Mary was
the offspring and flower of a race selected, centuries before, from
the finest physical stock of the world, watched over, trained, and
cultured, by Divine oversight, in accordance with every physical
and mental law for the production of sound and vigorous mental and
bodily conditions. Her blood came to her in a channel of descent
over which the laws of Moses had established a watchful care; a race
where marriage had been made sacred, family life a vital point, and
motherhood invested by Divine command with an especial sanctity.
As Mary was in a certain sense a product of the institutes of
Moses, so it is an interesting coincidence that she bore the name
of his sister, the first and most honored of the line of Hebrew
prophetesses,--Mary being the Latin version of the Hebrew Miriam.
She had also, as we read, a sister, the wife of Cleopas, who bore
the same name,--a custom not infrequent in Jewish families. It
is suggested, that, Miriam being a sacred name and held in high
traditionary honor, mothers gave it to their daughters, as now in
Spain they call them after the Madonna as a sign of good omen.
There is evidence that Mary had not only the sacred name of the
first great prophetess, but that she inherited, in the line of
descent, the poetic and prophetic temperament. She was of the
royal line of David, and poetic visions and capabilities of high
enthusiasm were in her very lineage. The traditions of the holy and
noble women of her country's history were all open to her as sources
of inspiration. Miriam, leading the song of national rejoicing on
the shore of the Red Sea; Deborah, mother, judge, inspirer, leader,
and poet of her nation; Hannah, the mother who won so noble a son
of Heaven by prayer; the daughter of Jephtha, ready to sacrifice
herself to her country; Huldah, the prophetess, the interpreter of
God's will to kings; Queen Esther, risking her life for her people;
and Judith, the beautiful and chaste deliverer of her nation,--these
were the spiritual forerunners of Mary, the ideals with whom her
youthful thoughts must have been familiar.
The one hymn of Mary's composition which has found place in the
sacred records pictures in a striking manner the exalted and poetic
side of her nature. It has been compared with the song of Hannah
the mother of Samuel, and has been spoken of as taken from it. But
there is only that resemblance which sympathy of temperament and a
constant contemplation of the same class of religious ideas would
produce. It was the exaltation of a noble nature expressing itself
in the form and imagery supplied by the traditions and history of
her nation. We are reminded that Mary was a daughter of David by
certain tones in her magnificent hymn, which remind us of many of
the Psalms of that great heart-poet.
Being of royal lineage, Mary undoubtedly cherished in her bosom the
traditions of her house with that secret fervor which belongs to
enthusiastic natures. We are to suppose her, like all Judæan women,
intensely national in her feelings. She identified herself with her
country's destiny, lived its life, suffered in its sufferings,
and waited and prayed for its deliverance and glories. This was a
time of her nation's deep humiliation. The throne and scepter had
passed from Judah. Conquered, trodden down, and oppressed, the
sacred land was under the rule of Pagan Rome; Herod, the appointed
sovereign, was a blaspheming, brutal tyrant, using all his power to
humiliate and oppress; and we may imagine Mary as one of the small
company of silent mourners, like Simeon, and Anna the prophetess,
who pondered the Scriptures and "looked for salvation in Israel."
She was betrothed to her cousin Joseph, who was, like herself, of
the royal lineage. He was a carpenter, in accordance with that
excellent custom of the Jewish law which required every man to be
taught a mechanical trade. They were in humble circumstances, and
dwelt in a village proverbial for the meanness and poverty of its
inhabitants. We can imagine them as _in_, but not _of_, the sordid
and vulgar world of Nazareth, living their life of faith and prayer,
of mournful memories of past national glory, and longing hopes for
the future.
The account of the visitation of the angel to Mary is given by St.
Luke, and by him alone. His Gospel was written later than those of
Matthew and Mark, and designed for the Greek churches, and it seems
but natural that in preparing himself to write upon this theme
he should seek information from Mary herself, the fountain-head.
Biblical critics discover traces of this communication in the
different style of these first two chapters of St. Luke. While the
rest of the book is written in pure classic Greek, this is full
of Hebraisms, and has all the marks of being translated from the
Syro-Chaldaic tongue, which was the popular dialect of Palestine,
and in which Mary must have given her narrative.
Let us now look at the simple record. "And in the sixth month
the angel Gabriel was sent from God unto a city of Galilee named
Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man named Joseph, of the house
of David, and the virgin's name was Mary. And the angel came in unto
her and said, Hail, highly favored! the Lord is with thee; blessed
art thou among women! And when she saw him she was troubled at his
saying, and cast in her mind what manner of salutation this should
be."
All these incidents, in their very nature, could be known to Mary
alone. She was in solitude, without a human witness; from her the
whole detail must have come. It gives not only the interview, but
the passing thoughts and emotions of her mind; she was agitated,
and cast about what this should mean. We see in all this that
serious, calm, and balanced nature which was characteristic of Mary.
Habitually living in the contemplation of that spirit-world revealed
in the Scriptures, it was no very startling thing to her to see an
angel standing by,--her thoughts had walked among the angels too
long for that; but his enthusiastic words of promise and blessing
agitated her soul.
"And the angel said unto her, Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found
favor with God, and behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb and bring
forth a son and shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and
shall be called the Son of the Highest, and the Lord God shall give
unto him the throne of his father[8] David, and he shall reign over
the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there shall be no
end."
[8] It is remarkable that in this interview the angel, in the same
connection, informs Mary that her son shall have no human father,
and that David shall be his ancestor. The inference is clear that
Mary is herself of the house of David. Coincident with this we find
a genealogy of Jesus in this Gospel of Luke differing entirely
from the genealogy in Matthew. Very able critics have therefore
contended that, as Luke evidently received his account from Mary,
the genealogy he gives is that of _her_ ancestry, and that the
"_Heli_" who is mentioned in Luke as the ancestor of Jesus was his
grandfather, the father of Mary. Very skillful and able Biblical
critics have supported this view, among whom are Paulus, Spanheim,
and Lightfoot. The latter goes the length of saying that there
are no difficulties in these genealogies but what have been made
by commentators. In Lightfoot, notes in Luke, third chapter, the
argument is given at length, and he adds testimonies to show that
Mary was called the daughter of Heli by the early Jewish Rabbins,
who traduced her for her pretensions in reference to her son. He
quotes three passages from different Rabbins in the Jerusalem
Talmud, or "Chigagah," folio 77. 4, where this Mary, mother of
Jesus, is denounced as the "daughter of _Heli_ and mother of a
pretender."
A weaker woman would have been dazzled and overcome by such a
vision,--appealing to all her personal ambition,--and her pride of
nation and her religious enthusiasm telling her that she had drawn
the prize which had been the high ideal of every Jewish woman from
the beginning of time. But Mary faces the great announcement with a
countenance of calm inquiry. "Then said Mary to the angel, How shall
this be, seeing I am yet a virgin?" And the angel answered and said
unto her, "The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee; the power of the
Highest shall overshadow thee; therefore, also, that holy progeny
which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God; and
behold, also, thy cousin Elisabeth, she also hath conceived a son
in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her who was called
barren. For with God nothing shall be impossible."
In this announcement a Jewish betrothed woman must have seen a
future of danger to her reputation and her life; for who would
believe a story of which there was no mortal witness? But Mary
accepted the high destiny and the fearful danger with an entire
surrender of herself into God's hands. Her reply is not one of
exultation, but of submission. "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be
it unto me according to his word."
The next step taken by Mary is in accordance with the calmest
practical good sense, and displays an energy and a control over
other minds which must have been uncommon. She resolves to visit
her cousin Elisabeth in the mountain country. The place is supposed
to have been near Hebron, and involved a journey of some twenty
miles through a rugged country. For a young maiden to find means of
performing this journey, which involved attendance and protection,
without telling the reason for which she resolved upon it, seems to
show that Mary had that kind of character which inspires confidence,
and leads those around her to feel that a thing is right and proper
because she has determined it.
The scene of the visitation as given in St. Luke shows the height
above common thought and emotion on which these holy women moved.
Elisabeth, filled with inspired ardor, spoke out with a loud voice
and said, "Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit
of thy womb. And whence is this to me, that the mother of my Lord
should come to me? And blessed be she that believed: for there shall
be a performance of those things which have been promised of the
Lord." Then the prophetic fire fell upon Mary, and she broke forth
into the immortal psalm which the Church still cherishes as the
first hymn of the new dispensation.
"My soul doth magnify the Lord;
My spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour,
For he hath regarded the low estate of his handmaid;
For, behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed!
For he that is mighty hath done great things to me,
And holy is his name,
And his mercy is on them that fear him
From generation to generation.
He hath showed strength with his arm;
He hath scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts,
He hath put down the mighty from their seats
And exalted them of low degree,
He hath filled the hungry with good things
And the rich hath he sent empty away,
He hath holpen his servant Israel
In remembrance of his mercy,
As he spake to our fathers,
To Abraham and his seed forever."
In these words we see, as in the song of Hannah, the exaltation of a
purely unselfish spirit, whose personal experiences merge themselves
in those of universal humanity. One line alone expresses her intense
sense of the honor done her, and all the rest is exultation in her
God as the helper of the poor, the neglected, the despised and
forgotten, and the Saviour of her oppressed country. No legend of
angel ministrations or myths of miracle can so glorify Mary in our
eyes as this simple picture of her pure and lofty unselfishness of
spirit.
We are told that this sacred visit lasted three months. A mythical
legend speaks of a large garden, pertaining to the priests' house,
where Mary was wont to walk for meditation and prayer, and that,
bending one day over a flower, beautiful, but devoid of fragrance,
she touched it and thenceforth it became endowed with a sweet
perfume. The myth is a lovely allegory of the best power of a true
and noble Christian woman.
On returning to Nazareth, Mary confronted the danger which beset
her situation with the peculiar, silent steadfastness which
characterized her. From the brief narrative of Matthew, which
mainly respects the feelings of Joseph, we infer that Mary made no
effort at self-justification, but calmly resigned herself to the
vindication of God in his own time and way. As the private feelings
of Mary are recorded only by Luke, and the private experiences
of Joseph by Matthew, it is to be supposed that the narrative is
derived from these two sources.
We have no other characteristic incident of Mary's conduct; nothing
that she said or did during the next eventful scenes of her life.
The journey to Bethlehem, the birth-of Jesus, the visit of the
shepherds and of the magi, full of the loveliest poetic suggestion,
are all silent shrines so far as utterance or action of hers is
given to us. That she was peculiarly a silent woman is inferred from
the only mention of her, in particular, by St. Luke when recording
these wonderful scenes. When the shepherds, sent by angelic
visitors, came to Bethlehem, we are told, "And they came with haste,
and found Joseph and Mary, and the babe lying in a manger; and when
they had seen it they made known abroad the saying which was told
them concerning this child. And all that heard it wondered. _But
Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart._" She is
one of those women who are remarkable for the things they do _not_
say.
We next find her at Jerusalem, going with her husband to present
her first-born son in the Temple, and to offer the humble sacrifice
appointed for the poor. A modern English painting represents her
as sheltering in her bosom the two innocent white doves destined
to bloody death, emblems of the fate of the holy child whom she
presented. Here the sacred story gives an interesting incident.
We catch a glimpse at one of the last of the Hebrew prophetesses in
the form of Anna, of whom the narrative says, "She was of great age,
and had lived with an husband seven years from her virginity, and
she was a widow of about fourscore and four years, which departed
not from the Temple, but served God with fasting and prayer day and
night." She came in and welcomed the holy child. We are introduced
also to the last of the prophets. "And behold there was a man in
Jerusalem named Simeon, and the same was just and devout, waiting
for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Ghost was upon him, and
it was revealed unto him by the Holy Ghost that he should not see
death before he had seen the Lord's Messiah. And he came by the
Spirit into the Temple; and when the parents brought in the child
Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the law, then took
he him up in his arms and blessed God and said:--
"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace,
For mine eyes have seen thy salvation
Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people,
A light to lighten the Gentiles and the glory of thy people Israel."
And Joseph and his mother marveled at the things which were spoken
of him. The contrast between the helpless babe and the magnificence
of his promised destiny kept them in a state of constant
astonishment. And Simeon blessed them, and said unto Mary his
mother, "Behold this child is set for the fall and the rising again
of many in Israel, and for a sign that shall be spoken against. Yea,
a sword shall pierce through thine own soul also, that the thoughts
of many hearts may be revealed."
This prophecy must have been a strange enigma to Mary. According to
the prediction of the angel, her son was to be a triumphant king, to
reign on the throne of his father David, to restore the old national
prestige, and to make his people rulers over the whole earth. The
great truth that the kingdom was not of this world, and the dominion
a moral victory; that it was to be won through rejection, betrayal,
denial, torture, and shameful death; that the Jewish nation were
to be finally uprooted and scattered,--all this was as much hidden
from the eyes of Mary as from those of the whole nation. The gradual
unveiling of this mystery was to test every character connected
with it by the severest wrench of trial. The latent worldliness and
pride of many, seemingly good, would be disclosed, and even the
pure mother would be pierced to the very heart with the anguish of
disappointed hopes. Such was the prophecy of which the life of Mary
was a long fulfillment. The slow perplexity of finding an entirely
different destiny for her son from the brilliant one foretold
in prophetic symbols was to increase from year to year, till it
culminated at the foot of the cross.
The next we see of Mary is the scene in the Temple where she seeks
her son. It shows the social and cheerful nature of the boy, and
the love in which he was held, that she should have missed him a
whole day from her side without alarm, supposing that he was with
the other children of the great family caravans traveling festively
homeward from Jerusalem. Not finding him, she returns alarmed to
Jerusalem, and, after three days of fruitless search, finds him
sitting in the school of the doctors of the Temple. Her agitation
and suppressed alarm betray themselves in her earnest and grieved
words: "Son, why hast thou dealt thus with us? behold thy father
and I have sought thee sorrowing." The answer of Jesus was given
with an unconscious artlessness, as a child of heaven might speak.
"Why did you seek me? Did you not know I would be at my Father's
house?"[9] This was doubtless one of those peculiar outflashings of
an inward light which sometimes break unconsciously from childhood,
and it is said, "They understood not the saying." It was but a gleam
of the higher nature, and it was gone in a moment; for it is said
immediately after that he went down with them unto Nazareth, and was
subject to them; but, it is added significantly, "his mother kept
all these sayings and pondered them in her heart." Then came twenty
years of obscurity and silence, when Jesus lived the plain, literal
life of a village mechanic. "Is not this the carpenter, the son of
Mary?" they said of him when he appeared in the synagogue of his
native village.
[9] This is said by able critics to be the sense of the original.
How unaccountable to Mary must have appeared that silence! It was as
if God had forgotten his promises. The son of her cousin Elisabeth,
too, grew up and lived the life of an anchorite in the desert. It
appears from his testimony afterwards that he kept up no personal
acquaintance with Jesus, and "knew him not," so that a sign from
heaven was necessary to enable him to recognize the Messiah.
From the specimens of the village gossip at the time of Christ's
first public teaching in Nazareth, it appears that neither in the
mother of Christ nor in Christ himself had his townsfolk seen
anything to excite expectation. In his last prayer Jesus says to
his Father, "O righteous Father, the world hath not _known_ thee."
In like manner Nazareth _knew_ not Mary and Jesus. "He was in the
world, and the world was made by him, and the world _knew_ him not."
At last comes the call of John the Baptist; the wave of popular
feeling rises, and Jesus leaves his mother to go to his baptism,
his great initiation. The descending Spirit, the voice from heaven,
ordain him to his work, but immediately the prophetic impulse drives
him from the habitation of man, and for more than a month he wanders
in the wilderness, on the borders of that spirit-land where he
encountered the temptations that were to fit him for his work. We
shall see that the whole drift of these temptations was, that he
should use his miraculous powers and gifts for personal ends: he
should create bread to satisfy the pangs of his own hunger, instead
of waiting on the providence of God; he should cast himself from
the pinnacles of the Temple, that he might be upborne by angels and
so descend among the assembled multitude with the pomp and splendor
befitting his station; instead of the toilsome way of a religious
teacher, laboring for success through the slowly developing
spiritual life of individuals, he should seek the kingdoms of the
world and the glory of them, and spread his religion by their
power. But, in all the past traditions of the prophetic office, the
_supernatural power_ was always regarded as a sacred deposit never
to be used by its possessor for any private feeling or personal end.
Elijah fasted forty days in his wanderings without using this gift
to supply his own wants; and Jesus, the greatest of the prophets,
was the most utterly and thoroughly possessed with the unselfish
spirit of the holy office, and repelled from him with indignation
every suggestion of the tempter.
When he returned from his seclusion in the desert, we find him once
more in his mother's society, and we see them united in the episode
of the marriage at Cana. His mother's mind is, doubtless, full of
the mysterious change that has passed upon her son and of triumph
in his high calling. She knows that he has received the gift of
miraculous power, though as yet he has never used it. It was most
human, and most natural, and quite innocent, that after so many
years of patient waiting she should wish to see this bright career
of miracles begin. His family also might have felt some of the
eagerness of family pride in the display of his gifts.
When, therefore, by an accident, the wedding festivities are at a
stand, Mary turns to her son with the habit of a mother who has
felt for years that she owned all that her son could do, and of a
Jewish mother who had always commanded his reverence. She thinks, to
herself, that he has the power of working miracles, and here is an
opportunity to display it. She does not directly ask, but there is
suggestion in the very manner in which she looks to him and says,
"They have no wine." Immediately from him, usually so tender and
yielding, comes an abrupt repulse, "Woman,[10] what have I to do
with thee? mine hour is not yet come." What sacred vital spot has
she touched unaware with her maternal hand? It is, although she
knows it not, the very one which had been touched before by the
Enemy in the wilderness.
[10] The address "woman" sounds abrupt and harsh, but in the
original language it was a term of respect. Our Lord, in his dying
moments, used the same form to his mother,--"Woman, behold thy son."
This sacred, mysterious, awful gift of miracles was not his to
use for any personal feeling or desire, not to gratify a mother's
innocent ambition, or to please the family pride of kindred; and
there is the earnestness of a sense of danger in the manner in which
he throws off the suggestion, the same abrupt earnestness with which
he afterwards rebuked Peter when he pleaded with him to avoid the
reproaches and sufferings which lay in his path.
The whole of this story is not told in full, but it is evident that
the understanding between Jesus and his mother was so immediate,
that, though he had reproved her for making the suggestion, she
was still uncertain whether he might not yet see it consistent to
perform the miracle, and so, at once, leaving it to him in meek
submission, she said to the servants standing by, "Whatsoever he
saith unto you do it." This tone to the servants, assumed by Mary,
shows the scene to have occurred in the family of a kinsman, where
she felt herself in the position of directress.