Womanhood in the Time of the Saviour’s Nativity.
AN ANGEL BY THE ALTAR OF INCENSE--HIS MESSAGE--AN ISRAELITISH
HOME--IN THE SPIRIT OF ELIJAH--THE DESERT TEACHER--THE
ANNUNCIATION--THE VISIT OF MARY TO ELIZABETH--MARY’S
MAGNIFICAT--JOURNEY TO BETHLEHEM--THE NATIVITY--HOME LIFE IN
NAZARETH--AFTER SCENES IN MARY’S LIFE--HER RESIDENCE AND DEATH
AT EPHESUS--THE PROPHETESS ANNA--HER WAITING FOR REDEMPTION IN
JERUSALEM--THE LESSON OF HER PURE AND BEAUTIFUL LIFE.
Isaiah, looking adown the ages to the coming of Christ’s Kingdom,
likened it to waters breaking out in the wilderness and streams in
the desert. For centuries there was no voice of prophet in Israel
or revelation from God to His chosen people, when suddenly the long
silence was broken. It was in the days of Herod the Great, when sin and
misery had reached their climax, and when the yearning for Messiah’s
appearance was more intensely felt than ever. The Temple, so often
the scene of the manifestation of the glory of God, became again the
centre, whence the first rays of light secretly break through the
darkness.
One of the priests, named Zacharias, while performing his duty in
the service of the sanctuary, burning incense before the Lord, had a
vision, in which he was assured that his prayer was heard, and great
distinction conferred upon him in a twofold answer: First, the Messiah
shall indeed appear in his days; and, secondly, that he shall himself
be the father of the forerunner, who is to prepare His way--an honor
he could not have ventured to anticipate. What human tongue could have
foretold it to him, or how could he have ventured to hearken to the
voice of his own heart, without direct revelation? Zacharias sought
first the Kingdom of God, and His righteousness, and all other things
were added to him.
In the service of the sanctuary the burning of incense before the
Lord was considered exceedingly important and honorable. The people
were accustomed to unite in the outer court in silent supplication,
while the priest in the sanctuary offered the incense, which was ever
regarded as the symbol of acceptable prayer.
Remaining longer in the sanctuary than was strictly necessary, the
people, who were waiting in the outer court of the Temple, feared
that some misfortune, or sign of the divine displeasure, had befallen
him, for they “marveled that he tarried so long.” And when he finally
appeared “he could not speak.” While standing before the altar,
awaiting the signal to sift the precious incense, a heavenly messenger
appeared unto him. When Zacharias saw the angel he was troubled, and
fear fell upon him. The heavenly messenger quickly answered, “Fear not,
Zacharias, for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elizabeth shall bear
thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John.”
Both Zacharias and Elizabeth were of the priestly race, and he himself
was a priest of the course of Abia, and she was of the daughters of
Aaron. Both, too, were devout persons, walking in the commandments of
God, and waiting for the fulfillment of His promise to Israel. But in
the midst of the glorious revelations the angel had made, strange to
say, Zacharias had asked for some sign or confirmation of the glad
tidings. The angel answered, “I am Gabriel” (the Might of God) “and,
behold, thou shalt be dumb.” As faith is to be the chief condition
of the new covenant, it was needful that the first manifestation of
unbelief should be emphatically punished, but the wound inflicted
becomes a healing medicine to the soul. The aged priest was constrained
to much silent reflection, and, according to the counsel of God, the
secret was still kept for a time.
There is here a remarkable coincidence between Zacharias and Abraham on
the one side, and Elizabeth and Sarah on the other; not only in the
fact of their lack of an heir during so many years, but also in the
frame of mind in which they at length received the heavenly message.
In these parallel histories, the man of the olden times is strong in
the faith, the woman weak; while under the new covenant it is the man
whose faith falters. On the very threshold of the new dispensation
woman, in the person of Elizabeth, takes her place in the foreground
by the heroism of a living faith. It is also quite in keeping with
Divine wisdom that in this case unbelief in view of the rising sun of
the gospel salvation is much more severely punished than under the old
dispensation.
[Illustration: THE ANGEL’S MESSAGE.]
The sight of Zacharias struck dumb awakened among the people an
expectation of some great and heavenly event; soon will “the things”
done in the priest’s house be “noised abroad throughout all the hill
country of Judea,” and the voice of “him that crieth” shall soon
resound over hill and valley.
The sacred duties performed, retirement was next in order. As a priest,
in the “course of Abia,” the twenty-four courses in the services of the
temple relieved each other weekly, each course ministering during a
whole week. So Zacharias and Elizabeth leave Jerusalem for their home
among the picturesque hills of Judea, south-west of Bethlehem. How
beautiful are the pictures of these Israelitish homes into which the
Bible bids us so often to look. The familiar vine and fig-tree; the
flower-planted courts; the waterpots filled for quenching thirst; the
basin and towel and servant to bathe the heated, often dust-covered,
feet; the domestic scene morning and evening in the grinding of the
food in the familiar hand-mill, the work always performed by the women;
the delightful views from the housetops in the cool of the evening;
the maidens busy in filling the waterpots; the halting of visitors
in the outer court, waiting for some damsel to open the door; the
thousand little touches of real life which are always so charming to
the observer. In addition to these outward signs, the good manners and
propriety, the atmosphere of true courtesy; the youth rising up before
the hoary head; the child learning at his mother’s knee, or inquiring
of father or elder; a joyousness, such as a mind at peace with God only
can exert, are all manifest in these Bible pictures which ages can not
dim. Yet most striking are the proofs that in every household children
were desired, and gladly welcomed.
Notwithstanding a barren wife in an Israelitish home was often a cause
for divorce, Zacharias was pre-eminently a man of hope. As a pious
husband and lover, he had faithfully and tenderly clung to his beloved
Elizabeth through the long years of youth and middle age, and even
after hope had died out of their longing hearts. Both had learned “the
patience of unanswered prayer”--a lesson not easily mastered by the
bravest of us. But now the hope was to be realized, the “reproach among
men” was to be taken away. In that home among the hills of Judea was to
be a child in the arms of its mother. The name of the child, and he a
son, was to be John (Jehovah shows grace). Many homes would rejoice in
his birth, and he would be God’s man, eating nothing to inflame carnal
passions, and filled with the Holy Spirit, he would become prophet
and reformer. The grossly literal hope of the people for Elijah’s
appearance in the flesh would be spiritually fulfilled, for Elizabeth’s
son was to have the spirit and the power of the Tishbite; and thus
gifted of the Almighty, was to be the forerunner of the Christ. All
that was spoken of the Messiah’s messenger by Isaiah, as “the voice of
one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make His
paths straight,” and by Malachi, “Behold, I will send my messenger, and
he shall prepare the way before me,” were fulfilled in this son of many
prayers.
In due time he was born, and on the eighth day, in conformity with the
law of Moses, was brought to the priest for circumcision, and, as the
performance of this rite was the accustomed time for naming a child,
the friends of the family proposed to call him Zacharias after the
name of his father. The mother, however, required that he should be
called John--a decision which Zacharias, still speechless, confirmed
by writing on a tablet, “his name is John.” The judgment on his want
of faith was then withdrawn, and the first use which he made of his
recovered speech, was to praise Jehovah for his faithfulness and mercy,
a proof that the cure had taken place in his soul also.
A single verse contains all that we know of Elizabeth’s child of
promise for the space of thirty years--the whole period which elapsed
between his birth and the commencement of his public ministry. The
record is, “The child grew and waxed strong in the spirit, and was in
the desert till the day of his showing unto Israel.” But we must not
forget that through his childhood and youth he was under the care of a
wise, loving mother. Elizabeth’s unfaltering faith and prudent counsel,
we must believe, exerted a lasting influence over this child of the
desert.
The child thus supernaturally born, was surely a sign that God was
again visiting His people. His providence, so long hidden, seemed once
more about to manifest itself in the person of Elizabeth’s son, who,
doubtless must be commissioned to perform some important part in the
history of the chosen people. Could it be the Messiah? Could it be
Elijah? Was the era of their old prophets about to be restored? With
such grave thoughts were the minds of the people occupied, as they
mused on the events which had been passing under their eyes, and said
one to another, “What manner of child shall this be?”
So when John passed out from under the wise training of Elizabeth, his
reputation for extraordinary sanctity, and the generally prevailing
expectation that some great one was about to appear, were sufficient
to attract to him a great multitude from “every quarter.” Brief and
startling was his first exhortation to them, “Repent ye, for the
kingdom of heaven is at hand.” His preaching of repentance, however,
meant more than a mere legal ablution or expiation, it meant a change
of heart and life. While such was his solemn admonition to the
multitude at large, he adopted towards the leading sects of the Jews a
severer tone, denouncing Pharisees and Sadducees alike as “a generation
of vipers,” and warning them of the folly of trusting to external
privileges as descendants of Abraham. He plainly told them, “the axe
was laid to the root of the tree,” that formal righteousness would be
no longer tolerated. Such alarming declarations produced their effect,
and many of every class pressed forward to confess their sins and to
accept John’s ministry.
This son of Elizabeth is one of the most striking characters in the
Bible. Destined from before his birth to be a prophet, his life was
worthy of his high office. Pure, unsullied, earnest, fearless, humble,
he much resembled his great predecessor, Elijah. Like him, he was an
ascetic, and like him, he had his time of fearless outspeaking and
of reproval of kings, and hypocrites; and like him, also, a time of
depression, as when he sent to Christ to ask, “Art thou He that should
come, or shall we look for another?”
A noble example of the fearless manner in which he proclaimed the truth
is illustrated in the denunciation of the unlawful marriage of Herod
Antipas, the Tetrarch. He had married a daughter of Aretas, King of
Petra, but seeing Herodias, the wife of his half brother, Philip, he
became infatuated with her, divorced his own wife and married Herodias,
who abandoned Philip to marry him. Herodias was a grand-daughter of
Herod the Great. This unprincipled woman wrought the ruin of Herod
Antipas. Aretas, angry at the treatment of his daughter, made war upon
Herod. John reproved Herod for all this, and he evidently had not
minced words. Neither had he spoken in such low whispers that he might
seem to others to disapprove the crime, but still escape the notice of
the king. He thundered out his denunciations in a way to make even the
royal couple alarmed, and caused them to shut John up in prison, lest
his growing popularity should undermine the security of Herod’s throne.
And then Herodias secured the execution of John, which angered the
Jews, for they counted John as a prophet and held the subsequent defeat
of Herod by Aretas as a judgment upon him for this wicked deed.
Such, in brief was the son of the most highly and signally honored
Woman in White Raiment in sacred history, Mary, the mother of Jesus,
only excepted. The strong faith of the pious Elizabeth, as developed
in her noble son, has been a blessing to the whole race of man. The
clear shining faith to grasp the promises of God are most beautifully
exemplified in the pure, self-sacrificing, and devoted life of
Elizabeth.
Closely related to the events in the life of Elizabeth, as just
narrated, is the birth of our blessed Lord.
There is no person in sacred or in profane literature around whom so
many legends have been grouped as around the Virgin Mary, and there
are few whose authentic history is more concise. Doubtless the very
simplicity of the sacred narrative has been one cause of the abundance
of the legendary matter of which she forms the central figure.
According to the genealogy given by Luke, which is that of Mary, her
father’s name was Heli. She was, like Joseph, her husband, of the tribe
of Judah, and of the house and lineage of David. We are informed that
at the time of the angel’s visitation she was betrothed to Joseph and
was therefore regarded by the Jewish law and custom as his wife, though
he had not yet a husband’s rights over her.
The angel Gabriel, who had appeared to Zacharias in the Temple,
appeared to her and announced that she was to be the mother of the
long-expected Messiah; that in Him the prophecies relative to David’s
throne and kingdom should be accomplished; and that his name was to be
called Jesus. He further informed her, perhaps as a sign by which she
might convince herself that his prediction with regard to herself would
come true, that her relative Elizabeth was about to be blessed in the
birth of a child.
It appears that Mary at once set off to visit Elizabeth in her home
in the hill country of Judea. When she had reached her destination,
and immediately on her entrance into the house, she was saluted by
Elizabeth as the mother of our Lord, and had evidence of the truth
of the angel’s saying with regard to her cousin Elizabeth, Mary then
embodied her feelings of exultation and thankfulness in the hymn known
under the name of the _Magnificat_. The hymn is founded on Hannah’s
song of thankfulness (1 Sam. ii, 1-10), and exhibits an intimate
knowledge of the Psalms, prophetical writings and books of Moses, from
which sources almost every expression in it is drawn.
In approaching this exquisite bit of Hebrew poetry uttered by Mary we
may profitably consider, first, its beauty of expression; and second,
its nobility and grandeur of sentiment. The hymn consists of four
stanzas of four lines each, and its literary character is best brought
out by a translation which so arranges it. The first stanza reads:
My soul doth magnify the Lord,
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour,
Because He hath looked upon the humility of His bondmaiden;
For behold, from henceforth all generations shall pronounce me
blessed.
In this stanza three points of parallelism appear in the first two
lines. In the first occurs the word “soul,” and in the second the
word “spirit,” which we understand to be but different designations
of the same elements of our natures. Whatever difference in the use
of these terms in other places it is evident that here according to
the ordinary requirements of Hebrew poetry, the two words are chosen
because of their similarity in meaning. The other synonymous terms are
the words “magnify” and “rejoice;” “the Lord” and “God my Saviour.”
Thus is introduced the so-called Magnificat. The characteristic of
Hebrew poetry is not that it is arranged in rhyme and measured feet,
but in the grander rhythm belonging to parallelisms of thought. Such
a rhythm has far more freedom and force than that which consists of
mere similarity of measure and sound. Hence it is that the poetry of
the Bible is so readily translated into other languages, and loses so
little of its force in the process; whereas poetry which depends upon
the peculiarities of any given language is incapable of translation.
The essential thing in Hebrew poetry is sublimity of thought and
diction, accompanied by a substantial repetition of the sentiment in
terms that are nearly synonymous. The thoughts are thus held before the
mind till it can fully see their grandeur and beauty, and receive those
shades of impression which come from repeated efforts at statement.
In the second couplet of the above stanza Mary gives the reason for
her rejoicing. She was of humble origin, and, before her neighbors and
friends, was to be humbled still further. But, as is so often the case,
what was Mary’s extremity was God’s opportunity, and He was to glorify
Himself by making the weak things of the earth confound the mighty. As
He brought Moses from the wilderness and David from the sheepfold, so
was He to bring Mary from the seclusion of Nazareth and the humiliation
in the stable at Bethlehem to a position of honor attained by no other
woman, and all generations were henceforth to call her blessed.
The second stanza reads:
For the Mighty One hath done great things for me;
And Holy is His name.
And His mercy is unto generations and generations
Of them that fear Him.
Here the great things spoken of as done to Mary (in the first line)
correspond, or rather constitute, the mercy (of the third line) which
flows forth from the gospel from age to age; and the holiness of His
name mentioned in the second is that characteristic of God which evokes
the fear mentioned in the fourth line.
The third stanza may be literally rendered as follows:
He hath exercised the strength which is in His arm;
He hath scattered abroad those who were proud by reason of the
thoughts of their hearts;
He hath cast princes down from their thrones, and exalted the lowly,
The hungry hath He filled with good things, and the rich hath He sent
empty away.
In this, as all through the hymn, we have the flavor of Hebraistic
forms of speech. In their poetical conceptions they did not think of
God as an abstract being, but as having a mighty arm with which He
swayed the nations and dashed their foolish plans in pieces, as one
might break a potter’s vessel with a rod of iron. How little do men
know the flimsiness of the schemes which they organize against the Lord
and His anointed! The third and fourth lines of this stanza contain a
double parallelism and a twofold antithesis. He casts down the kings
and lifts up the lowly people; He fills to fullness the hungry, and
sends the rich away empty.
In the fourth stanza we read:
He hath taken hold to help with Israel His servant,
In order that He might call to mind the mercy characteristic of His
nature
(According as He hath spoken unto our fathers)
To Abraham and his seed for ever.
What a glorious conception this is of Israel, the hero of God, and
who was not a servant, but a son, for that is the true meaning of the
word rendered “servant.” The word is also one of endearment. And so we
are reminded, in the second line, of His tender mercy. The only mercy
of which He could have spoken to our fathers was His own, expressing
itself in the whole scheme of salvation as revealed in the Bible. It
was a peculiar plan of mercy revealed to Abraham and his spiritual
descendants.
Such, in brief, are the noble conceptions and the lofty figures of
speech of this exquisite hymn of Mary. And we ask involuntarily,
Whence comes it that so humble a maiden should thus in the beauty of
her diction and the sublimity of her conceptions have rivaled, if not
eclipsed, all the poets both of ancient and modern times?
It might seem a short answer to this question to say that Mary was
inspired. But such an answer does not satisfy the reasoning mind. God
in His wisdom does not ordinarily see fit to disregard the secondary
causes which He has created. We are led to look, therefore, to the
character and condition of Mary herself as a partial explanation of
the character of this piece of literature. And, upon examining the
hymn, we find that it is largely composed of sentences from the Old
Testament, embodying the Messianic expectations of the Jewish people.
It sounds like an echo, not only of David’s and Hannah’s, but also of
Miriam’s, and of Deborah’s harps; yet independently reproduced in the
mind of a woman, who had laid up and kept in her heart what she had
read in Holy Scripture. Out from the large body of sacred literature
which was the rare heritage of her people, she had extracted that
which was best and noblest and most appropriate. We do not, however,
deny the direct inspiration of this hymn; but we would emphasize the
broader conceptions of Providence, how the Holy Spirit can use a mind
well stored with the deep things of God, as evidently was the mind of
Mary, for, from beginning to end, this hymn assumes a sympathizing
acquaintance with the history of the Jewish people, and of all the
noble conceptions of the Deity with which the history of that people
has made the world familiar.
The unity of God is assumed without question. It is the Lord Jehovah
that her soul magnifies. It is the only true God her Saviour in which
her spirit rejoices. Nor is it a God of mere power, but a God of love
and tenderness, whom she adores. It is one who has regard not for men
alone and the great ones of the earth, but for the humble woman who
occupies the most contracted sphere that falls to the lot of any. And
in this the power of the God she adores appears pre-eminent, for he is
able to make great things out of small. It was He who took Israel as a
little vine and made him a great nation. It was He that multiplied the
widow’s cruse of oil and handful of meal till she had a superabundance.
It was He who lifted Rahab out of her wicked and heathen surroundings
and placed her in the line of royal women in whom all the families of
earth were to be blessed. It is He that notes the sparrow’s fall, that
numbers the hairs of our heads, that hears the prayers we offer in
secret when the door is shut, and that rewards us openly. It is He that
can exalt the humblest life and make it gleam with the sunshine of His
own glory. “Not many mighty, not many noble, are called ... but ... God
hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which
are mighty ... yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought the
things that are.”
Only such a God could lift on high so humble a maiden, and turn upon
her the gaze of all the nations of the earth. But the God of Israel
well might do it, for He is the Mighty One, and able to do great
things, and His mercy is upon them that fear Him from generation
to generation. In Israel’s deliverance from Egypt and in all their
subsequent history, He had shown the strength of His arm. The wrecks of
the nations that opposed Him strew the whole pathway of history. And as
He raised Joseph from prison and exalted Daniel from the lion’s den,
so should He ever lift up the meek, and help His servant Israel, and
remember His promises to Abraham and His seed forever. Only one who is
familiar with such a history could write such a hymn. Surely it is a
great thing to be educated into such thoughts as these. To breathe in
such sentiments in the very atmosphere of one’s home and in the social
circles in which one daily moves is the highest of earthly privileges.
It is only in such a hymn as this of Mary that we get a proper
conception of the grandeur and nobleness of the thoughts underlying
Hebrew history. In her Magnificat, Mary breathed the thoughts of those
that surrounded her. From the days of pious Hannah down to those of
Elizabeth, the women of Israel had been moved by such longings and
animated by such hopes as have never been possible to any other people.
They had the promise made in Eden that the seed of the woman should
bruise the head of the serpent who led the world astray. And now to
her, to this humble virgin of Israel, had the fulfillment of this
promise come, and truly blessed was she among women. For here was the
performance of those things which had been told her from the Lord. The
great crisis of the world’s history had arrived, and she was the chosen
channel through which the hope of the nations was come.
O, blessed Woman in White Raiment, may thy hymn of praise, divinely
inspired, be often upon our lips, and the sweetness of its precious
truths continually in our hearts!
The words of the angel in respect to Elizabeth having been confirmed by
this personal visit of Mary to her home in the hill country of Judea,
she returned to Nazareth.
Soon after this the decree of Augustus, the Roman emperor, that all the
world should be taxed, was promulgated, and Joseph and Mary traveled to
Bethlehem to have their names enrolled in the registers of their tribe.
It would seem that the Israelites still clung to their genealogies and
tribal relations, and, though the undertaking was a severe strain upon
Mary, and notwithstanding, according to the Roman custom, her name
could have been enrolled without her personal presence, this woman,
who was to be the most blessed of women, greatly preferred to accompany
her husband on this journey of over seventy miles, much of the way up
and down steep, rocky hills. Traveling in the East, under its most
favorable conditions, is a slow, tiresome affair, especially for women.
But Mary drudged along the mountain path, in company with her husband,
all the way from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Her love for the city of David
seems to have overcome all difficulties. Possibly a contemplative mind
like hers may have perceived that this decree of Cæsar Augustus was but
an instrument, in the hand of Providence, to fulfill ancient prophecy
with respect to the birthplace of the Messiah, for Micah had declared
that out of Bethlehem Ephratah, though little among the thousands of
Judah, “yet out of thee shall He come forth unto Me that is to be ruler
in Israel; whose goings forth have been from of old, from everlasting.”
So, while it would seem that an arbitrary decree decided where Christ
is to be born, God had manifested His wisdom in the choice of the
time, place and circumstances, and was faithful in the fulfillment of
the word of prophecy, ever carrying out His plans through the free
acts of men. In this instance the great Roman Cæsar, even without his
knowledge, became an official agent in the kingdom of God.
So it came to pass, in the fullness of time, and in the beloved city of
David, Bethlehem Ephratah, Mary brought forth the Saviour of the world,
and humbly laid Him in a manger. Here, amid these humble surroundings,
in the stall of an inn, among the beasts, was the advent of the Son of
God, the Saviour of the world. And, behold, the Life which was to lift
“empires off their hinges” and turn the “stream of centuries out of
its course”--a life which was to revolutionize the world and transform
humanity--had begun.
The place where the inn stood is now occupied by an enormous pile of
buildings, known as the “Church of the Nativity.” Down in the crypt of
this church, reached by fifteen stone steps, and in the eastern wall
of it, is a silver star, around which are the words: “_Hic de Virgine
Maria Jesus Christus natus est_”--“Here Jesus Christ was born of the
Virgin Mary.” One can not with indifference behold such a spot as this.
To us it was a sacred and hallowed place, and we felt subdued and
reverent while beholding the place where began the greatest life earth
has ever contained. To the Christian, Bethlehem stands first among
the holiest places on the face of the globe, and we were hushed into
reverence by its sacred associations and charmed by its natural beauty.
The “inn,” the scene of the nativity, stood on the crest of a hill that
rapidly falls away to a valley seven hundred feet below. At its base
is the “well” for the waters of which David so greatly longed. On the
opposite side is a hill still more precipitous than the one on which
Bethlehem stands. The little valley between the hills gradually opens
out eastward, where once stood the wheatfields of Boaz, in which Ruth
gleaned after the reapers. Just beyond this, scarcely a mile from the
“city of David,” is the field where the shepherds were “keeping watch
over their flock by night, when lo, the angel of the Lord came upon
them,” with this glad proclamation, “Behold, I bring you good tidings
of great joy, which shall be to all people.” Then suddenly night
was turned into day by the radiant brightness of a multitude of the
heavenly host, filling earth and sky with their song:
“Glory to God in the highest,
Peace on earth, good-will to men.”
The visit of the shepherds to the inn, the circumcision and
presentation in the Temple, the visit and adoration of the wise men who
saw His star in far off Persia, the cruel massacre of the children of
Bethlehem by Herod, and the flight into Egypt, are rather scenes in the
life of Christ than that of his mother, and are fully described in “THE
CHRIST LIFTED UP.”
However, in passing, it may be well to pause long enough to observe
how the presentation in the Temple brings the limited circumstances of
Joseph and Mary to our notice. The custom of ceremonial purification
by a Jewish mother in the sanctuary with a sacrifice is fully stated
in Lev. xii. Two offerings were required, a burnt and a sin offering.
When Mary presented herself with her babe in the court of the women,
in the Temple, the proper offering was a lamb for a burnt offering,
and a young pigeon or a turtle-dove for a sin offering; but with that
beautiful tenderness which is so marked a characteristic of the Mosaic
law, those who were too poor for so comparatively costly an offering
were allowed to bring instead two turtle-doves or two young pigeons.
Mary, instead of the lamb and dove, brought the offering of the
poor--two doves. With this offering in her hand, she presented herself
to the priest.
One incident more occurs in the presentation in the Temple. At the
moment when Mary had completed her consecration, an old man came
tottering through the throng. It was the aged Simeon, “just and devout,
waiting for the consolation of Israel.” Taking from Mary’s arms her
precious infant, and, as with face aglow and eyes kindled with heavenly
fire, in speaking his holy rapture, one passage is specially directed
to her, “Yea, a sword shall pierce through thine own soul also.” This
“sword,” we must believe, entered her heart as later she saw her Son on
the cross.
In the return from Egypt after the death of Herod the Great, it appears
to have been the intention of Joseph to have settled at Bethlehem at
this time, as his home at Nazareth had now been broken up for a year or
more, intending there to rear the infant King, at his own royal city,
until the time should come when he would sit upon David’s throne and
restore the fallen kingdom to its ancient splendor. But “when he heard
that Archelaus did reign in Judea,” he turned aside into Nazareth, as
well he might, if he knew the life and character of the new prince,
thinking, no doubt, the child’s life would be safer in the tetrarchy of
Antipas than in that of Archelaus.
Henceforward, until the beginning of our Lord’s ministry, so far as is
known, Mary lived in Nazareth, in a humble sphere of life, the wife
of Joseph the carpenter, pondering over the sayings of the angels,
of the shepherds, of Simeon, and those of her Son, as the latter
“increased in wisdom and stature and in favor with God and man.” Two
circumstances alone, so far as we know, broke in on the otherwise even
flow of her life. One of these was the loss of Jesus out of the company
of the homeward journey, when he remained behind at Jerusalem upon the
occasion of His first visit to the Temple. His mother is the first to
speak. “Son,” she said, “why hast thou thus dealt with us?” His reply
gave the keynote of His life, “Wist ye not that I must be about my
Fathers business?” The other was the death of Joseph. The exact date
of this last event we can not determine. But it was probably not long
after the other.
From this time on Mary is withdrawn almost wholly from sight. Four
times only is the veil removed, which is thrown over her, and surely
not without reason.
1. The first is at the marriage of Cana. It is thought from the
interest Mary took in it that the bride or bridegroom, were friends, if
not relatives of the family. “And Jesus was called, and His disciples.”
The disciples were invited out of respect for their Lord. This
unexpected addition to the company may have been the cause of Mary’s
evident embarrassment, and she appeals to her Son by saying, “They have
no wine.” It is impossible to know all that was in her heart. Possibly
from the Jordan had come wonderful news concerning her Son which had
inspired her with the hope that now at least, after so long waiting,
the time of His manifestation was at hand. What if He should use the
present opportunity to show His power! Might she not at least mention
it to Him? But, mark His answer, “Woman, what have I to do with thee?”
While His reply, in the original, does not have in it the severity it
has in the plain English, yet He would have her understand that in
His divine character He could not acknowledge her, nor be influenced
by her suggestions. Henceforth there must be room between her and Him
for His Father. And so He told her with all the tenderness that words
and looks could convey that the matter she hinted at was a matter
between Him and His Father. Mary quickly acceded to this. By woman’s
enlightened intuition she perceived His meaning, and so she said to
the servants, “Whatsoever He saith unto you do it.” In confident
expectation, she believed He would supply the need. Her beautiful faith
in Him was unshaken.
2. The second time Mary comes to view is in the attempt which she and
others made to speak with Jesus in the midst of His conflict with the
Scribes and Pharisees at Capernaum, when they sought to destroy His
good name and influence by applying that most horrible and loathsome
epithet, “He had Beelzebub.” We can hardly realize what satanic forces
were massed against Jesus at that time. And Mary, who probably, with
some friends, stood on the outside of the crowd, became alarmed, and
would rescue Him from the malice of His enemies. So she sent a message,
which probably was handed on from one person to another, begging Him
to allow His friends to speak to Him. Again He refuses to admit any
privilege on account of their relationship. “Who is my mother, and who
are my brethren?” He loved His mother, but infinite wisdom saw best
that she must in no way influence His divine work, which He could not
share with another and be the Saviour of the world. He must tread the
winepress of men’s malice alone.
3. The third time Mary comes to our notice is at the foot of the
cross. She was standing there with Mary Magdalene, Salome, and other
women, having no doubt followed her Son as she was able throughout
that terrible morning of our Lord’s several trials. It was now three
o’clock in the afternoon, and He was about to expire. Standing near the
company of the women was John, and, with almost His last words, Christ
commended His mother to the care of this disciple. And from that hour,
John assures us, he took her to his home. If, by “that hour,” John
means immediately after the words were spoken, Mary was not present at
the last scene of all. The sword had sufficiently pierced her soul,
and she was spared the hearing of the last loud cries and the sight of
the bowed head. However we might have understood His relation to Mary,
while the great scheme of human redemption was being wrought out, He
now turns in beautiful and touching tenderness to her, who tenderly
loved Him, even when she could not fully understand His work.
4. The fourth and last time Mary is brought to our view is in the
company of the one hundred and twenty believers, assembled at
Jerusalem, waiting for the descent of the Holy Spirit. This is the
last view we have of her. The Word of God leaves her engaged in prayer
in the “upper room,” with the women, and with His brethren. From this
point forward we know nothing of her. It is very probable the rest of
her life was spent in the home of John, cherished with the tenderness
which her sensitive soul would have specially needed, and which she
undoubtedly found in him who had borne the distinction of “that
disciple whom Jesus loved.”
When the disciples “were scattered abroad” after the martyrdom of
Stephen, and the apostles assumed the charge of important centres, we
read of John being minister of the church at Ephesus. No doubt Mary
removed with John to Ephesus, where, tradition says, she died, and
where she was buried. Probably she died before John was banished to
Patmos. While at Ephesus, we visited her sepulchre. It is on the north
side of Mt. Prion, half way up the mountain side. The tomb is cut out
of the solid rock, and in full view of the church, which doubtless she
loved so well.
We have already dwelt at considerable length upon the beautiful
character of Mary in connection with her song of rejoicing in the house
of Elizabeth and known as the Magnificat. So far as Mary is portrayed
to us in the Scripture, she is, as we should have expected, the most
tender, the most faithful, humble, patient and loving of women, but a
woman still, and how she herself regarded her relation to her divine
Son is best expressed in her own words:
“My soul doth magnify the Lord,
And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour.”
[Illustration: THE MINISTRY AT EPHESUS.]
No doubt she was a comfort in the home of John. The dark shadows of the
cross were dissipated when she saw Jesus alive after His resurrection,
and communed with Him, and, doubtless, saw Him ascend to heaven in a
cloud, and had heard the angels assure His disciples, as they had seen
Him depart, in like manner He would come again. She was comforted in
the wonderful scene at Pentecost, when three thousand acknowledged
Jesus as their Saviour as well as her Saviour. She lived to see the
Gospel spread through Judea and Samaria, and the great centres in Asia
Minor. She had nobly done her work at Jerusalem and at Ephesus--had
told, as none could tell it, the sweet story of the infant Jesus and
her glorified Saviour. On account of her presence there was a strange
interest about the services of the great church at Ephesus, because the
mother of Jesus was among the worshippers. Even the life and ministry
of the beloved John was made richer because of her helpful presence.
But now she is growing old. Her earthly mission is drawing to a close.
She can not stay longer to bless the people who had learned to love
her. Indeed, her affections had already stolen away and preceded her
upward. The glad day has come for her to go. Her weary feet will
soon stand within thy gates, O Jerusalem. The low murmur of voices
and the subdued sobbing of loved ones around her she heeds not, as
a strange light breaks upon her, and she hears celestial symphonies
from the glory shore. White-winged messengers--jasper walls--pearly
gates--golden streets--life’s river--and she is with Him in the land
where swords can never enter stricken hearts!
We can not close this chapter without making mention of Anna the
Prophetess. It would seem that at the coming of the Saviour into the
world, earth and sky clapped their hands for joy, and the mountains
and hills broke forth into singing. Not only did Zacharias prophesy,
saying “Blessed be the Lord the God of Israel;” and Mary sing her hymn
of praise, in which she exclaimed, “My soul doth magnify the Lord;”
and the angels who sang, “Glory to God in the highest;” and the aged
Simeon, who, coming into the Temple, and taking the child in his arms,
burst forth in doxology, “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in
peace, according to Thy word, for mine eyes have seen Thy salvation,”
but also Anna the Prophetess. Scarcely had the sweet strains of the
aged Simeon ceased, when the prophetess, coming into the court of the
women, in the Temple, and seeing Mary presenting herself with her babe,
caught the meaning of the scene and added her voice of praise, “and
spake of Him to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem.”
It was very fitting that women should have such a prominent part in
these human and angelic songs over the nativity of Him who, in after
years, proved women’s best friend. Who alone, of all earth’s great
teachers, wept with and over woman’s broken heart; who alone pitied
woman taken in sin; who alone stood up in defence of woman against
cruel criticism; who alone placed in contrast a poor penitent woman
over against a well-washed, and we had almost said, “white-washed,”
Pharisee; who, on the way to the cross, had words of comfort for
womanhood, in the ever-memorable exclamation, “Daughters of Jerusalem,
weep not for Me!” And why should not these daughters weep for one who
had elevated them to their true position? Surely, they might well weep,
for they had never had such a friend.
Anna was a daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher, and of very
great age--eighty-four years. Her age is specially mentioned, to show
that, though she had passed but few years in the married state, she had
reached this advanced age as a widow; a fact redounding to her honor
in a moral sense, and ranking her among the comparatively small number
of “widows indeed,” whom Paul especially commends. It is somewhat
remarkable that the name of Anna’s father should be mentioned, and not
that of her husband. Perhaps her father survived her husband, and may
also have been known as one who waited for the consolation of Israel.
The pious words Anna uttered in the presence of Mary and her child in
the court of the women can not be the only reason of her being called a
prophetess. Such an appellation must have been caused by some earlier
and frequent utterances, dictated by the Spirit of prophecy, by reason
of which she ranked among the list of holy women who, both in earlier
and later times, were chosen instruments of the Holy Spirit. If the
spirit of prophecy had departed from Israel since the time of Malachi,
according to the opinion of the Jews, the return of this Spirit might
be looked upon as one of the tokens of Messiah’s advent.
In Simeon and Anna we see incarnate types of the expectation of
salvation under the Old Testament, as in the child Jesus the salvation
itself is manifested. At the extreme limits of life, they stand in
striking contrast to the infant Saviour, exemplifying the Old Covenant
decaying and waxing old before the New, which is to grow and remain.
Old age grows youthful, both in Simeon and Anna, at the sight of the
Saviour; while the youthful Mary grows inwardly older and riper, as
Simeon lifts up before her eyes the veil hanging upon the future.
Joseph and Mary marveled at the revelations, not because they learned
from Simeon’s prophecy anything they had not heard before, but they
were struck and charmed by the new aspect under which this salvation
was presented.
There is something very beautiful in this aged Anna, the prophetess,
who “departed not from the Temple, but served God with fastings and
prayers night and day.” And the reason given for this consecrated
devotion is, she “looked for redemption in Jerusalem.” This aged saint,
into whose obscure but loyal keeping the spirit of true religion has
always retired in times of a degenerate and formal faith, under the
Divine Spirit, refused to depart from the courts of the sanctuary day
nor night. Many a long and weary year she had waited for redemption
in Jerusalem, and had watched with eager eyes the long procession of
fathers and mothers as they presented, according to custom, their
first-born at the altar steps. But the Child for whose coming she had
waited with such spiritual patience had not come.
At length the supreme day of her life had dawned, and with an unusual
expectancy she goes early to her accustomed vigil. As the humble Joseph
and Mary draw near, unheralded of men and with no sign of lineage or
worth beyond the rank and file of common people, the clear vision of
the aged prophetess discovers the King, and with a joy that blossomed
into song, she unites with the devout Simeon, who like herself,
was also “waiting for the consolation of Israel,” the praises that
redemption had at last come to Jerusalem. There was providential
coincidence in her coming in just at “that instant,” when Simeon
was prophesying and when the babe was in the Temple, for a divine
propriety, so to speak, seemed to require that the new-born Saviour
should first receive the homage of the elect of Israel.
[Illustration: ANNA, THE PROPHETESS.]
With this temple scene, the aged Anna comes into and goes out of
history, but in its light certain great facts are made luminous
forever, namely, that Jesus the Christ comes into our common humanity
along no royal road, but through the great common gateway of common
people. Jesus touches life at its majority points, meeting our needs
and our weakened nature with a brotherhood that loves us and lifts us
up. Christ’s first welcome into the world was not through Herod, nor
the famous Council of the Seventy, nor through the wise Scribes, or
great Pharisees, but through the trembling arms of an aged man and
woman.
To pause upon the romantic fitness of this temple scene were easy, when
the heart of the old and the new, the beginning and the end of life
throb together, but rather we turn to the mission of Christ to old age
as embodied in this incident of Simeon and Anna. Age is to a well-spent
life what the fruit is to the vine, the garnered and best part of it.
That ripeness of experience, of mind, of judgment, which comes alone
from long and patient drudging on until the mile-posts are many, that
calm which comes at the sunset--these are the crowns that come to the
soul as it stands on the delectable mountains with the Celestial City
in full view. Youth is clear-visioned and hopeful, early life is busied
with palpable ambitions, and later on is occupied with the harvesting
of ventures and the fruitage of success. But age has nothing but a
memory and a hunger, therefore it was a fitness and a providence that
Simeon and Anna should reach out their trembling hands in initial
welcome to the Son of God.
Again, Anna stands as the type of the spiritually-minded, to whom
in old age are vouchsafed the revelations of God. Her attitude was
very significant. She “departed not from the Temple,” that is, she
was watchful. She served God “with fastings and prayers,” peculiarly
expressive of Old Testament piety, with its minute attention to
precept and ceremony. That to this woman it was permitted, under the
Spirit’s guidance, that morning to come into the court of the women
at the “instant,” indicates a perpetual spiritual condition, rather
than a sudden impulse or illumination--the habit of one who walked and
talked with God “night and day.” These reveal the spiritual qualities
of the prophetess of Jehovah, where an obedient will and loving heart
are linked to far-sighted spiritual vision in the discernment of the
providence and truth of God. To such elect souls revelations are always
coming, because of spiritual affinities and the unerring insights of
love. Therefore it was no accident, this coming into the courts of the
Temple at the “instant,” but in accord with a world-wide and unbroken
law of spiritual discernment, for spiritual truths are spiritually
discerned.
She that desires this spiritual sense must do as Anna did, wait upon
God in prayer. She “served God.” She was spiritually-minded. An intense
desire always precedes possession. Our Lord said, “Blessed are they
which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be
filled.” Do we hunger after righteousness, with a hunger that joins
a great longing with a strong will? Then shall we possess it, for
these powers of the mind and heart wait with sure benediction upon
the prayers of earnest souls. This desire lies at the threshold of
spiritual-mindedness. It is synonymous with love. Do I love God? Is my
eye single and my heart pure? If so, I shall see Him. If not in the
court of the women, as Anna did, in the inner courts of an unending
eternity.
The other factor that enters into this spiritual life is abiding.
Anna “departed not from the Temple.” She waited patiently. Go back
to that night in Shiloh, ere the lamps of God had gone out, and note
how Samuel the child became Samuel the prophet by waiting on God in a
listening attitude and prompt obedience. Follow Paul from the vision on
Anti-Lebanon to the prisons of Nero, and the roadway of his Christian
life is literally paved with waiting and prompt obedience, and both
the seer and the apostle give us the rule of spiritual expansion, and
set the step for all the regiments of the heavenly-minded. An eminent
divine has said, “Every duty we omit obscures some truth we should
have known,” and a greater than this divine has said, “He that doeth
truth cometh to the light.” The secret of all soul degeneracy, of a
seared conscience and a blunted moral sense, alas! we all know too
well, is disobedience to the heavenly visions. Like Eli, our eyes are
grown dim, and like Paul’s fellow-travelers to Damascus, we hear a
sound, but no articulate voice of call. “To obey,” said the great and
good Samuel to the disobedient Saul, “is better than sacrifice.” It is
because of disobedience to the clear visions of duty there is so much
of moral “near-sightedness” in the modern Christian life. The options
of spiritual life or death are always with us, to see or not to see, to
know or not to know. Here is the power and the peril of the Church our
Saviour purchased at the price of His own blood; here is her strength
and her weakness; for the dominant danger in the Church of our time,
with its wealth, its average moralities and its social compromises,
is unspirituality, when the lines of division between a refined
worldliness and a perfunctory Christianity are so vague that both seem
so near alike to many professed followers of Jesus as not to know where
worldliness ends and the Christian rule commences. An unspiritual life
is the real apostacy which clogs the chariot wheels of God and dims the
eye to the King in His excellent glory.
Do you wonder at the high honor heaven conferred upon this aged
prophetess, who “departed not night nor day from the Temple,” lest she
should miss the opportunity of a lifetime, of making her the first
woman to witness for Christ? It was in perfect keeping with God’s
eternal plan of exalting the humble of this world who have loyal
hearts. Rebekah, with cheerful alacrity, watered the ten camels of
Eliezer, the servant of Abraham, when he called her to be the bride of
Isaac; Rachel was driving her father’s sheep to the well in Haran when
she won the heart of Jacob, the heir of promise; Miriam watched the
little craft among the rushes of the Nile, before she led the women in
triumphal song at the Red Sea; Ruth gleaned in the fields of Bethlehem
to relieve her own and Naomi’s necessities, when she attracted the
attention of Boaz; Esther lived a modest, retired life in the house
of Mordecai, the porter at the royal palace, when she was called to
be queen over the Persians. Poverty and homely toil are no hindrance
to holy zeal in Christian service; nor are they hindrance to high
communion with the Eternal.
These are truths attested by revelation and by history. We are
sometimes tempted to question humility as a stepping-stone to
exaltation, and to complain of our lot; tempted to think ourselves
hemmed in and circumscribed, thus to lack all opportunity for large
service or large vision, or large attainments of any kind. Nothing
is more common among those whose life is crowded with what is termed
coarse and common toil, who are loaded down with many cares, and
confined in what seem to them narrow bounds, to count others vastly
more highly favored than themselves, and to regard themselves as out of
range of all spiritual visions or special divine communications! Let
her who is left to think such thoughts, or to place such estimate on
her lot in life, remember that no eye of Scribe or Pharisee, of priest
or king, saw or recognized the Son of God that day when Mary presented
Jesus in the Temple. Such vision was reserved for the aged prophetess,
who was looking for redemption in Jerusalem.
What is the lesson? This, that the waiting and the morally qualified
are the chosen channels of divine communication; that to such the
revelations of God unfold wonderful visions. Heaven and earth meet
where the truly devout are found watching “night and day” by the altars
of prayer. If doxologies of the soul are to be rendered in the ear of
mortals, they shall hear them whose hearts are open towards the throne
of grace, and whose longings are for “redemption in Jerusalem!” and who
are “waiting for the consolation of Israel.”