"There is a marriage whereto we are invited; yea, wherein we are already interested; not as the guests only, but as the bride; in which there shall be no want of the wine of gladness. It is marvel if in these earthly banquets there be not some lack. 'In thy presence, O Saviour, there is fulness of joy, and at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore.' Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb." [[19]]
As the extraordinary character of Christ became from this moment increasingly apparent, it is easy to believe that the strong feelings of maternal tenderness in the bosom of Mary blended themselves more and more with a spiritual affection. She was indeed, in one sense, the mother of our Lord, but she was also his disciple--she had been guide of his childhood, but she sat at the feet of his maturity. As he ascended to an immeasurable elevation above every other being of the human race, she must feel that the authority of the earthly parent, although it were never disregarded or disavowed, but, on the contrary, must have impressed a peculiarity both upon his affection and hers, was, however, absorbed in the superiority of his heavenly commission. He obeyed her as a child, but she submitted to him as the Lord.
Does the observant eye of a mother watch with unutterable solicitude the progress of her beloved offspring, tracing the improvement of his mind, the development of his faculties, the career of his life, sympathizing with his sorrows and participating with his joys, taking a fond share in all that concerns him--his prospects, his pursuits, his whole character;--does the maternal heart, even in ordinary cases, feel so much and so long, cherishing such undiminished interest in every vicissitude that affects the son of her love? With what lively sensibility must Mary have contemplated the rising glory of the inimitable Jesus! What a track of majesty must have marked his footsteps! What a winning singularity must have distinguished his actions! What purity must have adorned his conduct! What "grace was poured into his lips!" Who can express the deep interest that his thoughtful mother must have felt in the discourses she heard, the wisdom with which he silenced gainsayers, penetrated human hearts, exposed secret motives and purposes, confounded the most wise and artful, and communicated the sublimest truths in the most commanding and lucid manner! How must she have felt to have been the witness of his astonishing miracles, to have seen the flashes of unearthly dignity breaking through the concealment of a human exterior, and to have traced the accomplishment of all that prophets had foretold and angels announced! O, what an honour to have been the mother, but still more so to be the disciple of him who was predicted by prophets, prefigured by types, attended by ministering angels, celebrated by the most eminent of the Jewish church, obeyed by all the elements of nature, the principalities of darkness, and the powers of heaven;--who, "being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God; but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men!"
The sacred history, which is chiefly occupied in the life of Christ himself, and the detail of his actions, does not explain how often his mother accompanied him. The incidental mention of her and his brethren upon one occasion shows, however, what we cannot but infer, that she was one of his frequent attendants. He was talking "to the people" in a private house, with the instructive familiarity for which he was so remarkable, when "his mother and his brethren stood without, desiring to speak with him." They had something of importance to communicate, otherwise it cannot be supposed they would have interrupted his conversation; but, being unable to reach him on account of the multitude, their wishes were conveyed from one to another, till the person who stood by him intimated that his mother and brethren were waiting to speak with him. Availing himself of the circumstance to impress his admonition upon the assembled crowd, he said to the person who informed, "Who is my mother? and who are my brethren?" Then addressing the people as he pointed to the disciples, he exclaimed, "Behold my mother, and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother and sister and mother."
Did he then intend to pour contempt upon these near relatives? Did he disclaim the ties of kindred? Did he exclude Mary, James, and Joses, Simeon and Judas, from the honour and the happiness of participating those spiritual blessings which he so liberally dispensed to others?--Surely not. Applying to this the same principle of interpretation which was adopted in explaining his words at the feast of Cana, we infer that he meant to intimate that they who called him brother according to the flesh, and even she who bore him, need not be envied by those whom he admitted to the intimacy and happiness of a spiritual relationship; and that whatever of love and kindness could be supposed to arise from the natural connexion, was enjoyed in a nobler sense by virtue of a spiritual union. Every thing that can consummate the happiness of man, every thing that can secure the most glorious and permanent distinction, arises from being the disciple of the blessed Jesus, and "doing the will of his Father." Let such an one envy no more the possessions of time, for he is heir to the inheritance of heaven; let him not value at too high a price any human honour, title, or relationship, for he is a member of the "household of God."
We now hasten to a scene calculated at once to excite our liveliest sensibilities and our warmest gratitude--a scene upon which the eyes of the remotest ages were fixed with holy anticipation, and which all future generations will contemplate with retrospective joy--a scene distinguished by the most affecting incidents--in one of which, not the least remarkable, the mother of our Lord appears conspicuous.
It is observable, that whenever he alluded to the circumstances of his own death, Christ adopted a mode of speaking which is expressive of the most dignified composure of mind, united with an irresistible firmness of purpose. He advanced to the cross of martyrdom like one who, "for the joy that was set before him, despised the shame." His love to man annihilated the terror of death, and rendered him solicitous to shed his blood. "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished." In the hour of previous conflict he intimated that this was the tragical but necessary design of his coming into the world. From his radiant throne in glory, he saw, in awful perspective, the afflictions which were destined for his incarnate state; and, instead of a train of angels, he prepared to be attended by a retinue of sorrows, during his abode in the world. Above all, he beheld the CROSS, surrounded with awful clouds, raised amidst the scorn of human and the triumph of infernal enemies. He saw the full tide of misery set in against him; but, with unabating love to man, and perfect obedience of spirit to the Father--melting with pity and glowing with zeal--he prepared to encounter the billows and the storms of death. He was not overtaken by a calamity which he neither foresaw nor could prevent, for ten thousand angels at his word would have hastened to pluck him from the waves; but in fulfilment of the everlasting covenant, to glorify the Father and to redeem a perishing world, he was "led to the slaughter."
At this period all Judea was present to celebrate the paschal festival; the great council of the nation was convened; Herod, the governor of Judea, and Pilate, the tetrarch of Galilee, with their attending armies, displayed the grandeur of the empire; and on the mount of crucifixion a vast concourse of people assembled to witness this tragical scene. What must have been their sensations when nature became convulsed--when darkness veiled the sun--and the inhabitants of the invisible world burst through the trembling earth, and reappeared to many in Jerusalem! Never did an hour revolve since the beginning of time that laboured with such great events. The fate of the moral creation was now weighing in the scales--the happiness of millions was at stake--the interests of eternity were deciding--and the victory over sin, death, and hell, was proclaimed by the expiring Redeemer, when he said, "IT IS FINISHED."
Amidst this scene of wonders, behold a group of females, no less similar in character than in name; Mary the mother of Jesus, Mary the wife Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene. Many women are honourably conspicuous in the records of the New Testament, but never did they appear with greater advantage than at this moment. All the disciples were fled, with the single exception of John, who had overcome his temporary apprehensions, and was returned to the field of danger. These pious heroines, although incapable of affording the glorious Sufferer any assistance, and although surrounded by an infuriated enemy, rose superior to the fears of their sex, and pierced through the crowd, to testify their sympathy, to listen to his dying words, and to watch the expiring flame of life to the moment of its extinction.
What a scene was this for his MOTHER! How could she sustain the horrible spectacle? How could she survive this fiery trial? What inconceivable anguish must it have occasioned to witness the death of her Son! Say, ye mothers who have watched the infant days and progressive maturity of a firstborn, what distress ye have felt at his early loss! The flower perhaps had just expanded to the day, when the pestilential wind blew from the desert of death and withered its beauties! It is gone--but has left behind a sense of unspeakable desolation. How were your most delightful hopes annihilated in a moment, and ye were ready to adopt the language of David in his agony, "O my son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would God I had died for thee, O Absalom! my son, my son!"