“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.