What a communion of thought, and of hope, must there have been between those two human beings, in the years when, as mother and son, they dwelt together! With what inconceivable interest must the narratives of Mary respecting the Redeemer’s early life, have fallen upon the ear of John, when, after his fatiguing labors were for a brief time suspended, he would return to his home, and to her! How must his heart have thrilled, as he listened to the mournful words, and witnessed the regretful tears with which she called to mind His days of helplessness—when he lay beautiful in his weakness in her arms, and she knew that he was the Son of God! Fraught with intense interest, as she related it, must have been the story of that visit of the wise men from the East, of whose fame she had often times heard, but whom she had always regarded as a superior race of beings! How eagerly must he have listened to that tale which had so many times been repeated in his hearing, of the shepherds who came in the night time to worship Jesus. Of how, while they looked with so much wonder and awe on the infant, so like in all respects to their own children, their faith grew strong to recognize in Him, even while He lay helpless in the manger, a mighty ruler—a lord over them all—a king greater than any that had ever reigned on the throne of Israel.
And how must John have rejoiced as he beheld anew the proof of the all-protecting power of God, when many spoke of that most opportune gift of the wise men, which enabled the distressed parents to escape with their child to the land of Egypt, where in safety they might dwell, far removed from the cruelty of Herod.
As she told the faith that upheld both Joseph and herself when they set out on that long, tedious journey toward the strange land, which had proved a land of such dread bondage to their fathers, how greatly must his courage have revived, how strengthened must have become his confidence in God! And then, how must the desire, and the ability which almost invariably accompanies strong desire to labor, have increased, when John heard from Mary’s lips the story of the perseverance, humility and diligence, with which her child had applied himself to learn his father’s craft, how he had so faithfully labored to better the temporal condition of his poor parents, giving thus to the whole world an example of patient and uncomplaining perseverance, beneath the strong test, poverty—and proving that when he adopted the nature of humanity, he did not exempt himself from that dread curse pronounced on Adam, “by the sweat of thy brow shalt thou eat thy bread.”
With no common emotion could that disciple have listened, when Mary told of Jesus as he was in the years of his boyhood, while he was increasing in stature, and in favor with God and man. With no unsympathizing ear could he have heard her tell of those days, when she, with Joseph, sought for the child with tears, finding him at last in the temple questioning and arguing with the learned doctors and teachers!
And then, what sorrowful tears must they have wept together, as they recalled the scene of His last bitter agony!
She, the mother, with a sorrow which at times would not be comforted, lamented the child who was ever so affectionate, obedient and truthful—the son of her heart, her pride, and her deep love—who, born under the most adverse circumstances, had lived a life of great exertion, of poverty, persecution, and deep sorrow, and oh, horrible and most strange consummation of such a life! She had seen him, the blameless and the perfect, ignominiously sacrificed upon the Cross, with malefactors!
And John, the companion of that Saviour’s manhood, while with regretful thought he pondered on all these things which had come to pass, still buoyed up by a hope that never faded, would seek to comfort her, repeating the kind words of encouragement their Lord had spoken when He was alone with the disciples. The mother mourned a son, such as never was given to another parent—and the apostle wept over the memory of a friend, whose like neither before or since His coming, has the world ever seen!
Ah, never was there such a mingling of thought, and of prayer, as in that humble household!—never were such regret, and hope, and love rising with the memory of one departed, as with His, whose image was so devoutly shrined in their hearts!
When Mary, (unable always to merge her affection as a mortal mother, in the thought that the risen Lord was no more her son, that as the ascended God, he was to her only as to all the world, a Redeemer, a Saviour, and a Judge) wept, as she remembered the “wonder child,” her first born, whose infancy Joseph and herself had watched with the fondest care, and with such an ever-present feeling of responsibility, with what consoling words, taught him by that spirit which Jesus had sent to all his apostles, must John have comforted her! And there was efficacy in his words to calm the troubled waters of her soul, and the “peace! be still!” he spoke, was singularly powerful to reconcile her, to cheer, and to inspire with new hope.
For fifteen years, as is supposed by some, John dwelt in Jerusalem with that woman, who to this day is honored of all who have received the truth, and adored, and glorified, and worshiped by that church built on the unfailing foundation, “the infallible Peter”—as its members declare. Yes! and there are myriads who never heard that the great Cæsar reigned once in power and magnificence—to whom the rulers and the high-priests of that day are as though they never had been. There are multitudes of these, who, even at this distant day, bow down to the very dust to supplicate a blessing of Mary, the Mother of God!