SECTION V

Mary and Elisabeth

(Matt. 1; Luke 1)

Astrologers, in their superstitious enthusiasm for remote and subtle influences in nature, were wont to say much of the influence of the stars upon the births and fates of men. There are, however, stars which have the greatest influence upon the lives of those who are about to see the light of day, namely, the dispositions of their mothers. In this respect, we are justified in asserting that Jesus was born under the happiest star. Mary’s frame of mind seems to have been a wonderfully elevated one, a continuous inspiration. This inspiration, however, was, in conformity with its circumstances, of the profoundest kind. The saintly pallor of priestly melancholy, and the joyful glow of royal victory, successively lit up her sacred countenance. The experiences of the mother under whose heart the Lord lay were so peculiar, and called forth such states of mind, that the holy vibration of her soul between deepest sorrow and sublimest joy, could not but communicate to His temperament the purest seriousness and the profoundest happiness, blended in the wondrous harmony of a most sacred disposition.

Mary had surrendered and entrusted herself to the care of God in the great hour of her visitation. She was afterwards assured in spirit that she was a mother. It was impossible, however, for her to conceal her experience from her betrothed, the carpenter Joseph. At all events, she could not leave Nazareth for months without discovering her condition to him. She might thereby have led him to misinterpret the reason of her journey, and have deceived him. In her peculiar situation, it seemed, moreover, a simple moral duty to initiate him into the mystery; nay, to give him up, in case he could not share her faith. The communication would naturally be a test at a critical moment, a test of his faith.

Joseph refused to believe her. He encountered the modest, but unshakeably firm virgin with decided doubt; the first Ebionite. He was, however, far more excusable than his successors, who reject all the testimony of God to the glory of Christ’s origin. If he were to stand by Mary, he must be able to answer for her; for this, however, he needed direct testimony from God. At all events, he would not receive her without such authentication. The only thing he conceded, was an alleviation of the form of separation. According to Israelite law, a betrothed man was obliged to honour his betrothed as a wife, if he desired to separate from her. He might not put her away without giving her a writing of divorcement. In giving this writing of divorcement, he had, however, the choice between two forms. He might therein state the reasons for which he put away his wife, might state her guilt, and thereby expose her to public shame; or he might keep his reasons to himself, and thus put her away without reproach. Joseph was a just man, and decided upon the latter form of putting Mary away. The words, he was a just man, are usually taken to mean, he was a kind one. But this is unconsciously to assume that, in every case, extreme harshness is extreme justice; a false assumption. If Joseph would have put Mary away without reproach because he was just, we learn from this circumstance that he had a tender conscience, and could not dare publicly to accuse Mary as guilty. In the inmost depths of his heart her image found an advocate; it had acquired a veneration which now raised a doubt against his suspicions. Hence he could only say that he would have nothing to do with her; but his feeling of justice prevented him from accusing her. The gloss which would here give to the word just the sense of kind, destroys the whole point of the narrative. The Virgin did not need to entreat from Joseph’s compassion that he should put her away without reproach, she could expect it from his justice; and it was precisely his delicate perception of what was just in this case, which made his justice so honourable.¹

Mary then stood alone. Mistaken and rejected by her betrothed, she had the prospect of bringing up her child amidst the scorn of the Nazarenes, which would, in her position, be abundantly bestowed upon her, even if Joseph dismissed her without reproach. The most tender maidenly feeling that ever blushed upon a human countenance, was threatened with unlimited misconception and disgrace. But her heart was firm; she had offered up her life to God; she was sure of His guidance and assistance. Under her circumstances, however, she could not continue in Nazareth. It was the effect of the promise which was gladdening her soul, that turned her desires towards the hill country of Judah. Upon its heights a light was shining for her: her kinswoman Elisabeth, with whose wonderful condition she was acquainted. If there were yet one being on earth who would not misconceive and reject her, it must be Elisabeth, who had been called by the Lord as well as herself. Following, therefore, the impulse of her heart, Mary set out for the hills of Judah. They who have felt the rapid transition from unspeakable sorrow to peace, in a soul which must bring before God, and merge in God’s appointment, its whole world, its very life; they who have, in some decisive moment of their life, felt that nameless and blessed melancholy or godly sorrow, whose emblem is the white rose,—can form some idea of the disposition in which the lonely and rejected Mary, so poor, and yet so rich in the happy secret of her heart, took her journey of about four days towards her longed-for destination. This journey was not perhaps entirely in accordance with the forms of Old Testament decorum; but the reality of the cross she bore, bestowed upon her a New Testament liberty. Nothing can make a man bear more proudly and firmly the world’s misjudgment, than the consciousness of that highest honour, the bearing of reproach for God’s sake. It was under great and heavy anxiety of mind that Mary hastened towards her destination, like a ship, threatened with tempest, setting full sail for the harbour. Upon this journey she would pass the hill of Golgotha. The nearer she drew to the dwelling of the aged priest, the more must the question have arisen in her heart: Will thy innocence and thy faith here find an asylum; wilt thou here find a heart that understands thy vocation and thy way?

We are not surprised that her salutation should burst from her overburdened heart at her very entry, and seek out her friend in her house. It was the cry of need, or rather the painful exclamation of excited confidence yearning for love, with which the misunderstood Virgin sought for a welcome from her friend, the urgent demand of the highly exalted suppliant for the sympathy of a consecrated and initiated heart, a heart which could believe the miracle. Certainly a special electric force of sorrow and of faith lay in this exclamation. Elisabeth knew the voice before she saw Mary; she felt the shock of its tones, her child leaped beneath her leaping heart, she understood her friend’s frame of mind, and felt what kind of welcome she stood in need of.

The outpouring of the Spirit, in which Mary was living, came upon her soul, and she exclaimed with a loud voice: ‘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? For, lo, as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my ears, the babe leaped in my womb for joy. And blessed is she that believed: for there shall be a performance of those things which were told her from the Lord.’

To every messenger of God, who has at any time some great message, some instruction, or announcement from God to bring, the misconception which he has generally to endure at first is a heavy trial. It is difficult to maintain the heart’s assurance of a revelation, which has as yet obtained no citizenship in the world, against the antipathy of the world and the reproach of fanaticism. Hence the first echo of recognition, of acknowledgment, which the misunderstood prophet finds in the world, is to his heart like a greeting from heaven, a seal of his assurance, a sacrament. Thus was Mary now raised, as it were, by the greeting of her friend, from the depths of the grave to heaven. The joy of faith, so long repressed by sadness and sore anxiety, burst forth, and she rejoiced aloud in a glad song of praise.² ‘My soul doth magnify the Lord, and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Saviour. For He hath regarded the lowliness of His handmaiden.’ Thus does she begin, and then her song of praise streams forth in announcements which may be regarded as expressive of the form which the Gospel had attained in her heart.

All men receive one and the same Gospel. And yet the Gospel is different to each, and takes a special form from the disposition and circumstances of each individual. When the atonement is viewed and represented only in its generality, without taking into account its reference to the actual state of the individual man, i.e., to the manner in which it annuls the special curse of his life, the Gospel is made an abstraction, and is not viewed in the fulness of its results. It is highly instructive and elevating to see how the Gospel, at the very beginning of the New Testament, assumes in each redeemed soul the aspect of a special glory. To Simeon, the atonement becomes the assurance of a happy departure; while the aged Anna forsakes her solitude, and goes about as an evangelist among the pious in Jerusalem. It is with true womanly feeling that Mary says: ‘All generations shall call me blessed.’ But this is not because of what she is, but because of the great things the Lord, whose name is holy, has done for her. She next proclaims the great laws of His kingdom. He scatters the proud. He puts down the mighty from their seats, He exalts them of low degree. He fills the hungry with good things, He sends the rich empty away. He has now helped His servant Israel, remembering His everlasting covenant with Abraham and his seed.

As a lowly daughter of the house of David, Mary had often, and more than ever during her journey from Nazareth to the town of Zacharias, experienced the lot of the poor, the despised, the oppressed, and especially of those rejected ones who bear in their hearts the nobility of a higher vocation, of deeper reflection, and greater devotedness of life. She must, during this journey, have looked upon herself as a princess of such rejected ones. But now, through the greeting of her friend, she attained a higher assurance, that the grace of God had very highly exalted and would glorify her. She now saw the whole world glitter in the sunshine of that grace which raises the rejected; that realm of glory to which God elevates the humble and lowly was now displayed before her eyes. She had a presentiment of the Good Friday and Easter Day of her Son.

Some have insisted that Mary’s song of praise is derived from that of Hannah (1 Sam. 1.) But the two songs only need to be compared to arrive at the conviction that Mary’s is thoroughly original; although it shows, by certain free reminiscences, that, as a pious Israelite woman, she was acquainted with the song of Hannah, who had been in a condition somewhat similar. It has further been asserted that songs of praise, such as these, are not directly produced among the events of actual life, but are only the artistic reproduction of that life. But here it may be asked, how much poetic power may be attributed to human life? For Christologists who recognize the ideal height of humanity in the history of Jesus, it is certain that the poetry with which human life is everywhere else penetrated, as the ore is by the precious metal, could not but appear here in its purest state. There are countries where the vine grows wild, countries where roses are indigenous, countries where song is the natural expression of joyful emotion; and here we have found that elevated region, where the hymn comes forth in its perfect form, in the midst of actual life.³

Mary remained three months with her friend. That she should have stayed so long, and yet have left without waiting till Elisabeth’s delivery, points to a change in her relations with Joseph. As the absent always become more dear, and the dead perfect, so did the image of Mary grow fairer in his mind after her departure. The impression which she had made upon him was one so pure and holy, that the Spirit of God would increasingly justify it to his mind. He must now have considered himself blameable, nay, harsh, and a conflict must have arisen within him. Such a state of mind was the immediate cause of the revelation now vouchsafed unto him.

Even a dream may become the instrument of a divine communication. In circumstances when the daily life of pious men is devoted more to the concerns of the world, the susceptibility of their minds for divine things would be more easily concentrated during the season of night, as the night violet emits its fragrance during the darkness. In this case, dreams become, in critical circumstances, a mirror for the reflection of divine visions. It was also natural that Joseph, the worthy artizan, should receive his revelations in dreams. The directions he received so agitated him, that he awoke, and communicated to him such assurance, such an impulse to set his misconceived bride at rest, that rising from sleep, he immediately sought her out. This seems clearly enough to point to a journey. He arose early in the morning, brought her home ‘to her house’ (Luk 1:56), and treated her till her delivery with reverential tenderness, as one dedicated to a more exalted destiny. Thus did the Lord, in due time, reward the confidence of Mary, and preserve her honour. This fact was, at the same time, a great victory won by the Gospel over ancient precept in the heart of the carpenter. The miracles of the New Testament times penetrated his lower life, and elevated him to true Israelite feeling. In intercourse with Mary, he also found his blessing, his gospel. The childhood of the great Prince of man and the Redeemer of the world was to be passed under the care and protection of an honest artizan. Thus was mere worth ennobled, and the dignity of handicraft honoured in its inner relation to the true purposes of the kingdom of God. The priest brought up the King’s herald, but the artizan protected with his honest hand the great King Himself during the tender years of childhood.

It was at about this time that Elisabeth brought forth her promised son. The wonderful nature of this event, her happiness, which proclaimed the mercy of God, spread great joy among her kinsfolk and neighbours. When the child was eight days old, the festival of his circumcision was kept. The guests were anxious to give him the name of Zacharias; but his mother Elisabeth earnestly opposed it. Zacharias was appealed to for decision; by signs he asked for a writing-table, and then wrote the name of John! the favour of God, the pledge of God’s favour. With this announcement his soul was freed from the reproach which had oppressed it, his tongue from the mysterious ethic tie or ban by which it had been enchained.

The song of praise which Zacharias now uttered had been so gradually and certainly matured in his soul, that, like Mary, he could not forget it again. His song pointed out the form of his faith; it was the expression of the Gospel as it resounded within his own heart. It was a truly priestly view that Zacharias took of the reconciliation and glorification of the world in the advent of Messiah. The coming Christ appeared to him as the true altar of safety, the refuge of His people. In future, the people of God, delivered from their enemies, would be ever at liberty to perform the true, real service of God, the worship which would glorify Him. This was the delight of his priestly heart. But it was the delight of his paternal heart that his child should be the herald of the Lord, in whom grace was to appear even to those who sat in darkness and the shadow of death. Such is the matter of his song of praise.

And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit. The youthful Nazarite grew up to his calling in the lonely hill country. The time was soon to come when he would be shown to and produce a vast effect upon the whole nation of Israel.

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Notes

1. When critics insist (comp. Strauss, Leben Jesu, i. 165) that the angel must have brought to Joseph in a dream a revelation connected with that formerly communicated to Mary, must have reproached Joseph with his unbelief, and have thought it superfluous to tell him the name of the child, having already done so to Mary, they speak unintentionally for the reality of the said communications. For it is not in the nature of a dream to maintain a practical appearance. If, then, a revelation should take the form of a dream, it must renounce the condition of practicality. It must also renounce conformity to the law of economy, and to that prudence of critics which would rather blend several dream-visions in one (Id. p. 261). Criticism would rather have depicted practical dreams. But in so doing it would have destroyed the nature of the dream. Macbeth ‘slays holy sleep;’ criticism, the holy dream.

2. Strauss makes an inaccurate quotation when he says, ‘It is quite clear that εὑρέθη ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα (Mat 1:18) points to a discovery without Mary’s acquiescence.’ The passage runs, εὑρέθη ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα ἐκ πνεύματος ἁγίου,—she was found with child of the Holy Ghost. Was this found without Mary’s acquiescence? What justified the author in omitting the closer definition of the sentence?

3. Strauss and Bruno Bauer insist upon pressing upon Luk 1:14 the view, that the leaping of the babe in her womb first revealed to Elisabeth that Mary was selected to be the mother of the Messiah. On the other hand, they combat the notion that the emotion of the mother would, by the effect it produced upon her organism, occasion the leaping of the child. According to this assumption, the text would have run: As soon as the unborn child heard the salutation, it leaped. Elisabeth hears the salutation—Mary’s salutation: can any one deny her emotion? The child leaps: can any one deny the connection of its leaping with its mother’s emotion? Elisabeth views this leaping in the poetic element of her own frame of mind, and this sublime, transparent, healthy poetry is transformed into a supernaturalistic formula, according to which the movement of the unborn child is said to reveal to its mother the dignity of Mary. This text is thus made to say, that the mother understood nothing of the spirit of the salutation; that the fruit of her body understood it immediately; and then that the leaping of this fruit of the same mother who found nothing in the salutation of her friend, was a plain revelation to her that this friend should bring forth the Messiah.

1) [It ought here to be observed, that the order of events here proposed by the author has been approved by few, if any, but Riggenbach (p. 169). It is scouted with his usual vehemence by 'Tischendorf, who says (Syn. Evan, præf. xxi.): ‘Falsissimam esse Langii interpretationem verborum, Matt. i. 18, unde ipsam Mariam Josepho rem communicasse concludit, jam recte docuit Ebrardus.’ But Ebrard himself seems to be as far wrong as Lange, for, founding on the traditional law that virgins were never allowed to travel, he supposes that her journey to the hill country did not take place till after her marriage. Lichtenstein (Lebensgeschiehte J. C. p. 77) questions whether this law applied to virgins betrothed, and very justly appeals to Luke i. 56 in proof that on her return it was still her own and not Joseph’s house she went to. Every unprejudiced reader would infer from Luke i. 39 that Mary’s visit to Elisabeth immediately followed the annunciation, no event of importance intervening (certainly not such things as Ebrard supposes). She went ‘in haste? to her natural adviser, her Jeteale relative. See the sensible and delicate remarks of Ellicott (Hist. Lec. 51).—ED.]

2) If the Evangelist here makes no remark upon Mary’s state of mind, as he did upon that of Elisabeth, this testifies to his sense for the delicate distinctions involved in the actual event. For Mary’s state of mind, from the period of, the conception, was a constant dwelling in the fulness of the Holy Spirit.

3) They who have witnessed the exaltation of great characters in important cireumstances, will comprehend this incident in its essential features. In this passage Christianity and poetry change places before those critics who deny the historical reality of the poetry for the sake of opposing the historical reality of primitive Christianity. Even poetry must reject such critics and their dicta, as proceeding from a region where the beautiful is not true, and the true not beautiful. [‘'The critics seem to miscalculate, even on psychological principles, the effect on them of events like these, which assured them that the long-sought salvation of God was now about to appear, and that its pledges were already before their eyes.’—Mill, Mythical Interp., p.116. All that this forcible and learned writer says upon the subject-matter of these hymns, as well as -his whole refutation of the objections to these early chapters of the Gospels, will abundantly repay perusal.—ED.]