Luke 2:34-35 And Simeon blessed them, and said to Mary his mother, Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel… The veil will be stripped off from them — such is the figure — by their own language, and their own conduct towards Christ. By their estimate of His character, by their appreciation or disparagement of His holy life, and mighty works and Divine doctrine — by their acceptance or rejection of Him whose appeal was ever to the conscience of man, as in the sight of a heart-searching God — men will disclose their true disposition; will show whether they love the world, whether they echo its lying voice, whether they desire darkness lest their deeds should be reproved, or whether, on the other hand, they are brave to see, and bold to confess the truth, whether they have an ear to hear the voice of God, and a will to follow Him whithersoever He goeth. But, most of all, as the end draws nigh, and the life of holiness is closing in the death of martyrdom. Then, even more than in earlier days, were the feelings of men tested, the thoughts of hearts revealed, by their dealing with the Suffering and the Crucified. The high priests plot and blaspheme, Pilate vacillates and gives way, the soldiers part among them the garments, the people stand beholding, Judas despairs, Peter repents, Joseph of Arimathaea becomes courageous, Nicodemus comes by day, the centurion confesses, one thief blasphemes, the other prays, men faint and flee. women out of weakness are made strong, a sword pierces the heart of the mother, that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed. Even thus has it been in all time. For all time the words were uttered; it is by their treatment of Jesus, in Himself and in His people, in His word, in His church, in His sacraments, in His Spirit, that men show decisively before God, before one another, before themselves (if they will behold it) what manner of spirit they are of. (Dean Vaughan.)Before these words were spoken Mary was full of happiness. She had come into the Temple trembling with the deep pleasure of young motherhood, her soul filled full of natural piety, her heart leaping with joy. And when, moved still more by the old religious rite, she heard the hymn of Simeon over her boy, all her joy rose to spring-tide in her. Her face glowed. Joy and triumph filled her soul. Simeon saw this lightning on her face, saw her mien transfigured, and with the wisdom which has outlived weakness but not sympathy, turned and touched her joy with the warning of his prophecy. "A sword shall pierce through thine own soul." It was cruel, we think; it was pitiful to dash her young delight with cold. That is our first thought, and it might be a true one, had the sorrow she was to suffer been ordinary sorrow. But it was so dreadful a pain that she needed to prepare herself, needed the warning. Her joy was too great at this moment to be destroyed by the words; it was only chastened by a shade of impending sorrow, so that when the pain came it was not so great a shock. Nor did the shade make the joy really less. Joy was only lodged deeper in the heart, made more intense — a secret, silent possession: nay, the very dread of its loss made her handling of it tenderer, and her love of it greater. By both, by joy and by the shadow of sorrow, she was exalted, raised from the girl to the thoughtful woman who kept things in her heart and pondered them. Soon Simeon's prophecy was fulfilled. She saw her Son go forth from the quiet of the village with high hopes, and at His first return to His home the people tried to kill Him. For a time things seemed bright, but as she followed His ministry with the passionate love which motherhood has for a son who claims also by his character deep reverence, she saw Him despised and rejected of men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, hated and driven to death. Day by day the sword pierced her soul; day by day its sharp edge was whetted by love and fruitless indignation. Can we ira, gin, how that must have worn life away? And then the end, the hour by the cross when she knelt apart, silent to the last, seeing Him die so cruelly — the mother's heart pierced in twain. No wonder she died early. No wonder Christiandom has sung to her, painted and graven her, as the Mother of Sorrows. We, looking at her life and her Son's, know of a truth that out of suffering nobly borne for love of man, good comes to all. Involved in our pain, we know nothing but that we suffer. Yet the history of Mary's sorrow is the history of all sorrow. Good flows from it to the whole, and when we see that good we shall rejoice that we have suffered. No sword pierces the human heart, but the blood that streams from it heals the nations. (Stopford A. Brooke.) Parallel Verses KJV: And Simeon blessed them, and said unto Mary his mother, Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising again of many in Israel; and for a sign which shall be spoken against; |
    |