John 19:26,27

THE MOST PATHETIC PHRASE IN GOD’S WORD

‘Woman, behold thy son!… Behold thy mother!’

John 19:26

There was a brief lull in the tempest which surged round the Cross of Christ, and the women who had been looking on afar off, His mother and the women from Galilee, emboldened by the falling back of the crowd, drew near to the foot of the Cross. One disciple returned, the beloved John, and so through all the long agony, through all the awful darkness, as the lonely cry rang out, His loved ones stood nearest Him.

I. The triumph of human love.—‘Now there stood by the Cross of Jesus His mother.’ This sentence forms the most pathetic phrase in the whole of God’s Word. In infancy she had been content that He should nestle to her breast; now she comes to watch by the strange death of the One she loved, only half understanding Him. Yet she did love Him. As He turns His eyes, scorched by fever, upon her, what memories must have passed through both their minds! His mother was brave, and true enough, and strong enough, to come and stand at the foot of the Cross. Just to be near Him was all she wanted.

II. The responsibilities of human relationship.—And yet, again, I see in these words a responsibility which human relationships must bring. ‘Woman, behold thy son!’ No love must be wasted in the Kingdom of Christ. If Jesus, her Son, must be taken, then another must be given to her that she might lavish that mother’s love upon him. The Cross teaches us that there is work to be done in the name of the Crucified, and that that work commences in the home-life. Our homes—oh, how weary some homes are, how full of passion, what jealousies, what thoughtlessness, how unhelpful some homes are, how un-Christian! What is going to alter them, what is going to raise the home-life of our people to the dignity which the Blessed Master has shown should surround it? What is going to make the home-life of our nation, of our people, just the power which it ought to be? Only this—let the dying Christ by His message send us all back to our homes to try and sweeten, and gladden them, and hallow them by bringing His love into them, that we may go back to them and be intent upon doing this, showing our love for Christ in the details, in the self sacrificing details, of the daily life, willing to see in our home-life the highest opportunity of serving our Blessed Master.

III. The lesson for to-day.—I ask you to learn this lesson from the Cross, from this message from the Cross, that woman’s love is a very holy thing, not only because it has the greatest effect upon life here, it is the greatest lever by which life is to be raised to the Divine height to which God would have it raised, but because it is eternal, because it lasts for ever. Let us see that we keep it holy, that we reverence it as it should be reverenced. Let us not drag it through the mire of the world’s lust and passion. Let us remember that love is Divine in that human relationship, whatever that human relationship is. It is a Divine thing, for the Blessed Master Himself partook of it. He was made Man; He was a Son; He was born into this world to fulfil the duty of sonship, and He has for ever consecrated it. Let us see, we who are men especially, let us see that we reverence it.

—Rev. T. J. Longley.

Illustration

‘The greatest thing in the world is the love of some strong, true, brave woman, whether she be mother, sister, or wife, who is willing to stand by us men in the time of our difficulties. The scene surely serves as an inspiration for every girl and every woman in her daily life to live her best, to be her truest, her noblest; and an appeal to every man to think with reverence and honour of womanhood, to show them respect and reverence, and courtesy in the details of daily life, because, for all ages, it has been written to serve as our inspiration that in the moment when all else has fled from the Blessed Lord there stood by the Cross His mother.’

(SECOND OUTLINE)

THE WORD OF TENDER CARE

I should like to emphasise this Word as the word of Tender Care. The beloved mother is given into the charge of the beloved disciple. Love only can take charge of loved ones, and John was the disciple whom Jesus loved, and, although he does not say it, the disciple who loved Jesus.

I. Notice and reflect that after the Incarnation was given to man the Blessed Mother seems to retire behind the scenes; we do not hear much about her—very little. Her work in the world was to be the mother of the Lord Jesus Christ, her beginning and her end, her Alpha and her Omega, her first and her last. Being His mother, she is here at His deathbed, under the Cross. I want you to notice how very retiring she is. She does not appear during the Passion: she is not reported to have said anything or done anything. Each of the Evangelists gives us four Chapter s about the Passion, and all that was said and done.

II. But the Blessed Mother is left out until we come to Calvary.—Why do you think this was? What are we to gather from it?

(a) Surely, first of all that His Mother knew all these things—it was no news to her. The dear Lord and Master must have told her what was going to happen.

(b) And another point is this: She willed it. She made no comment, no remonstrance against the cruelty of wicked men. She who said, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord: be it unto me according to Thy word,’ knew that the word of God had gone out from everlasting that thus it must be. She uttered no word: her will was the will of her Son. He laid down His life right willingly, and in His will was hers. She will not go on Easter morning to bring spices to the tomb—not she. She will not show any faithless love. She will not go to Him at all. Why? She knows He is not there. ‘The secret of the Lord is with those that fear Him.’ She knows.

III. What was it that distressed her so much? Why was it that the sword passed into her soul? What was the piercing of the soul, if she willed it?

(a) First, because she was His own mother. As our own Prayer Book says. He was ‘of the substance of the Virgin Mary His Mother.’ He was not of the substance of any father; He was twice as much of His mother as ever you or I are of ours, and that ‘twice His mother’ was hers. He is all the world’s, but still He is hers. Though He have the world’s worship, still her heart avers, ‘The Child Divine belongeth unto me.’ And now you can understand the first reason why the sword was piercing her soul.

(b) And the second. If she was the dear mother of Christ, she was still the dear daughter of God. Who was it that put her Son to death? Who was it that was slaying Him? The Church. Pilate would not have killed Him. It was Mary’s Church. Brought up amid all the associations of the old service and the old ritual, as dear a daughter of Israel as ever lived, she saw that the Chief Priests and Scribes had delivered Him up to be crucified. The thing was done by those she had loved most.

—Rev. A. H. Stanton.

Illustration

‘Heathens cannot crucify Jesus. I tell you who can crucify Him. The Church—only the Church. If the Lord Jesus Christ is to be put to death in these days it is by the Church of God—no one else can crucify Him. It is you and I who can crucify Him and put Him to open shame, and tread underfoot the Blood whereby we have been redeemed.’

(THIRD OUTLINE)

THE IDENTITY OF HUMAN AND DIVINE LOVE

We are accustomed to speak of earthly and Divine love as two entirely different things; we are used to put earthly ties and human relationship a little in the background. Christ teaches us to do no such thing.

I. In this the supreme moment of His work for us on earth He emphasises the importance of family life and human love.

(a) ‘ Woman.’ He recalls how she, full of grace, had become the instrument of His birth. ‘Woman.’ It had been her task to minister to the Holy Child, to tend and guard Him in His helpless infancy, to teach His feet to walk, His lips to utter. Bethlehem, the stable; Nazareth, the home—these and a hundred other memories He deigns to recollect for evermore. And now, though the bitter pains of death are bowing His worn head, He will not forget her and the beloved disciple whom He leaves behind.

(b) ‘ Behold thy Son.’ It had been foretold of her that a sharp sword should pierce her heart; and truly, as she stands thus beneath the Cross, her cup of suffering is complete. Even if in the awful circumstances of her case she can with faith believe that her Son is still Divine, though He appears so altogether mortal, the sport of chance, the object of His enemies’ derision, yet she knows He is about to leave her; soon she will be alone. It is just then He comforts and sustains her with the legacy of love He leaves behind Him. ‘Behold thy Son.’

(c) John was offered to her love. He the loved disciple who had leant upon the Saviour’s breast at that Last Supper of His love; he who had companied with Him, and drank in all His teaching; he, indeed, was fitted for the office designed for him.

(d) And for him, too, it was a splendid thoughtfulness that mapped out his future work. ‘Son, behold thy mother.’ Happy for him that his grief is to find solace in endeavour.

II. A lesson, indeed, for us and for all time.—Human ties, family life, earthly duty—these are the ladder which can lead from earth to heaven. Our love to God can only be real when it is shown in our love to men.

—Rev. A. Osborne Jay.

Illustration

‘There is a touching story told of a child’s unselfish affection for his mother. In a New England town not long ago a little newsboy was run over by a horse car and fatally hurt. He was but six years old, earning his own bread. In his last agonies he cried piteously for his mother—not that she might comfort him, but that he might give her his earnings. “I’ve saved ’em, mother, I’ve saved ’em all. Here they are.” When the little clenched hand fell rigid, it was found to hold ten cents. The words of that little child are an echo from the Cross. It was a tiny ray from the “gentleness of Christ,” which steals all down the rough and jarring ages.’

(FOURTH OUTLINE)

BEREAVEMENT

Death is cruel and relentless, but it is not a thing of meaningless and terrible despair. Though the best be gone, never to return, that is not the last word that can be said at such a parting. Something is left though the best be taken, and that something is not to be despised because it is not so good as that which is gone. Upon the Cross her only Son is passing away into the night of death. He will never again be as He was on earth with her at home. But at her side there stands another—another not so dear as He, but one who may yet be very dear, one in whom something may yet be found of the old peace and joy and blessing. Let her not ignore what is left in her despair at what she loses. It is not so good—how can it be? No, indeed, but it should be clothed upon by the goodness of that which is lost. It should recall, remind, re-echo what the Son had been, and by so remaining it should console with a consolation beyond its own. ‘Woman, behold thy son!… Behold thy mother!’ So quietly, so readily did she accept it.

I. All of us sometimes need sorely that quiet readiness of the Virgin.—It is the lesson, the task given us for our bitter mourning. The nearest and the dearest, they are taken. We have lost them. They are gone, and gone for ever. The happy, happy days, they will never come again. Lo, on the deathbed there lies the body of one who had been the very soul of all our joys, the voice at which our heart leapt, as we should never hear it now. The old laughter, the old memories, the old talks shall never be renewed. That is our one and only thought. In its bitterness all that remains to us seems worthless, seems empty. It irritates us by the very contrast. ‘Why tell me of these petty consolations? Why talk to me of what I can still do? What of duties and pleasures that life has still in store for me? I hate them because they are left, and the other is taken. I hate to think of them. I shall find myself going about the things of life again, and becoming half-interested in it once more, and perhaps enjoying it again and smiling again, and being busy and occupied. That is just what I most shrink from. I cannot bear that I can ever dare to think of anything again now that the light of mine eyes is taken from me!’ So we mutter, and down from His Cross our dying Lord looks gently and rebukes us, and tenderly bids us take up again the things that are left us. ‘Woman, behold thy son!… Behold thy mother!’

II. There they are, duties, obligations, responsibilities, all waiting for us to fulfil.—John was not to be forgotten or despised because Jesus is lost to her. He can never be the same, so we protested; no, never the same, never half as good. And yet for all that take it. There is something left. Accept it, whatever it be. It is something, it is well worth doing. You will learn to care for it, and interests will spring up again, and joys and hopes, loves not so strong or so lovely, however dear. ‘Behold thy son!’ Yes, and take it up, whatever it be, the new duty, the interest, as the direct legacies of the dead. Receive it as a commission from the lost, a task from the departed. ‘Remember what I said to you when I was with you, and for My sake put into it your heart, your affection.’ ‘Behold thy son!’

III. Does not death always leave us some such possibilities as these—a new life that can be taken up, if we will, as the result of our bereavement? Turn from the dead and face the living, and for the sake of the dead embrace the new in the faithfulness of the mother turning away from the Cross and following John from that hour into the new home. Yes, and through it, as she did, not only in loyalty to your own lost and dead ones, but in loyalty to Him Who died on the Cross for you, and Who, in the very act of dying, foreseeing new duties and new joys ahead to those whom He loved most, as He would not have them linger idly absorbed in the shadows of their sorrow and their loss, as He did not fear that they would forget Him in engaging once again in daily occupations, so still from His throne He bids us turn from the grave, and in His name re-enter the paths of duty, treasure such loves and joys as remain, treasure them for His sake, trust in His safe keeping all that we have lost, and He will keep them until that day.

—Rev. Canon H. Scott Holland.