Yesterday, Today, and Forever

by Maria Von Trapp

  After the purification of the mother there was still another law to fulfill, and that was the presentation of the boy: “And the Lord spake unto Moses, saying, Sanctify unto me all the firstborn, whatsoever openeth the womb among the children of Israel, both of man and of beast: it is mine” (Exod. 13:1–2; KJV).

  This law served as a reminder to the Jews that God had once slain the Egyptians and taken their firstborn sons but had spared the firstborn of the Hebrews. Now in order that the child might go back home with his parents and not to have to remain in the temple for the service of the Lord, the parents had to pay a certain sum in silver — about five dollars in our money — as ransom money. This was the law for 11 of the 12 tribes of Israel. The sons of the tribe of Aaron, however, were destined to the priesthood. No money had to be paid for them. So Jesus’ little cousin John, belonging to the tribe of Aaron, did not fall under that law. Jesus, belonging to the tribe of Judah, did.

  One of the great beauties of reading through the Gospels like this is that after doing it a while, it will very often happen that the passage you are reading will bring to mind another one. Young minds are especially keen at finding such apropos comparisons. Therefore, having worked on “the days of her purification,” one of the family might muse, “But Mary had been greeted by the angel, ‘Hail, O favored one.’ Didn’t she know that the birth of this child couldn’t possibly make her liturgically unclean? And then — the same angel has said to her, ‘He …will be called the Son of the Most High; and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David …and of his kingdom there will be no end’ (Luke 1:28–33). Didn’t she feel within herself that this Son would not have to be bought with ransom money?”

  And the family circle decides that she must have known. But in her actions she now accepted what her Son would later express in words to His cousin the Baptist when he didn’t want to baptize Him, but would rather have been baptized by Him: “Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfil all righteousness” (Matt. 3:15).

  A few years ago we were talking about this same subject, and again we came to the point that our Lord really didn’t have to follow the law, when young Rosmarie remarked, “Well, isn’t this exactly like the story with the income tax?” (It was February, on the Feast of the Presentation, and the phrase “income tax” must have been heard frequently around the house.)

  “Which story with the income tax?” We asked, somewhat dumbfounded.

  “Oh,” said Rosmarie, “wasn’t our Lord once reminded that He hadn’t paid His tax yet, and didn’t He say to Peter, His friend, pretty clearly that He didn’t have to?” Feverishly turning the pages in her New Testament, she had found the place (Matt. 17:24–26) and read it to us triumphantly. “What do you think, Simon? From whom do kings of the earth take toll or tribute? From their sons or from others?” (Matt. 17:25).

  In her own words she continued, “And Peter would say, ‘From others, of course.’ ” Then returning to the Book: “ ‘Then the sons are free. However, not to give offense to them, go to the sea and cast a hook, and take the first fish that comes up, and when you open its mouth you will find a shekel; take that and give it to them for me and for yourself’ ” (Matt. 17:26–27).

  It is a real feast if oneself or someone in the family finds such connections as the “story of the income tax.” So it is pretty safe to say that of course, Mary knew, but “that we may not give offense to them,” she prepared for the three-fold ceremonies: her purification, the presentation of the Son, and the sacrifice for sin.

  Pitilessly the children want to know: “What happened in those weeks before they went to the temple?”

  The Gospel doesn’t say. No contemporary of those days is still living, no photographs were taken, no diaries were kept. But it must have happened somehow, and in all reverence, my guess is as good as yours. For instance, Ain Karim, the home of Zacharias and Elizabeth, was only about a mile and a half away from Bethlehem in the hill country. Isn’t it more than likely that within these 40 days of waiting Elizabeth would show up and repay the visit of her young cousin? Most probably she would bring Zacharias and her baby boy. How much rejoicing there would be among the two families!

  We don’t know anything about the parents of Mary, but tradition has it that their names were Joachim and Anna. Down to the earliest times of Christianity, artists have pictured Anna as a happy grandmother with her daughter Mary and her little grandson. Couldn’t it be that some people from Nazareth returning from the census in Bethlehem brought the message to Anna that the baby had arrived, and her daughter and son-in-law would wait those 40 days near Jerusalem? What would any mother in our day think and do in such a case? She would exclaim: “Oh, my poor girl! She only took the most necessary things for emergency with her. I must get her everything she could possibly need.” And then the elderly woman might start out on the trip herself, impatient to see the precious grandchild.

  Sure, this is all “might be” and “maybe,” but if I want to bring those 40 days of waiting to life, I certainly must use all my God-given faculties: the intellect and the memory for studying, and imagination, to be applied lovingly to reading between the lines. Consider what a part imagination plays in public life, in the world of fiction writing, movies, radio, and television! It couldn’t possibly be put to better use than to help us to perceive how He did what He did, or what He looked like when He said certain things. It seems as if only the painters have made use of this privilege “to figure it all out.” When we think of the “annunciations,” the “visitations,” and the “nativities” as they were imagined by painters and sculptors throughout the centuries, it should serve as a stimulus to our imagination. “All right, that’s the way Giotto or Raphael, Michelangelo or Albrecht Durer saw it. Which way would you and I picture it?” And isn’t it a shame that you and I would most probably have to admit that we hadn’t gotten around yet to thinking about it, and just took Raphael and Fra Angelico and their pitiful descendants from Barclay Street and St. Sulpice as substitutes?

  It is said that in the fourth century the market women in Constantinople were throwing cabbage heads at each other because they had different opinions about the Most Holy Trinity. Isn’t it rather sad that we have to admit that while market women might still throw cabbage heads at each other, the reasons for doing so have changed so completely! Who cares now, for instance, what happened to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph while they were waiting for the days of her purification to be fulfilled?

  Finally the morning of the great feast day dawned. Mary and Joseph must have set out with the child very early that morning to be in time for the morning sacrifice in the temple, after which the mothers used to be purified.

  They were nearing her second home now — the temple. Tradition tells us that Mary had been brought to the house of God when she was three years old. As a temple virgin she spent her whole youth within the holy walls of the cloister together with other young girls from the first families. It was the highest education a young woman in Israel could get. They were taught how to read and write. If we consider that all boys had to learn to read (only the boys, not the girls), but not how to write, we understand what a privilege it was to be a temple virgin. They were instructed in Holy Scriptures, some of which, like the Psalms and the Proverbs, they had to learn by heart. They were taught how to cook and took turns cooking for the priests. They learned how to spin and weave and embroider. Is it any wonder that they were the most sought-after brides in Israel? The temple, besides being the house of the Most High, was for Mary also her home, her alma mater. The fondest memories of her youth were connected with it. Only a year or two had she been away from this sacred place, but how much had happened to her in that short time. First her espousal to Joseph, then the earthshaking moment of the annunciation. Her visit with Elizabeth, maybe the happiest months of her life; then the heart-rending weeks when she witnessed Joseph’s worries. The trip down to Bethlehem, the mystery of the Holy Night, the shepherds and their story about the angels. No
w here she was back at the temple — not alone, but with her husband and her son, pondering in her heart the great things said to her by the angel and by Elizabeth.

  The temple — how much do we know about it — its shape, size, cervices, porches, gates, courts, and priests? For our Lord it will always be the house of the Father. It will be said of Him in the words of the Sixty-ninth Psalm: “Zeal for thy house will consume me” (John 2:17). One day He will cleanse it in vigor and wrath. Of the last days of His life it is said, “And he was teaching daily in the temple” (Luke 19:47). Just how familiar are we with it? Most of us do not give it a second thought and take the temple simply for something like a big church. How astonished we are, therefore, when we find out that at that time the temple occupied a square of more than 950 feet. This would make it more than half again as long at St. Peter’s in Rome, which measures 613 feet.

  During recent excavations of the temple, stones have been found measuring from 20 to 40 feet in length and weighing about one hundred tons. In the back of the large confraternity edition of the New Testament is a colored plan which gives us an idea. Soon we find ourselves hunting for pictures and more information and, if possible, a scale model. They are very rarely to be found, though, so why not make one yourself? It is exciting and interesting.

  There are whole books written on the temple, one by Alfred Edersheim: The Temple, Its Ministry and Services as They Were in the Time of Christ. In a book by Father O’Shea, Mary and Joseph, Their Life and Times, are three very helpful chapters on the temple: “The Priests of Jehovah,” “The House of Jehovah,” and “The Hour of Incense.”1 If, after some study, we try to reconstruct the temple on a small scale with our girls and boys — must not our Lord be pleased that we show so much interest in the house of the Father so dear to His heart? After having worked with cardboard, paper, and glue for weeks that way, we shall find ourselves richly rewarded, because we don’t feel like strangers any more.

  We understand better when we read together the following passages in the New Testament: “Then the devil took him to the holy city, and set him on the pinnacle of the temple” (Matt. 4:5). “Zechariah the son of Barachiah, whom you murdered between the sanctuary and the altar” (Matt. 23:35). “And throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple” (Matt. 27:5). “Two men went up into the temple to pray” (Luke 18:10). “Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching” (Mark 14:49). “And behold, the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom” (Matt. 27:51). “The one who sat for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple” (Acts 3:10).

  We can closely accompany the holy family when they pass through the royal gate entering the temple. First they walked through the royal cloisters, a hall bigger than any Christian basilica has ever been , a richly carved roof carried by 162 beautiful pillars a hundred feet high. There were benches for everyone who wanted to rest. This was the place for all the beggars and the blind and deaf and dumb and those afflicted with many sicknesses, all of them exhibiting their troubles to move the charity of the many passers-by. At the time there were no hospitals in Jerusalem, and no board of social welfare.

  After they had passed the covered cloister, the holy family stepped out into the vast Court of the Gentiles. Here were the tables of the moneychangers and the temple markets. As pilgrims came to Jerusalem from every nation under heaven, they were forced to change their foreign currency into the temple coins. A long story could be told about the temple markets and all the crooked business going on there. That’s where Mary and Joseph bought the two turtledoves because they were so poor they could not afford to buy a lamb. Mary carried her child, and Joseph carried the turtledoves and the money. They went across the vast open court up to the barrier, a wall about four feet high bearing inscriptions in Greek telling the Gentiles to go no further under penalty of death. But Mary and Joseph were allowed by the guards to pass.

  The real temple buildings were rising before them now. Up a flight of 15 steps they came to the gate called “Beautiful,” which was 80 feet high and 30 feet wide, made of heavy Corinthian bronze. The holy family approached the Court of the Women. There were many halls and latticed galleries. Crossing through, they came to another splendid gate called Nicanor. Outside this gate, which was made of silver and gold, they had to wait until they heard the silver trumpets blow. This was the sign of the closing of the morning sacrifice. Now the mothers to be purified lined up on the steps. And Mary, the mother of Jesus, was there, too. Through the golden bars she could see the huge altar from which clouds of incense rose, and behind it the tremendous façade of the house of God. If Mary looked, she could see through the open door the magnificent veil. Perhaps her own hands helped to weave it. The other women standing there with Mary on that morning must have gazed with awe at the veil behind which was the Holy of Holies. Nobody paid any special attention to the most beautiful of the mothers waiting there — not the other women, not the 50 priests around the altar, not the guards of the temple police. Nobody knew that the God of Israel had really come to His house this morning — in the arms of the beautiful maiden.

  Now the deep tones of the great organ called the Magraphah were to be heard. The white-robed priests came to accept the doves for the sin offering. The birds were taken in, killed, some of the blood spilling on the altar, and their flesh had to be eaten by the priests on the grounds of the temple. Some of the birds were burned, and the ceremony of the purification was over. All the mothers had become liturgically clean again. After this came the ceremony of the presentation. Out of the group of women, only the mothers with first-born sons approached the priest, presenting the baby to him.

  Two blessings were spoken: one in thanksgiving for the birth of a son, and the other had to do with the law of ransom. The five shekels were handed over to the priest, and the ceremony was finished. It was finished for all the mothers except one. When Mary went down the steps to meet Joseph and they both were just about to disappear humbly in the great stream of worshipers, they were stopped by a venerable old man. It was Simeon, of whom it is said that: “This man was righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him” (Luke 2:25). By the inspiration of the Spirit he came into the temple. He had been waiting at the foot of the steps watching the women coming down, all young mothers proud and happy. When he saw the most beautiful, the most radiant of them all, the Holy Ghost revealed to him that the beautiful little child in her arms was the Son of God. This was the most sublime moment of his long life. He approached her and stretched his arms out. Looking into the old face, she handed the child to him. What emotions must have filled the heart of the old man when he pressed his infant Savior to his heart, breaking out into the canticle of joy, “Nunc dimittis….” “And his father and his mother marveled at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, ‘Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed’ ” (Luke 2:33–35). He handed back the child to His mother, who received Him in deep silence, pondering over this terrible prophecy.

  Then before they could turn around to go home, there came an old lady, a widow of 84 years. She must have been in the temple during Mary’s time, because it says of her that she “did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day” (Luke 2:37). Old Anna had also been told the secret by the Holy Ghost. That’s why she came up that very hour and began to give praise to the Lord. Then she turned around and “spoke of him to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem” (Luke 2:38). One can’t help asking: “And who were those?” Obviously they were none of the great ones in the temple, the mighty and powerful ones, because nothing at all happened. The holy family quietly left the house of God.

  What must have been going on in Mary’s heart? She knew that she was the mother of the Messiah. As a temple virgin she had learned all the messianic propheci
es by heart, and from the Twenty-first Psalm she knew the horrible fate that awaited the One who would redeem His people. But maybe she hoped that the Heavenly Father might change His mind, as He had done with Nineveh when He had sent the prophet Jonas into the town with the strict message that Nineveh was to be destroyed. Then when He saw the repentance and good will of the people, He forgave and Nineveh was not destroyed. Well, if Mary had ever had such hopes for the future of her Son, Simeon had destroyed them. While they were walking back to their humble home in Bethlehem in deep silence meditating on what had happened, the sword of which he had spoken had already begun to pierce her soul.

  “Mother, and what does that mean, ‘That, out of many hearts, thoughts may be revealed’?” asks one of the children. Yes — what does that mean?

  Years have passed since that question was asked. At least once a year we meditate on this part of the Gospels, and we are still pondering this question in our hearts.

  Chapter 8

  Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar

  It was a few years ago, and a wonderful winter day. I had been working with Hester, my secretary, in my little house, which is halfway up the hill behind the big house, and after a quick supper in the main house, had returned there to work. We had just admired one of our gorgeous mountain sunsets and were about to light the kerosene lamp when I saw something coming up the slope. It looked as if a big yellow star were climbing up the hill.

  Hester and I went out onto the porch, and now we saw that we had visitors. In the deep snow, those colorful but quaintly dressed figures looked very much like foreigners. The first one was on horseback, and the star kept right above him, while the other two had a hard time wading through the knee-deep snow. One of them swung a censer, and the sweet fragrance of incense filled the crisp winter air. Finally they arrived, and lining up, enveloped in pungent clouds, they sang: