As He was completing His ministry and going to the Father, Jesus, from the height of the Cross, turned to His Mother and to His beloved disciple, the Apostle John. He said to them: "Woman, behold your son," and, "Behold your Mother."
These words prove that Jesus was the only Son of His Mother. If she had still had four other sons besides Jesus, would it have been possible to say that from then on only John would be her son?
Why would John have had to take upon himself care for her, and even take her into his own house, if she had had four other sons?
Jesus entrusts the care of the Theotokos to John.
With Christ's departure from this world, His most holy Mother remained alone, and there was no one to care for her. Joseph was no longer living at that time.
The so-called brothers of the Lord were sons of Mary of Clopas, her kinswoman. They were not even among the followers or disciples of Jesus. There were no other relatives.
Therefore, seeing His Mother and His beloved disciple standing with her, Jesus was pleased to entrust care for her to this disciple, John. Turning to her, He said: "Woman, behold your son," and with His gaze He indicated John.
Then, turning to John and indicating His Mother with His gaze, He said: "Behold your Mother."
John himself relates this, adding that from that time this disciple took her to his own. That is, he received her into his house and cared for her until her death, as a son cares for his Mother.
The Evangelists Matthew and Mark, speaking of the women present at Jesus' death and looking at Him from afar, do not mention the Theotokos (Mt 27:55-56; Mk 15:40-41). From this one may infer that the Theotokos was not present at her Son's very death.
It is very possible that Jesus Himself wished to spare His Mother the dreadful torments of soul at the sight of her Son dying on the Cross. By His gaze He may have made John understand that he should lead her to his home.
But then we must acknowledge that John led the Theotokos away and returned again to the Cross. For he speaks also of what happened afterward, and he accompanies his account with these words: "He who saw it has borne witness, and his testimony is true; he knows that he tells the truth" (Jn 19:35).
It is difficult, almost impossible, to suppose that John, after taking the Theotokos to his own house, at once left her alone in such a dreadful and sorrowful moment.
Therefore there are sufficient grounds to think that the Theotokos remained to the end at the very cross, or at a small distance from it.
"And the people stood by, watching" (Lk 23:35). But where were the other Apostles besides John? Where were those constant companions of Christ who had resolved to follow Him on His last journey to Jerusalem and die there with Him?
Where was Peter, who had so confidently sworn to lay down his life for Him? Where were they in this sorrowful moment of their Teacher, whom so recently they had acknowledged as the Son of God?
Where were they? Where had they fled?
The death of Judas.
There, far from Golgotha, Judas runs, looking back. The chief priests had rejected his repentance, and he had thrown down before them their silver pieces, which in his hands were silent witnesses of vile betrayal.
He thought to free himself from this accuser and thereby calm his conscience. But alas, conscience, having entered into its rights, tormented him more and more.
Unnoticed by him, it drew him to the place where he might find true rest and forgiveness of his grave sin. It drew him toward the innocent Victim of his betrayal.
He surely stood in the crowd surrounding Pilate's praetorium. He listened to the Roman governor's words, which gave hope for the acquittal of the Innocent One.
He was almost calmed when Pilate said authoritatively to the malicious Sanhedrin: "I find no guilt in this Man." But Pilate's later wavering, his yielding, his fear of denunciation to Caesar, and his order to scourge Christ must have torn Judas's heart with inexpressible pain.
When the chief priests cried out and the people took up the cry, "His blood be on us and on our children," Judas understood something dreadful. He had taken upon his soul not only his own sin of betrayal, but also the people's sin, the curse the people called down upon themselves.
Judas ran from the praetorium, now having lost every hope that Pilate would acquit Christ. He ran outside the city, thinking that there, in solitude, he might find rest.
But then he saw a crowd of people coming out of the city gates, preceded and accompanied by Roman troops. Ahead of the crowd they carried crosses, the instruments of tormenting execution.
"Now," Judas thinks, "everything is finished. Now nothing can wipe away my sin." He stops and looks toward Golgotha. He waits to see what will happen next, though he knows perfectly well how the Romans crucify those condemned to death.
When everything was done, and the innocent Sufferer was nailed to the Cross, Judas awoke from his stupor and ran in the opposite direction from Golgotha, looking back.
But where was he running, and why? Tormented by conscience, he decided that a man such as he could not live, and that he had to end these torments.
Then his gaze fell upon a withered tree, on which he could settle accounts with life. He hastened toward it, approached, and stood on a large stone.
With convulsive movements of his hands, he threw his belt over the tree. He tied one end to the trunk, placed the loop around his neck, looked one last time toward Golgotha, and threw himself from the stone.
The loop tightened hard around his neck. After several convulsive movements, his dead body hung there, and then broke loose and fell. Thus the traitor condemned himself to execution, and was his own executioner.
Where are the other ten Apostles?
But where were the other ten Apostles? Where were those whom Christ, in His last farewell discourse, had called His friends (Jn 15:15)? We shall find no answers to these questions in the Gospel.
Yet, knowing the events that preceded and followed, we can form a fairly plausible supposition about the state of soul of the ten Apostles who had fled.
The Apostles, together with all Jews of that time, awaited the Messiah as a warlike King of Israel, who would overthrow the Roman yoke, conquer all the nations of the earth, and subject them to Jewish rule.
Such were the Jews' ideas concerning the Messiah's purpose. These dreams were so alluring that even the Apostles could not detach themselves from them, though Christ had told them many times that His Kingdom was not of this world.
They dreamed about the places they would occupy in the Messiah's Kingdom. They even once disputed among themselves about which of them would be assigned the most honorable place in that Kingdom, and which would be greatest of all.
The "sons of thunder," John and James the sons of Zebedee, even dared ask the Lord to make them equal to Himself in His Kingdom. They asked that one sit at His right hand and the other at His left.
Their faith in such a brilliant, militant Kingdom of the Messiah was so strong, and at times so darkened their reason, that they did not even believe the Lord's words about His impending sufferings, death, and Resurrection.
These sufferings were completely incompatible with their ideas of the King of Israel. How could He suffer? And die? Can the Messiah die?
No, He will reign forever. Therefore He cannot die. But how will Christ rise, if as Messiah He cannot die at all?
This last question was an insoluble perplexity for the Apostles. They could not understand it at all, nor did they try to resolve it.
They were astonished that Jesus delayed so long in revealing His Kingdom. They probably wondered why He refused to be proclaimed King of Israel when the crowd, miraculously fed by Him, wanted to take Him by force and lead Him to Jerusalem for this purpose.
They were already losing hope for the realization of their dreams when Jesus set out on His last journey to Jerusalem. They urged Him not to go there to certain death, as they thought.
If they now admitted the possibility of His death, it was surely only because their faith in Him as Messiah had already been shaken. Only love for Him as Prophet and Wonderworker compelled them to follow Him.
Thomas said, "Let us also go, that we may die with Him," and they all went. Jesus' solemn entry into Jerusalem, the victorious cries of the people, and their rapturous greeting of their King-Messiah temporarily revived hope in the Apostles' hearts.
They again hoped for the swift revelation of the brilliant Kingdom. But Jesus' final break with the ruling party, and the people's cooling toward Him, again cast the friends of Christ into sorrow.
When He was bound like a criminal and led to trial, all of them left Him in fear. The most ardent among them, the one seemingly most devoted to Christ, denied Him three times and even feared to name Him.
Yet even after this, they could still cherish the hope that by some miracle their Teacher would free Himself from the shameful execution threatening Him. Then, triumphing over His enemies, He would reveal His Kingdom.
With this hope they surely came to Golgotha and mingled with the crowd. But alas, these hopes too were not destined to be fulfilled.
Christ not only did not use His wonderworking power to deliver Himself from execution, but even prayed for His executioners.
When He was crucified, and the malicious Jews mockingly addressed the Crucified and said, "If You are the Son of God, come down from the cross," did doubt not creep into the souls of the Apostles too?
Did they not pray to Him inwardly: "Lord, if You are the Son of God, come down from the cross and reveal Your Kingdom. Then all will believe in You. Lord, delay no longer. Come down from the cross. Come down, Lord."
If afterward the Cross was a great stumbling block for many who were ready to believe in Jesus as the Son of God, did the Cross not also become a stumbling block for the Apostles?
Did it not cast them into sorrow, despondency, despair, and disillusionment? Looking from afar at their crucified Teacher, entreating Him to come down from the cross, and not seeing their prayer fulfilled, they could have reached hopeless despair.
Their cherished dreams of the brilliant Kingdom of the Messiah had collapsed. Their hopes for a prominent part in that Kingdom had collapsed. Everything was finished, everything lost.
And how many times that Kingdom had seemed, in their dreams, so near and so possible. After all, they once asked Jesus what would be given them because they had left everything and followed Him.
Christ answered that when He sat on the throne of His glory, they too would sit on twelve thrones, judging the twelve tribes of Israel.
Not having understood the true meaning of the Lord's words then, they could remember them now and ask themselves with sorrow and despair: "Where are those promised twelve thrones? And where is the throne of glory of Jesus Himself?
Is it this cross? Must we too share His fate? Will they crucify us too, as His disciples, companions, and servants of His will?
Why has He brought us to such a dreadful and unbearable condition? Why did He speak of these thrones, when instead of the Kingdom of glory, He Himself awaited the Cross?
O Lord, if You are the Son of God, come down quickly from the cross and sit upon the throne of Your glory. Come down, Lord. Come down."
These cries, now of doubt and fear, now of dim hope and, after it, hopeless despair, tore the hearts of the ten Apostles hiding in the crowd around Golgotha.
They could not yet understand or grasp the whole great meaning of the events then taking place. They did not yet understand Christ Himself. They did not know that only by death and Resurrection would Christ conquer the world.
They had forgotten His words in the farewell discourse: "Be of good cheer; I have overcome the world." Only after the Lord's Resurrection, and after the descent of the Holy Spirit upon them, were their hearts opened.