Posted on 11/30/2007 1:03:38 PM PST by NYer
When Evangelicals ask me why the Church keeps holding up Mary alongside Christ, the best answer I can think of is this: There's one thing that even Jesus cannot do.
He cannot show us what a disciple of Jesus looks like.
Only a disciple of Jesus can do that. That is exactly what Benedict does at the end of his encyclical. It's easy to say, after this great discourse on Hope, "Looks great on paper. But has anybody ever actually been able to live this?" The Pope's answer is "Here's how it played out in the first disciple's life. It can play out in our lives that way too":
So we cry to her: Holy Mary, you belonged to the humble and great souls of Israel who, like Simeon, were “looking for the consolation of Israel” (Lk 2:25) and hoping, like Anna, “for the redemption of Jerusalem” (Lk 2:38). Your life was thoroughly imbued with the sacred scriptures of Israel which spoke of hope, of the promise made to Abraham and his descendants (cf. Lk 1:55). In this way we can appreciate the holy fear that overcame you when the angel of the Lord appeared to you and told you that you would give birth to the One who was the hope of Israel, the One awaited by the world. Through you, through your “yes”, the hope of the ages became reality, entering this world and its history. You bowed low before the greatness of this task and gave your consent: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word” (Lk 1:38). When you hastened with holy joy across the mountains of Judea to see your cousin Elizabeth, you became the image of the Church to come, which carries the hope of the world in her womb across the mountains of history. But alongside the joy which, with your Magnificat, you proclaimed in word and song for all the centuries to hear, you also knew the dark sayings of the prophets about the suffering of the servant of God in this world. Shining over his birth in the stable at Bethlehem, there were angels in splendour who brought the good news to the shepherds, but at the same time the lowliness of God in this world was all too palpable. The old man Simeon spoke to you of the sword which would pierce your soul (cf. Lk 2:35), of the sign of contradiction that your Son would be in this world. Then, when Jesus began his public ministry, you had to step aside, so that a new family could grow, the family which it was his mission to establish and which would be made up of those who heard his word and kept it (cf. Lk 11:27f). Notwithstanding the great joy that marked the beginning of Jesus's ministry, in the synagogue of Nazareth you must already have experienced the truth of the saying about the “sign of contradiction” (cf. Lk 4:28ff). In this way you saw the growing power of hostility and rejection which built up around Jesus until the hour of the Cross, when you had to look upon the Saviour of the world, the heir of David, the Son of God dying like a failure, exposed to mockery, between criminals. Then you received the word of Jesus: “Woman, behold, your Son!” (Jn 19:26). From the Cross you received a new mission. From the Cross you became a mother in a new way: the mother of all those who believe in your Son Jesus and wish to follow him. The sword of sorrow pierced your heart. Did hope die? Did the world remain definitively without light, and life without purpose? At that moment, deep down, you probably listened again to the word spoken by the angel in answer to your fear at the time of the Annunciation: “Do not be afraid, Mary!” (Lk 1:30). How many times had the Lord, your Son, said the same thing to his disciples: do not be afraid! In your heart, you heard this word again during the night of Golgotha. Before the hour of his betrayal he had said to his disciples: “Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33). “Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” (Jn 14:27). “Do not be afraid, Mary!” In that hour at Nazareth the angel had also said to you: “Of his kingdom there will be no end” (Lk 1:33). Could it have ended before it began? No, at the foot of the Cross, on the strength of Jesus's own word, you became the mother of believers. In this faith, which even in the darkness of Holy Saturday bore the certitude of hope, you made your way towards Easter morning. The joy of the Resurrection touched your heart and united you in a new way to the disciples, destined to become the family of Jesus through faith. In this way you were in the midst of the community of believers, who in the days following the Ascension prayed with one voice for the gift of the Holy Spirit (cf. Acts 1:14) and then received that gift on the day of Pentecost. The “Kingdom” of Jesus was not as might have been imagined. It began in that hour, and of this “Kingdom” there will be no end. Thus you remain in the midst of the disciples as their Mother, as the Mother of hope. Holy Mary, Mother of God, our Mother, teach us to believe, to hope, to love with you. Show us the way to his Kingdom! Star of the Sea, shine upon us and guide us on our way!
The Agony in the Garden
While Mary did not die for our sins, it's also true that her sufferings were joined to those of Jesus, for the good of the Church. That's not because she's a goddess. That's because the innocent sufferings of every Christian in the world are joined to Jesus' sufferings for the good of the Church. That's solidly biblical teaching. It's why Paul could write "I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I complete what is lacking in Christ's afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church" (Colossians 1:24). And it's why the Catholic Faith offers such profound consolation for those who suffer innocently. For since Jesus has joined Himself to us in our pain, our pains are joined with his. Our suffering is not simply meaningless garbage that happens to no purpose and does no one any good. Rather, our pain, joined with Jesus on the Cross, has value for His Body, the Church and makes us participants in the redemption of the world.
This is supremely seen in Mary's endurance of her suffering. For, of course, there are two kinds of agony: the agony we feel for ourselves and the agony we feel for another. Jesus felt all the terror of mortal flesh when He contemplated the fate that was snaking toward Him as the little trail of torches wended its way across the Kidron Valley and up the slope of the Mount of Olives on Holy Thursday evening. He sweated blood and begged to be spared. Three times He pleaded with His Father to let the cup pass from Him. But it could not pass. In that hour, His disciples slept and He was completely alone.
Except for one kindred spirit. We do not know where Mary was at this time. The Gospels are silent. But we know ordinary human experience. We know the anguish of a mother who begs God that her baby be spared the ravages of cancer and that she suffer in her child's place. We know of parents who drown in the attempt to save their children. We know of parents who push their children out of the way of oncoming cars and are killed or crippled to save them. We know the agonies of parents bereft of their sons and daughters by drunk drivers, or school violence, or the thousand idiot havocs the world wreaks on our lives. We know how powerfully their hearts cry out like David's and say, "Would that I had died instead of you!" And because of this we know that Mary could not have contemplated the terrible agonies Jesus was about to face without wishing with all her heart that she could take the blows rather than Him. Jesus' cup was to endure hanging upon the Cross. Mary's cup was to endure not hanging upon the Cross.
Jesus Dies on the Cross
The suffering of Jesus on the cross is, like all human suffering, a shared suffering. That's why Mary is honored under the title "Our Lady of Sorrows". Some people imagine this detracts from Jesus' suffering. However, it should be noticed that people only tend to talk this way about Mary. Certainly the prophet Simeon (and the Evangelist Luke) understand the depths of agony Mary endured. So does anybody who reads a headline about the parents of a kidnapped or murdered child. Nobody says, "Only the child truly suffered and we should not allow the sufferings of his merely human parents to detract from the meaning of this event." Yet, advocates of the "Mary is just a vessel" school of thought often talk this way when Catholics honor Mary as Our Lady of Sorrows.
Yet the fact remains: Nobody is related to Christ in the way Mary is. She is more than just a "vessel". She's a human person who freely chose to offer her flesh to God as the medium for the redemption of the human race. At the normal, simple, practical, lived level, the willing offering Mary made of herself and her Son is breathtaking and deeply moving. We can well up with tears as we imagine the pain a war widow feels in receiving the dreaded "We regret to inform you" telegram from the Defense Department. And yet, so often when it comes to Mary, we Evangelicals are so strangely eager to exclude her from the drama of salvation that we end up saying (as an Evangelical correspondent of mine did) that "It is not the people that we should honor, including Mary, but rather God Who has given people gifts. In Mary's case God gave her a child, Who would be the savior of the world. Her 'may it be to me as you have said,' is merely an assent to what God was doing through her. God made the salvation of the world possible through Jesus, and Mary merely assented to be a part in God's plan."
Evangelicals reserve this sort of language exclusively for Mary. Imagine an Evangelical service for the parents of a son killed in Iraq in which the pastor points to the grieving parents and says, "God was the one Who gave these parents their child and it was He Who sent their son to die for the freedom of the Iraqi people. They didn't sacrifice anything. They merely assented to be a part in God's plan."
Nobody talks that way at any time about any sacrifice that any ordinary person ever makes. All the rest of the time, we can grasp the fact that, while God is the Author of all things, our sacrifices and choices really matter too—by the grace of God. The only time people talk this way is when Evangelicals who are weirded out by Mary dehumanize her and dismiss the sword that pierced her heart so they can talk as though she was utterly irrelevant to the Incarnation and Passion of Christ, instead of the one who was, in fact, more intimately bound up with Him than any person who ever lived.
Mary, I'm sorry I dismissed your agonies. Jesus, thank you for your sacrifice and for the courage of those you have made the members of your divine family. Help me to have that courage as well, when my cross (or, worse still, the cross of one I love) is to be borne.
The Ascension
The Ascension plants Man in the heart of Heaven. That's why the Glorious Mystery of the Ascension is traditionally associated with prayer for the virtue of Hope. Hope is oriented, not so much toward the future, as toward the fact that the same God we have known and know now is not going to abandon us. Temporally speaking, we have no hope. The future is ultimately that time when we and everybody we know will be dead. But eternally speaking, we have great hope. For we shall be with Christ in eternity.
This curious mixture of temporal loss and eternal hope is reflected in the curious fact that Jesus' promise not to abandon us comes at the moment when Jesus leaves us.
You shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and in all Judea and Samaria and to the end of the earth." And when he had said this, as they were looking on, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. (Acts 1:8-9)
But then, as Luke makes clear, Jesus is not really leaving. For the Gospel he has just written only tells us of what Jesus "began" to do and teach. His entire earthly ministry is only the spark. The Church, filled with His Spirit, is the Fire and He is now to continue His work in a way more intimate with us than it was during His earthly ministry. He is with us always, but He is also "seated at the right hand of the Father" in Heaven. And where our Great Pioneer has already gone, we will one day go as well. That's why He Himself said, "But now I am going to him who sent me; yet none of you asks me, 'Where are you going?' But because I have said these things to you, sorrow has filled your hearts. Nevertheless I tell you the truth: it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Counselor will not come to you; but if I go, I will send him to you" (John 16:5-7).
Ping!
Outstanding. Sacred Heart of Jesus have mercy on us. Immaculate Heart of Mary pray for us.
Brilliantly said!
Imagine a Catholic service for the parents of a son killed in Iraq in which the priest points to the grieving parents and says, "God was the one Who gave these parents their child and it was He Who sent their son to die for the freedom of the Iraqi people. They didn't sacrifice anything. They merely assented to be a part in God's plan.
Makes as little sense as the reverse and just as much. Raw prejudice to think otherwise.
If you are under the impression that Protestants don’t understand that Mary lost her son you are wrong. It’s not a secret only Catholic’s possess. The Protestant concern is worship of Mary since worship is exclusively reserved for God. The Catholic says “veneration” and some make a distinction and others simply worship.
So, if we have empathy for Mary as a person, that translates to giving here a place at the right hand of, and with influence over, the Diety?
IMLTHO I think that perhaps instead of focusing on defenses of Mary, my good friends of the Catholic faith should focus on matters Jesus, the Apostles, and The Prophets actually discussed...
That’s what she says, Do what he tells you.
I do understand that, but I have been involved in enough discussions with people who have run to the opposite extreme in an attempt to avoid supposed Catholic “idolatry”. They are so paranoid of the veneration of Mary, they basically relegate her to the role of a surrogate womb, a delivery system of divinity, instead of pondering what that human being must have been like who carried God in her womb.
I’m sure you are familiar with these kinds of Christians. Happily, I do not think they are in the majority, and I know that many Protestant folks do indeed love the mother of Our Lord. I believe Martin Luther was one of them actually.
No argument in that. Wedding at Cana . . . I am not sure of the "says" or "said" thing though. We'll find out one day.
One more thing about the distinction between veneration of Mary and adoration of God. I think it’s easy for non-Catholics to be confused about this, because they see us pray to both so it looks like practically speaking there is no difference between the way we treat God and a creature.
But one has to understand that to the Catholic, the Sacrifice of the Mass is even higher than personal prayer. Sacrifice is due ONLY to God—so you will never ever ever ever find a Mass offered “to Mary or a saint”: that is idolatry. The closest you will get is a Mass offered to God in honor of a saint.
Here are the texts of the Mass, I invite you to check for yourself. Mary, as you can see, hardly shows up in it whatsoever:
http://www.the-pope.com/missals.html
There is really an infinite gulf between the way we pray to Mary and the way we sacrifice to God.
Marking for a later read.
Blue, I sent you an fmail. Get back to me on it later.
Cite scripture
I have not read beyond the introductory 3 sentences preceding the blockquote, so I wanted to comment before I read the article.
I have no problem with Mary being a disciple of Jesus. I have no problem with Mary being one of the greats of the Bible — certainly as great as any of the prophets. After all, she was the vessel who bore the Lord. She did believe the angel’s words to her. She did say, “whatever He says, do it.”
She & Joseph faithfully raised her Son, observed the customs and law, attended synagogue, visited the temple.
She was one of those who braved the danger and stood with the Lord at the cross. She was one of those who first believed the resurrection.
There isn’t enough to say about her. She is a wonderful picture of motherhood, faith, and discipleship.
I have no problem with facts such as these.
I say this before reading the article, before reading any theology with which I might disagree, so that everyone understands that my faith has extremely high regard for the Virgin Mary.
A note for Protestant and Catholic in this particular area of disussion from C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity:
Some people draw unwarranted conclusions from the fact that I never say more about the Blessed Virgin Mary than is involved in asserting the Virgin Birth of Christ. But surely my reason for not doing so is obvious? To say
more would take me at once into highly controversial regions. And there is no controversy between Christians which needs to be so delicately touched as this. The Roman Catholic beliefs on that subject are held not only with the
ordinary fervour that attaches to all sincere religious belief, but (very naturally) with the peculiar and, as it were, chivalrous sensibility that a man feels when the honour of his mother or his beloved is at stake.
It is very difficult so to dissent from them that you will not appear to them a cad as well as a heretic. And contrariwise, the opposed Protestant beliefs on this subject call forth feelings which go down to the very roots
of all Monotheism whatever. To radical Protestants it seems that the distinction between Creator and creature (however holy) is imperilled: that Polytheism is risen again. Hence it is hard so to dissent from them that you
will not appear something worse than a heretic-an idolater, a Pagan. If any topic could be relied upon to wreck a book about “mere” Christianity-if any topic makes utterly unprofitable reading for those who do not yet believe
that the Virgin’s son is God-surely this is it.
I, for one, Padre, never doubted your deep respect for our Most Holy Theotokos.
This article speaks about the sword which would pierce her heart. Many, many converts to Orthodoxy from one denomination or another of Protestantism have related to me that they came to understand what we feel about the Theotokos, why we venerate her and what that veneration means and has meant for centuries, after they came to understand, almost always at some point during Great Lent, what suffering she experienced as the Mother of God. Very powerful stuff, Padre.
But I think you knew that. Didn't you? And that's what puzzles me. Why do you repeat this canard that "Catholics worship Mary" when you know it is a falsehood?
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