With apologies in advance to all the theologians, I just want to add another thought from a non-theologian trying to make sense of Mariology in general, and, especially today, of the Doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. I'm currently trying to work through a collection of writings by Pope Benedict XVI and von Balthasar gathered in Mary: Church at the Source for a reading group formed out of last June's meeting of Catholic legal scholars at Fordham. The richness and depth of the ideas suggested by these readings is overwhelming. Quoting Newman: "When once we have mastered the idea that Mary bore, suckled, and handled the Eternal in the form of a child, what limit is conceivable to the rush and flood of thoughts which such a doctrine involves?" I probably should have started with Michael S.'s recommendation, The Complete Idiot's Guide to Mary of Nazareth, but I didn't...
What is emerging from my reading, though, is the emphasis that both Benedict and von Balthasar place on the theological significance of Mary's "Yes" to God (and the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception) for both Christology and ecclesiology. The probably much more accessible essays offered by Rob and Rick both made the same point about the significance of the Immaculate Conception that Benedict makes in the book I'm reading:
Without this free consent on Mary's part, God cannot become man. To be sure, Mary's Yes is wholly grace. The dogma of Mary's freedom from original sin is at bottom meant solely to show that it is not a human being who sets the redemption in motion by her power; rather, her Yes is contained wholly within the primacy and priority of divine love, which already embraces her before she is born. "All is grace." Yet grace does not cancel freedom; it creates it. The entire mystery of redemption is present in this narrative and becomes concentrated in the figure of the Virgin Mary: "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word" (Lk 1:30).
Von Balthasar addresses the Christological significance of the Doctrine:
As Christ's mother, Mary seems to enjoy a prius that no one else can equal. But let us not forget that she got this prius, not from her physiological motherhood taken in isolation, but from her total personal attitude of faith as perfect readiness to serve. And where does she get this faith if not from the grace that God communicates to the world thorugh the work of Jesus Christ? Mary is, then, as much redeemed as everyone else is, only in a special way grounded in her mission to become the Mother of Jesus. She is 'pre-redeemed' so that she can give birth to the Redeemer.
And Benedict addresses its ecclesiological significance:
At the moment when she pronounces her Yes, Mary is Israel in person; she is the Church in person and as a person. She is the personal concretization of the Church because her Fiat makes her the bodily Mother of the Lord. But this biological fact is a theological reality, because it realizes the deepest spiritual content of the covenant that God intended to make with Israel.
And, in a wonderful essay on the encyclical Redemptoris Mater, Benedict expands on the significance of Mary's maternity to the birth of the Church:
"...Mary's maternity is not simply a uniquely occuring biological event; . . . she was and, therefore, also remains a mother with her whole person. This becomes concrete on the day of Pentecost, at the moment of the Church's birth from the Holy Spirit: Mary is in the midst of the praying community that becomes the Church thanks to the coming of the Spirit. The correspondence between Jesus' Incarnation by the power of the Spirit in Nazareth and the birth of the Church at Pentecost is unmistakable. 'The person who unites the two moments is Mary."
So many quotes (I apologize), but the point I am trying to make is simple -- the Doctrine of the Immaculate Conception is, I think, as significant for making sense of the possibility of the birth of the Church as it is for making sense of the possibility of the birth of Jesus.
Theologians are probably cringing at the mash I'm making of this, so let me try to atone by sharing a favorite poem about Mary, by Rainer Maria Rilke. Yes, I know, its title refers to a different Marian feast day, but it's still relevant (and beautiful).
The Annunciation
Not the angel entering frightened her
(take note of this). However little others
startled at a sunbeam or the moon at night
peering into their room, she was
filled with indignation
at the form in which the angel
came; she scarcely knew
that such a sojourn for angels required effort.
(Oh, if we knew how pure she was.
Did not a hind lying in a forest once glimpse her, unable to take its eyes off her
so that, without pairing, a unicorn was conceived,
a creature made of light, the purest of creatures.)
Not his entering, but that he,
an angel with a young man's face,
bent closely down to her; that his gaze
and her raised eyes collided
as if suddenly outside all were empty,
and what millions saw, did, carried,
cramped into the two of them: just she and he;
looking and looked at, eye and feast for the eyes
nowhere but here at this point: behold,
this frightens. And they were both frightened.
Then the Angel sang his song.
Lisa
Michael Scaperlanda and some other MOJ-afficianados may be interested in this paper, which I just posted to SSRN. To download/print/read, click here.
ABSTRACT:
On March 31, 2006, I was
privileged to deliver the Keynote Address at the Symposium on "The Legal
and Constitutional Issues Presented by Same-Sex Relationships," sponsored
by the Loyola University Chicago Law Journal. This Essay, which is forthcoming
in the Loyola University Chicago Law Journal, was the basis of my Keynote
Address and draws on material in my new book, Toward a Theory of Human Rights:
Religion, Law, Courts (Cambridge University Press, 2007). I explain in this
Essay why I conclude that the Fourteenth Amendment requires states to
recognize, by extending the benefit of law to, same-sex unions. (I am inclined
to think that we are all "originalists" now; in any event, my
explanation presupposes an originalist conception of constitutional
interpretation.) I also explain, however, why my conclusion does not entail
that the Supreme Court should rule that states are required to recognize
same-sex unions. Along the way, I suggest that it would be much more
problematic for the Court, in the name of the Fourteenth Amendment, to require
states to recognize same-sex unions than it was for the Court in 1967, in
Loving v. Virginia, to require states to recognize interracial
marriages.
This Essay is part of a larger project, the point of departure of which is the
following: Whether a law (or other policy) is unconstitutional is one question;
whether the Supreme Court (in an appropriate case) should rule that the law is
unconstitutional is a different question. Contemporary constitutional theorists
are virtually unanimous in ignoring the analytic space between the two
questions. That a law is unconstitutional does not entail that the Supreme
Court should rule that the law is unconstitutional.
Since Mary has been discussed on this feast day of the Immaculte Conception (with another - Guadalupe - coming up in four days), I thought I'd engage in a little shameless family promotion. Two good introductions to Mary are the Seekers Guide to Mary (Loyola 2004) and The Complete Idiot's Guide to Mary of Nazareth (Penguin 2006).
For the past year or so, I've been working with the Notre Dame Task Force on Catholic Education, studying and thinking of ways to respond to the challenges facing Catholic schools. Today, Fr. John Jenkins, C.S.C., released the Task Force's final report, "Making God Known, Loved, and Served: The Future of Catholic Primary and Secondary Schools in the United States." I'm biased, of course, but I think the report is excellent: inspiring, challenging, and -- potentially -- valuable.
I was especially excited about the section entitled "School Choice: A Matter of Justice":
The Catholic Bishops in the United States
have, time and again, demonstrated courage and leadership by challenging Catholics and all people of good will to engage and embrace the Church’s rich social-justice teachings. On a variety of issues and in many different contexts – the sanctity of unborn life, the death penalty, war and peace, economic justice, and so on – the Bishops have exercised, prudently but forcefully, the teaching authority of their offices. In this way, they have served as faithful shepherds and pastors.
We believe it is crucial that the Bishops in the United States teach clearly and with one voice that parents have a right to send their children to Catholic schools, that these schools contribute to a healthy civil society and provide special benefits to the poor and disadvantaged, and that it is unjust not to include students who choose to attend Catholic schools in the allocation of public benefits. School choice is not just a policy option or a political question; it is an issue of religious freedom and social justice.
In recent years, the arguments in the public square for school choice and equal treatment of religious schools have moved from libertarian arguments about competition to moral arguments about equality, opportunity, and religious liberty. At the same time, support for school choice has expanded beyond a politically conservative base and now enjoys increasing bipartisan support, particularly among the poor and ethnic minorities. School choice and Catholic schools treat the poor as citizens of equal dignity. They promote the independence upon which constitutional government depends. And, they empower parents to pass on their values to their children.
These developments resonate strongly with principles of social justice, with principles of subsidiarity and solidarity, and with the preferential option for the poor. Public funds should be disbursed in such a way that parents are truly free to exercise their right to educate their children in Catholic schools, without incurring hardships or double-taxation. Accordingly, in the Second Vatican Council’s Declaration on Religious Freedom, the Church proclaims that “Government . . . must acknowledge the right of parents to make a genuinely free choice of schools and of other means of education, and the use of this freedom of choice is not to be made a reason for imposing unjust burdens on parents, whether directly or indirectly.”
Right after reading Rob's post about the Immaculate Conception and its meaning, I read this, by J. Peter Nixon, over at Commonweal's blog:
I’ve always sort of struggled with the dogma of the Immaculate Conception. Reading descriptions of its development is sort of like reading a very complicated legal brief. Lots of talk about the “imputed merits of Christ,” the theology of Duns Scotus, and all that. Most of the time, I enjoy that sort of thing. But not today.
Today I’m thinking about mothers. One of the reasons that Mary is so important is that, in some sense, she is the guarantor of the humanity of Jesus. Jesus had a mother, just like all of us. Much of what Jesus became as a human being, he became because of his mother.
If you met me and got to know me for a while, and then met my mother, you would immediately see some of the traits that she passed down to me. I suspect that those who got to know Jesus, and then met Mary, had the same experience. Maybe it was her smile, maybe certain turns of phrase. Maybe Jesus inherited his fiery passion, his fearlessness from her. She must have been a formidable woman!
One of the ongoing temptations in Christianity has been to deny, sometimes without even meaning to, the humanity of Christ. A lot of us are still carrying around a mental image of a fleshy “costume” animated by an all-knowing, all-seeing deity. The idea that Jesus could have been shaped in some fundamental way by his human environment sometimes seems threatening. But that is precisely why the Incarnation is so stunning.
It doesn’t seem completely unreasonable to me that if God was going to become incarnate in human flesh, that he would do a little advance planning. And perhaps one of the things He might be most concerned about is the woman who would bear Him, who would shape Him and guide him to adulthood, a poor peasant girl from the Judean countryside. How would she ever have the strength to bear the burden that would be laid upon her?
The answer? He gave it to her.
Oh, I’m sure this is very poor theology and someone far more learned than I could poke numerous holes in it. But in some sense, I think this is what the dogma of the Immaculate Conception is all about: a son’s love for His mother.
Nice. (I'm not a trained theologian, of course. But I liked it.)