Please note: The reflections and opinions expressed in this piece are those of the author and are shared in the spirit of personal faith and contemplation. They do not necessarily reflect the official views of the Diocese of Palmerston North.
October is one of the special times in the Church’s calendar when we honour the Mother of Jesus, who is, for the Church in New Zealand, Our Lady of the Assumption. In the Church of the 1950s in which I grew up, it was a time for groups like the Legion of Mary or the Children of Mary, among other sodalities and groups drawing on her name. Mothers would dedicate their children to Our Lady, as my mother did with one of my siblings. When we prayed as a family, it was the Rosary around our parents’ double bed. My brothers and I used to enjoy our sister’s recital of the Hail Mary because, without knowing so, she used to say a shortcut version of it!
Two major constitutions of Vatican II (Lumen Gentium and Gaudium et Spes) speak of Mary (or Miriam, in a variety of spellings and languages) chiefly as Mother of God. There are several litanies with many titles, Queen of Heaven being one that firmly belongs to a world of monarchies. Recent popes, from Paul VI to Francis, have added other titles including ‘First Disciple’, ‘Mother of the Church’, ‘Mother of Hope’, ‘Queen of Families’, and ‘Solace of Migrants’. Francis instituted the Monday after Pentecost as a Memorial of Mary, Mother of the Church. Each of us could add our own titles in our own devotional practices.
However, the most important title is “Mother of God”. That came about at the Council of Ephesus when two bishops, St Cyril of Alexandria and Nestorius of Constantinople, argued over whether the mother of Jesus was Theotokos (literally, God-bearer) or Christotokos (Christ-bearer). In the end, Cyril won the day. [The story makes fascinating reading: click here.]
Like the mysteries of the Rosary, the title of Miriam as “Mother of God” is about Jesus Christ, our Risen Lord; it is about the recognition of her son as “Son of God”, the ‘Word made flesh’, in which at each Eucharist we acknowledge our Risen Lord as fully and humanly present (but risen in ways we can hardly imagine) and, at the same time, fully divine. Eucharist is the verb of giving thanks to the Father, through the Son, in the Holy Spirit, in the sacramental signs of Word, priest and people, bread and wine become the People of God in communion with and as the Body and Blood of Christ.
One of my novice masters, Br Romuald Gibson, used to say that if, in talking about Mary, we end up thinking and talking about Jesus, then we have done her proud. Authentic Marian devotion always points towards Jesus. Proper and sound Marian devotion has its foundation not on any apparition or private revelation but on the Scriptures.
A change of era presents us with the opportunity to reframe such devotion in new ways. Women theologians have much to offer the Church in faith and practice, even if, unlike St Paul, certain of our institutional leadership are slow to recognise the place of women. One theologian, Elizabeth Johnson, in her book Truly Our Sister, has it right, for she places Miriam of Nazareth in pride of place among the disciples and saints of the Church. Parallel with many women—and the poor among them—is the mother of Jesus and wife of Joseph, easily ignored, summarily dismissed, or discounted. Yet Mary was one who: did not fail to question (Lk 1:34); worried for her family (Lk 2:47f; Mk 3:30–32); looked to the needs of others, ignoring the dust on her feet as she went to her cousin (Lk 1:39, 56); was embarrassed for her friends at a wedding (Jn 2:3); and who suffered with the injustice done to her Son as he died a criminal (Jn 19:25), no thanks to the religious leadership of the day (Jn 11:48–50).
In this Year of Jubilee and this month of honouring our first disciple, perhaps we could return to the simplicity of the Marial roots of the Catholic Church in New Zealand. In this present era, that means living the spirituality of synodal humility—where we are unafraid to live with questions rather than answers, awaiting in hope the Spirit who whispers to us with surprise and delight, greater than any expectations we may imagine.