Since CS Lewis first published his Mere Christianity in 1952, it has remained a classic of Christian apologetics in its attempt to set out the fundamental truths of religion without denominational bias. It is much the same intention which lies behind the enormous success of the contemporary Alpha courses which are broadly evangelical in sympathy but again attempt to separate Christology from ecclesiology. For the Catholic, this method has to be problematic as we live happily with the sentiment expressed in the old child’s grace after a meal: “For what we have received may we be truly grateful”! Though faith and reason must always challenge each other, we believe that within Catholicism there is a continuity of witness and interpretation which reaches back to apostolic times, and we are content to work with the credal formulations handed down to us and make them our own (no matter the reality of the struggle at times).
Having finished Mary, Founder of Christianity, I remain somewhat perplexed as to the audience at which it is aimed. This is the work of an academic who describes himself as a Catholic and is clearly someone who knows the chosen turf extremely thoroughly, as evidenced by the extensive bibliography. The title of the book itself is tendentious, as I suppose it was intended to be, and the description might more accurately have been “Mary, the First Christian”.
That said, it is refreshing to have something added to the existing library of Marian literature which does more than hijack the mother of Jesus as a patron for modern causes or treat her as having the powers and predilections of a goddess. It is worth remembering that even such a profound mind as Karl Gustav Jung rejoiced at the 1953 definition of Mary’s Assumption into heaven interpreting it as the feminine being taken up into the eternal (male) Godhead forming, in effect, a sort of quaternity.
Unless we are careful about the boundaries of Mariology, the slippage into Mariolatry is all too easy.
Perhaps I should put my own cards on the table. In my Anglican days, I had a long association with the shrine at Walsingham (serving both as its priest administrator and subsequently as the chairman of its trustees). I am an absolute believer in the formula suggested by Hans Urs von Balthasar that a balance of Petrine and Marian worship is necessary for a healthy Church. On the one hand there is the need for the authoritative and magisterial to maintain the universal embrace of the Church but this will fall all too easily into arrogance, oppression and power politics (and how many times has it done so in our own times?) unless mediated by the softening of the structures associated with Mary’s ongoing vocation as mother of the living Christ and his Church. Marian devotion remains one of the major fault-lines within contemporary Christianity – marking a theological division of five centuries and more – and it is good to see Chris Maunder’s work as a potential for a meeting of minds between those starting from very different perspectives.
There is a valuable discussion here on the role of symbolism and metaphor in the use of Scripture. I appreciated the view expressed that “biblical study is like a mirrored glass through which it is difficult to see the reality of the first century”. Since at least the 19th century, believers have known that a fundamentalist treatment of the texts as literal record is no longer viable and that starting from the simple acceptance that all history is interpretive, intellectual integrity demands we should bring every possible angle to our understanding of their provenance and intention. Perhaps the greatest contribution Benedict XVI has made to Christianity of modern times will be seen to be his exhortation for us to look at the “sense” of a Scriptural passage: yes, use every critical tool available but then bring the light of faith to the text and let it become truly a fresh incarnation of the Word of God.
Mary’s virginity, assumed in the infancy narratives of both Matthew and Luke (and as part of the credal affirmation of orthodox Christianity for 2,000 years) is treated here (sympathetically) as a theological metaphor, as a construct of those trying to express the divine origins of Mary’s child. More interesting ground is covered in looking at Mary’s treatment in the Gospel of John where she is shown as instigating the first of the miraculous signs given by Jesus (the wedding at Cana) and as being at his side during the crucifixion. When I read theology many years ago at the University of Leeds under EJ Tinsley (a great minimiser) he argued that the Romans would never have allowed people close to an execution, so the rood lofts in our churches are a pious nonsense. It was heartening to read Maunder’s take on this event: “Jesus has arrived at his hour and his mother is present. He speaks from the Cross in order to bring the beloved disciple and his mother together into a new relationship … Church tradition has viewed this as a symbolic depiction of the new family the Church brought into being by the Cross.”
A consistent theme running through this book would seem to be that less is more. Because Mary appears rarely – and never in full focus – does not mean that she was not present or influential. “The downplaying of women in patriarchal texts in that time and culture tells us that the participation of women would have been much greater than the gospels suggest.” If, as Christian faith teaches, the resurrection of Mary’s Son is the core belief to which everything else leads and from which everything subsequently is given new meaning, then can we legitimately ask what part the mother had in the Easter mystery of her child. My heart warmed when I read that, like me, Maunder finds particular poignancy in the Stabat Mater and it is important to recognise that all four Gospels do record her presence under the Cross. Was Mary among those who greeted the Risen Christ in the upper room? Scripture is silent but much space is given here to the inter-relation of the women close to Jesus throughout his ministry, leading to the conclusion: “in each of these cases, birth, anointing and responsibilities associated with death rites – activities associated with the female in the culture – became the cornerstone of the popular understanding of the resurrection faith.”
Maunder’s penultimate chapter is headed “Mary and the Incarnation”, and for that section alone there would be justification for buying his book. In a society which is increasingly concentrated on individual aspiration a balancing renewal of the solidarity which should define humanity becomes ever more crucial. “It is clear how much Jesus depended on those who supported him and followed him,” which leads the author to continue: “At the core of my understanding of the Incarnation stands the union between Jesus and his mother Mary which makes any distinction of status between them unnecessary.” From the earliest debates about the co-existence of both divine and human natures in the person of Christ, Mary has had a unique voice to raise. At varying times in the past 2,000 years, devotion to her has increased by leaps and bounds and to some measure been expressed in the Church’s theological formulae. At root, though, for so many Christians, Mary is a person rather than a symbol, and the instinct to turn to her in the joys and sorrows of this life is as natural as the air we breathe – to borrow an insight from Gerard Manley Hopkins
Perhaps no one has summed up Marian devotion better than another great English poet, William Wordsworth. Surprisingly, given his pantheism and distrust of conventional religion, he wrote in a sonnet of 1822, The Virgin: “Mother! Whose virgin bosom was uncrost/ With the least shade of thought to sin allied./ Woman! above all women glorified,/ Our tainted nature’s solitary boast.” Those last words say everything: no pope could have better expressed it.
Father Christopher Colven is Rector of St James’s Catholic Church, Spanish Place, London.
This article first appeared in the Easter 2022 issue of the Catholic Herald. Subscribe today.
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