Unreading Narrative

Lately I have been asked by more than a few people to explain, in plain terms, what precisely my dissertation is about. The exercise is a good one, yet difficult.

The object of my study is the Protevangelium of James, an “infancy gospel” that was likely composed in the second half of the second century (150-200). It tells the story of Mary’s birth, her betrothal to Joseph and the birth of Christ, among other things. The text was banned in the West, presumably because certain aspects of it were deemed heretical (or something along those lines).

My approach to the text is one that examines its relationship to the New Testament. Many in the past have noted the ways in which the Protevangelium uses material from the infancy narratives of Matthew and Luke to tell its story. My interest in the text is in the ways that it changes one’s reading of the New Testament. This is where I end up having to explain myself.

At the heart of my project is the notion that it is difficult to “unread” something once you have read it. In the age of Gmail, “unreading” is simple enough. You read something, and then you click “unread.” This is not exactly what I have in mind, however. I’m certain that at some point in your life you have had someone perform the following “experiment” on you: you are told that, for the next minute, you may think of anything that you like, as long as you don’t think about an elephant. When faced with this exercise, most will have difficulty thinking of anything but an elephant. Even when you think of “not an elephant,” you are thinking of an elephant. Perhaps this is a strange example, but it is fitting nonetheless.

I first read the Protevangelium in the Spring of 2010. Like many, I was fascinated by the story. Despite its simplicity, or perhaps because of its simplicity, something about it stuck with me. Shortly after I had read the text, Ellen and I decided to start reading the Bible together a couple of times a week (cute, right?). We started with Luke, and we took turns reading the gospel aloud, one paragraph at a time. To her amusement dismay, I started saying things like, “Well you know, in this text I just read, this actually means that.” Or, “Hey, in this text I just read, there is a character named X and they do Y.” I remember thinking to myself how silly this was, as Luke was much older than the Protevangelium. What use could this newer text be to interpreting the older? The answer, of course, is complicated, and my dissertation is an attempt to answer it.

This example serves to illustrate the idea that it is difficult to unread that which you have read. Narratives have a way of sticking with us and altering the way that we perceive reality (and texts, for that matter). Even those narratives that we try to “unread” crop up from time to time when they are triggered by various elements we encounter. So, one who reads the canonical gospels after having read and internalized the Protevangelium will see certain things that the evangelists themselves  may not intended or foreseen. The goal of my dissertation is to articulate what such reading might look like.

Cheers.

R. S. Thomas – Pietà

Always the same hills

Crowd the horizon,

Remote witnesses

Of the still scene.

And in the foreground

The tall Cross,

Sombre, untenanted,

Aches for the Body

That is back in the cradle

Of a maid’s arms.

Andrew of Crete and the Immaculate Conception

The focus of my research, the Protevangelium of James, is often cited as the earliest expression of Mary’s Immaculate Conception. As a consequence of my research, I have been reading many Patristic homilies on Mary, some of which speak of her birth and childhood.

Today, on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, I decided it may be fitting to share one. This is from an eighth-century homily, the Canon on the Nativity, by St. Andrew of Crete (translated by Luigi Gambero in Mary and the Fathers of the Church, 394):

Let all creation dance; let David dance as well, for from his line and his seed arose the branch that will bear the Flower, the Lord and Redeemer of all…

Anna was sterile and barren, but not childless in God’s eyes. For from all eternity, she was predestined to be the mother of the chaste Virgin, from whom the Creator was to come forth in the form of a servant.

Unsullied Lamb, who alone, from your womb, gave Christ the wool of our nature, we all celebrate your birth from Anna with songs.

Epiphany, 2011

Today the Magi find crying in a manger the one they have followed as he shone in the sky. Today the Magi see clearly, in swaddling clothes, the one they have long awaited as he lay hidden among the stars.

Today the Magi gaze in deep wonder at what they see: heaven on earth, earth in heaven, man in God, God in man, one whom the whole universe cannot contain now enclosed in a tiny body. As they look, they believe and do not question, as their symbolic gifts bear witness: incense for God, gold for a king, myrrh for one who is to die.

– Peter Chrysologus, Sermon 160, PL 52:620-62.

* image – The Epiphany, Giotto Di Bondone

The Mystery of the Incarnation (a video)

Scholars and theologians agree that this is likely what the birth of Jesus looked like:

Lumen Gentium 57

In the public life of Jesus, Mary makes significant appearances. This is so even at the very beginning, when at the marriage feast of Cana, moved with pity, she brought about by her intercession the beginning of miracles of Jesus the Messiah. In the course of her Son’s preaching she received the words whereby in extolling a kingdom beyond the calculations and bonds of flesh and blood, He declared blessed those who heard and kept the word of God, as she was faithfully doing. After this manner the Blessed Virgin advanced in her pilgrimage of faith, and faithfully persevered in her union with her Son unto the cross, where she stood, in keeping with the divine plan, grieving exceedingly with her only begotten Son, uniting herself with a maternal heart with His sacrifice, and lovingly consenting to the immolation of this Victim which she herself had brought forth. Finally, she was given by the same Christ Jesus dying on the cross as a mother to His disciple with these words: “Woman, behold thy son”.

There’s Something About Mary, Part 3

In the first post of this series, I gave a summary of the four Catholic dogmas concerning Mary. In this post, a New Testament witness to Mary’s role in the Incarnation, specifically that of Luke. Among the Synoptic Gospels, the Gospel of Luke stands out with regard to Mary’s role in the birth of Jesus. Matthew’s birth narrative certainly includes Mary, but she is a fairly passive character. She is found to be pregnant by the Holy Spirit (ἐν γαστρὶ ἔχουσα ἐκ πνεύματος ἁγίου) in Matt 1:18, but Matthew’s attention in this narrative seems more focussed on Joseph than on Mary; namely, the angel who visits Joseph instructs him on how he is to handle his future wife who has become pregnant. Mark, of course, has no birth narrative. Mary appears in the Gospel of John, and her character is significant, but her role in that Gospel will necessitate another post (I write this retrospectively, seeing how long this particular post has become).

In Luke, Mary’s role in Jesus’ birth is extensive and pronounced. After he has visited both Zechariah and Elizabeth to announce the forthcoming birth of John the Baptist (Luke 1:5-25), the angel Gabriel is sent by God to visit Mary in Nazareth. When he greets her, he does so by means of the title κεχαριτωμένη, a perfect participle that means, “one who has been graced.” Typically, English translations render this “favored one” or even “highly favored one.” In my opinion, a better translation of this participle would in fact match the sense of the Ave Maria, “one who is full of grace.” The perfect tense typically means action completed in the past, but with continuing effects into the future. All of these things considered, Gabriel’s address to Mary shows that she is in possession of grace, that she has been in possession of grace, and that her possession of grace is distinct from the rest who are in Luke’s narrative. Canonically speaking, her possession of grace distinguishes her from everyone else as well.

Gabriel continues by telling Mary that she will become pregnant with a son (by the power of the Holy Spirit), that her son will be called the son of the Most High (ὐψίστου), and that God will give to him the throne of David, which will last forever (Luke 1:32-33). Mary’s response to Gabriel has given rise to no shortage of theological reflection; she says, in reference to herself, “Behold, the servant(f) of the Lord. May it be to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38). This response, known simply as Mary’s Fiat, effectively sets in motion the events of the Incarnation. This is not to say that the Word becoming flesh was some sort of afterthought, or that without Mary’s consent humanity could not have been redeemed. To be sure, redemption could have occurred in any number of ways. However, the means by which God chose to act was through a virgin in Nazareth who was not only able to bear the Redeemer, but who was willing to bear the Redeemer. Mary’s being graced (κεχαριτωμένη) shows her ability to undertake such a task; her Fiat shows her willingness.

Mary’s encounter with Elizabeth is also worth noting in this discussion. When she goes to see her relative (Luke 1:36, 39-40), John the Baptist is still in Elizabeth’s womb. Upon seeing Mary (who is now pregnant), John leaps in the womb and Elizabeth is immediately filled with the Holy Spirit. She exclaims, “You have been blessed among women; also the fruit of your womb has been blessed!” Elizabeth then makes a statement that has often been glossed over, “Why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord might come to me?” (Luke 1:43). This entire scene is striking on account of its theological richness. Namely, Mary comes to Elizabeth when she is barely pregnant (i.e., the baby is likely not showing yet), and yet Elizabeth, empowered by the Spirit, is aware that Mary is with child. Moreover, Elizabeth asserts that Mary is the mother of her Lord. Now, I’m not going to press things too far and say that Luke singlehandedly gave birth (pardon the pun) to the concept of Mary as θεοτόκος that would be championed at Ephesus in 431…I’m also not going to say that Luke’s metaphysics of the Incarnation (if we may even speak of such things at this point) is sophisticated enough to support the theological weight of such a claim. However, I will say is that Luke’s portrayal of this scene seems to me as Mariological as it is Christological…it could perhaps be said to be more Mariological than it is Christological. Namely, although Jesus is technically in this scene (in utero), His character is quite passive in every sense of the word. The focus is on Mary’s being the Mother of the Lord.

At this point, we may rightly speak of a shift in focus. After Elizabeth has finished praising Mary, Mary begins to prophesy in what is now known as the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55). In this hymn of praise, Mary directs the reader’s attention, not to herself, but to God; specifically, she speaks of God’s saving action. Granted, Mary’s hymn of praise also addresses the topic of her own role in this work, especially at the beginning, but this is always as a means to show the larger picture of God’s action in and among humanity. In a sense, the Magnificat embodies what any talk of Mary should embody. That is, Mary’s role in this process is beyond question; as mentioned earlier, Mary’s Fiat has set in motion the events of the Incarnation, and as such, her Fiat shows her own willingness to participate in the work of redemption. The work of redemption is always and undeniably the work of God, but at least in Luke’s Gospel, Mary’s role in this plan remains undeniable.

Scattered throughout the New Testament, there are other texts that speak either specifically of Mary or broadly of Jesus having a human mother. I have chosen to focus here on the Annunciation narrative in Luke, as it strikes me as among the most Mariological narratives in the New Testament. If you’re interested in looking for yourself at the other New Testament authors who speak of Mary, the Marian Library at the University of Dayton has a fine resource that can be accessed here.

There’s Something About Mary, part 2

This is the first in a series of followup posts that started here.

There are four Marian dogmas professed by the Catholic Church, and ideally, all beliefs concerning Mary should be subsumed under these four. Notably, there is a movement among some Catholics that lobbies for a fifth Marian dogma, one which would proclaim Mary as Co-Redemptrix. It is an interesting discussion, but due to its not being dogma at this point in time, I shall leave it unaddressed in what follows. The four Marian dogmas currently professed by the Catholic Church, I present here in the order in which they were defined:

Mary is the Mother of God — Mary as theotókos (θεοτόκος), literally, “God-bearer” is a title that was bestowed upon Mary at the Council of Ephesus in 431. It was issued in response to Nestorius, who claimed that we might call Mary a “man-bearer” (ἀνθρωποτόκος), or perhaps even a “Christ-bearer” (Χριστοτόκος), but that to claim Mary as having born God would in fact be impossible, perhaps even heretical. Against Nestorius, Ephesus affirmed that Mary was in fact the God-bearer (θεοτόκος), as her child Jesus was in fact God, the second person of the Trinity who truly became flesh. According to Cyril of Alexandria, the humanity of Jesus had no other subject than the second person of the Trinity, the Word (λόγος); namely, Jesus’ body never existed apart from the Word, and thus the body of Jesus was in fact the Word’s own body. Now, a qualifier is needed, which is provided by Ephesus 431. That is, although the body of Jesus never existed apart from the Word, the Word did exist before the body of Jesus. That is, the second person of the Trinity has always existed, but the man Jesus has not. So Ephesus 431 proclaimed that Mary is “Mother of God, not that the nature of the Word or his divinity received the beginning of its existence from the holy Virgin, but that, since the holy body, animated by a rational soul, which the Word of God united to himself according to the hypostasis, was born from her, the Word is said to be born according to the flesh” (See Catechism of the Catholic Church, hereafter CCC, §466, 495).

Mary is an Ever-Virgin — Mary as ever-virgin (ἀειπάρθενος) is a title given to Mary at the First Lateran Council of 649, although the tradition itself dates to at least the second century. The dogma of Mary as ever-virgin states that Mary’s virginity remained intact before, during and after the birth of Jesus. The first part of this statement, namely, that Mary was a virgin before Jesus’ conception, is difficult to disagree with. What I mean by this is not that it should be obvious that Jesus’ mother was a virgin (this is indeed a matter of faith), but rather that most mainstream Christian denominations, Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox alike, have little to no trouble affirming that Jesus was “born of the virgin Mary.” The Apostles’ Creed and the Nicene Creed state nothing less. That Jesus is born of a virgin points to the fact that the incarnation was the work of God, a sign of the power of God working in and among humanity. That is, humanity did give birth to their savior independently…the savior is born through an act of God. It is the latter part of this pronouncement that tends to ruffle some feathers (in a technical sense).

The idea that Mary is an ever-virgin, that is, that she remained a virgin after Jesus was born, can be taken two ways. First, it can be taken to mean that, postpartum, Mary’s hymen remained intact; that is, that Jesus’ birth in no way affected the status of Mary as virgin (if you define virginity in the sense of an intact hymen). On the other hand, it can also be taken to mean that, along with maintaining postpartum integrity, Mary also chose not to engage in sexual relations with Joseph before or after Jesus’ birth. Many non-Catholics (or many Catholics, for that matter), will likely see the first option as the best, especially considering that the New Testament speaks of Jesus’ brothers and sisters (see Mark 3:31-35; 6:3; John 7:3 1 Cor 9:5; Gal 1:19). A Catholic response to these New Testament passages (that I don’t actually agree with, but that is the subject of another post) is that the authors of the New Testament here refer to Jesus’ cousins. [I have excised part of this post in hopes of exploring it in a further post. See comments below] So, in which of the two senses listed above is the dogma of Mary as ever-virgin to be understood? The answer is, “both.”

Mary was “immaculately conceived” — After the definition of Mary as ever-virgin, a period of roughly 1,200 years elapsed before Pope Pius IX, in 1854, defined the Marian dogma of the immaculate conception in the apostolic constitution, Ineffabilis Deus. Ask most Christians (Protestant and Catholic alike) what is meant by the “immaculate conception” and they will likely tell you that it refers to Jesus’ birth from a virgin womb. That Jesus’ conception was immaculate can (and should) certainly be asserted, but the immaculate conception as it was defined in 1854 refers not to Jesus’ conception, but to Mary’s. Pius IX wrote in the constitution, “We declare, pronounce, and define that the doctrine which holds that the most Blessed Virgin Mary, in the first instance of her conception, by a singular grace and privilege granted by Almighty God, in view of the merits of Jesus Christ, the Savior of the human race, was preserved free from all stain of original sin, is a doctrine revealed by God and therefore to be believed firmly and constantly by all the faithful.”

The dogma of the immaculate conception is not intended to tell us something about Mary for Mary’s sake; all Marian dogma ideally points past itself (and Mary) to Jesus. This dogma, while it clearly states that Mary was conceived without original sin (and presumably, continued to live without sin), points toward the mechanics of how the incarnation (or conception in general, for that matter) was thought to have worked. Namely, the male “seed” provides the form of the human being, while the female provides the matter from which the human being takes their existence. The dogma of the immaculate conception attests first to the belief that the incarnation was not an afterthought, some sort of “emergency plan” enacted by God to save humanity. Rather, the incarnation was willed by God from the beginning, and since God chose to become incarnate and be born in human fashion, it is fitting that God would need to provide a suitable vessel for God’s conception. The incarnation was not the only way that God could have acted to save humanity. It was, however, the means by which God chose to save humanity. Namely, the dogma of the immaculate conception attests to the belief that God chose to save humanity by taking on human flesh and by dying as an innocent victim. As Jesus’ flesh was unstained by sin, so the woman from whom He received his flesh must be unstained by sin. As I will show in a later post, this dogma itself dates early, at least to the second century, despite the fact that it was only defined in the mid-nineteenth century.

Mary was assumed into heaven, body and soul – The dogma of the assumption is a late addition to the corpus of Marian dogma, defined by Pius XII in the 1950 apostolic constitution, Munificentissimus Deus. This is, notably, the only time that a Pope has spoken ex cathedra since the dogma of Papal Infallibility was defined at Vatican I in 1870. He wrote, “we pronounce…that the Immaculate Mother of God, the ever Virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory.” If you have been paying attention to the three dogmas that preceded this one, you will note how this fourth and final dogma completes and in fact subsumes those that came before; Mary is proclaimed as immaculate, Mother of God, and ever Virgin. Naturally, it seems as if the dogma of the assumption should be seen as completing the previous three.

From early on in the Christian tradition, it has been believed that the corruption of the body was a symptom of sin, and that had Adam and Eve not transgressed in the garden, they would have lived longer, perhaps even eternally (although it is questionable whether Genesis supports the latter option). Moreover, it has been asserted and believed that Christ’s second coming (παρουσία) will bring a final defeat of physical corruption and death, and that all those who have previously died will be raised to live eternally with Christ. Paul seems to affirm as much in 1 Cor 15:22 when he writes, “Just as all die (ἀποθνῄσκουσιν) in Adam, so all will be made alive (ζῳοποιηθήσονται) in Christ.” Likewise, in Rom 6:23, “For death is the wages (ὀψώσια) of sin, but eternal life (ζωὴ αἰώνιος) is the gift of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” The dogma of the Assumption of Mary, in light of what has previously been said about Mary, attests to this belief. Namely, if Mary was kept free of original sin at her conception, and if she remained free of sin throughout her life, it logically follows that her body would not suffer corruption after death. The question of whether or not Mary died is a point over which Catholics and Orthodox disagree, with the latter asserting the “dormition,” but not the “death” of Mary. In Munificentissimus Deus, Pius XII seems to leave the door open for both, but in fact many assert (I think, rightly), that Mary did in fact die. This is, after all, what human bodies do. The dogma of the Assumption, properly speaking, does not answer the question of whether or not Mary died…it is only concerned with what happened after her time on earth was finished.

Comment and Synthesis — Presented here are the four Marian dogmas of the Catholic Church as I understand them from the Catechism of the Catholic Church. There are certainly other concerning Mary that are articulated there, but for the sake of simplicity I’ve chosen not to address them here. My goal in this post has been to set the stage for the conversation that follows by outlining the main points of Catholic belief concerning Mary, not to cover exhaustively the field of Mariology. My hope is that, by outlining these dogmas here, the reader will see that no dogma concerning Mary is defined for Mary’s sake, and that all Mariological claims should in fact illuminate Christological claims (or, according to Benedict XVI, Christological and Ecclesiological claims). That is, dogmas concerning Mary certainly point to the Virgin, but at the same time they must always look past her, toward her Son Jesus.

There’s Something About Mary, Part 1

Methodists (technically my people), or Protestants in general for that matter, tend to be somewhat suspicious of Mary. They certainly enjoy seeing her in the manger scene around Christmas, and occasionally she will pop up in various self-help books that instruct Christian women in their vocations of motherhood, but otherwise they are suspicious. Generally speaking (and I do mean generally), Protestants see the Roman Catholic (or Orthodox) attitude toward Mary as flirting with idolatry. That is, they fear that Mary is being worshipped alongside Jesus, and in response to this perception, they abandon any discussion of Mary in their theology, other than, “She gave birth to Jesus.”

As one who was from an early age raised in various Protestant churches, I have to admit that I have in the past shared the stereotypical Protestant concern that Catholics are dangerously close to goddess worship. I would be lying if I said that Mary didn’t still make me a bit nervous, at least some of the time.

As I begin my fourth year of study at a Catholic university, however, I have to say that my openness to Mary’s place in Christian Theology has undergone a drastic shift. I remain hesitant concerning some points of Mariology (such as ascribing to Mary the title of co-redemptrix) but by and large I’ve come to see that Theology without Mariology lacks a certain dynamism. It is, in a word, anemic. Moreover, Theology without Mariology can only happen if one chooses to ignore a fairly large portion (1600 years, conservatively speaking) of Church history.

I’ve titled this post “There’s Something About Mary, Part 1″ because I hope that it will be the first part of a small series of reflections on Mary and her place in Christian Theology. My Protestant brethren will likely say to this, “Well, the Catholics finally got to him,” which might not be terribly far from the truth, as far as this particular issue is concerned.

In the posts that follow on this topic, I hope to address (at least):

1. A summary of Catholic dogma and doctrine concerning Mary
2. The canonical witnesses to Mary’s role in the incarnation
3. The deutero-canonical witnesses to Mary’s role in the incarnation (especially the infancy gospels of James and Matthew)
4. The creedal witnesses to Mary

For now, I leave you with a link to a recent speech by Pope Benedict XVI on the topic, which my friend and colleague Anne Carpenter was kind enough to throw in my direction. As usual, I find the Pope’s words to be elegant, clear and erudite, regardless of whether or not I agree with him on every point.

Click here for the speech.