Time Immortal

For reasons that are unclear, many Protestants — and especially Evangelicals — find it important to argue against Marian theology, including her perpetual virginity and Assumption. Some argue that to elevate Mary in the way that Marian theology does “detracts from that simple faith and devotion to the Lord Jesus Christ.” But this charge is absurd on its face; as noted, Mary always points us toward Jesus. Indeed, it is pointless to acknowledge the Blessed Mother without first noting her divine Son, the Logos and second person of the Holy Trinity.

I previously noted that, absent Mary, we would not have received Christ from God, and would not have had the Gospel to preach. This remains true. But only the most ignorant person would be unable to recognize that this same statement implies something far greater about Christ (even here, Mary points us to Christ). Mary is significant, above all other human beings, but she is significant because of Christ. She is the Mother of the Son because the Son was born of her, and she is the Mother of the Son by the power of the Son she bore.

Exactly what in such teaching is worth such vitriolic opposition, I am not sure, but it is perhaps one of the most curious examples (apart from the rejection of Eucharistic theology and the plain meaning of John 6) of anti-Biblical thinking in non-Catholic Christian theological thought.

We’ve looked, already, at Mary’s perpetual virginity. Now let’s look at her assumption, just briefly. One main objection, from Protestants and Evangelicals, to the doctrine of the Assumption of Mary is that it is not taught in Scripture. This is true.

I’ll say that again: it is true that the Assumption is not taught in Scripture; Mary appears for the final time in the first chapter of Acts, and nothing more in Scripture tells us what fate ultimately befell her. But that’s a blade that cuts both ways; Scripture does not profess to us that Mary was assumed, bodily, into Heaven, but neither does it tell us that she suffered and died a mortal death. Ultimately, whatever conclusion we draw about Mary is an act of faith, which we must justify with other (and then indirect) evidence.

So, we have to ask: is there indirect evidence in Scripture that points toward Mary’s assumption?

The answer: yes, and then quite a lot of it.

John Henry Cardinal Newman, even before his conversion from Anglicanism, noted that the holiness of Mary was implied from Scripture: “Who can estimate the holiness and perfection of her, who was chosen to be the Mother of Christ? If to him that hath, more is given, and holiness and Divine favour go together (and this we are expressly told), what must have been the transcendent purity of her, whom the Creator Spirit condescended to overshadow with His miraculous presence? What must have been her gifts, who was chosen to be the only near earthly relative of the Son of God, the only one whom He was bound by nature to revere and look up to; the one appointed to train and educate Him, to instruct Him day by day, as He grew in wisdom and stature? This contemplation runs to a higher subject, did we dare follow it; for what, think you, was the sanctified state of that human nature, of which God formed His sinless Son; knowing as we do, ‘that which is born of the flesh is flesh’ (1 Jn 3:6), and that ‘none can bring a clean thing out of an unclean?’ (Job 14:4).”

The Church, from a very early stage, has believed in the sinlessness of Mary. St. Athanasius, in the year 106, observed to the Virgin that “truly you are greater than any other greatness. For who is your equal in greatness, O dwelling place of God the Word? To whom among all creatures shall I compare you, O Virgin? You are greater than them all O Covenant, clothed with purity instead of gold! You are the Ark in which is found the golden vessel containing the true manna, that is, the flesh in which divinity resides.” St. Ephraem, in the year 201, made two telling observations. First, he noted the relationship between Mary and Eve, “two people without guilt, two simple people, were identical. Later, however, one became the cause of our death, the other the cause of our life.” He also noted, unto the Lord, that “thou and thy mother are the only ones who are totally beautiful in every respect; for in thee, O Lord, there is no spot, and in thy Mother no stain.”

Put more plainly: the belief in Mary’s sinlessness can be found in the teaching of the Church in every age, starting within its first century of existence.

Now, a common objection to this is to note that Mary, being human, would still have struggled with concupiscence, and would have needed Christ as her Lord and Saviour; thus, she must still have been a sinner. Catholics do not dispute Mary’s need for the Lord as the means of her salvation, for all people do indeed need the Lord as the means of salvation. But consider. If I fall into a pit, and am pulled out, I will thank my rescuer for saving me. But suppose I am caught at the last moment before I fall into the pit. I haven’t fallen in…but still, I have been saved, haven’t I?

In like manner, Mary’s sinlessness flows from the power of Christ, and because she was the Mother of the Son. For as Cardinal Newman pointed out, with reference to Job: none can bring a clean thing out of an unclean.

One Protestant objection, in part to Mary’s Assumption and in part to her sinless nature, is based on the greeting of the angel in Luke 1:28 — in which Mary is called favoured of God, or full of grace. “Bodily assumption is said to be the natural effect of being highly favoured or full of grace. However, the same word translated “full of grace” (Greek, charitoo) is applied to all believers in Ephesians 1:6. Yet, no-one suggests that every believer should be assumed bodily into heaven soon after death!”

This is quite correct: nobody suggests that every believer in Christ is assumed bodily into Heaven.

But then, there is a problem with the Protestant’s argument itself, and not with the Catholic belief. The variant of charitoo that appears in Luke 1:28 is kecharitomene, which means ‘endued with grace.’ In Ephesians 1:6, the variant of charitoo that appears is echaritosen, which concerns the reality of Christ’s grace being freely bestowed (one notes that in Greek, “thank you” is a permutation of echaritosen).

In other words, though the word ‘grace’ appears in both places, it is used in vastly different contexts; in Luke, it refers to an internal quality, while in Ephesians it refers to grace bestowed…and which believers must choose to accept or reject (so it cannot be referring to an internal quality as yet).

Now, Catholics like to point to Revelation 12, and to the woman clothed with the Sun, as evidence that confirms Mary’s bodily Assumption. Protestants rightly point out that this is somewhat incorrect: “[they] wrongly assume…that this ‘woman’ is Mary and ignore…the problems of such interpretation. For example, the woman of Revelation, ‘being with child cried, travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered’ (Revelation 12:2); whereas Catholics believe that Mary ‘gave birth to her Son without pain’ (Pope Alexander III).”

Jimmy Akin, however, notes that Catholic teaching (the opinions of lay Catholics nonwithstanding) does not specifically equate the woman in Revelation only with Mary.

Unfortunately, most of the debate over what the Woman represents is misdirected because it does not take into account the way that Revelation uses symbolism.

The vision contains “fusion imagery,” in which one symbol is composed of elements from several different things. For example, the four living creatures John sees around God’s throne (4:6–8) are a fusion of elements from the cherubim seen in Ezekiel (Ezek. 10:1–14) and the seraphim seen in Isaiah (Isa. 6:1–5).

…The Woman in Revelation 12 is part of the fusion imagery/polyvalent symbolism that is found in the book. She has four referents: Israel, the Church, Eve, and Mary.

She is Israel because she is associated with the sun, the moon, and twelve stars. These symbols are drawn from Genesis 37:9–11, in which the patriarch Joseph has a dream of the sun and moon (symbolizing his father and mother) and stars (representing his brothers), which bow down to him. Taken together, the sun, moon, and twelve stars symbolize the people of Israel.

The Woman is the Church because, as 12:17 tells us, “the rest of her offspring” are those who bear witness to Jesus, making them Christians.

The Woman is Eve because she is part of the three-way conflict also involving her Seed and the Dragon, who is identified with the ancient serpent (the one from Eden) in 20:2. This mirrors the conflict in Genesis 3:15 between Eve, the serpent, and her unborn seed — which in turn is a symbol of the conflict between Mary, Satan, and Jesus.

Finally, the Woman is Mary because she is the mother of Jesus, the child who will rule the nations with a rod of iron (19:11–16).

Because the Woman is a four-way symbol, different aspects of the narrative apply to different referents. Like Mary, she is pictured as being in heaven and she flies (mirroring Mary’s Assumption). Like the Church, she is persecuted by the Devil after the Ascension of Christ. Like Israel, she experiences great trauma as the Messiah is brought forth (figuratively) from the nation. And like Eve, it is her (distant) seed with which the serpent has his primary conflict.

Conversely, portions of the narrative do not apply to each referent. Mary did not experience literal pain when bringing forth the Messiah, but she suffered figuratively (the prophecy that a sword would pierce her heart at the Crucifixion). Eve did not ascend to heaven. And the Church did not bring forth the Messiah (rather, the Messiah brought forth his Church).

So let us pause to review what we have covered for a moment. Mary was assuredly the Mother of the Son, was assuredly a virgin until the end of her days, and was assuredly free from sin all the days of her life — all by the power of Christ. She was, in all these respects, unique among human beings, far more unique than even the apostle Paul. Shall we assume that God forgot His first and most willing servant?

Of course not; given what Christians believe about God, we cannot assume that. So what became of Mary, after she disappeared from the Biblical narrative?

Catholic apologist Dave Armstrong noted an interesting Biblical parallel, which is relevant here, in his book A Biblical Defense of Catholicism:

Lest one think that a bodily ascent to heaven (of a creature, as opposed to Jesus) is impossible and “biblically unthinkable,” Holy Scripture contains the examples of Enoch (Hebrews 11:5; cf. Genesis 5:24), Elijah (2 Kings 2:1,11), St. Paul’s being caught up to the third heaven (2 Corinthians 12:2-4), possibly bodily, and events during the Second Coming (1 Thessalonians 4:15-17), believed by many evangelicals to constitute the “Rapture,” an additional return of Christ for believers only. All these occur by virtue of the power of God, not the intrinsic ability of the persons.

The Assumption of the Blessed Virgin flows of necessity from the Immaculate Conception and Mary’s actual sinlessness. Bodily death and decay are the result of sin and the Fall (Genesis 3:19, Psalm 16:10). Thus, the absence of actual and original sin “breaks the chain” and allows for instant bodily resurrection and also immortality, just as God intended for all human beings.

…Jesus’ Resurrection brings forth the possibility of universal resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:13,16), which is why He is called the “first fruits” (1 Corinthians 15:20-23). Mary’s Assumption is the “first fruits,” sign, and type of the general resurrection of all mankind, so that she represents the age to come, in which death and sin will be conquered once and for all (1 Corinthians 15:26). The Assumption is, therefore, directly the result of Christ’s own victory over sin and death. It, too, has a Christocentric meaning, in the same way as the Immaculate Conception and the designation Theotokos.

The Protestant objector might protest that “[Christ's] resurrection is the sure sign of Messiah’s triumph over the Devil. Together with all Christians, Mary would also benefit from Christ’s victory according to God’s plan of salvation at the “resurrection of life.” That is still a future event.” And Catholics would agree. Look again at what Armstrong had to say, above.

Putting Armstrong’s words more plainly, Mary — in the end of her days upon the Earth — served for us the same purpose that she served in giving her assent to being the mother of the Christ child; she is the foremost example of a Christian and disciple of Christ. She began that role with her unfailing devotion to the will of God; it is fitting that she should complete that role (in this world) by being our example of the fulfilled promise of Christ. In her sinless beauty, she was not subject to death and decay, as all the rest of us must endure, but was instead immediately glorified in the hereafter, caught up bodily in the glory and salvation of Christ.

It is true that Mary’s Assumption is a tradition that the Church inherited not from her first fathers, but from the Byzantines. It is true that those denounced as heretics, in the 4th and 5th centuries, were also the first to teach the Assumption of Mary (but it should be noted that while the Transitus was rejected as heretical, this does not imply that all the teachings within it were seen as heretical by the Church; a portion of them certainly were, but that is all we can be certain of).

But all of this doesn’t argue against the validity of the teaching. Nor does it in any way undermine the fact, as Alan Schreck noted, that “in the hundred years before Pope Pius’ declaration, the popes had received petitions from 113 cardinals, 250 bishops, 32,000 priests and religious brothers, 50,000 religious women, and 8 million lay people, all requesting that the Assumption be recognized officially as a Catholic teaching. Apparently, the pope discerned that the Holy Spirit was speaking through the people of God on this matter.”

As Mark Shea notes, the theological gap between Catholics and Protestants is, in one particular regard, quite wide. Whereas Protestant — especially evangelical — theology tends to focus on Scripture, verbal confession of faith, and the action of the Spirit, Catholic Theology tends to focus on contemplation, the human person, and (of course) Eucharist. To an evangelical, prayer is supposed to be a means of achieving something. To a Catholic, prayer is meant to draw us closer into unity with God.

And in a certain way, the difference between Catholics and Protestants can be abstracted in the difference between women and men. Evangelicalism and Protestantism0 tend to be a more masculine expression of faith, while Catholicism tends toward the feminine (no doubt inspired by the Biblical image of the Church as the bride of Christ). The misunderstandings we have of each other tend to follow the same lines.

Perhaps it’s no surprise, then, that while Protestants and evangelicals tend to favour St. Paul as their example of witness, Catholics tend to favour Mary as the ideal Christian model (remember: Jesus can’t show us how to be a disciple of Jesus; only a follower of Jesus can do that). And of course, at the heart of the Marian example is her assent to God’s plan in her saying “let it be done to me” to the angel, when the angel announced that she was to bear the Son of God.

I think we can all accept it to be true that, were it not for Paul’s considerable efforts, the Gospels would never have reached the Gentiles. No earnest Christian could disagree with this statement. But far too many Christians disagree with another equally reasonable statement: that without Mary, Christ would not have been born; the Gospels, then would never even have come to Earth!

I’ve heard all manner of responses to this before, most of which tend to be variants on “oh, God would have just chosen someone else.” To such a speaker, Mary is merely a life-support system for her uterus, a hot-swappable piece of hardware that can be disposed of at a later date when no longer necessary.

It is odd to hear such a view espoused by supposedly “Biblical” Christians, because such a view plainly contradicts Scripture. We come back to Luke 1 again:

[26] In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a city of Galilee named Nazareth,

[27] to a virgin betrothed to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary.
[28] And he came to her and said, “Hail, O favored one, the Lord is with you!”

Again, it serves to note that the term “o favoured one” is often translated as “full of grace”, and denotes that Mary herself was possessed of the sanctifying grace of the Lord at the outset. The specific term translated from Greek — kecharitomene — is the “passive participle of charitoo and means endowed with grace (charis), enriched with grace as in Ephesians. 1:6,…The Vulgate gratiae plena “is right, if it means ‘full of grace which thou hast received’; wrong, if it means ‘full of grace which thou hast to bestow’”. The translation of this word is undisputed across the broad spectrum of Christian denominations, and is a part of all common extant translations of the Bible.

In other words, we all agree on one thing, at least: Mary was indeed full of grace, and highly favoured of God. But the specific kind of grace she was endowed with was sanctifying grace, the salvific grace of God that is the basis of justification (c.f. Romans 5:20-21). We might thus construct a logical analysis thusly:

Premise: The Bible teaches that we are saved by the grace of God alone.
Premise: To be full of the grace of God is, thus, to be saved

Observation: Mary was full of the grace of God (c.f. Luke 1:28)

Conclusion: Mary, being full of grace (premise #1) is thus in a state of salvific sanctification (premise #2).

What does this mean? Well, for starters, it speaks to the uniqueness of Mary in God’s plan, and why no other woman would do. Mary was appointed, by God, for the task of bearing the Son. She was preserved from all sin by the sanctifying grace of God. And yet she was not an automoton; to the last moment, God left the decision as to whether or not she would bear the son in Mary’s hands; the angel appeared to announce the news to her, yes, but also to receive her consent (Luke 1:38).

And absent the consent of Mary, absent her saying “behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word,” we don’t have Christ. Not in the flesh, at any rate. We do have the Logos, the Word, the second person of the Holy Trinity. But we don’t have Jesus, the man who lived and who died, and who rose again to fulfill the Scriptures and bring salvation to all the nations.

Would God have simply chosen another, had Mary not given her assent? Is that to say, then, that another young, virginal woman existed who was already full of the sanctifying grace of the Lord? No, the very suggestion is absurd on its face, and the angel’s greeting makes it very clear that Mary has been chosen and called by name. Moreover, in the Magnificat (the name given to Mary’s testimony to Elizabeth, later in Luke 1), Mary confesses:

[46] And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord,
[47] and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
[48] for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden.
For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed;
[49] for he who is mighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.

The Spirit desired us to know that Mary is blessed of God, and (moreover) that Mary is to be seen as, and called, “blessed” by every Christian. This is no interchangeable uterus-support system we are talking about here: this is a unique woman, solely chosen of God to give birth to the Saviour. Had she refused, there was no other.

Mary’s “yes” to God was the first participation of a human being in the salvific plan of God, and was the first step by which our salvation was secured. She was the Mother of the Son. Mary, alone amongst all women, gave us Jesus, and only Mary, alone amongst all women, could have given us Jesus.

Had she refused the angel, we would likely all still be living under the Old Covenant. Food for thought.

So why does Mary matter to Catholics? Indeed, why should Mary matter to Christians, of any kind, at all? There is actually a very good reason, and it has quite a lot to do with Jesus‘ instruction to the beloved apostle at the foot of the Cross: “behold your mother.” It also has a lot to do with Mary herself, and her role in God’s plan of salvation. Because Mary is not just another human being — she is, for Christians, a special example, and also a marker.

Because Mary, you see, always points us to Christ. Mary glorifies Christ. And Satan is well aware of this, because historically, those heresies and false teachings which have sought to undermine the full divinity of Christ have often begun by attacking some aspect of the theology concerning Mary.

Let’s begin, though, by considering an objection to the perpetual virginity of Mary advanced by some Christians.

It is the official position of the Roman Catholic Church that Jesus’ mother Mary remained a virgin for her entire life. Is this concept Biblical? Before we get into looking at specific Scriptures, it is important to understand why the Roman Catholic Church believes in the perpetual virginity of Mary. The Roman Catholic Church views Mary as “the Mother of God” and “Queen of Heaven.” Catholics believe Mary to have an exalted place in Heaven, with the closest access to Jesus and God the Father. Such a concept is nowhere taught in Scripture. Further, even if Mary did occupy such an exalted position, her having sexual intercourse would not have prevented her from gaining such a position. Sex in marriage is not sinful. Mary would have in no way defiled herself by having sexual relations with Joseph her husband. The entire concept of the perpetual virginity of Mary is based on an unbiblical teaching, Mary as Queen of Heaven, and on an unbiblical understanding of sex.

The key thing here to which I wish to draw attention is the isolation of the belief in Mary as the Theotokos — the God-bearer, the Mother of God — as a solely Catholic belief. Note the implied rejection of the belief in Mary being the Mother of God on the grounds that it is apparently unbiblical.

We’ve addressed the matter of the above author’s lack of understanding of sex in the Bible already, and nothing further needs to be said on that matter. But let’s look at the rejection of the Catholic belief that Mary is the Theotokos, the Mother of God. This sounds like something fairly new, but it is actually a very old fallacy indeed.

As Mark Shea notes, “in the fifth century there arose (yet again) the question of just who Jesus is. It was a question repeated throughout antiquity and, in this case, an answer to the question was proposed by the Nestorians. They argued that the mortal man Jesus and the Logos, or Second Person of the Trinity, were more or less two persons occupying the same head. For this reason, they insisted that Mary could not be acclaimed (as she had been popularly acclaimed for a very long time) as Theotokos, or God bearer. Instead, she should only be called Christotokos, or Christ bearer. She was, they insisted, the Mother of Jesus, not of God.”

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? But consider, O Reader: Nestorianism was a heresy that the Church had to address fairly early on in its life (indeed, it happened not long after the formal canonization of Scripture!). Something goes awry when we reject Mary as the mother of God, as the concerned Christian above has done.

Shea continues: “The problem with this was that it threatened the very witness of the Church and could even lead logically to the notion that there were two Sons of God, the man Jesus and the Logos who was sharing a room with Him in His head. In short, it was a doorway to theological chaos over one of the most basic truths of the Faith: that the Word became flesh, died, and rose for our sins.”

John 1 makes it very clear: the Logos (the Word) is God. Jesus is God. Only the es make the mistake of separating God and the Word, incorrectly modifying John 1 to read “the Word was a god.” For all intents and purposes, all Christians today accept it as a basic article of faith that Jesus, the Word, is God, one in being with the Father and the Spirit in the blessed union that is the Holy Trinity, which God ultimately is.

And all the Gospels make it equally clear: Mary is the mother of Jesus, the Word (who is God) made flesh. It’s right there in the Bible: Mary is the mother of God (the Word) made flesh; she is the Mother of God. And to deny this actually begins to deny the very divinity of the human person of Christ. And to this heresy, notes Shea, “the Church formulated its response. First, Jesus Christ is not two persons occupying the same head. He is one person possessing two natures, human and divine, joined in a hypostatic union. Second, it was appropriate to therefore call Mary Theotokos because she’s the Mother of the God-Man. When the God-Man had His friends over for lunch, He didn’t introduce Mary saying, “This is the mother of my human nature.” He said, “This is my mother.”

Why did the Church do this? Because, once again, Mary points to Jesus. The dogma of the Theotokos is a commentary on Jesus, a sort of “hedge” around the truth about Jesus articulated by the Church. Just as Nestorianism had tried to attack the orthodox teaching of Christ through Mary (by forbidding the veneration of her as Theotokos), now the Church protected that teaching about Christ by making Theotokos a dogma. That is a vital key to understanding Marian dogmas: They’re always about some vital truth concerning Jesus, the nature of the Church, or the nature of the human person.”

Jesus was fully human, and yet fully divine, and these two aspects of Him were, and remain, inseparable. He was born in a very human birth. He lived a very human life. He suffered through and died a very human death. And He rose again as a human, at all times the Word and flesh perfectly united, for the forgiveness of sins and the salvation of mankind.

It isn’t easy, at first, to see the machinations of the devil in the Nestorian heresy, but we can see the devil’s intent in looking at the implications of what seems, on the surface, to be a fairly innocuous teaching concerning a somewhat perplexing statement concerning Mary. For if we deny, as some Christians unfortunately continue to do (apparently in their zeal to condemn Catholicism), that Mary was the Mother of God, we must necessarily deny that she was not the mother of the Word, only of the flesh and blood in which the Word was clothed.

Which means that Jesus, the Logos, did not have a fully human birth.

Which means that Jesus, the Word, did not live a fully human life.

Which means that Jesus, the Christ who is God, did not suffer through and die a fully human death.

Which has, I submit to the Reader, disastrous implications for our salvation prospects as Christians. I believe Paul had something to say about us being most pitiable in just such a circumstance. And yet just such a circumstance arises out of what seems to be a straightforward rejection of a doctrine that doesn’t even directly concern Christ! But that is the devil’s cunning, for Satan knows that if the mother can be undermined, the Son can be undermined because of it.

Now, why is this important to Christians? Well, there’s two reasons. The first, of course, is that we are told we are to defend the faith against false teachings, and it behooves us to do so. Denial of Mary’s status as Theotokos is just one such false teaching, but it is a particularly vicious and odious one because of its far-reaching implications. But it is also important to us because we are commanded to honour our father and our mother. And that doesn’t just apply to our blood parents either, I might point out. We are to honour our Father in Heaven as well…and likewise, our Mother.

Possible Objection #7: wait, what? Our Mother in Heaven???!!

Response to Objection #7: yes indeed.

The author of the Gospel of John notes that he did not record everything that transpired in the life, death, and resurrection of Christ word-for-word, nor did he include every event in his account of Jesus. In John 20, he disclaims his work:

[30] Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of the disciples, which are not written in this book;

[31] but these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that believing you may have life in his name.

John is giving us a bit of a hint here: not everything about Jesus or His life was recorded in the Gospel, but enough of significance was recorded, that we might believe. The author is suggesting to us that everything within his account of the life, death, and resurrection of Christ has significance above and beyond simply being a relating of who Jesus was, and what He did — every event in John’s Gospel has significant theological meaning.

So when Christ tells the beloved disciple “behold your Mother,” John doesn’t record it, as Mark Shea notes, “because he thought his readers might be curious about domestic arrangements for childless Jewish widows…For the Beloved Disciple is you and not merely John. Mary is your mother and you are her child. And so we are to look to her as mother and imitate her as she imitates Christ.”

The whole of the Gospel of John is written in an odd perspective; though it has been long-held by almost all Christian theologians that the term “the disciple whom Jesus loved” is used, in John’s Gospel, in a self-referential capacity, John’s choice of phrasing has always been understood to mean that what is true for the beloved disciple is true for all whom Christ loves, and who follow Christ. When Jesus tells John, the beloved, “behold your mother,” He tells us that as well. He entrusts care of Mary to us, and presents her to us as our mother, and our example.

In the normal family model, the mother is the principal example that children have to draw upon, especially at younger ages. Mom is the teacher, the witness, and the person whom young children should first begin to imitate when they begin to strive to behave morally. This is God’s “very good” design in action, O Reader, and it comes as no surprise that Christ would, in His desire that humanity continue to learn of and draw near to Him, present His mother to us to be our mother, to be our example, and for us to imitate in her surrender to (and participation in) the will of God, and in God’s salvific grace.

Because there is one thing Christ cannot do directly: he cannot show us what a follower of Christ looks like. And as Shea notes, “the first and best model of the disciple of Jesus is the one who said and lived “Yes!” to God, spontaneously and without even the benefit of years of training or the necessity of being knocked off a horse and blinded. And she continues to do so right through the agony of watching her Son die and the ecstasy of knowing Him raised again.”