Innumerable things are said of her. But for us, at this moment, let us remember simply that Mary is the first.

If believing God is the stuff of our salvation and sanctification, then Mary is the first. “Blessed…are those who hear the word of God and keep it,” Jesus said.[1] Mary is first to keep the word, responding with an immaculate sort of freedom, “let it be to me according to your word.”[2] She is the first disciple. She is the first among the poor, the anawim despised by men but beloved of God, the insignificant girl of “low estate” blessed unlike any other before or since. If the eternal reward of a Christian’s life with God is exaltation, then Mary is the first, assumed into heaven as a sign and servant of our own heavenly destiny. She is the paradigm of salvation and the exemplar of sanctification. She is the “centre of things,” as Newman said. “[M]an is God, and God is man…in Mary they meet,”[3] he said. Mary names what God does in our hearts and what we with Marian hearts do for the world. This is what Augustine meant when he said that “every devout soul that does the will of the Father by the fertile power of charity is Christ’s mother…”[4] If, in some manner, our personality is the fruit of communion, then everything about us and everything we do is, in a very real sense, Marian. That is, if we were to give our souls names, we would name them “Mary.”

But, of course, seeing Mary as the paradigm of our salvation and sanctification only half-describes her role. She is more than a mere example. Mary is, of course, our fellow-disciple, our sister in Christ, the first among believers. Yet, she is more. The Church has always sensed that Mary plays a unique part in our salvation, and the best way we’ve ever been able to describe this unique role is by calling her “Mother”—the Mother of God and our Mother. Christians since the very beginning have spoken of her this way, at least since John wrote his Gospel.[5] And this is not unfounded, merely pious talk; rather, motherhood names Mary’s service within the “order of grace” as the Church calls it.[6] The Church is not being idolatrous or inventive here; rather, when she calls Mary the Mother of God and our Mother, she simply believes the word of God itself, nothing more.

There is, of course, a dogmatic point to calling Mary the Mother of God. Newman said that the Church solemnly declared her the Mother of God in order to “protect the doctrine of the Incarnation.”[7] This is important, and it’s actually the theological basis for today’s feast;we celebrate this feast so close after Christmas for a significant and very practical reason. Nonetheless, I want to meditate with you briefly on the maternal care God gives us in the person of his Mother Mary; that is, on how she loves God and loves us and on how we’re to love God and love her and with them love others. Simply, I want us to meditate on Mary’s love and on what it means for us. And so let us listen to her as she praises God, as she sings her Christmas song of the advent of Christ in her immaculate womb. And so sings the young Mother:

My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.[8]

Mary is glorified by God and praises God for it. As with every other believing soul, Mary too is changed by her communion with God. She is raised from her lowly place, and she is given the honor of “all generations.” But that’s not all. Notice that her song does not end with her simply praising God for herself. Her song goes on: “And his mercy is on those who fear him from generation to generation,” scattering the proud-hearted and lifting up the lowly.[9] In the same breath she prays for others, for us. She cares for us. Mary is the paradigm of Christian existence certainly, but she is more. The whole of her song includes prayer for you and me. This is why we call her our Mother—because her motherhood “continues uninterruptedly…until the eternal fulfillment of all the elect.”[10] This is why the Church always commends us to her prayers, because she’s been praying for us from the first moment of the annunciation.

But what does this mean for us today? Of course, we should be devoted to the Lord’s Mother, and we should encourage such devotion among those we love. To place Mary in a sort of devotional quarantine is to ruin the whole of your Christian life. However, we should avoid that sort of kitsch Roman Catholic piety which serves only to antagonize those who have yet to discover the secret of our love for her. Our devotion should by no means be invisible; it should be beautiful. It should be an organic expression of the joy we feel as her children.

But, beyond devotion, how does Mary influence the way we serve others? I found this in Newman first, but Paul VI made mention of the same thing, and that is Mary intercedes even for those who do not know her, for “those who do not realize that they are her children.”[11] There is a legendary story told among Christians in Ethiopia of a wicked man gone to judgment. There he stood before the scales of justice, his sins weighing heavily against mercy when suddenly the Blessed Mother appeared. Looking toward the wicked man, soon to be eternally condemned, she felt pity as she passed by. Such was her grace, the story goes, that as her shadow was cast over the scales of justice, they tipped in the direction of mercy and the man was set free. Mary, it seems, cares for everyone. Her intercession is constant and extravagant, almost careless. Perhaps there’s a lesson in this for us. Perhaps we too should tirelessly love and tirelessly pray like her, even when no one seems to notice or care.

Saint John Vianney recognized this. As act of consecration for his ministry, he crafted a heart of gold and inscribed on that heart the names of every man, woman, and child in his village, deliberately consecrating everyone he served to the care of the Blessed Mother. He recognized, you see, what Mary meant for his ministry as a parish priest. And so too should we recognize what she means for us in the various ways we’re called to serve. We must serve like Christ, allowing Christ to serve through us. We must sacrifice and struggle. We must love through the fear and divisions of petty social dynamics, loving through the pain of wayward family members or scheming or frustrating coworkers. We must take the souls of people in our lives seriously, realizing they too can be saints. We must seek out the spiritually bent and the spiritually small and bring them to the personal touch of Jesus. Our Christian witness and service must be fearless and tireless. We must do it sometimes without praise, thanks, or acknowledgement. We must, in short, love like her, our Blessed Mother—like a tireless mother, loving often wayward children, sacrificing yourself for the sake of children who love you but often don’t know how to show it. This is how we should love and serve in this New Year, with divine and maternal strength. And we can do this, gladly and with great joy, once we’ve discovered that above, behind, and through us, the power of Mary’s maternal care lights upon all we do and all we love. Then we can rest all our cares in his grace, borne through her, singing the prayer of all our lives, the prayer of our joy and service, and the prayer of her children:

Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

[1] Luke 11:28

[2] Luke 1:38

[3] John Henry Newman, Certain Difficulties, Volume II, 87

[4] Augustine, Holy Virginity 5.5

[5] John 19:27

[6] Lumen Gentium 62

[7] John Henry Newman, An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, 426

[8] Luke 1:47-49

[9] Luke 1:50-52

[10] Lumen Gentium 62

[11] Paul VI, Marialis Cultus §56; Certain Difficulties, Volume II, 105

© 2020 Rev. Joshua J. Whitfield