Is Mary for Everyone?

A monk friend of mine (Episcopalian) has been heard to say, “I don’t do Mary.” To be sure, a lot of people outside Roman Catholicism feel the same way. For me, though, a devotion to Mary has added substantial depth and color to the spiritual journey.

Perhaps a bit of background is in order. Maybe 10 years ago, I started wondering exactly what Catholics saw in Mary, so I went to the only source I knew: the Gospel of Luke. Here’s some of what I found:

• In the sixth month the angel Gabriel…came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. (Luke 1:26-29) Notice something about Mary’s reaction. She’s perplexed, she’s pondering, but she’s not scared out of her wits, as most people would be when confronted with an angel. This tells me that the world of angels—more generally, the world of God—is well known to her. She shows a spiritual awareness exceptional in a young teenage girl.
• Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38) The angel Gabriel has just turned her world upside down: she’s about to become an unwed teenage mother in a culture that could very well put her to death for it. And yet, at such tremendous personal risk, she yields herself to the Divine will.
• But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. (Luke 2:19; see also v. 51) A apt description of a contemplative spirit, yes?
  

So in these first two chapters, I found a portrait of a reflective, spiritually precocious young woman that deeply moved me. This was someone I could model myself after.

It was also someone I wanted to talk with. And so I have.

I don’t think that’s unusual. A good friend and fellow parishioner is profoundly skeptical of the mystical side of Christianity; he doesn’t believe in a literal Resurrection, let alone literal miracles, etc. And yet, in a time of deep personal crisis, he suddenly found himself saying the Hail Mary.

There is something very deep, very ancient, to which we connect when we connect with Mary. Perhaps it’s the simple yet timeless comfort of a mother—an especially strong pull for those of us who didn’t have perfect childhoods. Maybe it’s the deep sense of interrelatedness that seems to spring naturally from the feminine. Maybe it’s the wisdom of the archetypal wise woman. I couldn’t tell you.

The strange thing is, whenever I use Marian prayers or simply contemplate Mary, I always find myself moving on eventually to God. The Catholics know this experience well: they take Mary’s direction at the Cana wedding—do whatever he tells you (John 2:5)—as a universal sign that she always points to Christ.

None of this means I subscribe to all the various church doctrines about Mary. But I don’t think such a dogmatic belief is necessary. If that is indeed the case, then devotion to Mary can fit comfortably in many faith traditions. For me, at least, its value is inestimable. Maybe the same is true for you too.