While walking through a men’s-only dormitory at Texas A&M University I once noticed that someone had written upon his door in capitalized white chalk letters, “I WANT MY RIB BACK!” At the time I laughed thinking that despite this young man’s obviously wounded pride he was still able to maintain his sense of humor. It wasn’t until several years had passed that I had the good sense to be offended.
Much of my life I have spent yoked to the presumption that women, being the inferior creatures that they are, owed everything they had (even their very existence) to men. Men graciously allowed us to play their games, work in their offices and read their books, but they were the better musicians, doctors, lawyers, athletes and even the better drivers. If a woman’s talent somehow surpassed that of a man’s she was the exception to the rule. Men were always better.
Though my parents endeavored to teach me likewise, I was convinced that I had been born into a world in which I could never successfully compete because half the competitors were given at least a ten minute lead. I would always be second rate and on top of this my value as a woman was dependent upon how men viewed me. Could I be rational despite my proclivity to female irrationality and emotionalism? Was I pretty enough? Was I seductive enough? And yet as soon as I was seductive I became the archetypal female temptress, the slut. Filthy used goods. And to top it all off, my female seductiveness was to blame for the Fall of Humanity and the entrance of sin in to the world. The woman made me do it! Oh, and by the way, don’t listen to the “femi-nazis”. They are in line with the devil.
It is because of this mentality that my biggest hang-up with the Catholic Church was never the episcopacy, the male-only priesthood, the “closed” communion table or even praying to the Saints. It was Mary. Unlike many coming to the Catholic Church, I held no misconceptions as to what the Church taught regarding Mary. I knew that the Church did not doctrinally elevate her to the level of the Divine. Though she may be co-redemptorist she is not in the sense that her role in the redemption of the world is equal to that of Christ’s, nor did she exist (as the Mother of God) prior to any part of God. She was a part of His creation, just as fully human as you and I. She even called Jesus her Savior.
As ridiculous as it may sound, it was Mary’s humanity that irritated me to the core of my being. Why was she, a mere woman, elevated to such a high place, a place I could never achieve? Was God picking favorites? What was it about Mary that made her even better than men to receive such a place of honor in the eyes of God while the rest of us women remained second rate citizens? It just didn’t seem fair.
At the beginning of our journey into Catholicism, my husband, Dan, and I decided that we would only become a Catholic if and when we were able to affirm all of the Doctrines of the Church without having to cross our fingers behind our backs. We did not want to be known as a “cafeteria Catholic” since we had long considered this to be a complete contradiction in terms. If we were to become Catholics we were going to do so fully, giving our entire selves to the Church. But as the completion of our third RCIA course and the date for our acceptance into the Church was quickly approaching, I was rehearsing all the ways I could break it to Dan that once again I was not going to be able to join the church because I just couldn’t seem to settle my arguments against the Marian Doctrines.
It wasn’t just that I feared the Marian Doctrines portrayed a God who loved some more than others based upon their obedience to Him, but it also seemed to me that many of the teachings—namely Mary’s perpetual virginity, Immaculate Conception and sinlessness—seemed unnecessary if not down right heretical. Furthermore, as far as I could tell, the entire Marian phenomenon was born out of Pope Pius IX’s ex-cathedra pronouncement of the Immaculate Conception of Mary in the nineteenth century. And if it was not based in history, I was not going to buy it.
So I went to Augustine, defender of orthodoxy, loved by Protestants and Catholics alike as the scourge of the most insidious of heresies. Surely he would have something to say about Mary, especially the ridiculous and unnecessary notion of her perpetual virginity. He did, and I read, “Virgin conceiving, a Virgin bearing, a Virgin pregnant, a Virgin bringing forth, a Virgin perpetual. Why do you wonder at this, O man?” (Sermons 186:1 [A.D. 411]). And then again, “Heretics called Antidicomarites are those who contradict the perpetual virginity of Mary and affirm that after Christ was born she was joined as one with her husband” (Heresies 56 [A.D. 428]). “Oh great,” I thought. “What am I going to do with this?” But then it only got worse. Saints Irenaeus, Tertullian, Justin Martyr, Jerome, Athanasius, Aquinas (just to name a few) and Polycarp (the very disciple of the Apostle John) all spoke of Mary being the Mother of God and the New Eve of her perpetual virginity and her sinlessness. I had been betrayed by the very writers whose wisdom and orthodoxy had comforted and led me through the darkest of nights. But I was not going to give up so easily!
I knew that the Marian Doctrines were soon to be discussed in our RCIA class and I prepared for battle. At one point during the discussion I asked, with I must admit a considerable amount of self-satisfaction, “How in the world is a married couple supposed to refrain from having sex? What did Joseph do the rest of his life—take cold showers every day?” A few snickers were heard from the back of the room, but the majority of the people who surrounded me were aghast that anyone could be so brazenly sacrilegious. I would have been embarrassed had it not been for all the practice I had had in sticking my foot into my mouth. I have become quiet adept at riding the wave of uncomfortable silence.
I wish that at that moment someone could have had the insight to point out to me that I was approaching the equation all wrong. I was judging the Marian doctrines, especially Mary’s perpetual virginity, through the lens of a culture obsessed with sex. Sex is everywhere we look-on television, billboards, and in magazines. Even our children’s programs are often infected with subtle messages of sexuality. In fact, thanks to the sexual revolution, we are no longer identified by our religions, vocations, heritages, but rather by our sexual preferences and experiences. Sex is a need they tell us; a compulsion we cannot control. Rather it controls us, tells us who we are and how we are to use our bodies. It all comes down to sex. Everything else, even the protection of our very life, is secondary to our sexuality. This is the reason my question, though poorly articulated, is so important for our day.
A day or so after my RCIA foible my father told me about a fictional book he was reading about the early life of Christ written by Anne Rice (I have yet to read the book myself). As he was describing the premise to me I began to consider what life would have been like for the Holy Family, and it occurred to me that once Christ was born everything had to change. Life as usual could no longer be for Mary and Joseph, because they were charged with the responsibility of loving, protecting, and raising the Christ Child. Perhaps, I thought, a part of this calling required their abstinence from sexual relations not because sex is defiling or for the lower creatures, but because (let’s face it) sexual relations are complicated even when they are done within the confines of a healthy marriage. That type of relationship takes your attention away from other things. And when you are charged with caring for the Savior of the World you must keep a sharp and steady focus.
Six months later I was haphazardly thinking about the Immaculate Conception still not able to see how Mary’s conception affected Christ’s—if God, I reasoned, wanted to protect Christ from original sin He could. He’s God. He can do whatever He wants—when the idea of the New Eve came to mind. Eve, the first of all women, entered the world free from the stain of original sin. If Mary is the New Eve she must be free of the stain of original sin as well. This is when the curtain flew wide open for me. My moment of revelation. One of us has actually completed the task we were created to fulfill from beginning to end, and that one is a woman. She is the disciple of all disciples, whose faithfulness and love we are to emulate. At long last, dignity to woman has been restored!