12/14/2018 Why I came to believe that Mary was conceived without sin. (Part 2)
Dr. Leroy Huizenga
https://www.catholicworldreport.com/2018/12/14/why-i-came-to-believe-that-mary-was-conceived-without-sin/? https://www.catholicworldreport.com/author/huizenga-leroy/ Thinking of Mary in a deeply biblical way
When I was considering becoming Catholic, then, I was in a good position to think about Catholic claims about Mary in a deep biblical way.
Jesus fulfills multifold figures from the Old Testament (Isaac, Moses, Israel itself, et alios), the Church is a new Israel, Paul likely understood himself as the suffering servant.
Might not the New Testament writers have similar drew on the Old Testament in presenting Mary?
Further, might not the logic of the story of salvation history require a certain understanding of Mary’s role therein?
In teaching Introduction to the New Testament in my first full-time teaching gig, I of course had to address the Gospel of Luke.
And so I dug deep into the first couple of chapters, in which Mary figures prominently.
What did I find there?
In the first chapter, we encounter the aged priest Zechariah and his barren wife Elizabeth.
Immediately our thoughts should turn to the original Holy Family, aged Abraham and barren Sarah, who eventually received the gift of Isaac.
Moreover, Abraham was effectively a priest, like the other patriarchs.
Often overlooked, Genesis is concerned with cult, as the patriarchs offer ritual sacrifice at significant moments.
And the Archangel Gabriel tells Zechariah, “your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall call his name John.”
It’s the same pattern used in God’s announcement to Abraham in Genesis 17:19: “Sarah your wife shall bear you a son, and you shall call his name Isaac.”
But Zechariah does not believe Gabriel’s words, asking a doubt-filled question: “How shall I know this?
For I am an old man, and my wife is advanced in years.”
(Luke 1:18).
And so he is struck dumb because he did not believe Gabriel’s words until baby John is born.
(Protip: When an archangel speaks, believe him.)
So we have a typology between Zechariah’s family and Abraham’s family.
But it becomes a triple typology, a verbal triptych empaneling salvation history: Gabriel next goes to the Virgin Mary.
He greets her, and declares that she will bear the Messiah, the Son of the Most High.
Like Zechariah, she asks a question: “How can this be, since I have no husband?”
(Luke 1:34).
But unlike Zechariah, she is not punished.
Rather, the Archangel Gabriel answers her, explaining to her that she’ll give birth as a Virgin, conceiving by the power of the Holy Spirit.
And she responds with her famous fiat: “Behold,
I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.”
(Luke 1:38).
And of course she will bear Jesus, the new Isaac, to whom John pointed.
All this proves nothing.
But it suggests everything.
Why, I asked myself, is Zechariah punished, but Mary not?
They each asked a question.
The deference the Archangel Gabriel shows Mary is incredible.
Without entering into philological and linguistic debates about the Greek word kecharitōmenē—at least “highly favored by God” or (as Catholics believe) “full of grace”—the asymmetry between Zechariah and Mary in the tight triple typology of Luke 1 intrigued me.
It proves nothing, but suggests everything. Protestants in principle only want to believe that which Scripture expressly asserts with perfect clarity.
Since nowhere does Scripture say Mary was conceived without sin, they find the Catholic dogma of the Immaculate Conception unbiblical.
But Catholics read differently. For Scripture does not only assert; it also implies and suggests.
Catholics ask what the biblical stories—indeed, the overarching biblical story of salvation history—permits, encourages, requires.
For us, reading the Bible is a matter of logic, of theo-logic.
That Mary’s question receives an encouraging response instead of punishment is suggestive.
It fits, then, with theology, and offers us a model for how theology and Scripture support each other.
It’s an assumption of Luke’s Gospel and indeed the whole New Testament that Jesus is sinless.
Theologically, that implies—requires—that Mary must be sinless, for Jesus must take sinless flesh from his mother.
If he were to take sinful flesh on, he wouldn’t be sinless—unless we want to be Gnostic or docetist (two heresies that go hand in hand), and suggest Jesus’ soul was sinless but body sinful.
Apart from the problem that the Bible throughout bears witness that God cannot dwell in the direct presence of sin, this would mean there was no real Chalcedonian union of the two natures, human and divine in Christ.
We might end up as some sort of Nestorians to boot, with the natures divided.
Theologically necessary, and theologically possible
So Mary needs to be sinless.
How is this possible?
By the Immaculate Conception.
The later merits of Christ are applied to Mary proleptically.
To the Protestant that sounds like theological gymnastics born of desperation.
But it’s theologically necessary, and theologically possible.
God is outside of time.
And if one insists on biblical backing, the warrant is there in the example of Abraham.
How, we might ask, was Abraham justified by faith (Genesis 15:6, a verse St. Paul draws on twice, in both Romans and Galatians, so foundational for Protestants), over two thousand years before Christ suffered and died for sins?
Abraham must have been justified proleptically, and if God could do it for him, God can do it for Mary.
Why not?
If theology demands Mary be sinless and Scripture shows that God can make people righteous well before Christ, then we can say that the story of Mary in Luke 1 fits with Mary’s sinlessness.
The Immaculate Conception explains why Mary isn’t chastised but answered.
(Of course, she asks her question, I think, because she’s taken a vow of perpetual virginity in accord with Numbers 30, and so wasn’t planning on having children, but that’s a discussion for a different day.)
Scripture is of a piece; theology is of a piece; reality is of a piece; all superintended by God.
Some modern Protestant theologians have asserted that Christ took on sinful human nature (thinking of Thomas Torrance), and before them Protestant scholarship largely in Germany in the nineteenth century gave traditional Christian beliefs—from the divinity of Christ to the Immaculate Conception and most everything in between—the acid bath of higher criticism.
Some found Mary so distasteful they suggested Luke didn’t write Luke 1–2; a later proto-Catholic wrote them and appended them to the beginning of Luke.
But earlier Protestants maintained many historic Marian teachings.
Ulrich Zwingli wrote, “I esteem immensely the Mother of God, the ever chaste, immaculate Virgin Mary” (quoted in G. Philips et al., De Mariologia et Oecumenismo, Rome, Pontificia academia Mariana internationalis, 1962, p. 456).
For his part, Martin Luther thundered, “She is full of grace, proclaimed to be entirely without sin…
God’s grace fills her with everything good and makes her devoid of all evil…
God is with her, meaning that all she did or left undone is divine and the action of God in her.
Moreover, God protected her from all that might be hurtful to her.”
(Luther’s Works, ed. Lehmann; Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1968).
The original Protestants knew what later Protestants, in their attempt to be biblical, have forgotten: that Mariology is a reflex of Christology, that beliefs about Jesus require believing certain things about Mary.
As Jesus takes his flesh from Mary, Mother and Son are a package deal.
And so sinless Mary was in a position to undo what Eve did.
She cooperated with God, having that perfect Edenic free will that Eve surrendered in sin.
(End Part 2)