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Emptying History :
The Virgin Mary as Myth


Andrew Murraya


"…myth is constituted by the loss of the historical quality of things: in it, things lose the memory that they once were made" (Roland Barthes, Mythologies, p.142)b.

The method I have chosen to explicate the figure of the Madonna involves an examination of the historical forces that shaped the rise of Marian devotion, and an attempt at an analysis of the figure of the Madonna as myth shaped by ideology.   I am not so conceited as to think such a method explains the Marian cult in all its aspects, or that such an enquiry is the only legitimate approach to the subject.   If I do not look at the role the Virgin plays from a religiousc viewpoint it is because I am manifestly unqualified to do so.   The Virgin Mary can be understood as simply a religious phenomenon, but such an understanding takes the Marian cult at face value as a basic assumption or fact.   The interesting questions that can be asked of this cult can all be answered from a secular perspectived.   Why is the Marian doctrine constructed in the way it is?   What are the essential features of this doctrine?   How does Mary operate as an agent of social control?e   How is this control mediated?

Protestant theologians have always had two strong objections to the Marian cult.   The first is that there seems little or no basis for such a cult in the New Testament.   Mary is mentioned in only about a dozen passages, and, when she is mentioned, remains very much in the background.   The Gospel of Mark, generally taken to be the earliest of the four Gospels, mentions Mary only once (Mark 6:3), and the earliest record of the Christian Church, the Acts of the Apostles, also has only one reference to her (Acts 1:14).   When we search for the historical Mary, the woman of Nazareth, we search in vain.   The elaborate detail that surrounds Mary – subtleties that have delighted some of the liveliest minds in the church – is the accretion of centuries.   The second objection brought against Marian devotion is historical: there is little evidence that adoration of the Virgin existed during the first four centuries of the Christian Church.   There are four pieces of evidence that have been cited in support of an early Marian cult: Mary is alluded to in the Apocrypha, notably in the Protoevangelium of James (probably written in the 2nd century A.D.); there is a reference in the late fourth century to an apparition of the Virgin to a certain Gregory the Wonderworker; there is a papyrus fragment, dating from the early fourth century, which appears to record a prayer asking for Mary’s intercession; and the Byzantine church seems to have introduced a feast of the Madonna sometime before the beginning of the fifth century.   These four, rather scrappy, pieces of evidence do not constitute good grounds for widespread Marian devotion in the early Christian Church.

It is only after the Council of Ephesus in 431 that we see a dramatic increase in devotion to the Virgin Mary.   At this meeting, Mary was given the title Theotokos (the God-bearer, the mother of God), an honour that gave immediate impetus to Marian devotion.   A few years after the Council of Ephesus the first Church in the city of Rome was dedicated to the Virgin.   Marian shrine was apparently a sanctuary near Constantinople, where there is a record that the "veil of the Virgin" was venerated from about the middle of the sixth century onward.   The first feast of the Virgin, the Purification, dates from the latter part of the seventh century, and was swiftly followed by the introduction of feast commemorating the Assumption, the Annunciation, and the Nativity of Mary.   If one attempts to find an explanation for the conciliar decision to proclaim Mary Theotokos, one can only conclude that it emerged from quarrels in the upper echelonsf of Church and state involving the two disparate traditions centred in Constantinople and Alexandria.   The ancient and inflammatory rivalry was manifesting itself, in the fifth century, in a heated dispute over complex Christological issues.   The decision of the pope to support Cyril of Alexandria proved decisive in the dispute, leading to the excommunication of Nestoriusg, the patriarch of Constantinople, and ensuring that a final blow was struck at the pragmatic, restrained religious tradition centred in Antioch.

The political and religious wrangling was not ended by Ephesus, however, and in 451, at the Council of Chalcedon, the fourth Ecumenical Council of the Church, the two natures of Christ were reasserted, in an effort to heal the divisions between Constantinople and Alexandria.   The Virgin was officially given the title Aeiparthenos (ever-virgin) and her virginity at the conception, in_partu (during birth), and post partum (after birth) thereby affirmed.   Some two hundred years later, in 649, at the Fourth Lateran Council, Pope Martin I (d.655) declared Mary’s perpetual virginity a dogma of the Church.

The establishment of Mary as Mother of God encourages us to see her as simply the latest in a long line of mother goddesses who have dominated Mediterranean religions over the past several millennia. This is an impulse that should be resisted, for Mary is not only Mother of God, she is the Virgin Mother of God.   Thus she is different from almost all earlier mother goddesses in at least one very important aspect; she is completely disassociated from sexuality.   In Catholic doctrine, the association of Mary with virginity means three distinct things: it refers to the "Virgin Birth", the belief that Mary conceived Christ as the result of divine intervention and without the aid of sexual intercourse; it refers to Mary’s in partu virginity, the belief that Mary’s hymen was not ruptured despite giving birth to Christ; finally, it refers to the belief that Mary abstained from sexual intercourse even after the birth of Christ.   The first of these beliefs, that of ‘Virgin Birth’ is, perhaps, traceable to the great many myths in the pre-Christian Greco-Roman world where a virgin is impregnated by a god and gives birth to a human (or semi-divine) hero.   The most famous story incorporating this motif concerned Romulus (the legendary founder of Rome), and his twin brother Remus, who were supposedly born to another who had been impregnated by the god Mars.   It is the two other beliefs, that of Mary’s in partu and perpetual virginity, that set the Virgin apart from all likely antecedents, and thus form a central element in her cult.   Those who have compared the Marian cult with those surrounding the great virgin mother goddesses of the Near East, neglecth the fact that though these were often seen as in partu virgins, they were invariably associated with sexual promiscuity.   (At this point the modern rationalist will point out that it is a nonsense to talk of a goddess who is sexually promiscuous and yet who remains a virgin – to which "the rationalist of the Near East" might respond that it makes no nonsense to say that Mary can give birth and yet preserve her maidenhead intact).   Nevertheless, the important point remains that the feature that makes the Marian myth wholly distinctive is her complete disassociation from human sexuality, conjoined with her divine motherhood.

There are four articles of faith in Roman Catholic doctrine concerning Mary: her divine motherhood and her virginity (as we have seen, declared dogma by councils of the early Christian church); her Immaculate Conception (established in 1854); and her Assumption body and soul into heaven (declared official in 1950).   We may now look at the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, which proclaimed that Mary was the only human being to ever have been born without Original Sin.   On December 8th, 1854, Pope Pius IX declared in the Papal Bull Ineffabilis Deus that belief in the Immaculate Conception was mandatory for all those who acknowledge the spiritual authority of Rome.   The doctrine meant that the Virgin Mary was incapable of sin, and was, therefore, the most perfect created being after Jesus Christ.   The consequence of her exemption from the burden of original sin was a completely unblemished life, though such a condition did not apparently undermine her humanity; she retained her free will, though not her concupiscence.   The genealogy of this doctrine was a long and respectable one stretching from the delicate scholastic arguments of the medieval philosopher and theologian Duns Scotus (1265-1308).   During the sixteenth century the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception was altered so that it accorded with the allegorical interpretation of the Bible recommended by the patristics.   But when, during the eighteenth century, the Church was abandoned for the first time by the intellectual elite of Europe, the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception became an act of defiance against rationalism on behalf of the old, a priori methods of deduction, a believer’s blow struck for faith against the dangers of reason and the new empiricism.   When Pope Pius IX proclaimed Ineffabilis Deus, he was declaring that the pope’s authority to command the beliefs of Christendom had not been shown by the philosophical and political turmoil that characterised the age of scepticism.   By proclaiming dogma a belief that had been energetically discussed since Duns Scotus, he also asserted the position of the pope as the one, divinely sanctioned headi of the Church, and implied that the Church alone was the one true spiritual and intellectual guide and not the individual conscience, as Protestant theologians had maintained since the Reformation.   Thus the interests of the papacy were intimately bound up with the Marian cult, the Bull being an important strategic move by Rome against its detractors.   It was only logical then that Pius IX followed Ineffabilis Deus with another Bull, in 1870, proclaiming the infallibility of the pope as an article of faith.

The extraordinary increase in Marian devotion in the nineteenth century can only be understood against the background of the Church’s continuing struggle with the forces of "modernism" ("modernism" being defined by Pius IX as "an amalgam of secularism, materialism and atheism"(1)).   By the middle of the nineteenth century,j it was overwhelmingly women who came to confession and filled the pews of parish churches on Sunday mornings.   When the church fathers sought allies in the good fight against the forces of "modernism" it was only natural that they should call on the help of the self-sacrificing, pious women whose energies were being expended on behalf of family and church.   To this end, by far the most important model of womanhood was the Virgin Mary.   It is against such an historical background that one should set the phenomena of the great age of Marian devotion: the official pronouncements of the church from the definition of the Immaculate Conception in 1854 to that of the Assumption of the Virgin in 1950, and the Church’s acceptance, endorsement, and sponsorship of Marian apparitions, with the associated mass movement of pilgrims to the newly formed shrines.

Pope Pius IX, and his successor, Leo XIII (1878-1903), were personally devoted to the veneration of Mary.   They approved coronations, whereby old statues of Mary received crowns in impressive ceremonies.   They also confirmed the validity of new apparitions and miracles, and granted special indulgences for mass pilgrimages.   They thoroughly believed, as the promulgation of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception had indicated, that the Virgin Mary could help the Church in its time of dire need.   In the first of his decrees in 1883, Dupremis_Apostolatus, Leo XIII reminded Catholics that the rosary had saved the Church from heresy and from the Turks in the sixteenth century.   The implication, clearly, was that Marian intercession would similarly defeat the contemporary evils of "secularism" and "materialism" (the Church’s manqué word for socialism).

The Marian apparitions that seemed to proliferate in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries had a prophetic mission, but this prophetic mission had an explicit political, and anti-modernistic, content.   Although these visions consistently appeared to the peasantry of feudal or early capitalist societies, they never carried a message of social transformation, or suggested that the coming of Christ would mean an end to economic exploitation and political oppression.   Indeed, the political direction augured by these visitations was consistently reactionary: in favour of political legitimacy and fearful of change.   This defensive anti-modernism is the most characteristic legacy of the Church defined Marian cult that emerged in the nineteenth century.   The admonitory tone of the Virgin seen by the three children at Fatima in 1917 echoed the warnings given by Our Lady of La Selette in 1846.   On each occasion the messages given to the children were emphatically political, i.e. if at La Salette it was the Anti-Christ of secularism that threatened the Church, at Fatima it was the spread of Russian Communism.   Belief in these messages helped inform Marian piety with an unpleasant, strident cold war anti-communism in the years precedingk Vatican II.   The Blue Army of Our Lady, formed in 1947 to fulfil the command of Fatima, at one time enrolled twenty million people, who by prayer alone hoped to conquer the ‘red army of atheists’. (2))   The rosary, said in order to conquer the Turks in the sixteenth century, and against impiety in the nineteenth, was again being said over radios throughout Europe in the 1950’s against a new enemy, Soviet Russia.

Historical explanations of the Marian cult do help illuminate the function of myth, but such myths, while they provide an historical viewpoint and an ethical code for their adherents, also follow certain characteristic, but easily overlooked patterns of thought.   For instance, the Christian equivalence between the spiritual impurity and bodily decay underpins the doctrine of the Assumption, which declares that the all-pure Virgin was spared the corruption of the flesh common to all living things.   In such patterns the sacred and the profane, primordial human desires and fears, can, to some extent, be discerned.

In her masterly study of the Marian cult, Alone of All Her Sex, Marina Warner states of Mary that though she "cannot be a model for the New Woman, a goddess is better than no goddess at all; for the sombre-suited masculine world of the Protestant religion is altogether too much like a gentlemen’s club to which the ladies are only admitted on special days." (p. 338)   Yet in Ann Douglas’s justly famous treatment of the feminization of religion, The Feminization of American Culture (1977), it is revealed that American Protestantism was far more sensitive to women’s influence than Roman Catholicism has ever been.l   In Douglas’s discussion of Protestantism we can distinguish three stages of the feminization process: a growing preponderance of women in congregations; the consequent power that this gave women over religious practices; and a "softening" of theology and religiousm symbolism that reflected this change in power relations.   In the Roman Catholic experience only the first and third features of this feminization process have taken place.   Crucially, it has been the influence exerted by the Marian cult that has exerted powerful pressures that help ensure that women in the Catholic Church do not exert influence over their own religious practices.   The male Catholic hierarchy has not only maintained but extended control over religious life by validating and popularizing certain affective religious practices, and, by binding them to the sacramental system, they have ensured their own hegemony.

The revival of the Marian cult can and has been interpreted as a "softening" of the religious symbolism or a resurgence of the feminine.   Yet it must be recognised that the definition of Mary as both Virgin and Mother presents women with an ideal that they cannot fulfil.   For some women, this can only have the effect of denying female power, or the positive power of sexuality in human life.   At the same time, of course, the Virgin Mother provides a male, celibate clergy with a secure, unchallenging object of contemplation and adoration.   Nevertheless, Catholic women throughout the centuries have responded to Mary as the most powerful and ideal of mother figures, who knew the glories and tragedies of maternity without having had to experience its often painful and bloody traumas.   This empathy is encouraged by the Church, and, for many Catholic women, Mary is the focus of a lifelong veneration.   Most young Catholic girls are told to model themselves on their Blessed Mother, encouraged to join her sodality, the Children of Mary, and wear its special livery, the Miraculous Medal, for the rest of their lives.   But as powerful as Mary can be for women, her male-defined cult imposes serious limitations on a women’s role within the Church.   These limitations become clear when we consider what the Virgin does not represent.

As we have seen, the Virgin Mary has no connection with fertility and sexuality, the two most common features found in any of the pagan symbols of female divinity.   This connection can only belong to a heretical interpretation of Mary’s role in the Church.   Although this connection is often maintained in localised Marian cults, it went unrecognised (officially at least) in the cults of the Black Virgins, some of whom certainly derived their colouration from their relation with the pagan figure of the Earth Mother.   Seen from the perspective of these earlier myths, that the conventional blue and white Madonna is likely to seem not only immaculate, but also to be without vigour, disconnected from Nature and the experiences of real women.   In short, the female divinity who has no control over fertility, is likely to have little autonomy within "her" Church.

The figure of the Virgin Mary who appears briefly in the Bible usually appears alone, as an intermediary who has been bequeathed all her privileges by a loving son and a prescient Father.   Her active co-operation with God’s plan is never apparent: she is a vassaln rather than the first disciple.o   These are unsurprising facts given that in Catholicism, discipleship and its historical successor, priesthood,p belong exclusively to males.   In such circumstances a female model for sacramental and public leadership roles remains inconceivable.   Mary the pure and passive vassaln remains a crucial part of the interested interpretation because, first and foremost, Mary as myth must fit a celibate priesthood’s sense of fitness and propriety.

What is it we find when we interrogate the Marian myth?   We find what we find when we explore all myths: that human actions have succeeded in transforming the profoundly historical into a harmonious display of essences that mankind is pleased to call "natural".   When we examine the concentration of human actions that have constructed Mary the Virgin Mother we find that ideology "has emptied the myth of history and has filled it with nature, it has removed from things their human meaning so as to make them signify a human insignificance.   The function of myth, in short, is to empty reality…" (Roland Barthes, Mythologies, pp 142-143)   This seems to me an extraordinarily penetrating analysis of the forces that have made Mary what she is, forces that can only be comprehended by a reassertion of the historical realities that lie behind the development of myth.   In such a reassertion we see the attempt of a progressive humanism to scour nature, its "laws" and its "limits" in order to discover History there, and at least to establish Nature itself as historical.q




Footnotes

(1).   The Cult of the Virgin Mary, Michael P. Carroll, p.91.
(2).   The Blue Army of Our Lady, The Marian Era (1965, VI, p.47).



a   Originally printed as an article in a Glasgow University Student Philosophy magazine (either called ‘Discourse’ or ‘Oyster Club’) in an issue round about 1994 or 1995, on pages 16-19, between an article about feminism in Joyce’s Ulysses and the record of a discussion between John McGrath (Artistic Director of 7:84 Theatre Company), and Peter Arnott (a Scottish playwright).   I believe the copyright belongs to the author, Andrew Murray, but I have not been able to trace him, let alone contact him.   I (GMS) have typed out the following from a copy of the article itself, but unfortunately I cut it out from the issue it came in, although this copy still bears the information given above about the surrounding articles.
The numbered footnotes are the footnotes as in the original article written by Andrew Murray.   I am using these alphabetical footnotes to indicate some corrections that have been made to the text, as well as to make miscellaneous comments on the content.   My essay, Emptying Theology: The Virgin Mary as Philosopher should be seen as a fuller, though oblique, response.
b   The myth purportedly under consideration in Andrew Murray’s article, the Virgin Mary, is precisely about challenging such a notion of myth, about not losing the memory that God was conceived and born as a human being, in human history.   However, I have to use the qualification ‘purportedly’ because Andrew Murray does not discuss the myth itself – only what might be behind it, so to speak – and so does not notice this relevance of its particular content to his own discussion.
c   By ‘religious’ he means ‘christian’, or even more specifically ‘Catholic or Orthodox christian’.
d   Murray equivocates between ‘secular’ in the sense of being irreligious (anti-christian) and in the sense of being non-religious.
e   This question reveals Murray to be already subscribing to some myth very different from the myth of the Virgin Mary he claims to be discussing.   Is he presupposing that some particular woman who lived two thousand years ago has been acting over the centuries to exert some kind of social control?   If not, then he must be making some kind of ahistorical personification of something which "uses" the myth of the Virgin Mary as an instrument to "control" people.   De-mythologizing, as coined by Bultmann, always involves an element of re-mythologizing, and we have here an example of it.   I am also reminded of Wittgenstein’s discussion about the myth of getting beneath the surface, a myth which fails to recognise that what is uncovered, in being uncovered, has become the surface.   Murray’s myth-making is, of course, confined to the ahistorical variety, for all his discussion of history.
f   Correction: ‘enchelon’ in the original.
g   Correction: ‘Nestonus’ in the original.
h   Correction: ‘reglect’ in the original.
i   ‘Head’ is theologically a bad choice of word, though the general intended meaning is clear.
j   Correction: semi-colon in the original.
k   Correction: ‘proceding’ in the original.
l   I am unfamiliar with the work referred to here, but I find these kinds of comparisons superficial and not very enlightening for a number of reasons.   Firstly, the coherence and clarity of Catholic doctrine in contrast with Protestant doctrine raises problems in making any comparison, problems of comparing like with like.   Secondly, the corresponding differences as a social phenomenon make it much easier for the Catholic Church to buck social trends, or even passing social fashions, without retreating from the public sphere like some protestant sects.   (Note that these first two reasons are only indirectly related to the specific content of the doctrines concerned, which could be anything.)   Thirdly, clearly feminization, whatever it is – and I suspect it is as incoherent, in its positive thrust, as Protestantism is if it is anything like feminism – is clearly not unrelated to issues of clericalism and lay participation, which in turn are related to various conceptions of authority, influence, control and so on.   For example, in the Catholic Church prior to the Second Vatican Council, it seems even the Pope and an Oecumenical Council were in danger of ceasing to have control over the liturgy, i.e. over their religious practices, judging by the furore over the very notion of making changes.   (The Orthodox Churches arguably lost such control some time ago.)
m   Correction: ‘religions’ in the original.
n   The text is unaltered here, but I could not help noticing that the word ‘vessel’ might be more appropriate than ‘vassal’ in terms of imagery, although the sense is much the same.
o   Murray uses the word ‘disciple’ in some peculiar sense, indicating some sort of confusion on his part.   This seems to be the only plausible explanation of his believing that no women were considered disciples.   (See the next footnote p for a clear, associated, error.)   It is unfortunate that his confusion clouds a valid point he is trying to make about the combination of an emphasis on the passivity of Mary, and an emphasis on her role as a model of a Christian woman, as opposed to being the model of any Christian, male or female (the Queen of saints, not just Queen of women saints), so as to rationalise excluding women from positions of authority.
p   What is called an ordination to the priesthood in the Catholic Church today is an ordination to the priesthood of the presbyteral order.   In other words the Catholic priest is what was referred to as elder (presbuteros in Greek) in the New Testament.   He seems to be confusing it with the priesthood of all believers, from which, of course, women have never been excluded.   But perhaps his confusion reflects the neglect of the second kind of priesthood, which the Catholic Church has only just begun to redress since the Second Vatican Council.   See the previous footnote o.
I have more recently discovered that in some circles, presumably some variety of Christian Fundamentalism unduly influenced by a recent translation of the Bible into English into thinking that the term ‘disciple’ is restricted to members of the Twelve, as opposed to the more traditional usage of reserving the title ‘Apostle’.   Admittedly the New Testament deviates from the latter in that St. Paul refers to himself as an apostle, but I think that its usage is otherwise consistent with it.   There is no warrant for treating ‘disciple’ as having any reserved or more special meaning than simply its ordinary meaning ‘follower’ or ‘ pupil’.   For instance, the fact that a Gospel account might refer to Jesus having the last supper with his disciples, when clearly only the Twelve were present, cannot be taken seriously as counter-evidence.   (You could regard the Twelve as representing all his disciples, or even consider all his disciples as present then through later celebrations of the Eucharist, but these suggestions are not necessary to back up my point.)
q   Murray has in fact done the very opposite of what he claims to have done.   Far from interrogating or exploring "the Marian myth" he has been creating a Marian myth of his own.   What he has been interrogating and exploring is the historical development of "the Marian mythology".   The historical reality which "the Marian mythology" makes claims about does not enter his considerations at all.   At the beginning of his article he admits he is only considering certain aspects, but at the end he is forgetting that there are other aspects that may need to be considered.   Far from "reasserting the historical realities that lie behind the development of myth" he has been running away from them, losing himself in describing the historical realities that lie in the development of the mythology (the later articulations of the myth).   We do not in fact know much about the particular historical details of Mary, but this does not necessarily weaken the importance of her historical reality for christian doctrine.   He has ignored any historical dimension of the myth, and hence he succeeds in making it appear as detached from any historical reality.



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