The Church's First Theologian

There are many reasons why it is appropriate for a theological journal with a primarily Protestant setting to devote an issue to theological reflection on Mary, the mother of Jesus. She is a central biblical figure and Protestant devotion to Scripture invites as much attention to her as a figure of faith as to any of the other biblical personalities. Her place in the historic creeds and the systematic discussion of major Protestant theologians underscores that need for major theological attention. The significance of Mary for ecumenical discussion, both as a historic source of divisions in the Christian family and, more recently, as a locus of new dialogue among Protestants and Catholics. . . makes her an appropriate topic for a journal devoted to ecumenism.

One reason for paying attention to Mary is that an argument can be made for her place as the first theologian of the church. . . . And this title is justified for two reasons: one is found in Mary's silence, and the other in her loud voice. The silence that contains profound theological contemplation is alluded to twice in the Gospel of Luke, in each case with similar language (Luke 2,19; 2,51). Mary's story as the Lord's servant began with a mystery she could not comprehend and that she would face many and painful puzzles about her beloved son and God's purpose through him--some at a wedding, some at his execution. . . . We have no book of Scripture written by this woman. She was simply the mother of this child. But the first musings over his significance, the first christological reflection, began with this woman who brought him forth in pain and nursed him on her breast. While we do not know all she thought, we know that her theological reflection never ceased, for such is the way of mothers with their children. The treasuring of their words and the incidents of their childhood is not something that ever disappears. Nor does a mother ever stop trying to understand her child. The story of Mary makes us wonder about how much other theological work has gone on in the silence of a mother's heart. Mary's theological voice, however, is not altogether silent. Indeed, she has given the church its most sung hymn of praise and thanksgiving, the Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55). Mary's testimony to the powerful work of God has been a touchstone of the liturgy of the church as prayer, praise, and music have come together to echo her song again and again down through the ages and in every land. If Mary's theological pondering about her child are kept in her heart, her witness is very articulate and worthy of our pondering as much as of our singing.

The song of Mary that is sung in great cathedrals and churches around the world, by choirs in beautiful robes and by congregations of substantial means, is a song that reflects the piety and the faith of the poor. The Magnificat is a song of the poor and the downtrodden, and its character an expression of the faith of the poor is seen in two particular ways. At the start is the self-understanding of the one who sings this song: she is lowly, and she identifies herself with the lowly in Israel, over against the proud, the powerful, and the rich. Those who sing this song have to find a connection with that voice or sing it to their own damnation. . . . Taking a cue from the words of the messenger to Mary--"For nothing will be impossible with God"--Walter Brueggemann has called this type of song a "song of impossibility," for it deals with things that we assume are too difficult, really impossible in this world. And perhaps we assume that in order to take comfort in it. The Magnificat as a song of the poor sees things differently in the world God rules.

God's world seems to be glimpsed primarily by women who in their own lowliness and need have testified to God's impossibilities (Hannah, Mary). They are certainly beyond my imagination, though I see a few clues that are given in the context of Mary's song. The primary one is Mary herself, unheralded, of no claim to fame, who regards herself as handmaid of the Lord and sees that in choosing her, God has exalted her to high estate. In and through this humble woman, God's great purpose shall come to pass. She is the demonstrating that nothing is impossible with God.

The sharpest clue is in the way shown by the baby Mary bears, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God--power, high estate--a thing to be grasped. . . but humbled himself and become obedient unto death, the way of this child who though he was rich yet for our sakes become poor. I am sure that many years later as she watched the agonizing death of her child, Mary pondered through tears how God had exalted this lowly handmaid of the Lord and what that required of her.