Why Protestants Should Get Over Our Fear of Mary

I walked into one of my 2nd grade classrooms to find an unfamiliar face with thick, black-rimmed glasses.

“Mrs. Hughey, we have a new student!” the teacher informed me.

Naturally after asking the child’s name, I asked him whether he had just moved here or if he was coming from another school, to which he replied that he used to go to a Catholic school in our area.

In 2nd grade we’ve been learning about the Law that God gave to Moses and the Israelites, particularly the 10 Commandments. We’ve talked about how one of the reasons that God gave the Law was to show His people that they cannot keep it and need Him as a Savior, as Paul explains in Romans 3:20. Only Jesus Christ was able to keep the Law entirely.

So I thought I was “lobbing my students a softball,” as one of my professors used to say, when I asked them during the lesson who was the one person who had never broken God’s commandments. Immediately the hand of my new student shot up, and I got really excited. Look at this kid! He’s so ready to dive into this new school. Hooray for new student participation and…

“Mary!”

And… there it was. The answer caught me off guard and gave me an unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach. I tried to coax my new little friend towards the correct answer while simultaneously scowling at my Protestant students to wipe the “you idiot!” look off their faces.

Several days later in a faculty meeting, our head of school was leading us in a devotion on Luke 1:46-55, which is Mary’s song of praise, also known as The Magnificat.

“We tend to shy away from Mary from some reason,” he said. “We have entire Bible studies on women like Ruth or Hannah, but why are we so uncomfortable with Mary?”

As Christmas approaches and the Nativity narrative takes center stage, I’ve found myself pondering this question. Why don’t we as Protestants talk more about this biblical figure? Why do we maybe feel a twinge of awkwardness when we have to look at her character? Why did I (frankly) get a little squirmy in my seat when I heard that we were going to be singing a song called “Blessed Be That Maid Mary” for our church’s Christmas service?

And I think the answer isn’t all that surprising. We hear the perspective, similar to that of my new student’s, that praises Mary a little too highly. We see some (caveat: not all) of our Catholic brothers and sisters praying to her and we get a little freaked out. So we overcompensate. We swing the pendulum in the opposite direction. If you look at church history, it’s kind of just what we do.

But I’d like to propose that there’s something valuable we’re missing when we breeze by this young woman and put her too much in the background of the story. A closer look at Mary doesn’t exalt her; it actually “magnifies the Lord”, which is the prayer of Mary’s heart (Luke 1:46).

The angel Gabriel greets Mary as the “favored one,” and then goes on to confirm that she indeed has “found favor with God” (1:28, 30). Mary is the recipient of God’s favor, perhaps more specifically, His unmerited favor. “Charis” is the root word here in verse 30 that we translate favor, elsewhere most often translated as grace. Grace! The virgin Mary needs grace in the presence of God. She, like all of humanity, needs a Savior, and she calls her Lord just that during her song in verse 47 (“My spirit rejoices in God my Savior”). YHWH looks on her with the same favor, the same grace, with which He looked upon Noah (Genesis 6:8), righteous in His sight not because of their own doing, but because He makes them that way.

And here’s what’s so incredible: because of the “blessed fruit of her womb” (1:42), because of the One who was able to live righteously, God sees those who trust in Him the same way. Paul writes to the church at Ephesus that “He [the Father] chose us in Him [the Son] before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before Him” (Ephesians 1:4). Holy. Blameless. Favored. Because of His choosing.

To ignore Mary is to ignore one of the most stunning pictures of our God’s character. He uses the weak, the humble, and the unexpected person to be a part of carrying out His plans in the world. He gives grace to the incapable and the unqualified. Mary bears one of the greatest responsibilities while also receiving one of the greatest blessings not because of her accomplishments, her deeds, or even her purity, but because of the way He sees her.

Rather than neglecting to acknowledge or hurriedly mentioning the virgin during this season, may we examine her life, be encouraged and awestruck by her story, and ultimately stand alongside her in declaring that our favor in His eyes has nothing to do with us.

 

“He is like a tree…”

As a Bible teacher, I have the sweetest responsibility to point my students to Christ every day. I hope and pray that my teaching of the redemptive narrative of Scripture is sprinkled with little Jesus moments, and that my lessons are strung together with the thematic thread of His righteousness.

But there are many days when the roles reverse. Students, sometimes consciously but many times unconsciously, are living testaments of God’s grace and truth that I get to observe and learn from. And this past Friday, that’s exactly what happened.

I’m a firm believer that Jesus, the Word made flesh, can be found in all of the written Word. His perfect life, death, and resurrection are the lens through which we are urged by the apostles and Jesus Himself to view every passage. Jesus explains His presence throughout the Old Testament to two of His followers on the road to Emmaus (“And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.” Luke 24:27). The writer of Hebrews states that “in these last days [God] has spoken to us by His Son” who is “the exact imprint of His nature” (Hebrews 1:2-3), then goes on to persuade readers that Jesus is the better Moses, the better high priest, the better sacrifice. 

So in light of this, I told my 6th grade Hermeneutics class at the beginning of the semester, “If you’re ever unsure about the meaning of a passage, look for Jesus. He’s probably in there.”

On Friday those same 6th graders were working in groups on their final project for the semester, conducting the exegetical process that we’ve learned on their given verse and then creating a slides presentation of their findings. I walked over to see how my Psalm 1:3 crowd was getting along on their slides, and that’s when I became the student.

“This verse could be talking about Jesus!” one girl exclaimed.

I wasn’t quite following initially, and goodness knows that my face showed it.

“Jesus is like the tree! He’s the man who ALWAYS obeyed and thought about God’s law,  the streams of water, and so of course, whatever He did prospered.”

My expression changed in an instant. “Woah! Yes! You’re right!”

I’ve meditated on the truths of Psalm 1 multiple times, and somehow, despite my own Hermeneutical philosophy, I’d missed Jesus. I knew that the man who keeps himself from evil and delights himself in God’s law flourishes. I knew that the fruit produced in this man’s life acts as a blessing for the good and nourishment of those around him. I knew that because of this man’s groundedness in the truth of God’s law, his life is successful. Successful perhaps not in the way that the world defines. His poverty or meekness or humility may invite the scorn of those who chase after wind. But a kind of success that finds true life in the presence of his Father.

And I knew that these truths are, in a way, descriptive of every God-follower. You and I are invited to be trees who draw life from God’s law and produce fruit that bring benefit to others. But all too often, our roots run shallow, our fruit spoils, and our leaves turn brown.

Jesus is God become the ultimate man. The perfect tree whose roots drink deeply and fully from the streams of God’s Word. He bears the flawless fruit of good deeds, the kind found only in peak season, and those around Him partake and benefit. The leaves of His life do not lose their vibrant green. All He does, the miracles He preforms, the words He speaks, the lives He touches, prospers.

His perfect life is not the end, however. Because the true Tree gave His life on the cursed tree of the cross, we can wear His righteousness. When God looks at His children, He sees nothing but leaves that never wither and good fruit.