Mary, Mother of God, and Protestant Privilege

Dear Jack and Bennett...

Dear Jack and Bennett,

January 1st was the Solemnity of Mary, Holy Mother of God. Most of my Protestant friends seem okay with the title Mother of God (in Greek, Theotokos, meaning God-bearer)—well, they at least don’t grimace quite as much as when we discuss praying to the saints or indulgences. It’s a bit presumptuous, but I think it’s safe to say that it returns a low score on the Doctrinal Shock Index™. The logic is pretty easy to follow:

Jesus is God.
Mary is Jesus’s mother.
Therefore, Mary is the Mother of God.

There are all sorts of things that the title Mother of God doesn’t mean that I don’t think are worth getting into here. What the January 1st solemnity really had me thinking about was the typical response I receive from many of my Protestant friends, usually something along the lines of, “But why does this matter at all?”

It’s a good question. It’s a bad objection.

As an objection, it’s an accusation that this is an accretion, something unnecessarily added by papists in their ever-growing devotion to Mary. That might be true (it’s not), but given that many (most?) of the Protestants I know couldn’t provide a reason why many Christians refer to Mary as the Theotokos, how would they know? It ironically exposes one of the (many) ways in which today’s Protestantism, especially in its evangelical forms, has ingested modernism’s chronological snobbery (and generally reckless approach to reform). It reminds me of this quote from G.K. Chesterton:

“In the matter of reforming things, as distinct from deforming them, there is one plain and simple principle; a principle which will probably be called a paradox. There exists in such a case a certain institution or law; let us say, for the sake of simplicity, a fence or gate erected across a road. The more modern type of reformer goes gaily up to it and says, “I don’t see the use of this; let us clear it away.” To which the more intelligent type of reformer will do well to answer: “If you don’t see the use of it, I certainly won’t let you clear it away. Go away and think. Then, when you can come back and tell me that you do see the use of it, I may allow you to destroy it.”

This paradox rests on the most elementary common sense. The gate or fence did not grow there. It was not set up by somnambulists who built it in their sleep. It is highly improbable that it was put there by escaped lunatics who were for some reason loose in the street. Some person had some reason for thinking it would be a good thing for somebody. And until we know what the reason was, we really cannot judge whether the reason was reasonable. It is extremely probable that we have overlooked some whole aspect of the question, if something set up by human beings like ourselves seems to be entirely meaningless and mysterious. There are reformers who get over this difficulty by assuming that all their fathers were fools; but if that be so, we can only say that folly appears to be a hereditary disease. But the truth is that nobody has any business to destroy a social institution until he has really seen it as an historical institution. If he knows how it arose, and what purposes it was supposed to serve, he may really be able to say that they were bad purposes, that they have since become bad purposes, or that they are purposes which are no longer served. But if he simply stares at the thing as a senseless monstrosity that has somehow sprung up in his path, it is he and not the traditionalist who is suffering from an illusion.”

Those who would take the time to understand why Mary is the Mother of God would learn that the title was given to Mary to clarify something about Jesus. Nestorius, the Archbishop of Constantinople, feared that calling Mary Theotokos blurred Christ’s natures, but in guarding against that error, his language implied a dangerous separation within Christ’s person. I’m oversimplifying Nestorius’ position, but the point is that the Church was clarifying something about Christ when it used the term Theotokos to describe Mary.

But regardless, a little investigation would reveal that all this didn’t arise from unbridled Marian devotion looking for cover, but was instead the result of a hard-won battle fought by faithful priests who wanted to squash the idea that Jesus wasn’t fully God and fully human in one person. Indeed, both Luther and Calvin affirmed Mary as Theotokos (and generally held Mary in higher regard than many evangelicals do today).

I’m sure there are plenty of Protestants who are familiar with the historical context of the debate around Theotokos, and for them I have more patience. But any rejection of the term Theotokos is still ultimately one of Protestant Privilege: The term can be rejected, or at least cast aside, because that Jesus is one person with two natures is so established in Christianity that any orthodox Christian—Catholic, Protestant, or otherwise—would look at you sideways if you were to suggest anything different… but only because the Church has fought and won the battle. (You’re welcome.)

We would be wise to understand better why the most ancient Churches believe what they believe before scrapping everything that “can’t be found” in the Bible, because none of these old heresies actually die; they just get reinvented.

Love,
Dad

P.S. Historical “privilege” isn’t limited to Protestants. As I said, the question, “Why does it matter?” is a good one. We should always ask why the fence is there before tearing it down.

Note: For anyone looking for a solid history of the early Church, check out Philip Hughes’ A History of the Church, Volume 1. It’s the most electrifying account of the early Church I’ve ever read, is basically responsible for my interest in Athanasius, and has transformed how I understand the early Church.