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—Pope John Paul II, General Audience, September 18, 1996
First things first: what do we know about Mary?
Historically, not as much as we might like. That can be frustrating for us, accustomed as we are to modern biographies that tell us everything we want to know—and sometimes what we don’t—about historical figures. So it’s important to remember that our sources for information about Mary, the gospels, are not biographies. Biographies certainly were written during the first century—Plutarch was a first-century Greek who wrote the very famous Lives—so if biography had been the plain and simple purpose of these documents, that’s what they would have been called. But they weren’t. From the beginning, as far as we know, they were thought of as “gospels.” The word “gospel” is a derivation of an old English phrase “godspell,” which means “good news.” It was evangelium in Latin, and the authors of these works that told of good news are called the evangelists: Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. When we are searching through these documents for historical information, we can’t forget that their purpose isn’t to satisfy our twenty-first-century curiosity about facts and figures. Their purpose is to show us why we should believe the good news that Jesus of Nazareth, son of Mary, is the Messiah and Lord, the Son of God. To the extent that Mary plays a role in bringing that good news into the world and illuminates its meaning, she’s there.
Miriam of Nazareth
We call her “Mary,” but she was probably called either “Maryam” or “Miriam” by those who knew her. We can’t commit to one or the other because we don’t know what language the Jewish residents of Galilee would have spoken. It might have been a form of Aramaic, or it might have been Hebrew. We’re really not sure. Jesus was born about 6–7 b.c. Yes, you read that right. It’s complicated, but because of adjustments to the calendar in the Middle Ages, we now know that what was traditionally noted as “0”—the year Jesus was born—was actually a few years earlier. So, if we accept that date of Jesus’ birth and work from the traditional assumption that Mary was in her early teens at the time of Jesus’ birth, we can settle her own birth year as somewhere between 20 and perhaps 23 b.c. Mary’s birth is celebrated on September 8, which is interesting because, if you think about it, it’s unusual to celebrate the birthdays of saints. We usually celebrate their birth into eternal life—their deaths. But with Mary and John the Baptist (June 24), we also remember their births, because these two figures played a direct role in the coming of the Savior.
The Bible tells us nothing about Mary’s family of origin, except to say that Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, was a relation of hers. While Matthew and Luke both include genealogies in their gospels, the family line is Joseph’s, affirming Jesus’ association through his foster father with the house of David.
Stepping outside of Scripture, we find a bit more, some parts of which might be familiar to you.
Early Christians produced more texts than those we find in the New Testament. Those that were selected for inclusion in the canon of Scripture met certain criteria: 1. They had apostolic origins. That is, they could be traced back to the earliest era of Christianity; 2. What they expressed was consistent with the “rule of faith” taught by Jesus to the apostles and then handed down; and 3. They were suitable for proclaiming anywhere in worship. In other words, they didn’t have any particular local angle that would make them uninteresting or unhelpful to Christians in various parts of the world.
We actually have quite a few non-canonical Christian texts from the late first and second centuries that reveal the beliefs and practices of the early disciples of Jesus. Some of them are clearly reflective of the life of early Christians. The Didache is a good example and well worth reading today. Others are more puzzling to the modern reader and seem to contain not only some snippets of history but legends as well.
One of these is the Proto-Evangelium of James, also known as the Infancy Narrative of James. Most scholars believe that it dates from the mid-second century, with the earliest manuscript we have being from the third century. It quotes big chunks of both Matthew and Luke but also has quite a few chapters that you’re not going to find anywhere else. Most of that material is about Mary.
This book identifies Mary’s parents as Joachim and Anne, or Anna. It’s also in this book that we read stories of Mary’s early life—that she was born in Jerusalem in answer to her aged mother’s prayer. In thanksgiving for Mary’s conception, Anne dedicated her to the Temple in Jerusalem; and it was there, from a very young age, that Mary was taught about her Jewish faith and then betrothed to an aged widower with children, Joseph. The picture we get of Mary from this book is one that emphasizes her ritual purity above all else.
The Proto-Evangelium was quite popular. Around 140 manuscripts of the book survive in its original Greek, as well as in several Oriental languages, including Syriac, and in Latin adaptations. The Eastern Orthodox view of James and the other figures in the gospels identified as Jesus’ “brothers” (see Matthew 13:55; also Acts 1:14 and Galatians 1:19) derives from this text. They are identified as the widowed Joseph’s children from his first marriage.
In general, for those who read it, the text was popular because it filled in gaps that still pique our curiosity today. Who were Mary’s parents? How could she have even begun to be spiritually prepared for the amazing role God called her to?
The book is obviously a mishmash of various other texts, but because it is relatively early in its origin (and believe it or not, a hundred years after Jesus’ life on earth is considered early), not all readers dismiss all of its claims so easily. Catholic devotional tradition certainly hasn’t. Who knows what ancient memories it preserves, even as it embroiders on them?
The one element of the Proto-Evangelium that has had the most lasting impact on Christian devotion is the identification of Mary’s parents as Joachim and Anne, and especially Anne as her mother. St. Anne is a very popular saint in her own right, and her role in Christian art is worth a brief detour because it gives us food for thought about her daughter as well.
One common image is what is called the “St. Anne Trinity.” In this composition, Anne, Mary, and Jesus are pictured together, an arrangement that emphasizes the humanity of Jesus as rooted in his mother and grandmother. Another frequently found image is that of St. Anne doing what countless mothers through history have done: teaching her daughter to read. We see it first in the mid-thirteenth century, after which it became quite popular. This simple portrait of Anne and Mary, either sitting or standing and sharing a book, is seen in wall art, statues, stained glass, prayer books, and even primers for children.
In some cases, when he or she has room, the artist lets us see what’s in the book placed between the women. It’s often the text from Isaiah 7:14, which prophesied a king born to a girl, or virgin. Sometimes it is Psalm 45:11: “And the king will desire your beauty. .?.?.” When there’s a lot of room, we might see Domine labia mea aperies, “O Lord, open my lips,” which is the opening of Matins, morning prayer, in the Little Hours of the Virgin, a popular form of the Liturgy of the Hours commonly prayed by the laity.
The imagery here, as in all art, can be a rich source of contemplation. On a purely historical level, many scholars see the prevalence of the image as an indication of a period in which women were increasingly literate, and mothers, in particular, played an essential role in teaching their children, especially their daughters, how to read.
But spiritually there’s more. What can we discern from this image of Maria Lectrix, “Mary the Reader,” as it is called?
Perhaps for a moment we can ponder words. Or more precisely, the Word. In the first chapter of John, known as the Prologue, Jesus is described as the “Word” or Logos of God. The Word came to us through this young woman, taught to read by her mother. In Jesus, God speaks to the world. Jesus is the self-expression of the mind of God, just as the words you and I say express our thoughts. This Word is spoken in a language we can understand, the language of human beings whom God loved so much that he became one of them. One of us.
This Word—this savior, this redeemer—is not hidden or obtuse or only for the elite. His presence is not arbitrary or fleeting like that of the pagan gods. He is a gift, given to us to listen to, to hear, to respond to in love. All of us. All of us can hear this Word and respond.
Perhaps Anne taught Mary to read and understand not only words on a page or a scroll but the signs God would give her of what her child was about, who he would be for her, her people, and the entire world.
Taught to read the history of God’s activity in the world, to know the names of the patriarchs and prophets, to recognize and sing the psalms, Mary was steeped in the word, so that when the time came, the Word would dwell within her. Then in the fullness of time, she could read that Word, respond, and teach us, in turn.
Mary’s Daily Life
Nazareth was a village in Galilee, the northern part of Palestine, near, not surprisingly, the Sea of Galilee. The area was rural and, by our standards, poor.
Most scholars would say that Nazareth was composed of a few dozen families who lived in small homes of rock and mud, many of them built as extension of caves, with the caves used as storerooms. Recent excavations in ancient Nazareth (now a city of about sixty thousand people) have revealed tools and structures for processing olives and grapes.
Daily life for Mary would have been about work, just as it was for everyone else: working in vineyards or groves, doing craft work, cooking, caring for children. Joseph, a woodworker, would have been engaged in constructing some support structures for buildings—rafters and such—but was probably busiest with objects like tables and benches.
Politically, the region was under the control of the Roman Empire and had been for decades. Jewish leaders, on behalf of the empire, ruled locally. Galilee was governed by Herod Antipas, the son of Herod the Great. Herod Antipas is the same Herod before whom Jesus appeared on trial. Although taxation was heavy, life as a whole was fairly peaceful in Galilee during this period.
We don’t have an exact picture of the daily spiritual life of Jews outside of Jerusalem. The center of spiritual life would have been the home, although, as we can see from the gospels, synagogues did exist. They were, however, centers for learning, not worship. Their role as places of worship wouldn’t develop until after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem in a.d. 70.
Daily life would have been marked with prayer rooted in the psalms and other hymns we find in the Old Testament—for example, the hymn that Mary’s namesake, Miriam, prophetess and Moses’ sister, sang in praise of God for Israel’s victory over the chariots of Pharaoh (Exodus 15:1-12). The various times of the day were marked with prayer, and certain days of the week might have been set aside for fasting. Those who could traveled the fifty miles to Jerusalem for important feasts that required sacrifice at the Temple.
Whether Mary, as the Proto-Evangelium says, grew up in the Temple or lived her young life entirely in Galilee, we can discern from her response to the angel Gabriel that she was deeply rooted in her Jewish faith, its trust in the God of Israel, and the promise of the Messiah, as the canticle Luke attributes to her, the Magnificat, shows.
And so we are back asking, who was Mary?
A young Jewish woman who lived an ordinary life of work and prayer, who lived in a spirit of gratitude to God and trust in God’s power to save: a young woman who embodied the faith of the people of Israel.
In the midst of her work and prayer, that promise is fulfilled and Hope is born. In the ordinary life of Mary, the extraordinary takes shape.
Looking at Mary
In a culture transfixed by celebrity, in which mass communication makes it possible for any and all of us to publish our thoughts and transmit our images to potentially the whole world, in which personal worth is measured in terms of professional success and achievement, it is good every day to look at Mary.
It is astonishing, really, and something we’ll come back to again and again. When you’re out and about someday, find a young mother who may serve as a type of Mary for you—the youngest mother you can find in the congregation at church, at the mall, at the park. Watch this young woman, sitting in this particular spot on the earth, one of billions of human beings, smoothing her baby’s back, murmuring in its ear, searching for a bottle, retrieving a toy, and when the baby is calm, leaning back and gazing at whatever it is in front of her, thinking, watching, and maybe even praying. Or perhaps she is pregnant, and when she leans back, she props her feet up, and her hand rests carefully on her belly, tapping, smoothing, massaging.
Into the life of a young woman like that—busy, thoughtful, worried, joyful—a young person who makes no laws and wields no power, God moved.
God moves and acts in whatever way he likes. Most of the time, what he seems to like is the small, the unexpected, the quiet, the ignored, those that the world cannot imagine could ever do anything of value.
Nothing has changed in two thousand years. This was the way God worked in Mary’s life—and the way he works in ours. In our small spot on this earth, in the midst of our ordinary lives, God moves. God calls. God invites.