Reading these works gives the impression that the path to
understanding the person and role of Mary is paved by appeals to what we might
term, as we did in class, the “ancient tradition.” Again and again, these
writers try to convince us that the Virgin fits
into the ancient tradition that they see depicted in the scriptures. I use
the word “fits” because Mary is not simply an object of fulfilled scriptural
(Old Testament) prophecies, a personage mentioned in the Gospels, nor a
historical woman, but a complex combination of all three. The rationale that is
often employed to support Mary’s position in scripture, her authenticity as the
Mother of God, or her virginal purity, is not a direct argument, but a process
of layering her identities and connecting those identities to elements of an
extant tradition.
Our readings began with Irenaeus appealing to the prophecy
in Isaiah 7:14 “Behold a young woman shall conceive, and bring forth a son”
(the King James, English Standard, American Standard, and New International
Version all translate “young woman” as virgin). But Irenaeus’s claim is
interesting because it appeals to two separate elements of ancient traditions;
firstly, the authority of Isaiah, which he claims prophesied Mary’s carrying of
the Christ; and secondly is the tradition of the Septuagint’s correctness of
translation. The Ebionites claim that Jesus was born of Joseph, and thereby
deny his genesis of God. Irenaeus tries to disprove them by showing that the
ancient scripture predicts his birth of a virgin, and shows that this was
translated by a group of Jewish scholars under Ptolemy in Egypt, well before
the time of Mary or the Christian tradition. He assumes that his readers will
accept the authority of Isaiah, but also that they will (for no one particular
reason more so than another) accept the authority of a group of unbiased ancient
translators. There is no logical reason apparent to us why the Septuagint would
be more authoritative than any other translation, yet Irenaeus makes the
argument, appealing to the ancient tradition nonetheless.
In an interesting bit of “fitting,” Irenaeus reminds us that
God “has preserved to us the unadulterated Scriptures in Egypt, where the House
of Jacob flourished, fleeing from the famine in Canaan; where also our Lord was
preserved when he fled from the persecution set on foot by Herod” (Chapter
XXI). It seems as if, to Irenaeus’s logic, the fact that these scriptures from
the Septuagint were preserved in Egypt
(a land that harbored both Christ and the Israelites) makes them even more
legitimate. To our modern minds this does not necessarily follow, but to
Irenaeus (and probably his readers) it makes perfect sense, and augments the
Septuagint translation’s legitimacy.
The numerous analogies and dissimilarities concerning Mary
and Eve are fertile ground for both Irenaeus and Tertullian to sow claims, and
to tie up various strands between the original Mother and the Mother of God.
Mary and Eve are both virgins when the most significant events happen to them
(conceiving Christ, and eating the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good
and Evil, respectively) but even more conveniently they are both betrothed to a
husband. The first succumbs by the enticing of a demon; the second prevails by
the persuasion of an angel. Because Eve brought sin into the world and happened to be a virgin, a virgin must undo this sin. In the grand scheme
of (human and) religious history, obedience of one chosen person undoes the
disobedience of a former similar person.
To Epiphanius of Salamis, it is crucially important that the
version of Mary in New Testament scriptures and the prophesied Mary in Old
Testament scriptures be understood, so as to worship correctly, and not
incorrectly. He is preoccupied with the evil of two types of sects that, on one
side of the spectrum “belittles the holy Virgin while the other, in its turn,
glorifies her to excess” (Panarion, 621). The excessive worship he speaks of concerns groups of women
who offer sacrifices of bread to Mary and then partake of it. As the modern
Christian might perceive, this act greatly resembles the Eucharist, and thus
seems sacrilegious. But Epiphanius does not seem nearly as caught up on this
fact (as we might tend to be) – instead, he sees this behavior as a threat
because the women are acting as priests. It is their assumed role that goes against the historical/ancient
tradition that bothers him. He recites a lengthy history of priesthood,
beginning all the way with Abel and finishing near the end of the Old
Testament, demonstrating that in not a single place did a woman assume
priesthood.
Then he moves on to the New Testament, claiming that if any
women were to be a priest it should be Mary – but she herself is a figure of
the temple of God, not of the priests that serve in the temple. He subsequently
covers many of the contexts in which women are mentioned in the New Testament.
He cedes they can be prophetesses, but points out that Paul says they cannot
speak in Church.
Ephrem the Syrian too layers on the parallels between Mary
and the ancient tradition in his hymns of praise. In a picture of interaction
between Mary and Christ he sings “Let His Mother worship him; let her offer Him
a crown. / For Solomon’s mother made him king and crowned him.” (Hymn 2). In
scripture there does not seem to necessarily be any direct or implied
correlation between Mary and Bathsheba, but Ephrem places her in context of the
ancient tradition in order to praise her. It is as if the imagined parallel
between Christ’s and Solomon’s mother makes Mary all the more splendid and
venerable. Ephrem is not trying to prove a point, but he is imagining Mary as
the inheritor/continuer of an ancient tradition, thereby making her more
praiseworthy.
The ancient tradition – whether it is the Old Testament or the
New – occupies a venerated space in the religious imaginations of all of these
authors. By appealing to it, they see themselves as being able to prove her
worth, invoke her majesty, or set the worship/non-worship of her straight.
Reading Mary’s person into Old Testament prophecies lends her credibility as
the Mother of God. Likewise appealing to traditions of translation proves to
believers-in-scripture-but-not-in-Christ that in fact their interpretations are
wrong. But this process of connecting the old to the new, present to the past,
is not necessarily a rigorously logical procedure, but rather a process of
looking for parallels, fitting one tradition into the context of another.
KO
I like your use of the term "fit" here, it brings to mind Anselm's later discussion of the Incarnation in terms of "fittingness." For Anselm, the Virgin Birth is reasonable precisely because it fits so well within the confines of reason and, implicitly, tradition. Noticing the way in which these arguments proceed is also a good observation, especially noticing that while the arguments aren't necessarily logical syllogisms they're not inherently opposed to reason. Rather, as you note, there are layers here, and reading a human being as a term in a logical argument is not what the authors of Late Antiquity are really interested in. We might wonder, though, is there anything guiding this mode of interpretation and searching for parallels, or is the only constraint the limits of an interpreters imagination? What shapes what they consider licit and illicit readings of the tradition? What's negotiable? Interrogating this might point to some interesting difference of thought that highlight just what precisely is at stake in these discussions, why they are so vital and passionately argued and how they shape later thought.
ReplyDeleteI would agree with dyingst here: I like very much the way in which you show us the way in which our authors are thinking about and arguing from the "ancient tradition," but what are their criteria for judging what "fits"? Do they seem at all consistent in their appeals to tradition? E.g. you make a very good point about the way in which Irenaeus points to Egypt as somehow clinching the argument in favor of the Septuagint's translation. Does this tell us anything about where the tradition is coming from? Hint: Barker would say yes! RLFB
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