SOME ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT THE ASSUMPTION

AN UNCONVENTIONAL STUDENT
 
My graduate studies in theology involved several three credit courses which were in fact independent studies with the production of a 30-to-50-page paper, under the guidance of a professor of my choosing. I learned one thing in graduate school: when there are research choices, always pick a topic your faculty advisor knows nothing about. I had tried that in 1971 with “Women’s Liberation and the Catholic Church” the year before; then, I was certain nobody on the faculty was reading Simone de Beauvoir or Betty Friedan—not that I was, either, but I was certain there was a window of opportunity in that I could level the playing field with my faculty reader. It worked. I got the A. Now, would I dare try it again in the next academic year?
 
I had noticed in graduate studies than many of my professors in several branches of theology said virtually nothing about the Virgin Mary. There are reasons for this. When the Council Vatican II [1962-1965] convened a decade earlier, the first draft of the documents included recommendations of many additions to the role and status of Mary in the Church. These included the additions of multiple Marian feasts to the liturgical calendar [there were seventeen already in the 1962 missal]; a separate decree on the Virgin Mary in the Vatican II documents; and the most controversial, a declaration of Mary as the “Mediatrix of All Graces.”
 
But most Church fathers at Vatican II did not approve these recommendations for multiple reasons. The title and function of Mediatrix of God’s graces was, on its face, heretical. [God does not need a broker.] A separate full conciliar decree on Mary was also doctrinally questionable, implying that she was not one of the faithful family of the Church but on a higher—almost angelic—plane. Her role was better defined as first member of the People of God, one of us. And in a Church seeking to put more emphasis upon Christ, the Bible, and the Eucharist, the addition of yet more feasts of Mary was viewed as excessive, confusing, and counterproductive.
 
Consequently, among Catholic academics after the Council, this change in emphasis led to a decline in emphasis on Marian theology in many quarters. Perhaps because the drift of seminary academics became more biblically emphasized, I became curious about the standing Marian doctrines and how they could be retrieved or made pastorally understandable in the post-Vatican II era, and particularly as Catholicism was becoming actively engaged in dialogue with other faith traditions. This was particularly true regarding the doctrines of the Immaculate Conception and the Assumption, which Protestant scholars have challenged do not have basis in Scripture but were declared doctrines by popes [the Immaculate Conception in 1854 and the Assumption in 1950.] Moreover, the Churches of the East—in union with Rome and the Orthodox Church—hold different theologies and understandings of Mary’s final time on earth.
 
So, my project was to reframe the Assumption, and luckily, I found a Capuchin Franciscan who agreed to supervise it.
 
WHAT DO WE KNOW ABOUT MARY’S ADULTHOOD FROM THE BIBLE?
 
Historically speaking, truly little. Only one of the four Gospels [Luke] details Mary’s role in the motherhood of Christ; Matthew, by contrast, highlights Joseph’s role in the Infancy Narratives, and two Gospels begin with Jesus as an adult, Mark, and John. Over the history of Christianity, the Church has studied both the Hebrew and the New Testament for prophesies and subtle references to Mary. Notable among these is the passage Genesis 3:15 where God curses the serpent in the Garden of Eden: “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers.” If you study many statues of Mary, even small ones you might have in your home, you might find that Mary is crushing a snake with her foot, an obvious allusion to Genesis.
 
Similarly, in the New Testament Book of Revelation [12:1-6] there is description of “a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of twelve stars. She was with child and wailed aloud in pain as she labored to give birth.” Then a huge dragon appears “To devour her child when she gave birth. She gave birth to a son, a mail child, destined to rule all nations with an iron rod. Her child was caught up to God and his throne. The woman herself fled into the desert where she had a place prepared by God, that there she might be taken care of for twelve hundred and sixty days.” This text is an excellent example of biblical apocalyptic literature, inspired poetry about the future, and in this case written by “God’s servant John” under the inspiration of an angel.
 
Note that while the Scripture passes down several references about mysterious significant women, none specifically names Mary of Nazareth except for the Gospels, and even here the information is limited. Over the centuries under the Church's guidance and grassroots devotion of the faithful, the definition of Mary’s role in the divine plan has gradually taken shape in both doctrine and devotion. That Mary is the Mother of God was defined by the Council of Ephesus in 431 A.D. The doctrine of the virgin birth was defined by the Council of Chalcedon in 451 A.D. But the next two declarations were a long time coming, in 1854 and 1950, as the study of Christendom and the Bible moved into the era of historical and scientific method. The Protestant revolt against “unbiblical” teachings and practices had some effect upon Catholic doubling down on its cherished identity with the Virgin Mary.
 
The Assumption, as we saw, has no concrete historical moment in print. [Of course, neither does Jesus’ Resurrection.] Even today, there is still debate about whether Mary clinically died, or whether at the moment of the end of her life she was raised to glory without tasting death by her son in heaven, who would not subject his mother to the grave. For our purposes, let us look at John 19:25-27. This passage describes the Good Friday account where Jesus entrusts his mother Mary to “the disciple whom he loved.” The curious thing is that the Gospel with John’s name does not say that “the disciple whom Jesus loved” was, in fact, John. The best theory on this omission is that John died before the completion of the Gospel and the text was completed by one of his devoted disciples, and as a rule we give that answer when someone asks.
 
Mary, John, and several others were standing under the cross when Jesus poured forth his Holy Spirit in his dying words, and again when the soldier pierced the side of Christ, and water and blood burst out upon them—symbols of sacramental initiation. What we have here on Good Friday is John’s description of the birth of the Church. There is Biblical consistency that this new community of the Son of God gathered in Jerusalem and lived there for the foreseeable future. It is hard to imagine that Mary would distance herself from this community in Jerusalem.
 
Unfortunately, we have no hard information on the deaths of these first members of the early Church, but we do know from multiple sources that relations between Christians and Jews were difficult, sometimes violent, and that Christians emigrated around the Mediterranean. Many devout legends would arise about the final days of the apostles and the community of the early Church, and Mary was not exempt from divine speculation.
 
The most enduring and speculative rendering of her death came from the eastern half of Christianity—today’s Eastern-rite Catholics and the Orthodox—and described Mary’s death by natural causes amid the Christian community in Jerusalem. The apostles and others processed with her body to a selected site, only to be put upon by a Jewish mob. Peter, as the story goes, took his sword, and cut off the ear of one of the attackers. In any case, the story states that Mary was dead and eventually buried, like all human beings. No burial site is known today.
 
Official Church teaching in the East refined this primitive account by affirming that Mary had died but that she was awaiting a glorious resurrection. A solemn feast developed, “The Dormition of Mary,” which became one of the first major feasts as the Church developed its liturgical calendar. [“Dormition” comes from the Greek, “to sleep.”] As centuries of theological disputes continued, there were many who argued that since Mary was conceived without original sin and maintained perfect obedience, she was the sole person who did not deserve to taste death, that she was taken to heaven miraculously though the precise place and moment were unknown to us at this time.
 
Consequently, we Roman Catholics in the West do not celebrate the Dormition but rather the glorious Assumption of the Virgin Mary, Body and Soul, into heaven. If you are interested, here is a link to Pope Pius XII’s declaration of this dogma in November 1950.
 
A SPIRITUAL REFLECTION:
 
Personally, I believe that Mary did die first. I believe in her glorification, too, though I know nothing about its time and place. I may be very wrong here, but I harken back to the fact that Jesus died, really died. His followers buried him. As St. John wrote, “But when they approached the cross of Jesus, they discovered he was already dead.” Despite what a lot of us were taught at some time or other, Jesus was not going through the motions on Good Friday. As he was fully human, his faith was deep but his knowledge of the “other side” was limited, as is ours. The early Church fathers used to say that “What is not assumed is not saved,” meaning that Jesus had to know and experience human life to the full, particularly when he embraced the cross and certain death.
 
Jesus embraced full human life to save it. It is hard to imagine Mary separated from the Community of Christ, i.e., those of us who embrace the prospect of death in faith but also in trust. Mary was a model of obedience and trust; “Be it done to me according to thy word.” As Vatican II taught, Mary is one of us, not an exception in the redemptive process.

When the Church established the Assumption as a major feast of the Church, it did so as a way for us to consider our own destinies. On Easter Sunday we celebrate a death and a resurrection. On the Feast of the Assumption, we commemorate a death and a trust. When I was researching for my three credits, I came across a passage from the German theologian Karl Rahner in his treatment of the Assumption. He acknowledged that it is possible the Assumption has not happened yet, but that we know/believe by God’s inspiration that it absolutely will happen.
 
At the time Rahner’s hypothesis seemed “a little out there,” but the annual feast of the Assumption has come to represent for me the need for greater trust in God’s goodness and providence as my own mortal coil continues to rust away. Faith, Hope, Charity. Maybe the order needs to be Faith, Charity, and Hope. Hope is the ultimate step up the ladder.
 
Oh yes, I got the A.