by Mike Madrid
When I was a young boy, I had a number of crushes. I was infatuated with Ann-Margaret and Morticia Addams, devoted to Elizabeth Montgomery, starry-eyed over Supergirl, and intrigued by the mermaid on the Chicken of the Sea tuna can. But as the song goes, these ladies were all just "passing fancies," because for me only one woman had truly won my heart, and time would show that our love truly was "here to stay."
It was Mary. Also known as the Virgin Mary, the Blessed Virgin Mary (BVM), or Our Lady, Notre Dame, Madonna, The Mother of God, The Queen of Heaven, etc. Whatever you want to call her, she was the object of my undying devotion.
When I was four years old, my family moved to Germany. And one of my earliest memories was of subterranean grottoes or little roadside shrines devoted to Mary. We visited Cologne, still a bastion of Catholicism in the homeland of Martin Luther, and my mother bought me a little plastic glow-in-the-dark Virgin Mary statue. Naturally, it became my dearest possession. I'd try to recreate little sacred grottoes in our front yard using my luminous virgin. I was fascinated by the way she was serenely crushing a snake beneath her bare foot. I'd leave my goddess near a bedside lamp to absorb as much light as possible, so that she'd cast her protective glow over me when I went to sleep.
So, fast forward forty some years later, and you'd think that maybe things have changed completely, right? Not quite.
I sometimes wonder why the Virgin Mary still holds me in her thrall. I was raised Catholic, and I consider myself "culturally" Catholic. It's what I grew up with, and I like a lot of the trappings — the church, the incense, the saints, the drama, the spooky quality. However, my liberal beliefs don't exactly match up with the beliefs of the church, especially regarding homosexuality and abortion. And I know how religion has been skewed to justify war, murder, massacres, ethnic cleansing, discrimination, torture, gay bashing, you name it. All in the name of Jesus, who supposedly preached acceptance of others and pacifism. Doesn't seem to add up.
On top of that, here I am, reasonably intelligent, college educated, somewhat well read, possessing a smattering of knowledge and information. I understand the theory of evolution and don't question its validity. I know that there once were dinosaurs and prehistoric humans, and I regard the story of Adam and Eve in the same way that I do creation myths in other religions. It's a story, but science has taught me how life probably really began. And as much as "intelligent design" is a neat fix for the whole creation vs. evolution question, I don't know if I'm buying that. Too pragmatic, too…Protestant. So, given all of my skepticism, why do I still kindle the fires of my devotion on the altar of the Virgin that I hold in my heart? Why have I not given her up?
First off, she likes me. How do I know? That's where the faith part comes in, I guess. The Virgin Mary is like you and me (sort of, minus that little issue of original sin), so she understands what it's like to be human. God is not a real warm and cozy guy that you can spill your guts to. He's got an unspeakable name for starters. And that whole "God is love" bit? Love does not deny people from obtaining knowledge, flood the world, destroy cities, or ask a man to kill his son on a dare. So God's got a bad temper, has a tendency to be judgmental, and he has a lot of rules. And as much as people say that Jesus is all love and acceptance, I think he's another with a rule book and a big "I told you so" every time you screw up. Plus, he always seemed like he was slumming to me, like the rich kid who had to go to public school because his parents had financial troubles, but who knew he actually deserved to be someplace "better," and would be going back there soon. He may look "human," but he knows he's really more than that. Jesus has a bit of a "smarty pants" thing going on for me, some judgment thrown in with his wisdom to make you feel a little inferior.
Mary, on the other hand, doesn't judge. She knows what it's like to be human and weak. She's the nice girl that you could know who got a big break — a celestial Jennifer Aniston. Jennifer Lopez says that she's still "Jenny from the block," but the Virgin Mary is that idea taken to the infinite level. Here we have a nice Jewish girl who finds out she's pregnant, has to marry an older guy, then rides all over the country pregnant on a donkey before delivering the baby on a pile of straw in a barn, with no midwife and a bunch of livestock breathing on her. Then, she has to hotfoot it out of the country with the kid in tow, because the king wants to kill her kid who she's been told is the most precious child in creation. No pressure here, huh. Then, fast forward years later, where she has to witness said child grown to manhood, tortured and executed before her eyes. So, you write a few bad checks or cheat on your spouse or your taxes, that's nothing compared to what Mary has gone through. Piece of cake. So, she's going to give you a sympathetic ear, and she's not going to give you a hard time about it.
But how do I know all this? The funny thing about my faith in Mary is that it's all based on…er, faith. There is nothing in the Bible that states that Mary has power to help me. That vision of the woman crowned in stars in the Book of Revelations could be Mary, but it could be anyone. It could be Pamela Anderson for all we know. Well, no. But my point is, we take it on faith that it is Mary, because you believe that she was rewarded for her goodness, her (dare I say it) godliness. And here's another odd thing — what is she? She's a saint, but sort of a supersaint. She's the Queen of Heaven, but she's not Mrs. God. She bore God's baby, but she's not God's wife, because he's her father. So the organization chart for heaven would have the Trinity at the top — father, son, and Holy Ghost — then Mary, then the rest of the saints. She's sort of a vice-president in the heavenly corporation. I'm not sure where the angels fit into the org chart, but they're another story, anyway. So clearly it's complicated, but that's where that faith concept comes in again.
Now, why does Mary rate such a prime spot in the hierarchy of the hereafter? The angels allegedly have actual powers, but what does Mary do to get a better spot in the clouds over them? I once worked with a young woman who was a very serious Christian. She belonged to a non-Catholic congregation that strictly followed the edicts of the Bible. Once the Virgin Mary came up in conversation, and I referred to her as "Our Lady." My co-worker quickly responded, "She's not my lady!" When I tried to lighten the exchange and retorted that Mary was the Queen of Heaven, my business partner flatly ended the conversation. " No she's not. She's just Jesus' mother." So besides draining a lot of the life and fun out of Christianity, the Protestant Reformation also divested Mary of any of her godlike trappings, and just made her a glorified womb. Maybe part of the problem is that a lot of what we believe about Mary is conjecture, because it's not in the "official" scriptures of the Bible. We know is that she's "full of grace," and that she was born exempt from original sin, but that's about all the record states on the subject of divinity. The whole Assumption of the Virgin, the heavenly advocate for mankind, it's all a matter of opinion. And Mary is revered as being fair and wise, yet she has no famous quotes from Mary, no philosophies about how people should live their lives. "Thou shalt not kill." "As ye sow, so shall ye reap." "Neither a borrower nor a lender be." "Don't eat yellow snow." In The Beatles' Let It Be, Paul McCartney said that he saw Mary "speaking words of wisdom," but I can't say I've ever heard any lofty words attributed to her. Maybe that's not what she's there for.
We already have a lot of rules and commandments. 10 to be exact. And issuing those commandments is God, who we've already established is a nebulous, nameless character with a bad temper. There's the Holy Spirit, which is an even more bewildering concept, best represented by a bird with a flame spouting out of his head. Then there's Jesus, who is likable and groovy. But he's in the Trinity, so he's in cahoots with God and the Ghost — a united front. So the whole outfit needs a little star quality. And that's where Mary comes in. First off, Mary conceptually is that most basic source of comfort and compassion that everyone can relate to — the mother. She doesn't question or judge, she's sympathy and solace personified. But let's not downplay the glamour. Mary represents a beauty that goes beyond established standard based on age or race. She embodies a beauty that represents life and humanity on the highest level. The beauty of a humanity not tainted by Original Sin. Like the triple goddess of antiquity, Mary is the maiden the mother, the crone. She's the innocent young expectant mother of the Annunciation, the serene Mother of God raising her miraculous son, the shattered Mother of Sorrows swathed in black, her heart pierced by swords. In her life there's an aspect that everyone can relate to, in her afterlife she's the glorious Queen of Heaven, the guiding force that is keeping an eye on all of us. And she always retains her humanity and, perhaps most importantly, her humility. Even when represented as being assumed bodily into heaven after her demise, there's a quality about her that seems to be saying, "Who, me?"
For me it comes down to a customer service issue. Just like when I have computer problems, when I have a spiritual crisis, I want quick assistance. I feel like when you ask God or Jesus for help, you're in for a load of questions. "Did you do what I told you to do?" "Did you do what I told you not to do?" It's like the service call for my computer; I just want the answer. And if I screwed something up on my own, like erasing the hard drive or fornication, I feel like I'm of out of luck. And that's assuming they take my call. More likely I'll get voicemail.
So, then I could go ask the saints for help. Again, we're on the customer service line, this time with a menu, because there's a saint for every malady. "Press 1 for eye afflictions — St. Lucy, press 2 for cancer — St. Peregrine, 3 for lost causes — St. Jude…" You could be on that line all day. Even then, if you get through and leave your request, it still needs to get bumped up to the big guys' offices for approval. Then you're back in that hole.
Here's the deal. I feel like with Mary, I have the direct dial number to her office, and she's never in a meeting, and she eats lunch at her desk. She always takes my call, it never goes to voicemail. And she may have to go to the big bosses for approval, but she puts a big URGENT sticker on my file. And she doesn't just dump it in God's inbox, she waits until he's out of a meeting to plead my case.
Bottom line for me is this. I don't know what's out there. Is it God as we think we know it, is it something else, is it nothing? I think there's something, I just don't know what form that takes. It's a big idea, and it's hard for me to wrap my little brain around it. So am I saying I'm absolutely sure that it's the Judeo-Christian God with the grey beard. No. It could be anything. But I also can't go for that vague "God is in everything" New Age idea. I need a face to put with the name; I'm not that conceptual. So, for me, it's Mary. She's an idea that I understand, and she works for me. And when I'm feeling unsure, or I'm freaking out, or I think the plane that I'm on is going down, she's the one I go to pull me through. She makes me feel better. I guess that's her job.
I still go to sleep at night, secure under the watchful eye of Our Lady. My beloved glow-in-the-dark is long gone, but a large picture of Mary hangs over my bed. It's a 19th century antique print that I found at a flea market in Mexico, and dragged back home, heavy wooden frame and all. And even though I live in earthquake prone California, I never have any fears that the picture will fall on me during the "big one."
It's Mary. She'd never do that to me.
