Mary, Theotokos (Θεοτόκος) the God-bearer, the Mother of God.
I do not know how many titles Mary has been given over the years. Some, like Theotokos, reflect a ‘high theology;’ some are quite poetic, such as Stella Maris (Star of the Sea); and others are very familiar, with Notre Dame being arguably the most famous – Our Lady. However, in Mary’s song (the Magnificat) she describes her profound lowliness, which seems to refer to both her attitude of heart (her humility) and her position in society (rather poor, and a woman in a man’s world). She describes herself as God’s doulē, a female slave or servant (the distinction between slave and servant is misleading in the ancient Near-east, as most servants were in fact slaves). Sometranslate the word, in this context, as handmaid or bondmaid. Quite a contrast with another of her grandest titles, Regina Caeli (Queen of Heaven).
Mary’s ‘song’ (more a poetic soliloquy than a song, but in biblical scholarship the term ‘song’ is used) describes what God is doing for her, what God has done in history, and God’s promise to remain faithful to God’s people in the future – indeed, forever!
The song begins with a proclamation, a declaration, of Mary’s whole being (“soul” and “spirit,” her very self) rejoicing/delighting in God her savior. The double meaning here, of course, is that she also holds her savior in her womb, will hold him at her breast, hold his hand in childhood, and hold his body beneath a cross on calvary. For this reason, she will be called “blessed” by “all generations” yet to come. Despite her lowliness, God has truly blessed her, and our calling her blessed recognizes that.
God’s mercy is then declared upon all those who “fear” God. Of course, “fear” in this context (as is so often the case in scripture) refers to awe and reverence – recognition of God’s sovereignty. As one scholar puts it: “Fear, for the untutored child, is unreflexively fear of consequences. As wisdom develops, fear of God becomes a cognitive awareness of what God wants and does, and this type of fear is the equivalent to ‘knowing’ God.”
God’s power/strength is clear to those who revere God. As the psalmist wrote, “With your mighty arm you scattered your enemies” (Psalm 89:11). And as for those who plot and scheme – those who are ‘arrogant in the understanding of their heart’ (which is the literal translation of “the proud in their conceit”) they will have their comeuppance. (Just a wee note to point out that throughout Luke’s Gospel, the heart is the seat of thought and intention, rather than mere emotion.)
Mary then reveals what some scholars refer to as divine reversal; a theme that Jesus will pick up in the Beatitudes. In Mary’s case the reversal runs thus:
You have shown strength with your arm and scattered the proud in their conceit,
casting down the mighty from their thrones and lifting up the lowly. You have
filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.
Mary ends with a beautiful image of God coming to the aid of Israel. The operative word is antilambanō, which implies a taking hold of something. And so, some translators prefer this interpretation; “He has taken Israel, his child, by the hand, remembering his mercy…”
Finally, Mary casts God’s past promises forward into her (and our) future by locating it first in God’s promise to Abraham, and then to “his seed” (what our translation renders as “his children”), all of his descendants, forever.
In a very real sense, Mary provides us with a pattern for our life and witness. What has God done for us? What did God do for all who fear/love/recognize him as savior? What will God do in the future? The answer to these questions informs all that we are, all that we say, and all that we do as disciples of the child that she bore, and whom we, in Advent, await.
