The Doctor and I attended a concert tonight. It was the Cantigas de Santa Maria from the court of Alfonso the Wise, King of Castille (1221-1284), as performed by one of my favorite musical ensembles, the Boston Camerata. If you haven’t heard of this glorious music, that is nothing to be ashamed of, because you aren’t likely to hear it on the radio, or even to find recordings in your local Borders. It is a collection of 400-some sacred songs dedicated to the Blessed Mother, all of which were either written or commissioned by the Spanish king, who had a very intense devotion to Our Lady.The Boston Camerata (who, if you don’t know, is America’s premiere early music performance group) lifted these songs directly from the 800-year-old manuscripts remaining from King Alfonso’s court, and did their best to recreate what they may have sounded like in medieval Spain. Of course, the group had to dilute the devotional nature of the thing by making much of the great amount of mixing and “interfaith dialogue” that went on in medieval Spain, but this was a minor distraction in an otherwise delightful concert.
There were essentially two types of song: hymns of praise to the Virgin, and stories of miracles that she had wrought. The latter were done in a festive style, with help from an ensemble of medieval instruments, and some were rather amusing. (One, for example, told the story of a monastery dedicated to Our Lady that was for years blessed with miraculous visits from the wild goats of the hills, who would come down regularly of their own accord and allow the monks to milk them. One day a brother got greedy and ate one of the goats for lunch. They didn’t come back after that.)
But the praise hymns were done in an appropriately reverent style, and some were quite beautiful and moving. Most of them had the simplicity that I love so much in folk music. It is the same sort of quiet devotion that makes the rosary so wonderful, but it isn’t always found as often as I’d like. I must admit, for example, that I’ve never really seen this quality in the rosary’s most enthusiastic advocate, St. Louis de Montfort. (Since he is one of the patrons of this Society, I ought to try to foster a special devotion, and I do indeed admire both his piety and his eagerness to serve and defend Our Lady… but I must confess that I’ve never been able to stomach his writing. The hyperbolic, flowery and overwrought prose grates at me, and I was somewhat relieved when I read somewhere that John Henry Newman (I hope this is really true) was more or less of the same opinion.) Far more beautiful to me are simple, trusting lines such as the following:
“It is the duty of every man to praise the Mother of our Savior. Right it is to sing the praises of Her who has always granted her bounty without fail. That is why – may God protect me — It is the duty of every man to praise the Mother of our Savior. And since she is so powerful, and has so much influence with God, she can do everything else she desires. That is why, in good faith, It is the duty of every man to praise the Mother of our Savior.”
That one was very lovely, but Cantiga 320 was the one that particularly set me to meditating on the words of St. Paul. Here is the Cantiga:
“Santa Maria restored the good that Eve lost.
The good that Eve lost through her ignorance Santa Maria restored by her humility.
The good that Eve lost through her great folly, Santa Maria restored through her great wisdom.
The good that Eve lost, Our Mother of old, Santa Maria, recovered when she became the friend of God.
The good that Eve lost when she forsook Paradise Santa Maria recovered by her holy judgment.
Santa Maria restored the good that Eve lost.
Obviously you can’t really capture the effect without the music. And the “second Eve” theme is a common one when talking about the Blessed Mother, but it particularly struck me today because I had recently been meditating on the passage in 1 Timothy in which we are told that women, Eve’s sin notwithstanding, can still be saved “in childbearing.” I must confess that, of all the supposed “anti-woman” passages of St. Paul, this is the only one that I sometimes have trouble not taking a bit personally. It isn’t so much the injunction that women shouldn’t teach, which I take to mean mainly that they shouldn’t be put in positions of ecclesiastical authority that might oblige them to explain and interpret doctrine authoritatively. (After all, it would be ludicrous to suppose that they were banned from teaching anything to anybody at all. Where would that put the homeschoolers?) I accept that not everyone can or should be in authority, and that we can accept different roles without feeling that anybody is being consigned to be a second-class citizen in the Kingdom of Heaven. Fine.
But when he justifies this by observing that, “Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression”, it’s hard not to take that as a slight on our whole sex. It does make it sound as though the woman’s silent-and-not-teaching role is not merely a complimentary contribution, but rather a punishment, doled out to all women on account of Eve’s failings. That feels a lot like being born second-class. (And, by the way, what does he mean that Adam was not deceived? It seems to me that he was deceived too… except Eve, not the serpent, was the primary agent in the deception.)
But the verse after this is in its way even odder. St. Paul tells us that, despite her shame on Eve’s account, “she shall be saved in childbearing” if she continues in the faith. Now, this really is curious. St. Paul is the same one, after all, who exhorted all Christians not to marry, and to pursue religious life instead. But obviously the woman who enters religious life will not be bearing any children, at least in the literal sense. I suppose you could try to squeeze out of that one by referring to spiritual children, but that seems a bit of a stretch, and anyway, what about women who are just naturally barren? Are the gates of heaven closed to them? What about those who never find anyone to marry? In short, St. Paul cannot mean that a woman must literally bear a child in order to be saved. That would be entirely contrary to Catholic teachings, and even to his own.
But could this be, at least in part, an oblique reference to the Second Eve? When he says that women will be “saved in childbearing” could he mean that it is the Blessed Virgin’s bearing of the infant Christ that erases the stain on the female sex? I admit that, if he meant this, we might have expected him to say it more plainly. Then again, there could be multiple layers to the statement, as with so many other passages of Scripture. The bearing of children is, of course, one of the proper roles allotted to women, and probably an important part of the way that most work out their salvation, so there could be a practical element to it too. But at the same time, the passage might also appropriately be applied to Our Lady. And indeed, it does seem fitting that she should be remembered in such a discussion. If Eve’s sin left a particular mark of shame on the female sex, does it not seem right that the Blessed Virgin, through her blameless life and her cooperation in bringing God Incarnate to live among us, should have restored it to its original dignity? This would not change the roles allotted to each of the sexes; after all, Our Lady was subject to her husband, as well as to her divine Son. But there was no shame in this for her. It was not a punishment, nor a mark of inferiority. So it might be, perhaps, for all her daughters thereafter.
I found this idea compelling, but in the few hours since then I haven’t been able to find much commentary on the passage from any of the Doctors. I did find one homily from St. John Chrysostom. He says nothing about the Blessed Mother, and only talks about the practical ways in which childbearing is beneficial to women. But he also does not answer the question of how nuns or barren women can be saved, and I don’t think my interpretation is substantially incompatible with his. I know St. Thomas wrote a commentary on Timothy, but I can’t find it online. If anybody else knows of any relevant material, feel free to pass the information along.
Is the Catena Aurea online? If so, there may be something available there. And despite St. Louis’s indigestibility, you might try investigating what he has to say in this regard. I can’t profess any familiarity with his writings, but it seems likely to me that he may at some point have discussed this. Of course, I couldn’t say for sure. But, it’s worth a try.
Also, in the interest of disclosure, I’ve been previously commenting here under the name DJB.
And please excuse my ignorance. The Catena is Gospel commentary, as I’ve just learned.
Clara,
John Chrysostom speaks to this(Homily 9 on 1 Timothy):
“For the woman taught the man once, and made him guilty of disobedience, and wrought our ruin. Therefore because she made a bad use of her power over the man, or rather her equality with him, God made her subject to her husband.’Your desire shall be to your husband?’ ( Gen. iii. 16.) This had not been sa