Loading ...
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.
St. Louis-Marie de Montfort,
Pope St. Pius X,
St. Joseph,
St. Ambrose of Milan,
St. Thomas Aquinas,
St. Francis (and St. Clare),
St. Catherine of Siena,
St. Alphonsus Ligouri,
St. John Chrysostom,
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 said to her before.
But how was Adam not deceived? If he was not deceived, he did not then transgress? Attend carefully. The woman said, ‘The serpent beguiled me.’ But the man did not say, The woman deceived me, but, ’she gave me of the tree, and I did eat.’ Now it is not the same thing to be deceived by a fellow-creature, one of the same kind, as by an inferior and subordinate animal. This is truly to be deceived. Compared therefore with the woman, he is spoken of as ‘not deceived.’ For she was beguiled by an inferior and subject, he by an equal.”
and again in Homily 26 on First Corinthians:
“For with us indeed the woman is reasonably subjected to the man: since equality of honor causes contention. And not for this cause only, but by reason also of the deceit (1 Tim. ii. 14.) which happened in the beginning. Wherefore you see, she was not subjected as soon as she was made; nor, when He brought her to the man, did either she hear any such thing from God, nor did the man say any such word to her: he said indeed that she was ‘bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh:’ (Gen. ii. 23.) but of rule or subjection he no where made mention unto her. But when she made an ill use of her privilege and she who had been made a helper was found to be an ensnarer and ruined all, then she is justly told for the future, ‘your turning shall be to your husband.’ (Gen. iii. 16.)”
Now this seems a little unfair, as it was not really a serpent, but a powerful demon with the appearance of a serpent. But Chrysostom softens the criticism by pointing out that male headship gives women a special share in the imitation of Christ, for “the head of Christ is God.” As Christ freely subjected Himself to the will of the Father, so a woman should freely choose to obey her husband.
St. Thomas, drawing upon St. Augustine, makes a better case against Eve than does Chrysostom. For, in the City of God(BkIV.chapter12-13), Augustine claims that an evil will necessarily proceeded the sin of our first parents. St. Thomas elaborates on this(ST II-II163.4:
“On the contrary, Punishment corresponds to guilt. Now the woman was more grievously punished than the man, as appears from Genesis 3. Therefore she sinned more grievously than the man.
I answer that, As stated (3), the gravity of a sin depends on the species rather than on a circumstance of that sin. Accordingly we must assert that, if we consider the condition attaching to these persons, the man’s sin is the more grievous, because he was more perfect than the woman.
As regards the genus itself of the sin, the sin of each is considered to be equal, for each sinned by pride. Hence Augustine says (Gen. ad lit. xi, 35): ‘Eve in excusing herself betrays disparity of sex, though parity of pride.’
But as regards the species of pride, the woman sinned more grievously, for three reasons. First, because she was more puffed up than the man. For the woman believed in the serpent’s persuasive words, namely that God had forbidden them to eat of the tree, lest they should become like to Him; so that in wishing to attain to God’s likeness by eating of the forbidden fruit, her pride rose to the height of desiring to obtain something against God’s will. On the other hand, the man did not believe this to be true; wherefore he did not wish to attain to God’s likeness against God’s will: but his pride consisted in wishing to attain thereto by his own power. Secondly, the woman not only herself sinned, but suggested sin to the man; wherefore she sinned against both God and her neighbor. Thirdly, the man’s sin was diminished by the fact that, as Augustine says (Gen. ad lit. xi, 42), ‘he consented to the sin out of a certain friendly good-will, on account of which a man sometimes will offend God rather than make an enemy of his friend. That he ought not to have done so is shown by the just issue of the Divine sentence.’”
One of my professors thought this passage best understood in light of the famous distinction (from Aristotle’s NE?) between the incontinent and intemperate man(correct me if these are the wrong terms). The man who pursues excessive pleasures knowingly, because his passions overcome his will, is a better man than the one who pursues excessive pleasures habitually without realizing they are excessive. In the latter man, the misdirection of his passions has become second nature and actually corrupted his judgment as well.
A favorite professor of mine tied the passages from St. Augustine and St. Thomas together, claiming that Eve alone was deceived and that, the preternatural gifts our first parents received protected against error. So, her confusion implies that she was already habituated in the sin of pride. Adam, on the other hand, still committed the sin of pride, but in a lesser degree because he realized it but the temptation was too great.
In any case, Our Lady redeemed womankind from shame, so we need not feel like second-class citizens, though the punishments may persist.
By the way, it was the same professor in both examples - Dr. Anthony Andres
Thank you, Raindear! That is very enlightening. In fact I had read the sections from St. John Chrysostom, but as I mentioned, I couldn’t find a way to access St. Thomas’ commentary. I didn’t get into Chrysostom’s bit in my original post, partly out of laziness (it was about 2 in the morning) but also because I, like you, found him a bit problematic. As you note, Eve was not really deceived by a beast, but rather by a powerful dark angel in the guise of a beast. And in any case, this does not explain why Adam was not deceived.
The explanations you give of the “not deceived” passage are much stronger, and St. Thomas’ explanation of Eve’s greater guilt also seems much better. (I found Chrysostom’s commentary a little irksome at a few other points, like when he opines that, as Eve demonstrates, women are just generally weak and fickle… to which I feel compelled to retort, “Who sat at the foot of the Cross? And who ran away?” On the other hand, I did enjoy his interpretation of the “be silent in learning” passage, which he explains by noting that women tend to be very talkative, and often prefer to gossip with their neighbors rather than listening when they are being instructed! So the verse is essentially a warning to pay attention when a lesson is being offered, and not be disruptive. I don’t know if this is right, but it’s certainly amusing.)
Does Thomas say anything helpful about the “redeemed in childbirth” passage? Perhaps it should be clear at this point why I have trouble not feeling a little miffed at the passage in Timothy. That Eve sinned, and was punished by being made subject to her husband, I understand. But Our Lady erased the stain of shame, and it seems rather petty not to mention that fact in such an obviously relevant context. It’s like saying archly, “Well, Roger did burn down the schoolhouse,” without bothering to mention that he also courageously made trips inside to save schoolchildren from burning, and then spearheaded the project to gather funds and rebuild a better schoolhouse. However, one doesn’t like to accuse the Apostle to the Gentiles of being petty, so it’s a bit of a problem.
If we can take the “saved in childbearing” passage as a reference to Our Lady (at least in part), that seems to remove the slight. And it also explains how a man who advocated celibacy could at the same time declare that childbirth is an integral part of the salvation of women.
Take the example you provide:
Suppose Roger purposefully burned down the schoolhouse and several children burned to death as a result. Even if he repented in time to save many children and even if he helped rebuild the school, it would take more than that to entirely efface such an atrocious crime.
Perhaps childbirth is the most efficacious suffering of women, because it recalls both the dignity of a holy woman and the disgrace of a fallen one.
St. Thomas speaks to part of your objection(ST II-II.164.2):
Objection 3. Further, the punishment of our first parents’ sin is transmitted to all, as we have stated with regard to death (1). But all “women’s conceptions” are not “multiplied,” nor does “every man eat bread in the sweat of his face.” Therefore these are not suitable punishments of the first sin.
Reply 3. These punishments affect all somewhat. For any woman who conceives must needs suffer sorrows and bring forth her child with pain: except the Blessed Virgin, who “conceived without corruption, and bore without pain” [St. Bernard, Serm. in Dom. inf. oct. Assum. B.V.M.], because her conceiving was not according to the law of nature, transmitted from our first parents. And if a woman neither conceives nor bears, she suffers from the defect of barrenness, which outweighs the aforesaid punishments
In Greek, the same word is used for woman as for wife. If you say, “Wives shall be saved by childbearing,” that eliminates the problem with nuns and other celibate women. Barren wives would have tried to conceive.
“Who sat at the foot of the Cross?” Even in this case, at least one man did show up . . .
Ah, that is good, Raindear, what St. Thomas wrote: barrenness is a worse blight than the pains of childbirth.
Furthermore, though Our Lady undid Eve’s sin, that does not mean that women are free from being under their husband’s control, anymore than men are free from sweating to earn their bread, and having to pull thistles out of the field. Those punishments, though mitigated and provided with a role in the economy of salvation, are not entirely remitted.
Why is a woman being saved by childbirth a slight? I work out my salvation by the sweat of my brow (or, mutatis mutandis, the dullness and frustration of my job).
Clara, I am anxious to find some of these songs on CD. I’m willing to grant that poetry and pros set to music has an advantage over the written word but if you ever find anything on the Rosary to surpass De Montfort’s “Secret of the Rosary,” please let me know.
Clara, I find problematic your attempt to mitigate St. Paul’s teaching. He states that he does not permit women to teach in the present, because in the past 1) Adam was formed first, and 2) Eve was deceived, not Adam. Now #1 has nothing to do with sin, it is part of nature — woman is the helpmate of the man, not vice versa. #2 must represent something that is still of concern for women today, regardless of Our Lady’s perfection. If Our Lady’s perfect life cancelled out the effect of Eve’s punishment for subsequent, fallen women, then St. Paul could not possibly have used this punishment as a reason for the silence of women *now* in the New Testament. That he cites it as a reason for current behavior indicates that this penal aspect of women’s silence is still in effect, just as the penal aspect of painful childbirth is still in effect. Consider (oh boy . . .) what St. Thomas wrote about Our Lady’s painless delivery of Our Lord. Though in her person Our Lady undid Eve’s sin and hence delivered without pain, that did not mean that afterward Christian women would be spared that particular penalty of Original Sin. Likewise, she was subject to her husband and later her son in a perfectly natural way and not as a result of sin, original or actual. But her perfection no more spares modern women from the penal aspect of female silence than Our Lord’s (the New Adam’s) freedom from concupiscence spares me and other men from concupiscence. Our Lord and Our Lady were under no compulsion to die, yet both willingly offerred their deaths as holy sacrifices (in the case of Our Lady, the Dormition is not yet defined dogma). Yet I have to die. There are many penalties of original sin that simply have not been lifted, yet now have a potentially redemptive role since by enduring these pains with sanctified grace we may merit salvation. That, and not the elimination of the results of original sin (except, of course, deprivation of divine grace), is the true meaning of redemption. And one of the remaining penalties, as St. Paul proves, concerns the rationale for the wives being subject to their husbands.
Additionally, you ask “how was Adam *not* deceived.” I looked at Genesis — all it says is that he took the fruit and ate it. It does not say that he was “seduced.” So the question should be, “Where does it say that Adam ate the fruit because he was deceived?”
When asked, Eve tells the serpent that God said not to eat the fruit of one tree, lest they die. So she knows exactly what God said. Then the serpent replies: “No, you shall not die the death. For God doth know that in what day soever you shall eat thereof, your eyes shall be opened: and you shall be as Gods, knowing good and evil.” The inspired author then explains Eve’s motive: “And the woman saw that the tree was good to eat, and fair to the eyes, and delightful to behold: and she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave to her husband who did eat.” As Raindear notes, Adam blames Eve without saying he was seduced, and Eve explicitly blames the serpent for seducing her. But what’s interesting is God’s specific reason for punishing Adam: “Because thou hast hearkened to the voice of thy wife and hast eaten of the tree whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldst not eat.” God does not say that Adam was deceived, but that he erred in hearkening to his wife when He should have listened to God. So there seem to be two ways in which female silence in Timothy corrects the effects of original sin: first it excludes from teaching authority the gender that was directly seduced by the Devil (seduction is incompatible with teaching authority), and second it places man (who fell into original sin by hearkening to woman instead of to God) in a position of responsibility, mediating God’s teaching to woman. Adam should have corrected Eve (i.e. taught her) and pleaded for God’s forgiveness, but nope.
Of course Adam was deceived as to whether his act was worth it, but Raindear’s excellent citations seem to indicated that pride and weakness may have been his primary faults rather than culpable self-delusion alone.
About the fact that the serpent was really a cunning and powerful demon in disguise — note the fact that he was in diguise. Eve had sufficient grace to say, “Hey, what do business do I have here chatting alone with this creature. I don’t him from Adam . . . er, wait I *do* know him from Adam! I’m flesh of my husband’s flesh, bone of his bone — even if what you’re saying were true, even if there were some loophole in God’s command, I couldn’t make such a decision without Adam’s say. I mean, God made him first, not me, right?” Adam might have said, “Eve, you heard what God said. Don’t listen to some stupid snake, listen to me. I may have been created yesterday, but hey, I’m still like an hour older than you are.”
Now, if Adam had sinned first and more grievously, and then had deceived Eve into sin, there would be a completely story, with men being punished more grievously. But that is simply not what happened. I wonder if Satan didn’t single out Eve since he hates the fact that God could love even partially-material beings. Maternity, i.e. mothers, i.e. Eve, in particular perpetuates material life in a loving, grace-full way, so Satan would be especially envious of a woman in the state of grace (?).
Now of course, as Raindear stated, “punishments may persist” even after the redemption. Our Lord and Our Lady were the New Adam and the New Eve. Through the Redemption and the Co-Redemption, we need no longer renew in our own lives the cycle of sin that originally imposed such penalties as painful childbirth, the war of the sexes and male “dominion,” and the sorrows of work. Children can be baptised, marriage is removed from the bonds of strife and raised to be a sacrament in which the spouses emulate Christ and the Church, and work can be the source of heavenly merits. But the underlying *reasons* we “work out” our salvation painfully via the heartache and heartbreak of childrearing (which is painful long after birth, as my poor mother can testify!), of the complicated relationship between the sexes, and work are the same reasons cited in Genesis and Timothy 1.
Question: are we all operating under the assumption that there really was a single Adam and a single Eve who lived in Eden and had a really bad day there, the details of that day being described in Genesis 3?
“Now, if Adam had sinned first and more grievously, and then had deceived Eve into sin, there would be a completely story, with men being punished more grievously. ”
Read: “completely different story”
Okay, obviously I have not been very clear in expressing my, shall we say, concerns, since two intelligent people appear not to have understood me. I am not really worried that there is some deep theological problem with St. Paul. Nor am I outraged at the “injustice” of women suffering in childbirth. For one thing, just in general, I don’t worry much about the problem of evil as it relates to temporal suffering. Some pain can be useful for moral formation, and it’s plausible that such may be the case here. Anyway, that’s not my concern.
It just seems like, in the first place, St. Paul is being mean and petty here. And in the second place, he seems to be distorting the truth by omission. He mentions certain limitations placed on women. Then he explains that this state (one is strongly tempted to say, “this inferiority”) is due to the shame womankind suffered through Eve. And then he mentions another punishment, which, although it is a punishment, may still allow them a chance at salvation.
It’s pretty hard to read that passage (at least in its own right) and not walk away with the impression, “huh, I guess women really are inferior, thanks to Eve.” He doesn’t talk about the sense in which this submission can be a particularly graced state (as it was for the Blessed Mother) and he doesn’t mention the fact that the mark of shame left by Eve had already been cleansed by the Mother of God.
Go back to my example of Roger. Raindear is quite right that, if Roger’s bad deed caused great evil (the suffering and death of some children) it would be appropriate for him to continue to feel bad for it even after he had made amends. It would also be appropriate for him to suffer whatever punishment seemed just (for example, if it counted as arson he should still stand trial even if he had fully repented and made amends as well as he could.)
But it would not be appropriate for others in the community to talk about his sins without mentioning his repentence and his ceaseless and noble efforts to redeem himself and to repair the wrong. If someone asked, “What kind of guy is Roger?” it would be quite petty for someone to answer, “Oh, Roger? Well, he did burn the school down. At least he’s in prison, so maybe serving his time will have some positive effect.” Everything in that statement would be true, but it would be a grave misrepresentation of the whole situation, and it would be, in short, unkind. It seems likewise unkind for St. Paul to say, “women should be silent and submissive, and that’s what they deserve for the sins of their sex, but hopefully their punishment will eventually improve them,” without mentioning that womankind had already been restored to its dignity by the Blessed Lady.
It’s not the sort of problem that shakes one’s faith to its foundations, but it’s sad to feel that one has a little grudge against St. Paul, especially since I like him so much in most ways. That’s why I was attracted to the idea that his bit about “saved in childbearing” might be, at least in part, a reference to the Blessed Mother. Because that would seem to soften the overall tone of the passage, and call to mind that, together with their shameful moments, women have also had their glorious ones.
I do not see the word “shame” anywhere in the texts cited. I see Eve’s transgression, and the corresponding effect it has by way of punishment on her daughters. I do not see “shame,” however. St. Paul is talking specifically about things which, as I pointed out, Our Lady’s perfection did not cancel. Her perfection did not cancel the particular effect of female subjection to their husbands. Hence, it is not relevant to the context. The fact that her marriage was perfect and devoid of any of the tensions that normally accrue to marriage and constitute the war of the sexes does not exempt women from at least having to deal with these problems. They are still under their husbands, and it is not always fun — it often is experienced as a pain, a trial, a suffering, a temptation, which is what Genesis says. This simply does not go away, regardless of Our Lady.
Nor is childbearing a punishment! St. Paul never says that here. According to Genesis, the *painful* aspect is punishment, but bearing and rearing children is a woman’s natural role in the world. Eve would still have saved herself by childbearing had she never fallen. St. Paul basically continues, “She will be saved through childbearing, provided she practice all the moral and theological virtues.” The moral and theological virtues are not punishments. They are the same thing that save men. All he says, really, is “Lest you misunderstand me, women can get into heaven by doing what women do — by being wives and mothers — provided they do so with the virtues appropriate to their state.” I don’t know how this is a remotely negative or slighting statement. He says, “Teaching is a man’s job. Always was, still is. Eve proves what happens when the roles get messed up. But you don’t need to be teachers to get into Heaven. In the grace department they women be no worse off for being women, i.e. wives and mothers, provided they do so with the theological virtues.”
So really there is nothing “shameful” about the so-called “punishment.” In fact, what is shameful is the fact that submissive learning and childbearing — both perfectly natural for women — are experienced as penalties at all!
Our Lady certainly did save herself — and us! — by childbearing. And she also observed silence, as she was not a part of the Magisterium. She is the model to follow. So all St. Paul is saying is, “Yet women can be saved by living the life that Our Lady lived. But try playing the role of teacher, and you’ll end up playing the role of Eve.”
Furthermore, reconsider what I wrote above about Genesis 3. The painful childbirth for women, the painful work for men are all in effect still. So what about Gen. 3:16, “and thou shalt be under thy husband’s power, and he shall have dominion over thee.” It is equally true that men abuse this position of power and that women try to get out from under it. There is a war of the sexes. If each gender suffers particular punishments in accordance with the particular manner with which it habitually falls into sin, then St. Paul’s point “And Adam was not seduced; but the woman being seduced, was in the transgression” may pertain to how men and women err today, how they still, today are subject to concupiscence regardless of Our Lady’ perfection on that score. Regardless of Our Lord’s sacrificial love, men still muck up and abuse women, right? Then regardless of Our Lady’s due compliance, women still give into “seduction” and try to undermine their husbands. Perhaps the point with this passage really is that Eve was seduced in her thinking, in her *theology.* If this bespeaks a particular predisposition in women toward error of this sort, then it makes sense in the context. To paraphrase St. Paul again, “Women, both by nature and by the weaknesses bred in them by Eve, are not qualified to teach. Yet they can get into Heaven by doing what Eve should have done in Eden. I.e., their dignity has been restored, as they are not fated to perpetuate Eve’s sin, but CAN live a life of faith, and love, and sanctification, with sobriety.” So woman’s dignity has been restored to exactly what Eve would have had before she fell, and Our Lady had her part in this.
What I think you fail to see is that St. Paul actually is laying out an optimistic and quite Marian role for women, one which does them no shame.
And look at I Timothy 2:8: “I will therefore that men pray in every place, lifting up pure hands, without anger and contention.”
So men in particular have a tendency toward having impure hands, anger, and contention. (Here, I’m thinking of Cain and Abel as precedents.) Seems like a perfectly fair assessment of the characteristic faults of men. Then he goes on to the characteristic faults of women.
“Our certainly Lady did save herself ”
Meaning, she worked out her salvation, which came from God’s grace.
” So woman’s dignity has been restored to exactly what Eve would have had before she fell, and Our Lady had her part in this.” And even greater than what it was in Eden, since the Seed of the Woman triumphed over evil. So I agree with you Clara, Our Lady is relevant. She may be in the background of what St. Paul wrote, but she is not absent. And St. Paul does due honor to what she achieved. Without Christ, men could not raise up pure hands in peace and prayer; without Mary, women could not fulfill their natural and supernatural roles as St. Paul defines them. If that had occurred to me earlier, I might have spared the reader my numerous, redundant paraphrases of St. Paul!
I think we’re in substantial agreement about most of the important points. On the point about silence, you know, I wasn’t really advancing the “don’t gossip” theory in any serious way. I merely read it in Chrysostom’s homilies and found it amusing, and mentioned it for entertainment’s sake. But thanks for your reflection on that, which was interesting.
Also interesting that you would bring up Our Lady’s delivery. Did you read the bit sent to us by Londoniensis a few weeks ago regarding the Pope’s words on this subject. (Thanks go out to him for sending that, by the way.) For everyone else’s benefit, here’s what he told us:
“In his homily on the feast of the Assumption this year (posted on Zenit)the Holy Father said: “Yet, this woman who suffered, who had to flee, who gave birth with cries of anguish, is also the Church, the pilgrim Church of
all times. In all generations she has to give birth to Christ anew, to bring him very painfully into the world, with great suffering. Persecuted in all ages, it is almost as if, pursued by the dragon, she had gone to live in the wilderness.”
It would appear that the Holy Father is mainly of the opinion that Our Lady did suffer in childbirth. Obviously this doesn’t have anything like the status of an ex cathedra pronouncement, but I take it as strong enough to at least allow people like me to think on this subject as we will without heresy or impiety.
Anyway, thanks for the enlightening discussion.
More examples of why women should remain silent..
Too bad that whole Cornell Society for a Good Time Ladies Auxilary idea never got off the ground..
Good grief, Clara, read what the Pope said on Assumption Day. He NEVER said that Our Lady gave birth in anguish. Nope, didn’t happen. Hasty readers with itching ears made that up (may they reform, and not be seduced by the Red Dragon!). Here is the link: http://www.zenit.org/article-20333?l=english
Follow the context. The Pope is engaging in exegesis of the Woman Clothed in the Sun in the Book of the Apocalypse. He notes that the Woman is “a multidimensional image”:
“Without any doubt, a first meaning is that it is Our Lady, Mary, clothed with the sun, that is, with God, totally; Mary who lives totally in God, surrounded and penetrated by God’s light. Surrounded by the 12 stars, that is, by the 12 tribes of Israel, by the whole People of God, by the whole Communion of Saints; and at her feet, the moon, the image of death and mortality.”
“Mary has left death behind her; she is totally clothed in life, she is taken up body and soul into God’s glory and thus, placed in glory after overcoming death, she says to us: Take heart, it is love that wins in the end!”
“The message of my life was: I am the handmaid of God, my life has been a gift of myself to God and my neighbour. And this life of service now arrives in real life. May you too have trust and have the courage to live like this, countering all the threats of the dragon.”
“This is the first meaning of the woman whom Mary succeeded in being. The ‘woman clothed with the sun” is the great sign of the victory of love, of the victory of goodness, of the victory of God; a great sign of consolation.’”
That is a continuous quotation. This is a self-contained section that identifies the Woman of Revelation with the Blessed Virgin Mary. NO mention of birth pangs.
Then the Pope immediately continues:
“Yet, this woman who suffered, who had to flee, who gave birth with cries of anguish, is also the Church, the pilgrim Church of all times. In all generations she has to give birth to Christ anew, to bring him very painfully into the world, with great suffering. Persecuted in all ages, it is almost as if, pursued by the dragon, she had gone to live in the wilderness.”
“However, in all ages, the Church, the People of God, also lives by the light of God and as the Gospel says is nourished by God, nourishing herself with the Bread of the Holy Eucharist. Thus, in all the trials in the various situations of the Church through the ages in different parts of the world, she wins through suffering. And she is the presence, the guarantee of God’s love against all the ideologies of hatred and selfishness.”
“We see of course that today too the dragon wants to devour God who made himself a Child. Do not fear for this seemingly frail God; the fight has already been won. Today too, this weak God is strong: he is true strength.”
Now the Pope already closed off the section about the Virgin Mary. When he says “this woman who suffered, who had to flee, who gave birth with cries of anguish,” “this woman” is not the Blessed Virgin, but the Woman Clothed in the Sun. So the Pope is saying that to the extent the Woman Clothed in the Sun gives birth in anguish, the Woman represents NOT the Blessed Virgin, but the Church. The CHURCH “gives birth” to Christ in pain through the ages by living the Christian life and giving witness (martyrdom) to Him. The Pope nowhere ascribes birth pangs to the actual, physical Birth of Our Lord at Bethlehem. He nowhere identifies the painful birth of Christ with the Birth at Bethlehem. He specifically ascribes that part of St. John’s vision to the Church alone. So Pope Benedict is *perfectly* in synch with traditional Catholic exegesis in exempting Our Lady from birth pangs. Q.E.D.
Of course, he might have said that Our Lady suffered spiritual pangs when the Church was born at Calvary. The sinless Head was born with joy, the sinful members with travail, the Seven Sorrows, the piercing of her Immaculate and Dolorous Heart (gee, I’m verging into Montfortian prose here . . .).
So Our Lady did not suffer birth pain.
DEAL WITH IT. ACCEPT IT. LOVE IT.
Clara writes: “On the point about silence, you know, I wasn’t really advancing the ‘don’t gossip’ theory in any serious way. I merely read it in Chrysostom’s homilies and found it amusing, and mentioned it for entertainment’s sake. But thanks for your reflection on that, which was interesting.”
If this was addressed to me, I have to say that none of my comments were motivated by the “don’t gossip” theory. I do not know what you’re referring to when you mention my reflection on that point.
Clara: “I think we’re in substantial agreement about most of the important points.”
Wait a minute. I’m confused.
Your position in your last clarification was that you perceived St. Paul’s comments as being petty and mean. He seems to downplay Adam’s sin and then ommits that Our Lady undid the “shame” that St. Paul is citing as a rationale for current policies. He excludes women from teaching as a punishment, then tells them to rear children as a punishment.
My position was (and still is) that St. Paul is being fair. His policies are not shameful, nor do they entail any punishment that Our Lady cancelled *for us.* He is not singling out women unfairly by claiming that Adam was “not seduced.” St. Paul nowhere says that childrearing is a punishment (he also tells women to engage in good works and practice faith, which are not punishments). In fact, since Eve had no teaching role to begin with (having been created second), St. Paul here imposes no special burden on women except having to fight to overcome the “old Eve” (just as the men have to overcome the “old Adam” that drives them to impure anger and contention). He proposes not a life of ongoing shame as though Our Lady never repaired Eve’s sin, but a life of grace dependent on the idea that Our Lady did repair Eve’s sin.
As such, I see no “substantial agreement about most of the important points,” unless you’ve changed your mind.
My goodness, that was quite rude. But sorry, I don’t see it. It seems quite clear that he is identifying the Woman Clothed with the Sun both with Our Lady and with the Church, and saying that she is representative of the Church in this way. It is a multidimensional image; that is, the image is represented by different entities (both Our Lady and the Church), but it would be ridiculous to suppose that this means that the Woman’s different attributes must be parceled out to the different entities exclusively. She is one and also the other; that’s the point of having one image represent two things. And it would be odd for the Church to metaphorically bring forth Christ in pain, in imitation of Our Lady… if Our Lady had never brought forth Christ in pain. The Church would be built in analogy to something that never happened.
It’s true that the Pope particularly emphasizes different dimensions more with respect to different aspects of the vision. Presumably this is determined with respect to relevance. In the present time Our Lady is in glory and the Church is still in pain, and these aspects had the most immediate relevance to the points he was making, but that doesn’t mean that every aspect of the Woman does not entirely find an echo in the relevant entity. To me that seems by far the most natural way to read the Holy Father’s words. Our Lady was once in pain bringing forth Christ; now she is in glory. The Church is now in pain bringing forth Christ, but one day she will likewise be glorified.
But I suppose even the Holy Father’s words allow for some ambiguity. He does not directly say either “Our Lady suffered birth pangs” or “Our Lady did not suffer birth pangs.” Sorry, I really didn’t mean to rehash this, but I just thought it would be nice to include that tidbit, sent by one of our readers, for the perusal of the others.
Clara, we have it on good authority (indeed the Highest Authority) that hard truths are better than soothing lies. The Truth will set us free!
Be open to all the Truths of the Catholic Faith.
And also stop focusing on “the woman’s” point of view.
…there is neither Gentile nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, Barbarian nor Scythian, bond nor free. But Christ is all, and in all.
Okay, let me try to lay this out clearly.
Original thesis: St. Paul may have been referring to Our Lady when he referenced women being “saved in childbirth.”
Argument: Among other things, if he didn’t bring her into the picture, the discussion would seem both unkind and a bit misleading. So it would be nicer to suppose that he intends for us to be thinking of her when he makes that remark.
As far as I understand, we both agree on that point. So we’re all good, then.
JSP, I’m under no obligation to consult you about what I post. Anyway, I post on all sorts of things, and “women’s” posts can’t account for much more than 5%. If you don’t like them, don’t read them.
The Most Holy Virgin suffered no birth-pangs when giving birth to Our Savior. This is the unanimous sense of the Church. What the Church does celebrate is her “Compassio”, her suffering with Christ on the Cross, whose feast is traditionally celebrated the Friday of Passion week, a week before Good Friday. That suffering in itself must have been more painful than we can imagine. She may have not suffered giving birth to the Head, but she does in giving birth to the members of the Body of Christ.
On the Cantigas, it is a pity that English speaking Catholics do not have easy access to the broad body of poetry and literature that other Catholic cultures have to offer. In Spanish, many of the greatest examples of poetry are poems to the Christ, the Virgin, and the saints. This is true from the Middle Ages to the Age of Gold (San Juan de la Cruz, Lope de Vega, Calderon de la Barca), to the Baroque (Gongora, Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz), to the modern period (Gabriela Mistral, Cesar Vallejo). There is even a form of drama, the “auto-sacramental”, that was very popular in the time of the Counter-Reformation, that was an extended allegory to illustrate the truths of the Catholic Faith. Compared to what exists in Spanish alone, Catholic literature in English is a very small collection indeed.
” Among other things, if he didn’t bring her into the picture, the discussion would seem both unkind and a bit misleading. So it would be nicer to suppose that he intends for us to be thinking of her when he makes that remark. As far as I understand, we both agree on that point. So we’re all good, then.”
We are not agreed. St. Paul wasn’t referring to Our Lady when he mentioned how women should adorn themselves. And he wasn’t referring to her when he excluded women from teaching. Nor was he referring to her when he said that women need to persist in faith, hope, charity, etc. He really is proposing how women today should behave. The fact that Our Lady is in the background (where we agree) does not mitigate the literalness of St. Paul’s injunctions, but rather reinforces it. If I understood your proposal, if St. Paul is referring to Our Lady, then the “woman shall be saved through childbearing” doesn’t refer to women today. Or at least somehow the force is mitigated. Is this a misunderstanding on my part? Because otherwise I can’t see how the statement is at all unkind should Our Lady not be the referent. If women are supposed to be saved through childbearing literally, then that is a fair and kind thing even if Our Lady is not mentioned. And if St. Paul does refer to Our Lady obliquely, then women should imitate her. You came to the conclusion that Our Lady is the referent because otherwise much of the rest of the passage is unkind and unfair. I find Our Lady there because the passage is so kind and fair already — “Here’s how women can imitate the New Eve and not the old one.”
You mention the fact that the Church needs to imitate Our Lady. Our Lady suffered and now is in glory, as the suffering Church will be. Agreed, and I already addressed this when I mentioned Our Lady’s pains at Calvary. By bringing forth Christ in pain, the Church imitates the pains of Our Lady’s Compassio. She suffered “delivering” us (Christ’s mystical members) to God, we suffer “delivering” Christ to the world. And giving birth to Our Lord did indeed entail suffering — the Seven Sorrows, which do not include any mention of painful physical delivery. So yes, the birth pangs of the Lady Clothed with the Sun do apply to Our Lady — the *same* way they apply to the Church, metaphorically, in regard to spiritual sorrows and travails. That’s how the theologians and doctors of the Church take it (see below). My point is that Londiniensis misinterpreted the Pope’s words, as did you, when you took “this woman who, etc.” as referring literally to Our Lord’s birth. As you note, context proves otherwise.
And by making your point about the necessity of the Church imitating Our Lady, you reinforce my case, too. If Our Lady was saved by childbearing, so too are married women, who are in fact the majority of women. As already noted, the Greek word for “woman” is also the word for “wife,” so you can translate, “Wives shall be saved by childbearing.”
But every saint and blessed and doctor who’s ever addressed the question of Our Lady and labor unanimously rejects the idea that she suffered, with solid arguments, and they all regard it as a serious matter. Which is why the mention of this impious theory scandalizes me, personally, and the scandal only grows the longer others persist in it. This is a serious error, as much for the spurious grounds on which it is advanced as for the specific content. I regret picking up St. Thomas’ point on this matter in one of my comments, which is what sparked the debate here.
That Our Lady suffered no pains during childbirth, and that her physical virginity remained intact, is an infallibly taught doctrine and part of the Deposit of Faith. It has been universally held throughout all time and in all places within the Church - You must believe it in order to be Catholic.
Yes, the doctrine of the perpetual virginity holds that Our Lady “remained a virgin, before, during, and after the birth of Our Lord.” Her virginity and all signs of it were never taken away “during” Our Lord’s birth and that is why the doctors agree that Our Lord passed through her virginal womb as light passes through a window. Light does not damage glass.
I hate to continue too far with a subject that obviously causes some people pain, but for those of you who weren’t reading our blog then (Discipulus and Arturo Vasquez), we hashed this out at considerable length last December in my post on “The Miraculous Virgin Birth.” You can refer back to that if you’re interested in what was said; I don’t want to repeat everything now since it obviously upsets some people.
As regards the Pontiff’s statement: TP wants to suppose that the “giving birth in pain” bit is a metaphor, both in Our Lady’s case and in the Church’s. This doesn’t make sense to me. It is essential to a metaphor that it make reference to a real thing. In Discipulus’ example above, it wouldn’t make sense to talk about “like light passing through glass” if light did not, in literal fact, pass though glass. You can’t have a metaphor to a metaphor; at some point there has to be a real thing behind it.
In case people have forgotten it by now, let me repeat the most relevant line of the Holy Father’s speech: “Yet, this woman who suffered, who had to flee, who gave birth with cries of anguish, is also the Church, the pilgrim Church of all times. In all generations she has to give birth to Christ anew, to bring him very painfully into the world, with great suffering.”
So, you can see his parallel. The woman (who suffered, who had to flee, who gave birth with cries of anguish) is both Our Lady and also the Church… who gives birth to Christ very painfully in all generations. It seems absolutely plain to me that he is saying that Our Lady, like the Church, suffered, had to flee, and gave birth with cries of anguish. The first two are obviously true of Our Lady. Tobias Petrus can try to explain the last by presuming that this is a reference to Our Lady “giving birth” to us metaphorically, but given that the same sentence refers to the Church bearing Christ with pain, I think it is far more natural to assume that “bearing Christ” is the thing under discussion, especially since we’re obviously intended to know that Our Lady was the one who bore Christ in the most literal sense. (So, as I say, what would “the Church bearing Christ painfully” be a metaphor to, if nobody ever did this in literal fact?) Again, TP could accept that implication and try to view it as a reference to the Seven Sorrows, but I think that’s also a bit strange, since those sorrows were not in giving birth per se, but rather in events that occurred afterwards, and it’s obvious that we’re talking here about giving birth. I’ve admitted that this doesn’t have the plain, on-face clarity of a dogmatic statement, but I think the implication is pretty strong. However, I’m happy to leave it to our readers to read the passage for themselves and draw their own conclusions.
With regards to Joe Six Pack’s declaration that his position on this issue is a de fide Catholic truth, I can only say that it is not listed as such in the Catechism, that Ludwig Ott (one of the best-known scholars of Catholic dogma) says explicitly that it is not, and that he is joined in this opinion by my FSSP catechist with whom I once discussed the question. But you know best, as usual.
On the other point, I just don’t know what there is for us to argue about. I stated that there was a very natural way of reading the passage which would seem somewhat petty and insulting to women. I wanted to argue that such a reading is wrong. Perhaps you were never tempted by the wrong reading to begin with, in which case, good for you. But I do think it very natural to hear, “Don’t let women do X and Y, and the reason is that they were created second (and though it doesn’t logically follow that being created second makes one naturally inferior, I think it’s an easy implication to draw in this context) and that they sinned more grievously in the beginning” as an indication that women are banned from teaching or speaking because they are naturally inferior/are being punished. Having that idea in one’s mind, one might be inclined to hear the reference to childbearing as a reference only to the punishment given to women in Genesis, of bearing children in pain. I have actually heard it interpreted this way in sermons (though never, as far as I can recall, in a Catholic church.)
And even if St. Paul did not say explicitly that submission and silence are not equivalent to inferiority, it seems fitting for him to make a positive effort to cancel the possible implications, because it is very natural to assume that the group charged with teaching and holding authority is the naturally superior one. (If you think that that’s merely a modernist mistake, think again. Nobody articulated the idea more eloquently than the Greeks.)
But look… he does! If you imagine that he meant the reference to childbearing to be a reference to Our Lady (in part anyway — I was never averse to the idea that there might be more than one way in which “childbearing” was salutary for women) then it seems that motherhood as a whole is being mentioned as an honorable and holy task, every bit as much so as teaching or holding positions of power. That was precisely the interpretation I wished to endorse.
So when you say, “What I think you fail to see is that St. Paul actually is laying out an optimistic and quite Marian role for women, one which does them no shame,” I think you’re failing to see that this is exactly the interpretation that I favored from the beginning.
If there is any disagreement between us, it is only concerning how easy or “natural” it would be to interpret this passage wrongly. But that’s rather a silly thing to fight over, don’t you think, when we both agree on the proper interpretation?
“The woman (who suffered, who had to flee, who gave birth with cries of anguish) is both Our Lady and also the Church”
Our Lady had to flee AFTER she gave birth not before, so the metaphor breaks down on this account.
There’s no reason why the listing would have to be chronological. In this case, it would make most rhetorical sense to put that one last, simply because it was the most significant for the analogy the Holy Father wanted to draw.
Clara,
Perhaps the woman in Revelation is more of an allegorical figure than a metaphorical one. The concrete example of a woman laboring painfully in childbirth signifies the spiritual laboring of Our Lady and the Church.
For what it is worth, TB’s interpretation of the Pope’s statement seems more obvious to me, even without taking into account the broader tradition which it favors.
The devil sinned more grievously than Eve and was punished more grievously, but neither indicates an inferiority of nature. In fact, he possessed a nature far superior to hers. I find this objection silly. Nonetheless, I must admit that the implications of exclusion from teaching and ruling are a little more disturbing at first. There are two explanations which I find preserve the sense of the text without diminishing the dignity of women. First, that the exclusion exists only as a punishment and therefore implies no natural inferiority, as indicated above. [Though, at least with respect to ruling, I think it likely that this would have been a male prerogative regardless of the Fall, simply because the family runs more smoothly with one head. I believe St. Thomas speaks to this.] Secondly, on might argue that men may be superior with respect to ruling and women with respect to loving: “For if the man is the head, the woman is the heart, and as he occupies the chief place in ruling, so she may and ought to claim for herself the chief place in love.”(Casti Connubii) Of course, St. Thomas declared that Knowing is superior to Willing, because in Knowing you possess the object in a richer sense. However, Willing(and thus loving) are acts of rational creatures and, therefore, to love more perfectly is a superiority qua rational creature. Furthermore, even St. Thomas admitted that there is a sense in which loving is superior(cannot remember why-maybe you could help with that?).
I think I finally understand your objection. You wish to see childbearing primarily as an honor rather than a punishment. Good point. While it began ignominiously, it received a special dignity after Our Lady bore Christ. It may still remain as a punishment, but one replete with blessings rather than shame.
Sorry - I meant to reference “TP’s interpretation.”
Also, I meant to mention, TB made a fine point about the passage from Chrysostom. Even though the serpent who deceived Eve was actually the devil, she failed shamefully in countenancing a criticism of God(that’s what it amounted to) from a creature she perceived as lowlier than herself.
“Perhaps the woman in Revelation is more of an allegorical figure than a metaphorical one. The concrete example of a woman laboring painfully in childbirth signifies the spiritual laboring of Our Lady and the Church.”
I would find that interpretation more convincing if it weren’t perfectly clear that Our Lady does literally do all the things on the Holy Father’s list (suffer, have to flee, and give birth) with the painful element of the birth being the only aspect of the metaphor/allegory that any of us would want to exclude. But I’ll leave it at that. I said I would let people draw their own conclusions.
“Furthermore, even St. Thomas admitted that there is a sense in which loving is superior(cannot remember why-maybe you could help with that?).”
Well, it’s widely acknowledged among the medievals (and St. Paul says this directly, of course) that charity is the greatest of the virtues, and that which must underlie every other virtue in order for it to be true. But when it comes to differences in the sexes, I don’t know what to make of any of this, because it isn’t clear to me how the differences in roles correspond to differences in actual virtues, especially since the virtues are supposed to form a unity anyway. I don’t know, obviously all that confuses me.
“You wish to see childbearing primarily as an honor rather than a punishment. Good point. While it began ignominiously, it received a special dignity after Our Lady bore Christ. It may still remain as a punishment, but one replete with blessings rather than shame.”
I think you put that very well, thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long to get that across.
I wanted to throw this quotation into the mix, though I have no idea whether it is at all still relevant to the discussion (I haven’t been able to follow all of the comments):
“. . . I say that it is the will of God that all graces should come to us by the hands of Mary. Now, this is indeed a most consoling truth for souls tenderly devoted to our most Blessed Lady, and for poor sinners who wish to repent. Nor should this opinion be looked upon as contrary to sound doctrine, since the father of theology, St. Augustine, in common with most writers, says, that Mary cooperated by her charity in the spiritual birth of all members of the Church. A celebrated writer, and one who cannot be accused of exaggeration or of misguided devotion, says, ‘that it was, properly speaking, on Mount Calvary that Jesus formed His Church’ and then it is most evident that the Blessed Virgin cooperated in a most excellent and especial manner in the accomplishment of this work. And in the same way it can be said, that though she brought forth the Head of the Church, Jesus Christ, without pain, she did not bring forth the body of this Head without very great suffering; and so it was on Mount Calvary that Mary began, in an especial manner, to be the Mother of the whole Church.” — St. Alphonsus Maria de Liguori, The Glories of Mary
The connection between the virtues confuses me to know end. However, “when it comes to differences in the sexes,” I understand it by comparison with the temperamental differences. The sanguine temperament disposes toward kindliness and docility, while the choleric temperament disposes toward courage and perseverance. Perhaps, in much the same way, the feminine nature is disposed toward loving and the masculine nature toward prudence(or maybe the intellectual virtue of wisdom).
This is what I had in mind about the superiority of loving, with respect to our final end(ST II.Q.23.6.ad1):
The operation of the intellect is completed by the thing understood being in the intellectual subject, so that the excellence of the intellectual operation is assessed according to the measure of the intellect. On the other hand, the operation of the will and of every appetitive power is completed in the tendency of the appetite towards a thing as its term, wherefore the excellence of the appetitive operation is gauged according to the thing which is the object of the operation. Now those things which are beneath the soul are more excellent in the soul than they are in themselves, because a thing is contained according to the mode of the container (De Causis xii). On the other hand, things that are above the soul, are more excellent in themselves than they are in the soul. Consequently it is better to know than to love the things that are beneath us; for which reason the Philosopher gave the preference to the intellectual virtues over the moral virtues (Ethic. x, 7,8): whereas the love of the things that are above us, especially of God, ranks before the knowledge of such things. Therefore charity is more excellent than faith.
“to no end”