When Blessed Pius IX infallibly defined the dogma of Mary’s immaculate conception, he bolstered an ancient Christian axiom: lex orandi, lex credendi. The law of praying is the law of believing. The pope argued that the sacred liturgy transmitted through the centuries this sublime truth about the Blessed Virgin. From the earliest days, the Church prayed to the Mother of God as holy. A Greek hymn from the third century calls Mary the “only pure, only blessed one.” The Catholic treasury of liturgical orations bespeaks the Virgin Mother’s predestination as a singular grace. The evangelist Luke records the angel Gabriel announcing as much: “You have found favor with God” (Lk 1:30).
In Advent, the sacred liturgy proposes another Marian chant of medieval provenance: The Alma Redemptoris Mater. This sweet poetry, which even Chaucer scribed in his Canterbury Tales, weds to delightful melody words both simple and profound. Often after Compline or Night Prayer, the faithful sing these words addressed to the Immaculate Virgin: natura mirante, nature marvels. Mortal speech cannot enunciate the mystery enfolding the Virgin—a mystery so deep, it eludes the sharpest of minds. Even St. Thomas Aquinas struggled to articulate Mary’s immaculate conception. The weight of the mystery might explain why Pius IX chose the words Ineffabilis Deus, or Ineffable God, for the title of his decree. Long treatises won’t ever penetrate the depth of the gift the Ineffable God gives to Mary, immaculately conceived. Only wonder suffices. Natura mirante.
From apostolic times, Christians have painted and sculpted the finest images of the Blessed Virgin from a sense of wonder. Her immaculate conception does not provoke jealousy in the heart of a Christian — as if man could have contempt for God in blessing Mary and not himself — but delight. What pilgrim fails to see in these images a smiling, beautiful face; a countenance so radiant and pure, it touches Heaven? Mary does not stand as our competition, but our comfort. Mary’s immaculate conception boldly proclaims God’s original purpose for all creatures. God created man in original justice. God chose man in holiness. Since Adam and Eve first said “no” to that divine plan, their descendants have tried to reclaim that justice lost: as our Advent chant says, surgere qui curat populo; people strive to rise again.
To rise to heavenly heights, man needs a strength provided by God alone. Mary’s immaculate conception points to a God who can and does bestow such strength. Grace is real and ready. That’s why pilgrims to Mary’s shrines do not flock to her mosaics or kneel before her statues only to remember a time long foregone: what could have been; but what can be for me, too. With Mary’s help, and God’s grace, I too can live a life free of sin and, one day, free from death. Mary therefore stands before us as Stella maris succurre cadenti, star of the sea, help of the fallen. The Word made flesh, from Mary’s flesh, is our one and only lifesaver in the treacherous sea which is life. Mary is not the ship or the plank that leads us home—only Christ can do that for us—and, mysteriously, for Mary, too, whose divine Son is also her Redeemer. But Mary is the star that makes visible this plan and Person. Her “yes” lifts the veil, and gives God a human face. She is therefore also coeli porta manes — the gate that opens heaven to man seemingly dead, and yet now alive in Christ. Fallen man can’t lay hold of grace; but he can be held by it.
So, hope is not lost. Saint Paul recalls why: “God the Father chose us in Christ, before the world began, to be holy and without blemish before him. In love, he destined us for adoption to himself through Jesus Christ, in accord with the favor of his will” (Eph 1:4-5).
God favored Mary with a grace beyond human imagining. Saint Paul says he also favors us — differently, and yet also wondrously. Words fail here, too. In her own life, when she learned she would bear the Savior, Mary wasn’t afraid to ponder thoughtfully: “How can this be?” But recall that the angel Gabriel doesn’t prepare a treatise for her. Gabriel instead invites Mary to accept the mystery of divine providence. She asks no further question of the ineffable God or his heavenly messenger. She simply trusts, in gratitude and awe. “Fiat,” let it be done. The dogma of the immaculate conception, and its most august solemnity, invites us to do the same.
Father Ricci is the Vice Chancellor of the Diocese of Providence and Director of the Office of Divine Worship
