A Response to Anti-Marianism

A Competitor?

In the last section, I stated my belief that there are two steps in anti-Marianism's construction of the "rival" category:

1) The a-priori assumption that A and B are different compartments.

2) The short, quick hop from there to Compartment B as a competitor of Compartment A.

The purpose of the last section was to deny Step 1 by maintaining that A and B are actually in the same compartment. In this section, however, let us meet the anti-Marianists on their own ground. Although the difference between the anti-Marianists and ordinary Catholics is fundamentally a struggle between psychological "two" and "one" compartmentism, let us, for the sake of the discussion, accept two-compartmentism. Let us—for the sake of this section— assume that a vast chasm separates devotion to Mary from devotion to Christ, that, in reality and not only in concept, the two are totally "other," that they differ as radically as an enthusiasm for Shakespeare differs from an enthusiasm for Scripture or as a passion for hot-dogs differs from a passion for Beethoven. Presupposing this split, the goal of this section will be to suggest that there is just the bare possibility that a lack of interest in Beethoven may not be attributable to an intense involvement in frankfurters.

We "assume," therefore, what the anti-Marianists assume—that Mary is a living reality for many people and Christ is not. That is the problem we will consider.

At the outset we must be wary of the dangers of language. Thoughts are both communicated and influenced by words, words which can often be ambiguous. As I crawl beneath the sheets tonight, I say to myself, "All I did today was go into town and buy a new suit." While this is a natural way of speaking, that one phrase covers two very different possibilities: 1) "All I did today was go into town and buy a new suit." Meaning: this occupation took up the major part of the day. There really wasn't time and effort for any other major activity, e.g., "All we did today was drive from New York to Chicago." 2) "All I did today was go into town and buy a new suit." Meaning: this activity might have taken only an hour, but it was the only significant thing I did. There was time and effort for other interests, but, to put it bluntly, I wasted the rest of the day, e.g., "All we did today was write a brief note to Uncle Elmer."

Now when we encounter statements such as "All these Christians do is love God. They don't love their fellow men" or "All a certain group of Catholics do is love Mary. They don't particularly love Christ," the entire discussion depends on the way in which the "all" statements are conceived.

In both cases I believe the first sense is a completely invalid way of viewing the problem. It is a false problem; it simply doesn't exist. Granted—if Christians spent twenty-four hours a day inside a Church edifice, then it would be metaphysically impossible for them to be in hospitals caring for the sick or in slums supervising housing projects or in parliaments working for social justice. If they thought of God— and "only" of Him—every single waking second, then Christians wouldn't be able to talk to other people or teach children or read a book or do anything at all.

But, apart from those called by God to the "contemplative life" (and such contemplatives bring great graces to the rest of us by their prayers and sacrifices), this situation simply does not exist. Yes, there are "Catholics" who pray to God but who seem to neglect their fellow men, but there are also a vast number of apostolic Catholics. Furthermore, the apostolic Catholics spend far more time praying to God than the "Catholics" who fail to help the poor and dependent. The conclusion? Far from keeping us from loving our neighbor, love of God is what motivates Catholics to a true love for the poor and sick. (Can any atheist or agnostic match the love of the poor shown by Mother Teresa and her sisters?)

Exactly the same is true of Marian devotion. Those who fear it believe that there are "Catholics" who love Mary but not Jesus. It is debatable whether such a group of "Catholics" actually exist. Even if they do, however, it is indisputable that there are millions of other Catholics (including hundreds of canonized saints) who love Jesus with all their hearts and who are far more "Marian" than the "Catholics" who neglect Jesus. Therefore, a great emphasis on Mary cannot be the cause of a lack of devotion to Jesus.

Then how does such a false idea arise? In the next two sections, we turn attention to the psychology of the critics of Marian devotion.

The Process of Choosing Negative Symbols

Why is devotion to the Mother of God so feared in certain quarters?

I believe the answer lies in a psychological process, a process so common that it occurs every day in many areas. Here is just one example.

Anti-Shakespearianism

The Scripture professor at my seminary was much disturbed by the neglect of the Bible. To further Scriptural devotion was a great ambition in his life.

So far we have "pro-Scripturism" and our professor shares this with probably every other Scripture teacher on the globe.

When he expressed himself on the subject, however, he invariably contrasted the lack of interest people had in the Bible with the interest they had in Shakespeare.

"Why don't people study the Bible the way they study Shakespeare!"

"If people spent less time on Shakespeare and more time on St. Paul, we wouldn't have the sorry situation we have today."

"I passed the library the other day and I saw a man reading one of Shakespeare's plays. I couldn't help thinking, 'Would he have gone to the library to read the Bible?'"

In his psychology a deep interest in Shakespeare symbolized all the things people did instead of being interested in the Bible.

This same professor was an avid tennis player. When he passed by the courts on which his fellow-enthusiasts were competing, he was not reminded of the lack of enthusiasm people had for the Bible. He felt no irritation, no sudden urge to ask them which was the most important—playing tennis or reading the Word of God. Why not? Because in his psychology an interest in tennis did not represent the forces of anti-Scripturism. When this same professor, racket in arm, re-entered the building and passed by the music room, he did not speculate whether the group listening to records devoted the same time to the Bible. But, if three steps later he came upon a man reading Shakespeare, then he could not help wondering why people did not put first things first.

His mentality, therefore, was something more than pure pro-Scripturism. It was also anti-Shakespearianism, insofar as devotion to Shakespeare symbolized the negative forces opposing and obscuring Biblical devotion.

Now one can easily visualize another Scriptural professor, as passionately pro-Biblical as our first, but whose psychology is in no way anti-Shakespearian. Perhaps he is a scholar, deeply interested himself in Shakespeare, but one who, over the years, has increasingly resented the fact that those who devote so much time to athletics are so little interested in the affairs of the mind and the soul, particularly in the Word of God contained in the Scriptures. For this person, the situation is exactly reversed. In passing by a student reading Shakespeare, he is not vaguely annoyed. On passing the tennis courts he is, and he cannot help wondering which is more important to these people—tennis or the Bible. He cannot help wondering because for him an interest in sports represents all the things people do instead of being interested in the Word of God.

His complete psychology is pro-Scriptural, anti-tennis. As such, it differs notably from a pro-Scriptural, anti-Shakespearian mentality, not in the way Scripture is treated, but in what happens to Shakespeare or tennis.

X Versus Y

Having presented an example of this process, let us try to give the general laws governing its operation:

We start with something we are committed to. Call this x. We passionately desire the success of x.

But x is not succeeding. To put it in algebraic terms, x should be attaining the level of capital X. Hard as we try, x is not becoming X—it remains on the level of small x. There is disappointment and frustration.

As time goes by, we notice another something—call it y. This y is succeeding—at least proportionately more than x. We observe that y is attaining the level of capital Y, while x remains x.

Our frustration that x is not becoming X begins to express itself in a resentment that y is becoming Y. We tell ourselves—and this may be true enough—that x is more important than y. What we are really saying is that y has no right to become Y if x cannot become X.

y has now become for us the rival of x. Whatever our intellectual opinion, emotionally we consider the success of y to be responsible for the failure of x.

Another way of putting this is that y is really no longer y for us— it is primarily anti-x. No longer does our mentality conceive the problem simply as promoting x to X. No, the focus has shifted; the problem is now conceived as making sure that x is greater than y.

When a person with such a psychology comes upon Y, he immediately suspects he will not find X. He looks for X. If he finds it, he does not credit Y. X is X for reasons totally independent of Y—possibly even in spite of it.

If, on the other hand, he finds x , then his fears are confirmed—x is x because of Y.

With X and Y so linked, there is a psychological block to encouraging Y for such encouragement only increases the forces (anti-X) that must be overcome before x can reach its proper place. When Y succeeds, we feel uneasy. When Y fails, we feel somehow more secure.

As we have said, this process is common enough. It lies behind the phenomenon of jealousy. Why do I instinctively feel elated when that neighbor down the street—the one who is a bit too good-looking or successful or intelligent—falls flat on his face? Is it not because I feel that his failure somehow elevates me, x?

xy is a psychological process, in which y comes to symbolize the forces of anti-x. It may or may not be also a logical process. In the Shakespeare example, it was not. In other words, if you asked the professor this question: "Is the lack of interest in the Bible caused by the interest in Shakespeare?," he would respond: "Don't be ridiculous—of course not. Shakespeare has nothing whatever to do with it. Nor would I think of denying that he has great worth. I simply use this as an example of the interest people frequently have in secondary things, while neglecting the primary." 

Thus, the professor recognizes logically that Y is in no way responsible for x. In spite of statements which express the psychological opposition, "what we need is less interest in Shakespeare and more interest in the Bible," when he thinks it over rationally he understands that no opposition exists.

When He Thinks It Over Rationally!

But most of the time we are not thinking things over rationally. Our dominant attitude towards an object is formed not only by what we know to be logically true about it but also by what it represents symbolically to our minds.

A child in bed "knows" logically that he is in no more danger in the dark than he was a minute before in the light. But he is still afraid and, given the opportunity, will avoid the dark as much as the lad who firmly believes that, whenever the lights are extinguished, hundreds of goblins fly into his room.

I have been informed that a piece of candy will collect more germs if it falls on the average living-room rug than if it falls on the sidewalk. I "know" this. But, if a chocolate peppermint fell on the sidewalk outside my home, I would not pick it up and eat it. If it fell on my rug, I would. Why? Because, no matter what I "know," I have an inhibition about eating the candy on the sidewalk that I do not have about the candy on the rug.

The key point that should always be remembered is this: no matter how much I approve of an object logically, if psychologically I fear it and psychologically it represents forces I seek to avoid, I will avoid that object. I may not form any intention of avoiding the object. I may not plan to avoid the object. I simply will avoid it.

In summary, to emphasize that x is more important than y is not only to denote logically that x is, in fact, more important than y—it is also to connote that closeness to y is dangerous for x, else why the emphasis at all!

Furthermore, there are four possible attitudes (not two) which a person may have toward an object:

A) He may logically approve of it and psychologically approve of it.

B) He may logically approve of it and psychologically disapprove of it.

C) He may logically disapprove of it and psychologically disapprove of it.

D) He may logically disapprove of it and psychologically approve of it.

Applying this to Marian devotion, A is the attitude of Jesus Himself. A is also the official and traditional position of the Catholic Church—the attitude of the Popes and the saints. B and C are the two kinds of anti-Marianism. D is rarely found (except as a passing stage when a person is being converted from non-Christian to Christian—or, if already a Christian, is moving from Position C to Position A.