God’s Mom

Copyright © Edward Riojas

It’s Mothers Day weekend, and folks are working themselves up in a lather to properly express some gratitude for their mothers on this one holiday, as if every other day of the year isn’t quite worthy of a nod of appreciation. Like our moms often told us: You know better.

There is one mother, however, that can stand a bit taller where pride in her offspring is concerned, and that is Mary, the mother of our Lord. The mystery of the Holy Incarnation is beyond comprehension. The how’s and why’s of a human mother giving birth to her Lord and ours is nothing around which we can wrap our brains. And yet we try.

"Pietà" Michelangelo. 1498-1499.
(St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City)

Images of Mary are so varied that they serve as proof of man’s fervent desire – and gross inability – to grasp the mystery of the Incarnation of our Lord. Sensible Christians should give respect to the mother of our Lord, for as the angel Gabriel said, she is "Blessed among women." Denominational differences, however, become strong where Mary is concerned. Even within the Lutheran sphere there are strong opinions, depending at which point in Luther’s life doctrinal claims are based. Others, however, prefer to insult our intelligence by going beyond what is sensible, and supplementing what Holy Scripture refuses to tell us. If opinions of Mary vary as much within Christendom, how much more the visualizations of those beliefs!

Among the most austere representations of Mary is one of the most famously-gorgeous – Michelangelo’s “Pietà” in St. Peter’s Basilica. In spite of a High Renaissance approach filled with voluminous fabric and delicately rendered forms, Mary is decidedly lacking in symbolic references. Whether intentional or not, Michelangelo deftly side-stepped the nearly-obligatory halo, although the folds of her head drapery subtly suggest one. The artist even avoided using the color blue [indicating purity] simply by adhering to the Renaissance misconception that Classical sculptures of Greece and Rome were not polychromed. Of course, there is plenty in Michelangelo’s masterpiece with which hard line devotees can take umbrage – the utter lack of symbolism and Marian adoration being chief among them.

"Virgin of Paris"
Anonymous. 14th Century.
(Notre-Dame Cathedral, Paris)

Another example from the Northern Renaissance shows a far different Mary. The “Virgin of Paris,” housed in the Notre-Dame Cathedral, shows Mary as Queen of Heaven. The Marian theme takes cues from somewhat vague imagery in the Book of Revelation and runs with it. The crown is truly regal. So is her garment, being hemmed with jewelled embroidery. Mary holds a single lily, a symbol with which she is closely associated.

The figure of Christ, on the other hand, is almost an afterthought. He wears no crown. A royal orb signifying His rule over the world and the cosmos lacks the usual cross, making it seem like a child’s plaything instead of a symbol of the Lord’s sovereignty. The Marian slip shows, and the scales are embarrassingly tipped toward the creature and not the Creator.

If Jesus Christ is thus allowed to become subservient and peripheral, then surely He can be discounted altogether. Such is the natural progression where the cult of Mary reigns. When allowed to run rampant, images of Mary lean toward schmaltzy ‘sacred heart’ icons of questionable meaning. Representations of Our Lady of Guadalupe fit snugly in this category. Building a case on visions from a former believer in the Aztec religion is highly suspect, and creating an original image – referred to as the “tilma” – by the same dubiously-miraculous manner is just plain dangerous.

"Tilma of Our Lady of Guadalupe"
Anonymous. 1531.
(Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe,
Tepeyak Hill, Mexico City)

The tilma image is of Mary – sans Jesus – in an attitude of devotion, and surrounded by a mandorla – a sort of halo encompassing her entire body. She is sometimes shown wearing a crown. (There is considerable debate surrounding the crown – or lack thereof – in earliest ‘Guadalupe’ images.) One ingredient that is always present in this Marian form is the crescent moon on which she stands. This is again a reference to the passage in Revelation.

What is not so obvious to modern eyes is the same image seen through Aztec lenses. While “the mother of our Lord” and “the mother of God” are innocuous terms used within Christendom to speak of Mary, the Aztecs worshipped Tonantzin, “the mother of the gods” – literally and affectionately, “our mother.” The moon, in the Aztec religion, was also identified with this deity.

Some may laud Juan Diego for his visions that initiated the cult of Our Lady of Guadalupe, but Juan’s Aztec surname, Cuouhtlatoatzin, thinly veils a far different reality: His visions occurred at Tepeyak, the site of the Aztec temple to Tonantzin. It may seem that the New World fully embraced Mary, the mother of our Lord, even using her image as a rallying point for national pride and military might. Those early visions, however, were often viewed in a different light, and it took great pains for the Roman Catholic clergy to finally stay locals from referring to Mary as “Tonantzin.”