The Cult of the Virgin Mary: Psychological Origins

PREFACE

There is an episode in Benjamin Disraeli’s novel Tancred (1845) in which the young English hero of that name falls asleep in a quiet garden near Jerusalem, and awakens to find himself in the presence of a young woman. By her costume and manner, he recognizes immediately that she is a Palestinian Jew. On her part, she recognizes Tancred to be a European Christian, but is uncertain as to what sort of Christian he is. To find out she asks him, Pray, are you of those Franks [European Christians] who worship a Jewess, or of those who revile her, break her images and blaspheme her pictures? The woman’s implication (and, by extension, Disraeli’s as well) is that to the outsider there are really only two types of Christian: those who worship the Virgin Mary and those who do not. Tancred responds in the orthodox manner, by suggesting that he venerates the Virgin but does not worship her. The remainder of the conversation becomes a device to argue for the Jewish origins of all Christian religions, which is one of the major themes of Disraeli’s book. Nevertheless, the conversation ends by emphasizing again the point on which it started: We have some conclusions in common, says the young woman. We agree that half Christendom worships a Jewess and the other half a Jew.

Most scholars interested in the study of religion might take issue with the bald assertion that intensity of Marian devotion is the only thing that differentiates the various Christian churches. But few, I suspect, would quarrel with the assertion that the Roman Catholic emphasis upon Mary is one of the things that most distinguishes the Roman Catholic Church from other Christian groups. All the more surprising, then, that scholarly studies of the Mary cult are so few. The general neglect of the Mary cult by sociologists of religion seems especially surprising, given their great concern over the past ten or fifteen years with the study of other religious cults.

One of the clearest definitions of the term cult has been given by Swatos (1981: 20), who defines a cult as a collectivity centering around a real or imaginary figure whose followers believe that their lives are made better through activities which honor or are proscribed by the leader. This definition seems implicit in virtually all sociological studies of cults, and the Mary cult clearly falls within this definition. Yet if we survey the now vast sociological literature on the subject, we find dozens of articles and books on the general subject of cults, and more on particular cults such as Scientology, the Hare Krishnas, Christian Science, est, the Way, The Divine Light Mission, and, of course, the Unification Church of the Reverend Moon—but very few works on the Mary cult among Catholics.

What explains this general neglect? Does anyone doubt that over the centuries the Mary cult has attracted a far greater number of adherents than will ever be attracted by the Church of Scientology, the Hare Krishnas, and so on? Even today, when mainstream religion is supposed to be in decline, how many cults can boast anything approaching the twelve million pilgrims a year who go to the Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe, or the four and one–half million a year who go to the shrine at Lourdes? Possibly this neglect of the Mary cult reflects only a predilection for the exotic, or perhaps a lack of concern with history.

Quite apart from the Mary cult’s intrinsic importance, there is a second and more practical reason that might have led to greater scholarly concern with the Mary cult: ecumenism. Simply put, the Mary cult is probably the single greatest obstacle to the eventual reunification of the Christian churches. John Henry Newman (1967 [1865]: 174–177), for instance, told us long ago that there were two great barriers to his conversion to Catholicism: the doctrine of transubstantia– tion, and the Catholic emphasis upon Mary. Newman’s reservations about the Mary cult have been echoed time and time again by any number of Protestant theologians, and, at least since Vatican II, by an increasing number of Catholic theologians. Yet despite its obvious relevance to the ecumenical movement, the study of this cult has been neglected.

The Mary cult has not, of course, been ignored completely. Even if we overlook the obviously devotional material and those works concerned only with theology, there remain a number of scholarly works that do touch upon the Mary cult, if only briefly. Most of these, however, take that cult (or some aspect of it) as a given, and then relate it to other aspects of the social order. In her very popular book, for instance, Warner (1976) takes for granted the existence of the Mary cult and argues that it has served to lower the status of women over the centuries; there are any number of investigators (see, for instance, Wolf, 1958; Lafaye, 1976; Kurtz, 1982) who have assumed the cult of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico as a given, and have argued that this cult served to integrate Indians into the Spanish–dominated society of post–Conquest Mexico; the Turners (1982) took as their starting point the apparitions at LaSalette and at Lourdes, and went on to argue that these apparitions proved popular because the message associated with each addressed concerns typical of nineteenth-century Europe; and so on.

The approach taken in this book, however, is quite different. My concern is not with the effects of the Mary cult on society but rather with the question of origins. By this I mean the sociological, psychological, and historical processes that have given rise (and continue to give rise) to the Mary cult as we know it today. Why, for instance, is Mary both Virgin and Mother, simultaneously? This juxtaposition of qualities was not typical of most earlier mother goddesses in the Mediterranean area. Why was the Mary cult absent in the first four centuries of the Christian era, only to appear relatively suddenly in the fifth? Why has the Mary cult always been stronger in certain areas of Europe than in others? Why do apparitions of the Virgin occur to certain people at certain times in certain places rather than to other people at other times in other places? These are all questions relating to the origins of the Mary cult, and these are the questions that this book is designed to answer. The answers will provide us, as well, with some novel explanations for many of the incidental features of the Mary cult—such as, for instance, why Marian scapulars have had (until recently, at least) to be made of wool, or why the Miraculous Medal, one of the most popular of all Marian cult objects, has on its obverse two pierced hearts surmounted by a large M. Finally, the same arguments used to explain aspects of the Mary cult will provide us with answers to some questions that might seem to have nothing to do with the Mary cult, such as why the Roman cult of the Great Mother took hold in Italy in precisely the second century B.C., and why the earliest images of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ in Christian art appear in the early part of the fifth century, at the same time that the Mary cult first emerged.

In pursuing the question of origins, it will be convenient to divide this book into two parts. Part I will be concerned with the Mary cult as a whole. Chapter One will lay out a number of patterns that seem to be associated with this cult. Chapter Two will evaluate most of the hypotheses about the Mary cult that have been proposed, if only in passing, by earlier investigators. As we shall see, some of these are supported by the data, others clearly are not. None of these hypotheses, however, seems capable of explaining all the empirical patterns outlined in the first chapter. Chapter Three is the heart of the book, since it introduces the psychoanalytic interpretation that can be used to explain most aspects of the Mary cult, including those described in Chapter One. Chapter Four is a continuation of the argument in Chapter Three, and is specifically concerned with using the argument developed there to explain why the Mary cult emerged suddenly in the early part of the fifth century. Chapter Five is not concerned with the Mary cult at all, but rather with some observations about the nature of Roman religion that seem inescapable, given the explanation of the Mary cult that has so far been developed.

The second section of the book focuses specifically upon the study of Marian apparitions. This focus derives partly from the fact that these apparitions have always played a central role in the history of the Mary cult, and partly from the fact that the processes that give rise to these apparitions represent an intensification of those that generate support for the Mary cult in general. Chapter Six is, in effect, a general introduction to the study of Marian apparitions. After making an initial distinction between those apparitions likely to have been hallucinations and those likely to have been illusions, this chapter will focus upon Marian hallucinations and describe some of the general processes that give rise to such events. Chapter Seven will consider in detail three particular Marian apparitions, all of which occurred in France during the nineteenth century: at Paris (to Catherine Labouré) in 1830, at LaSalette in 1846, and at Lourdes in 1858. Chapter Eight will consider two more well-known apparitions: those that occurred at Fatima, Portugal, in 1917 and those at Tepeyac, near Mexico City, in 1531. In Chapter Nine we will consider three Marian apparitions that seem to have been illusions—those at Pontmain, France, in 1871; at Knock, Ireland, in 1879; and at Zeitoun, Egypt, in 1968.

The book will conclude with a brief chapter that speculates on the likely development of the Mary cult in the near future.

I want to thank the anonymous reviewers of my manuscript whose comments were insightful and helpful. I also want to thank both Gail Ullman, Social Science Editor for Princeton University Press, and Margaret Case, copyeditor for this book, for their patience, their hard work, and their encouragement. Finally, I must thank Veronica D’Souza, Grace McIntyre, and Denise Statham, whose typing skills made it much easier to write this book than would otherwise have been the case.

London, Ontario

September 1985

PART I

ORIGINS OF THE MARY CULT

ONE

SOME OBSERVATIONS AND PATTERNS

In the next few chapters we will be considering several theories and hypotheses about the Mary cult. Suppose, just for the sake of argument, that some of these were more correct than others. How would we know this? The problem is not trivial. There seems little point in considering various explanations of the Mary cult unless we first decide how to evaluate them. In a few cases, it will be possible to use a variant of the hypothetico–deductive procedure favored by philosophers of science and by social scientists attracted to that field. That is, in some cases it will be possible to derive a precise prediction from the hypothesis being considered and to then test that prediction using quantitative data. Generally, however, the nature of the question being considered will preclude such a procedure. How, then, to evaluate these hypotheses?

The only reasonable alternative would seem to be some type of criterion of intelligibility. We can, in other words, evaluate a theory by determining the degree to which the theory makes intelligible a wide range of seemingly disparate observations by allowing us to order those observations into a single coherent pattern. The pros and cons of using a criterion of this sort to evaluate scientific theories has been widely discussed in the philosophy of science and there seems little point in duplicating that effort here.¹

But if we say that a good theory is one that brings a sense of order to a range of observations, then obviously our first task—before considering any particular theory or hypothesis about the Mary cult—is to delineate the more important patterns observed to be associated with that cult. The observations about the Mary cult established in 1 this first chapter must become part of the yardstick against which all theories of that cult must be judged.

My own review of the scattered literature on the Mary cult suggests that there are three patterns in particular that must be accounted for by a good explanation. They have to do, respectively, with the historical development of the cult, the distinctiveness of Mary in contrast to the goddesses found in the Classical religions, and the geographical distribution of the cult.

HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT

Protestant theologians have always had two strong objections to the Mary cult. The first is that there is little or no basis for such a cult in the New Testament. Mary, after all, is mentioned in only about a dozen passages, and usually only in passing. The Gospel of Mark, for instance, which is generally taken to be the earliest of the four Gospels, mentions her only once (Mark 6:3), and the Acts of the Apostles, our earliest record of the early Church, also mentions her only once (Acts 1:14).

The second objection is historical: there is little or no evidence that anything like the Mary cult existed during the first four centuries of the Christian Church. Hilda Graef (1963a; 1963b), who is perhaps the most well known of the modern Catholic apologists for the Mary cult, has responded to this criticism by arguing that the neglect of Mary in the early Church has been overemphasized. But she can point to only four bits of evidence that seem to indicate Marian devotion in the early Church: Mary is mentioned in some of the apocryphal works, notably including the Protoevangelium of James, there is a reference in the late fourth century to an apparition of the Virgin Mary to one Gregory the Wonderworker, who is supposed to have lived a century earlier; there is a papyrus fragment that dates from the early fourth century, which seems to record a prayer asking for Mary’s intercession; and the’ Eastern Church (though not the Western) had introduced a single feast of the Virgin sometime before the beginning of the fifth century. I must emphasize that these four observations constitute the whole of Graef’s evidence in support of the view that popular Marian devotion existed in the early Church.

But even Graef, along with most other Catholic commentators (see, for instance, Hirn, 1957 [1912]: 188–189; Laurentin, 1965: 41; Greeley, 1977: 95) seems willing to admit that popular devotion to Mary did not become widespread until the latter part of the fifth century. Almost invariably, these Catholic commentators see this increase in Marian devotion as an aftermath of the Council of Ephesus (A.D. 431), at which Mary was proclaimed to be the Theotokos. Literally, this term means God-bearer but it is usually translated these days as Mother of God.

Whatever the impetus, there is no doubt that popular devotion to Mary did increase in the fifth, sixth, and seventh centuries. The first church in the city of Rome dedicated to Mary, for instance, was dedicated to her within a few years after the Council of Ephesus (Denis– Boulet, 1960: 65–66). The earliest Marian shrine was apparently a sanctuary near Constantinople, where there is a record that the veil of the Virgin was venerated from about the middle of the sixth century onward (Graef, 1963 a: 138). In the West, the earliest feast of the Virgin was the Purification, which was introduced in the latter part of the seventh century, and was quickly followed by the introduction of feasts commemorating the Assumption, the Annunciation, and the Nativity of Mary (ibid.; 142–143).

Generally, it appears that from the latter part of the fifth century onward there was a steady increase in the development of the Mary cult that reached its apogee, in the opinion of most commentators, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries. The relatively sudden appearance of a well documented Mary cult in the fifth century, then, is obviously one of the observations that must be accounted for.

MARY AS VIRGIN MOTHER

It is very tempting to see Mary as simply the latest in a long line of mother goddesses who have dominated Mediterranean religions over the past several millennia. This would be a mistake. Although there are similarities, Mary is quite different from almost all earlier mother goddesses in at least one very important way: she is completely disassociated from sexuality.

To understand exactly how Mary is disassociated from sexuality, we must remember that to Catholics Mary is simultaneously both mother and virgin. There is nothing problematic about the association of Mary with the mother label: she is mother because she gave birth to Jesus Christ. On the other hand, the association of Mary with the Virgin is more complex, if only because the assertion that Mary was (or is) a virgin means three distinct things in Catholic tradition. First, it refers to a belief in the Virgin Birth, or more precisely, the Virginal Conception, that is, to the belief that Mary conceived Christ as the result of divine intervention and without aid of sexual intercourse. Second, it refers to what Catholic theologians term Mary’s in partu virginity, which is the belief that Mary’s maidenhead was never ruptured even though she gave birth. Finally, it refers to Mary’s perpetual virginity, that is, to the belief that Mary abstained from sexual intercourse even after the birth of Christ.

Belief in the Virginal Conception is of course a belief common to almost all Christian sects, and is not uniquely associated with the Roman Catholic Mary cult. The motif of the virgin who is impregnated by a god and who gives birth to a hero was part of a great many myths and legends in the pre-Christian Greco-Roman world, as well. The most famous story incorporating this motif concerned Romulus (the legendary founder of Rome), and his twin brother Remus, who were supposedly born to a mother who had been impregnated by the god Mars.

The other two beliefs, however—Mary’s in partu virginity and her perpetual virginity—are more closely associated with Roman Catholicism alone, and are generally rejected by Protestants. The basis for this rejection is the New Testament itself, since all four Gospels make explicit reference to the mothers and brothers of Jesus (Matt. 12:46–49; Mark 3:31–34; Luke 8:19–21; John 2:12). Likewise, in his Letter to the Galatians (1:19), St. Paul talks of having met James, the Lord’s brother. For most Protestants, these passages clearly suggest that Mary had other children after the birth of Christ, and thus that she was not a lifelong virgin. Catholics, however, have always sought to give these passages an interpretation that left their belief in Mary’s in partu virginity and in her perpetual virginity intact. Over the centuries, for instance, a few Catholic commentators have suggested that the brothers in these passages were Joseph’s children by a previous marriage. The prevailing view (especially among Catholic commentators today) has been that the term translated as brothers really refers to kinsmen of some sort and not to siblings.

I suspect that most non-Catholic readers will have little difficulty with the assertion that an emphasis upon Mary’s perpetual virginity is a central element in the Catholic Mary cult. They may experience more difficulty, however, in accepting the assertion that Catholic doctrine could be so concerned with Mary’s in partu virginity, that is, with whether or not the hymen of the simple maid of Galilee (to borrow Luther’s phrase) remained intact throughout her life. Let me emphasize, therefore, that the issue of Mary’s in partu virginity was a major concern of the early Church, and was an issue addressed by all the great theologians of the period. (For some indication of the Christological implications of Mary’s in partu virginity, and thus why this was considered such an important issue in the early Church, see Graef, 1963a). In fact, a belief in Mary’s in partu virginity is still very much a part of Catholic doctrine and still very much emphasized by Catholic theologians (see Smith, 1980; Hardon, 1975: 151; Owens, 1967: 693–695; Miegge, 1955: 36–52).

The issue of Mary’s in partu virginity is worth stressing because it is only by focusing on this that we can justify the often–made and quite facile identification of Mary with the great virgin mother goddesses of the ancient Near East, such as the Canaanite goddesses Astarte and Asheroth, the Akkadian goddess Ishtar, and the Sumerian goddess Inanna. In what is still the best comparative study of these Near Eastern goddesses, Patai (1967) notes that they were invariably seen as in partu virgins, that is, as possessing intact maidenheads. But he also notes that all these goddesses were invariably associated with sexual promiscuity. All these goddesses, for example, were seen as taking on a wide range of human and divine lovers, and in some cases (all discussed at various points of Patai’s book) we have exceedingly graphic descriptions of the couplings between these goddesses and their lovers. The modern rationalist, of course, might argue that it makes no sense to talk of a goddess who is sexually promiscuous and yet who preserves her maidenhead intact—to which the Sumerian rationalist would presumably respond by saying that it makes more sense than arguing that a woman like Mary could give birth and yet preserve her maidenhead intact.

In any event, given that these Near Eastern goddesses were, like the Virgin Mary, thought to have intact maidenheads, Mary’s uniqueness lies only in the fact that she was, unlike them, a perpetual virgin. In other words, Mary is unique because she alone was completely disassociated from the act of sexual intercourse.

Mary’s distinctiveness is even more clearly established when she is compared with the major goddesses of the Greco–Roman world. Many of these goddesses were clearly mothers, and many were clearly virgins, but few if any were virgin mothers. Mary, for instance, has often been compared to the goddess Demeter (called Ceres by the Romans), who was certainly a mother figure by virtue of her association with agricultural fertility. Demeter was not, however, a virgin in the sense of being disassociated from sexual intercourse. One of the oldest traditions surrounding her, for example, tells of her coupling with Iasion in a field that had lain fallow and was thrice ploughed (Rose, 1928: 94); and lasion was by no means her only lover. Artemis (whom the Romans called Diana) and Athena (Minerva) were well known virgin goddesses, but there is little or no basis in Greco-Roman mythology for portraying either as a mother figure.

The case of the goddess Isis merits special consideration for two reasons: the Isis cult was one of the most popular and widespread of all the goddess cults in the Greco-Roman world, and Isis has been seen, perhaps more than any other goddess, as a precursor to the Virgin Mary. At first glance, Isis does seem very similar to Mary. Most of the myths involving her, for instance, portray her as a devoted wife to her husband Osiris and a devoted mother to her son Horus. There is certainly no report of Isis engaging in sexual intercourse with anyone apart from her husband. Moreover, quite apart from the figure of Isis herself, we know that there were periods during which the women who attended Isiac temples in Rome were supposed to refrain from sexual intercourse.²

Nevertheless, if you had said Isis to the average Roman during the period of the empire, he or she would almost certainly have thought sexual promiscuity. The association of Isis with unsavoury sexuality would have been due in part to the fact that she and Osiris, though husband and wife, were also brother and sister. Although brother–sister marriage had been routinely practiced by the Greek-speaking Ptolemaic kings of Egypt (where the Isis cult originated) in the period prior to the Roman conquest, that type of marriage was strongly at variance with moral codes that prevailed within the Roman Empire as a whole. For the most part, however, the association of Isis with sexual promiscuity derived from the activities associated with Isiac temples. For instance, in his Amoves (Book 11, 2: 25-26) written at the end of the first century B.C., Ovid tells us that men often used these temples as a trysting place. Martial (Epigrams, Book xi, 47: 3–4), writing in the second half of the first century A.D., suggests that simply walking by a temple of Isis could provide a man with sexual temptation. A few decades later Juvenal (Satires, 6:488–489) suggests that wives routinely used these temples to carry on clandestine affairs.

Perhaps the most well known of the stories linking Isiac temples to illicit sex was a story reported by Josephus, according to whom a Roman aristocrat named Decius Mundus became enamored of a Roman matron named Paulina. Knowing that Paulina was a devotee of Isis, Decius Mundus secured the help of Isiac priests, who were to tell Paulina that she should come to the temple in order to experience divine intercourse with the god Anubis. Sure enough, Paulina met Anubis in the temple, and willingly submitted to his sexual advances. Needless to say, Anubis was Decius Mundus in disguise. When the Emperor Tiberius heard about the incident, he had Decius Mundus exiled, the temple of Isis destroyed, and several hundred Isiac priests crucified.

In her discussion of the Isis cult, Heyob makes the point that the association of this cult with sexual immorality was probably undeserved. She suggests (1975: 118–119), for instance, that the story related by Josephus was probably a fabrication, and given that it is similar to any number of legends, this is probably the case. Nevertheless, whether or not this particular story is correct, or even whether or not there really was an unusual amount of trysting at Isiac temples, the fact remains that Isiac temples had a reputation in the Roman world for being centers of promiscuity. In discussing the temple of Isis at Rome, Witt (1971: 138) says succinctly that for the baser folk in the Italian capital . . . the temple could mean little else than a brothel. Given this association (deserved or not) between Isiac temples and sexual promiscuity, it becomes impossible to argue that Isis—like Mary—was in any clear way disassociated from sexuality. Moreover, the association of Isiac temples, and thus Isis herself, with sexual promiscuity suggests that Isis was very similar to the sexually promiscuous mother goddesses of the ancient Middle East, such as Inanna, Ishtar, and Astarte. This is hardly surprising, since there is an enormous amount of documentary evidence (reviewed in Witt, 1971) to indicate that the Isis cult did originate in Egypt, a Near Eastern society.

Were there, then, any Greco–Roman goddesses who were disassociated from sexuality? Lewis Farnell (1907: 305–306) specifically addresses the question of whether any Classical goddesses could legitimately be described as virgin mothers. He concludes that the general answer would seem to be no. He further suggests that the virgin mother motif exists in Classical mythology only to the extent that it has been projected back onto that mythology by Christian scholars familiar with the Virgin Mary. Only in the case of Cybele, the Phrygian goddess whom the Romans worshiped as the Magna Mater (Great Mother) is Farnell willing to concede that there might be any evidence of a virgin mother. Cybele and her cult will become very important to the theoretical argument to be developed in Chapter Five, but here I only want to emphasize again that the association of Mary with motherhood and her complete disassociation from sexuality make her unique in relation to all earlier Mediterranean goddesses of any importance, save possibly Cybele.

GEOGRAPHICAL DISTRIBUTION OF THE MARY CULT WITHIN EUROPE

There are probably some individuals intensely devoted to Mary in every country in which there are significant numbers of Roman Catholics. Nevertheless, if we measure the strength of the Mary cult in a given region in terms of the number of religious rituals in an area that focus primarily upon Mary, and the degree to which the community at large participates in these rituals, then it is clear that the Mary cult is stronger in some areas of Europe than in others. Mediterranean scholars, for instance, have always noted that the Mary cult seems to be a distinctive feature of the Latin Catholic countries, primarily Italy and Spain, that border the northern edge of the Mediterranean (Wolf, 1969). Even Catholic commentators like Laurentin (1965: 159–161), more concerned with theology than with anthropology, have noted that Marian devotion in Italy and Spain seems especially intense—a phenomenon often mentioned in studies of local religion in these areas.³ The ethnographic literature relating to local religion in Europe suggests that only