The Catholic Bible contains the deuterocanonical books because they were part of the biblical tradition that Jesus and the apostles were familiar with and made reference to. Called the Septuagint, the Greek translation of the Old Testament that contained these books was widely used in the early Church because Greek (like English today) was a universal language of commerce. 

Some Protestants say we should not include the deuterocanonical books in the canon because Jesus and the apostles never quoted from them elsewhere in Scripture. But those aren’t the only books that aren’t quoted elsewhere. As Protestant scholar Bruce Metzger observes, “nowhere in the New Testament is there a direct quotation from the canonical books of Joshua, Judges, Chronicles, Ezra, Nehemiah, Esther, Ecclesiastes, the Song of Solomon, Obadiah, Zephaniah, and Nahum; and the New Testament allusions to them are few in number.”

In fact, the New Testament authors never even allude to Esther, Ecclesiastes, or the Song of Solomon despite the fact that the content of these books was relevant to their own writings. They did, however, allude to the deuterocanonical books, such as in Mark 12:18–22, where the Sadducees question Jesus about a woman who was married to seven brothers who all died consecutively. That story is from the deuterocanonical book of Tobit, yet Jesus doesn’t dismiss it as apocryphal.  

Another example is Hebrews 11:35, where the author mentions how some women “received their dead by resurrection. Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, that they might rise again to a better life.” This refers to persecutions found in 2 Maccabees 7, where a group of brothers suffer martyrdom instead of violating God’s law. Their mother said, “Do not fear this butcher, but prove worthy of your brothers. Accept death, so that in God’s mercy I may get you back again with your brothers” (2 Macc. 7:29). 

Again, when the crowd and the Jewish leaders taunt Jesus because he declared himself to be the Son of God yet God didn’t save him from being crucified (Matt. 27:39–43), it is a clear allusion to the deuterocanonical book of Wisdom, which says, “If the righteous man is God’s son, he will help him, and will deliver him from the hand of his adversaries” (2:18). The crowd’s gloating that God had failed to do this for Jesus makes sense only if they believed the book of Wisdom was inspired in what it said about the Son of God.  

Some Protestants say that at the end of the first century A.D. a Jewish gathering called the Council of Jamnia definitively established the Hebrew canon, and Christians should abide by that decision. But, aside from evidence that there actually was no Council of Jamnia, this argument would justify rejecting the canonical Gospels, too, because they were also allegedly rejected at this council! If certain books of the Christian scriptures were suspect with Jewish authorities, it may well be precisely because these books had become popular with Christians, who in their eyes were just apostate Jews.

So the real question is not, “Why is the Catholic Bible bigger?” Rather, it’s “Why is the Protestant version smaller?” By the time of the Reformation in the sixteenth century, Christians had been using the same seventy-three books in their translations of the Bible (forty-six in the Old Testament, twenty-seven in the New Testament) for more than 1,100 years. This practice changed with Martin Luther, who jettisoned them because they taught doctrines that conflicted with his novel theology. (The most famous example would be 2 Maccabees 12:46, which teaches the efficacy of praying for the dead in order to atone for their sins.i) Protestantism as a whole eventually following his lead, which led the Council of Trent (1545–1563) to infallibly affirm the full canon of Scripture. 

Today, many Protestants do not realize that their versions of the Bible are lacking so much text that was originally included. However, anyone who studies the authentic history of the canon must admit that this is the case. As Anglican church historian J.N.D. Kelly acknowledges, for the great majority of the early Church Fathers “the deuterocanonical writings ranked as Scripture in the fullest sense.”

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The most obvious references to the Virgin Mary are those that mention her explicitly. 

These may be few, but they are the most important. Literal references take priority in any doctrinal discussion and are the basis for all other ways of reading Scripture. 

The Protestant theologian Daniel Migliore reminds us to keep in mind:

The Gospel writers were not interested in supplying us with material for a biography of Mary any more than they were in giving us material to write a life of Jesus. Yet Mary stands before us in the Gospels as a woman of faith. The faith of Mary is portrayed—with economy, beauty, and stunning realism—in several clusters of Gospel stories.

Some Scripture passages reference Mary directly, mentioning her by name. Yet the whole Old Testament—God’s word—prophetically anticipates the Messiah’s coming and his incarnate Word. Due to Mary’s intimate relationship to the historical Christ, Old Testament prophecies foreshadowing Christ may also foreshadow her. And so, before exploring the literal references to the Virgin Mary, let us look at some of the Old Testament prophecies that foreshadow her.

Mark Roberts identifies three of these Marian prophecies: 

Christians see Mary in three Old Testament passages. Two are obvious prophecies. The first is a little more obscure. After the man and woman sin in Genesis 3, God promised that the “seed” of the woman will “strike the head” of the serpent. If the seed is Christ, then the woman is, in a sense, Mary. Isaiah 7:14 refers to a virgin or young woman (same Hebrew word) who bears a child named Immanuel. Micah 5:2-5 refers to a woman who gives birth to a messianic ruler.

Genesis 3 relays God’s prophetic curse of the serpent who tempted Eve: “I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; he shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise his heel.” This foretells a special enmity or war between Mary’s seed (Jesus) and Satan. Using this passage, early Christians, such as Justin Martyr (d. 165), began calling Mary the New Eve:

[God&91; became Man by the Virgin so that the course which was taken by disobedience in the beginning through the agency of the serpent, might be also the very course by which it would be put down. For Eve, a virgin and undefiled, conceived the word of the serpent, and bore disobedience and death. But the Virgin Mary received faith and joy when the angel Gabriel announced to her the glad tiding that the Spirit of the Lord would come upon her and the power of the Most High would overshadow her, for which reason the Holy One being born of her is the Son of God.

In Isaiah 7:14, God gives King Ahaz and all of Judah a reassuring sign of his protection against the evil surrounding them: “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, a young woman shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.” The reassuring sign of God’s protection in our war against Satan is the young virgin who conceives Immanuel, God with us.

Finally, Micah 5:2-4 prophesies of the town of the Messiah’s birth and his mother’s “travail” as the Messiah brings back his people to God and feeds them.

But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah, who are little to be among the clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days. Therefore he shall give them up until the time when she who is in travail has brought forth; then the rest of his brethren shall return to the people of Israel. And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord . . . for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth.

Sarah Hinlicky Wilson notes many New Testament passages reflect customs, rituals, and laws laid out in the Old, reflecting Mary’s religious world:

At the time of Mary’s son’s presentation . . . Mary’s devotion is evident. . . . [She keeps&91; the law: “And when the days of her purifying are completed, whether for a son or for a daughter, she shall bring to the priest . . . a burnt offering and . . . a sin offering, and he shall offer it before the Lord and make atonement for her. Then she shall be clean from the flow of her blood” (Lev. 12:6-7). The offering, “a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons,” betrays her poverty, for she cannot afford a year-old lamb.

Out of the nine times in the whole Gospel that Luke uses the expression “the law of the Lord” or the “Law of Moses,” five of them appear in this report of Jesus’ presentation and early childhood.

Descriptions of Old Testament customs, rituals, and faithful Jewish women were the context of Mary’s motherly relationship with Christ. Pope John Paul II concurs.

Although all Scripture finds fulfillment in God’s incarnate Word (Matt. 5:17), truths about Mary will be mirrored in truths about Christ, as the Second Vatican Council says:

For Mary, who since her entry into salvation history unites in herself and re-echoes the greatest teachings of the Faith as she is proclaimed and venerated, calls the faithful to her son and his sacrifice and to the love of the Father (Lumen Gentium 65).

John Paul II adds,

The council further says that “Mary figured profoundly in the history of salvation and in a certain way unites and mirrors within herself the central truths of the faith.” Among all believers she is like a “mirror” in which are reflected in the most profound and limpid way “the mighty works of God” (Acts 2:11) (Redemptoris Mater 25).

The Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC) says, “What the Catholic faith believes about Mary is based on what it believes about Christ, and what it teaches about Mary illumines in turn its faith in Christ” (487). Applying this to the Bible, we derive another key for identifying Marian Scripture passages:

Christ, our true model, fulfills all Scripture. We identify prophecies, laws, customs, and dogmas describing Mary based on prophecies, laws, customs, and dogmas describing Christ.

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Practical Habits for a Liturgical Life

Simple practices help us enter more deeply:

• Show up early: Silence the noise. Let your soul catch up to your body. Greet Christ in the tabernacle before the liturgy begins.
• Offer your life: During the Offertory, consciously place your joys, trials, and labors upon the altar with the bread and wine.
• Read and reflect: Meditate on the readings beforehand. This prepares the heart to receive.
• Remain after: The final blessing is not the end. The grace just received requires silence and gratitude to be appreciated.

To live liturgically is to live in rhythm with eternity. The liturgy becomes the anchor of the soul and the lens by which we interpret joy and sorrow, feast and fast, and even death and resurrection. In the divine liturgy, the Church does not merely remember Christ. She is the Bride united to him: offering herself with him, adoring the Father in him, and awaiting his return with anticipated and joyous hope.

When we embrace the sacramental and liturgical life of the Church fully, we are not merely fulfilling obligations, we are truly abiding in the covenant bond we have with God. We are tasting of the first fruits of the world to come, and we are responding fully, bodily, and faithfully to the God who has made himself present in water, word, and host.

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Daily Prayer and Scripture

Spend at least ten minutes each day reading the Bible. Focus on passages that highlight God’s covenant love (e.g., Hosea, John’s Gospel). Pray with these texts and ask the Holy Spirit to make his love real in your heart.

Sacramental Life

Regular confession and frequent reception of the Eucharist are powerful reminders that God’s love is tangible, forgiving, and sustaining. In the sacraments, we encounter God’s merciful embrace.

Eucharistic Adoration

If possible, spend time before the Blessed Sacrament. Contemplating Christ’s real presence in the Eucharist fosters intimacy with the God who so loved the world that he gave himself to us.

Acts of Service

Make very deliberate acts of love and service for others. Love becomes real when we serve others, echoing the self-giving nature of God’s love in history.

Lectio Divina

Practice “sacred reading” of Scripture. Reflect on a short passage, meditate on its meaning, pray with it, and listen in silence for God’s voice. This ancient method deepens our friendship with the Lord of Love.

Spiritual Reading

Explore writings of the saints and Church Fathers (e.g., Confessions of St. Augustine, or Story of a Soul by St. Thérèse of Lisieux). Their lived experiences of God’s love can kindle our own spiritual fervor.

Fellowship and Community

Engage in small faith-sharing groups. Sharing personal experiences of God’s love with others, and hearing theirs in return, strengthens our conviction that God is at work in every life.

Daily Acts of Kindness

Show small gestures of care such as sending an encouraging text, offering a smile, lending a helping hand. God’s love often breaks into our world through seemingly ordinary kindnesses that mirror his mercy.

Contemplation of Creation

Take walks, admire nature, and let creation remind you of the overflowing gift of God’s creativity and care. Offer gratitude for the beauty of the world, a reflection of his boundless love.

Cultivation of Gratitude

End each day by listing three reasons to thank God. Gratitude expands our awareness of his loving presence, even in struggles. Over time, this habit forms a heart attuned to divine love.

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FAKE NEWS

Fake news, digital noise, and constant connectivity promise to keep us informed and connected. But what if they are doing the opposite? This excerpt from Revolt Against Reality explores how misinformation, individualism, and virtual isolation have left many people more suspicious, fragmented, and lonely than ever—and why the Catholic answer begins with the God who entered the world in the flesh.

Fake news offers an alternative explanation for the world around us. Even after it is debunked, it still “leaves traces behind it”—perhaps there may be an element of truth there!

We encountered fake news throughout history, beginning with the serpent’s lie in Genesis 3:

In the account of the first sin, the tempter approaches the woman by pretending to be her friend, concerned only for her welfare, and begins by saying something only partly true. . . . After listening to the deceiver and letting herself be taken in by his version of fact, the woman was misled. . . . The tempter’s “deconstruction” then takes on an appearance of truth.

The result is a proliferation of conspiracy theories, inside knowledge, and unverifiable assertions, claiming to enlighten us as to what really is going on. Unfortunately, this phenomenon is found in Catholic outlets along with secular ones.

IT IS NOT GOOD FOR MAN TO BE ALONE—THE EPIDEMIC OF LONELINESS

Radical individualism has reached a point where community is replaced by tribalism and each person lives within his own virtual bubble universe. During World War II, people flock to the movie theaters to escape the brutal reality of the war. During the 1950s, televisions become popular, and families can escape the crowds by staying at home to watch whatever they choose for free over public airwaves. Cable and satellites carve out their own niche market, providing first run movies, sporting events, and pornography for those willing to pay for it. Livestreaming makes it possible for people to escape their families and retreat into their own worlds via cell phones and other devices. All this for the price of the device, an internet provider, and intrusive commercials. Texting and social media replace unmediated face-to-face discussions. Individuals have become imprisoned within a virtual world, surrounded by a wall of social media. Unlike the Incarnation, the constant and ever-growing bombardment of communication hasn’t united humanity; it has instead caused an epidemic of loneliness.

ME, MY PET, AND I

Multi-generational homes, which were once the norm, become single-family homes. With the collapse of marriage, “over a quarter of the U.S. population—and 28 percent of older adults—now live by themselves,” according to the U.S. Census Bureau. A growing percentage of people don’t know anyone who truly knows them well. Despite all the connectivity, they feel isolated.

According to a recent poll, “forty-one percent of Britons say the TV or a pet is their main source of company, and the U.K. has created a cabinet level minister to deal with the problem of rampant loneliness.” Stephanie Coontz, a historian at Evergreen State College, spells it out with special clarity: “As we gain the freedom to become whatever we want to be, we’ve lost the sense of belonging.”

In the end, we have become alienated from God who became flesh, alienated from each other, and even alienated from our own bodies. Man is once again alone with the animals (Gen. 2:18-19).

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Why Catholics Call Mary the Mother of God?

This excerpt from Meeting the Protestant Response explains why Luke 1:43 supports Mary’s title “Mother of God.” Broussard answers the objection that Elizabeth’s phrase “mother of my Lord” refers only to Jesus as Messiah, showing instead how Luke presents Mary as the new Ark of the Covenant. The excerpt also explains why biblical typology does not require every detail of the Old Testament ark to apply to Mary.

Mother of God

The belief that Mary is the mother of God is not unique to Catholicism. The vast majority of Christians accept this dogma, with only a minority of people in the Protestant community objecting. One text that is appealed to in support of this belief is Luke 1:43. There, Elizabeth, inspired by the Holy Spirit, exclaims to Mary, who just arrived in her presence, “Why is this granted me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” Since Elizabeth was a good Jew, and Jews normally used the word Lord in the place of the tetragrammaton (God’s name), YHWH, Elizabeth is calling Mary the mother of God. Therefore, we have a possible biblical foundation for the dogma of Mary, mother of God.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church appeals to Luke 1:43 as biblical support for the dogma of Mary, mother of God. See 448, 495, and 2677.

There are many comebacks that Protestants have to the belief in Mary as the mother of God. But there’s really only one counter-argument made to using Luke 1:43 for scriptural justification of Mary as the mother of God. It targets the assumption that “lord” is intended by Elizabeth to refer to Almighty God.

There is a counter-argument that some Protestants make to the use of this text for Mary’s sinlessness. But we can consider it here for our purposes of defending the appeal for Mary as mother of God, as will become evident below.

 “Elizabeth simply uses the title ‘lord’ in the sense of an earthly ruler. She’s referring to the fruit of Mary’s womb, Jesus, as her messianic king, not the divine messianic king.”

Protestant Bible scholar Walter L. Leifeld argues that we shouldn’t interpret this as a reference to Mary, “mother of God.” His alternative interpretation is that Elizabeth was referring to Jesus as the Messiah. He writes:

Nowhere in the [New Testament&91; is Mary called “mother of God.” Deity is not confined to the person of Jesus (we may say, “Jesus is God,” but not all of “God is Jesus”). She was, however, the mother of Jesus the Messiah and Lord.

The evidence he gives is the fact that Luke frequently uses “Lord” as a title, 95 out of 166 occurrences in the synoptics. And not every one is charged with a divine meaning. Moreover, so Leifeld argues, Jesus is called “Lord” elsewhere in the Lukan birth narrative in a non-divine way (“For to you is born this day in the city of David a savior, who is Christ the Lord”—Luke 2:11).

Answering the Comeback

With regard to the use of “Lord” in reference to Jesus in Luke 2:11, it’s not clear whether it’s being used in a divine or non-divine way. There is nothing in the text that suggests either interpretation. Leifeld simply asserts its divine use without argumentation. Given such ambiguity, we can dismiss this text as evidence for Leifeld’s conclusion.

There’s no doubt, however, that the Greek word translated “Lord,” kurios, is used in a non-divine way in the New Testament (e.g., 1 Cor. 8:5), even by Luke (e.g., 12:36, 37, 42, 43, 45, 46, 47). However, it’s not the word by itself that indicates that Mary is the mother of God. It’s how Luke sees Elizabeth using it.

There are several details that indicate that Luke is drawing a parallel between Mary and the Old Testament Ark of the Covenant. Take Elizabeth’s words themselves, for example. They are almost perfectly mirror David’s in 2 Samuel 6:9, when he says in the presence of the ark: “How can the ark of the Lord come to me?” Other parallels include John the Baptist leaping for joy in the presence of Mary in Luke 1:44 and David “making merry” before the ark in 2 Samuel 6:5. According to Luke 1:39, Mary remains with Elizabeth for three months, similar to how the ark remained in the house of Obededom for the same amount of time according to 2 Samuel 6:11.

Now, since Luke is paralleling Elizabeth’s “mother of my Lord” with David’s “the ark of the Lord,” it stands to reason that Luke intends for us to take Elizabeth’s cry as a reference to almighty God. “Lord” in the phrase “ark of the Lord” wasn’t a reference to the Messiah. The ark was the ark of almighty God. Therefore, we have good reason to interpret Luke 1:43 as a reference to Mary being the mother of God, contrary to Leifeld’s claim.

 “If you take some parallels with the ark, then you need to take all of them.”

James White poses a challenge directed at the use of Mary as the new Ark of the Covenant for support for Mary’s sinlessness. But since it’s directed at Mary the new Ark of the Covenant, the counter-argument can be utilized for whatever inferences a Catholic might make from Mary being the new Ark of the Covenant, such as Mary, “Mother of God” in Luke 1:43.

White argues that if we draw parallels between Mary and the Ark of the Covenant, then we’ll be pushed to affirm absurdities. He writes:

Must Mary have been stolen by God’s enemies for a time, so that she could be brought back to the people of God with great rejoicing (2 Sam. 6:14-15)? Who was Mary's Uzzah (2 Sam. 6:3-8)? [Catholic apologist Patrick&91; Madrid draws a further parallel between the three months the ark was with Obededom and the three months Mary was with Elizabeth. What, then, is the parallel with David's action of sacrificing a bull and a fattened calf when those who were carrying the ark had taken six steps (2 Sam. 6:13)?

White charges that the use of Mary as the new Ark of the Covenant is violating rules of scriptural interpretation, since he perceives it as picking and choosing “those aspects of Mary’s life [a Catholic&91; wishes to parallel in the ark and those which he does not.”

Answering the Comeback

Our response to this comeback is basically the same that we gave in a previous chapter concerning the interpretative context of the “key of the house of David” (Isa. 22:22) for the giving of the “keys of the kingdom” to Peter (Matt. 16:19). The premise—that some parallels require all parallels—is simply false. That’s not how prophetic foreshadowing or intertextuality works.

As we pointed out before, the New Testament authors themselves don’t honor the principle contained in this hidden premise. Consider the first two verses of Hosea 11:

When Israel was a child, I loved him, and out of Egypt I called my son. The more I called them, the more they went from me; they kept sacrificing to the Baals, and burning incense to idols (1-2).

Matthew takes the phrase “out of Egypt I called my son” in the first statement as a prefigurement of the baby Jesus’ return from the flight to Egypt (Matt. 2:15). Yet Matthew did not intend the latter part of the passage to refer to Jesus: Jesus did not go away from God, sacrifice to the Baals, and burn incense to their images.

There are numerous examples of this in the New Testament’s use of the Old. Whenever prophetic foreshadowing is in play, some elements foreshadow, and some don’t. There are continuities and discontinuities. If the New Testament authors employ this type of hermeneutic when relating the Old Testament to the New, it’s legitimate for Catholics to do the same.

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Early Christians are a wonderful example of the unity for which Christ prayed at the Last Supper:

And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. . . . And all who believed were together and had all things in common (Acts 2:42-44).

Their unity grew from reading the Old Testament and receiving the teachings of those in authority. It was expressed in their fellowship—“those who believed were of one heart and soul” (v. 32)—and in the breaking of the bread, fulfilling Christ’s Last Supper command: “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19).

Mary was a component of this unity: “All these with one accord devoted themselves to prayer, together with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus” (Acts 1:14).

The earliest teaching about Mary is that she was a virgin before, during, and after Christ’s birth (CCC 499), which—for early Christians—confirmed Christ’s divinity (CCC 496). Vehemently opposing these teachings, unconverted Jews saw Christ as an ordinary man—not God—conceived through a physical sexual union and uterine birth.

Though questioning the teaching, Evangelical Scot McKnight notes that

with very few exceptions, all Christians from the second or third century onward believed that Mary was perpetually virginal. That is . . . “ever-virgin.” . . . This surprises many of us. What may surprise us even more is that three of the most significant Protestant leaders—Martin Luther, John Calvin, and John Wesley—who in their own way were also very critical of what Catholics believed about Mary, each believed in Mary’s perpetual virginity.

Early Christians attest to Mary’s virginity, describing how Mary conceived Jesus virginally—that is, without male seed or marital intercourse. Non-canonical Christian “scriptures” also refer to Mary miraculously giving birth without pain or shedding blood:

Some said, “The Virgin Mary has given birth before she was married two months.” And many said, “She has not given birth; the midwife has not gone up to her, and we heard no cries of pain.”

So the Virgin became a mother with great mercies. And she labored and bore the Son, but without pain, because it did not occur without purpose. And she did not seek a midwife.

Mary’s virginity and Christ’s virginal birth mean that Christ is truly divine because God is truly his father. That is why Ignatius of Antioch (d. 110) defended Mary’s virginity: “In regard to our Lord . . . he is truly of the family of David according to the flesh, and God’s Son by the will and power of God, truly born of a virgin.”[vi&91;

Mary’s virginity is categorical, since Jesus is both true God and true man—i.e., “truly born of a virgin.” Clement of Alexandria (d. 215) also witnesses to Mary’s ongoing virginity:

But, as appears, many even down to our own time regard Mary, on account of the birth of her child, as having been in the childlike state, although she was not. For some say that, after she brought forth, she was found, when examined, to be a virgin.

Now such to us are the Scriptures of the Lord, [that she&91; gave birth to the truth and continued virgin, in the concealment of the mysteries of the truth. “And she brought forth, and yet brought not forth,” says Scripture; as having conceived of herself, and not from intercourse. Wherefore the Scriptures have conceived to Gnostics; but the heresies, not having learned them, dismissed them as not having conceived.

Gnostics denied Mary’s virginity because it witnessed to Christ’s divinity. Tertullian (d. 250) was one of the few Christians who doubted Mary’s virginity. A lawyer with a keen mind, this convert produced one of the earliest systematic approaches to theology, yet he could not fathom how Mary could give birth without shedding blood or how to deal with Jesus’ brothers. Tertullian’s doubts seem linked to his Montanist heresy and did little to influence Christians on the intimate link between Mary’s virginity and the mystery of the Incarnation.

Athanasius (d. 373) called her the “Ever-Virgin Mary,” countering those who denied the union of the Word’s divine and human natures. Peter Chrysologus (d. 450) more explicitly delineated the theological distinction of Mary’s virginity (before, during, and after Christ’s birth), saying, “She conceives as a virgin, she gives birth as a virgin, and she remains a virgin.” Augustine concurs (see CCC 510). The ecumenical council of Constantinople (553) bestowed the title “Ever-Virgin” upon Mary.

Ambrose (d. 397)—the bishop of Milan who had to counter his Arian predecessor, Auxentius—considered the belief in Mary’s virginity before, during, and after Christ’s birth as universal. He used “this common belief” to support another belief, that our Lord transformed bread and wine into his flesh and blood at the Last Supper:

Did the birth of the Lord Jesus from Mary come about in the course of nature? . . . It is clear then that the conception by the Virgin was above and beyond the course of nature. And this body that we make present [in the Eucharist&91; is the body born of the Virgin. Why do you expect to find in this case that nature takes its ordinary course in regard to the body of Christ when the Lord Jesus himself was born of the Virgin in a manner above and beyond the order of nature?

He could make this bold analogy because the belief in Mary’s virginity was so universal. Now it is our task here to investigate the scriptural evidence for these early intuitions.

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It is wonderful how a gentle and amiable heart can win others. -St. Francis de Sales

If you trace the word back far enough, you’ll find that the word “courtesy” comes from two Latin words meaning “with a garden” (cum hortus). From there it came to mean the enclosed place around a building, and from there the building (or “court”) itself, and from there the behavior of the court.

Besides an interesting lesson in etymology, this gives a lead as to how to practice courtesy, for, like a garden, it must be tended. We have to “prepare” ourselves, as it were, to be courteous. If we’re not somewhat calm, then we tend to take out our frustrations on others, or at least don’t give others the attention they deserve. Trying to be calm in today’s world is a challenge, but this issue is not a new one. Many of St. Francis de Sales’s letters, especially to lay people, are on this subject, and he was writing in the early 1600s. We should take comfort in the fact that we are not, never have been, and never will be alone in dealing with this.

Here is de Sales writing to a wife and mother:

My dear daughter,

I remember you telling me how much the multiplicity of your affairs weighs on you; and I said to you that it is a good opportunity for acquiring true and solid virtues. The multiplicity of affairs is a continual martyrdom, for just as flies cause more pain and irritation to those who travel in summer than the traveling itself does, just so the diversity and the multitude of affairs cause more pain than the weight of these affairs itself.

Does this sound familiar? This is where the “social” graces can be God’s work. De Sales—a doctor of the Church—calls our everyday lives of getting dressed, getting the kids out, and accomplishing the hundred and one things we need to do during the day “a good opportunity for acquiring the true and solid virtues . . . a continual martyrdom.” By fighting this “inner battle” of staying at peace in this chaos, we obtain grace, which we can then bestow on others.

This begins with prayer. Here is de Sales writing to a nun who had voiced similar complaints:

First thing in the morning, prepare your heart to be at peace; then take great care throughout the day to call it back to that peace frequently, and, as it were, to take your heart again in your hands. If you happen to do something that you regret, be neither astonished nor upset, but, having acknowledged your failing, humble yourself quietly before God and try to regain your gentle composure. Say to your soul, “There, we have made a mistake, but let’s go on now and be more careful.” Every time you fall, do the same.

Notice that de Sales almost expects us to lose our peace during the day. We must remember this. We often get upset with others because of something we or someone else did earlier, or something that happened earlier. The traffic was bad, and we snap at a co-worker. We had a bad day at work, and we take it out on the kids. The remedy is to remember that this will occur. The unexpected and unwanted will happen; we will mess up. The “trick” is to let it pass and get over it. “Say to your soul, ‘There, we have made a mistake, but let’s go on now and be more careful.’”

And then what? Here is de Sales’s advice to a nun with a “Type A” personality:

Accustom yourself to speak softly and walk in a more sedate manner. Do all that you do gently and quietly and you will see that in three or four years you will have regulated this hasty impetuousness.

But remember to act thus gently and speak softly on occasions when impetuosity is not urging you and when there is no danger of it, as, for example, when you are going to bed, getting up, sitting down, eating when you are speaking with Sister Marie or Sister Anne. In short, in all and everywhere, never dispense yourself.

This is the principle that “motions can train the emotions.” “Do all that you do gently and quietly.” Brushing your teeth, shaving, eating, opening and closing the car door as you go to work, saying a Hail Mary slowly—all of these can help build up our “reservoir.”

If we need further encouragement, we should listen to St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, a wife, mother, and foundress of a religious order who knew all the demands we know:

Never be hurried by anything whatsoever; nothing can be more pressing than the necessity of your peace before God. You will help others more by the peace and tranquility of your heart than by any eagerness or care you can bestow upon them.

We know this to be true from our own experience. How often have we, when in a flutter, gone to a person who, with few or no words, but just by the “peace and tranquility” of his heart, helps us to calm ourselves? This is truly an instance of God’s grace working through others to us. We should strive to do the same.

A peaceful heart is a sine qua non for the apostolate. It prepares us to be open to others. It instinctively tells others we are open to them. It allows us to listen to others. It makes us more aware of others and their needs. It transmits the heart of Christ.

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One of the more common arguments to the Resurrection is that Jesus passed out or “swooned” on the cross.

Unless you broke the legs of the victims, it could take days for a person to die, but the Gospels report that Jesus died unusually quickly:

Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the council, who was also himself looking for the kingdom of God, took courage and went to Pilate, and asked for the body of Jesus. And Pilate wondered if he were already dead; and summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he was already dead. And when he learned from the centurion that he was dead, he granted the body to Joseph (Mark 15:43-45).

So maybe Jesus didn’t actually die. Maybe he just passed out from the trauma he had suffered. If he revived in the tomb, he and the disciples might think he was raised from the dead.

Here are some problems with this hypothesis:

1) There were good reasons why Jesus died quickly. He was subjected to severe stresses and traumas in the hours before the Crucifixion, including sleeplessness, emotional anguish, being taken to multiple locations for trial proceedings, and being physically beaten, scourged, and crowned with thorns. He was so traumatized that he could not physically carry his cross, so the Romans grabbed a passerby named Simon of Cyrene and forced him to carry it instead (Matt. 27:32; Mark 15:21, Luke 23:26).

In 1986, a group of doctors reviewed the medical evidence concerning Jesus’ crucifixion and concluded,

The severe scourging, with its intense pain and appreciable blood loss, most probably left Jesus in a pre-shock state. . . . The physical and mental abuse meted out by the Jews and the Romans, as well as the lack of food, water, and sleep, also contributed to his generally weakened state. Therefore, even before the actual Crucifixion, Jesus’ physical condition was at least serious and possibly critical.

Then Jesus underwent the trauma of crucifixion itself. He may indeed have died due to a sudden cardiac event from the stress, as could be suggested by the loud cry he made immediately before dying. Mark and Matthew report, “Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last” (Mark 15:37; cf. Matt. 27:50).

2) After he died, “one of the soldiers pierced his side with a spear, and at once there came out blood and water” (John 18:34). As we noted, this wound itself would have been fatal. Even if Jesus had swooned on the cross, this would have killed him.

3) If Jesus somehow managed to survive all this, he would not have been able to move the stone and escape his tomb. The stone was heavy on purpose, to keep people and animals out, and the women did not think they had the strength to move it (Mark 16:3). A weakened and traumatized man who had been stabbed with a spear would not be able to move it.

4) This hypothesis also does not explain how Jesus would have been able to ascend into heaven in front of the apostles (Luke 24:51; Acts 1:9-11). As before, nobody in the first century had the ability to fly.

The swoon hypothesis thus does not explain the data.

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Courtesy isn’t so much a virtue in itself as a way of living other virtues. It shapes how a particular virtue is practiced in a social setting. Here are seven virtues needed if we are to be courteous.

1. Humility. Suffice it to say that humility is the truth about who we are. The truth is that we are all children of God, and we are all sinners. You can’t be courteous if you are preoccupied with yourself, your rights, the impression you make, or what others will say about you. You can’t be courteous if you expect more from others than you ask of yourself. You can’t be courteous if you expect any person or any situation to be perfect. You can go a long way in being courteous if you wake up every morning and say, “It’s not about me.” Courtesy recognizes that we live in a fallen world and that one of our main tasks is to help others through it.
2. Meekness. Meekness is a much-misunderstood virtue. To many, it has the whiff of being passive or shrinking back. It is neither. Our Lord described himself as meek (Matt. 11:29), yet he never backed down from a confrontation. Meekness is the ability to restrain our passions in the face of provocation in order to respond properly. Meekness is gentleness, calmness of demeanor. It is knowing that something said quietly and after a pause usually has more effect than something shouted. Meekness knows that there will be disagreements, and that others can be rude and quarrelsome, but it refuses to let the disagreement or rudeness dictate his response. To quote St. Francis de Sales, “nothing is so strong as gentleness; nothing is so gentle as real strength.”
3. Self-control. Self-control with others is patience; self-control regarding ourselves is temperance. Both are necessary if we are to do any good. Courtesy requires sacrifice. Self-control is the ability to say “no” to ourselves so we can say “yes” to others. We have to say “no” to our temper and desire for instant results. We have to say “no” to our procrastination, laziness, and desire for comfort. We have to say “no” to our desire to “get our own back” or our demand that others be what we think they should be. This allows us to give a “yes” to others.  Think of the deprivations our Lord endured for our sake—being born in a stable, forced to flee as a child, traveling about with no home. Consider what St. Paul endured to bring the gospel to others (2 Cor. 11:24
4. Gratitude. As G. K. Chesterton said, “when it comes to life, the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude.” The attitude of entitlement is the cause of most of the unhappiness in the world, especially among the young. It creates a self-absorption that is as unpleasant as it can be paralyzing. It can be difficult, very difficult at times, to be grateful for certain people and circumstances. It often requires much time in prayer. To do so, though, is one of the most liberating experiences you can imagine.
5. Generosity. We live by the idea that “to have is to be happy,” when experience has taught us over and over again that “to give is to be happy.” Possessions are possessive. If you can’t give something away, whether it be a candy bar or a coat, it probably owns you more than you own it. A courteous person is a giving person, whether it be of his attention, his possessions, or his seat on the subway. When he realized how much he had been given, Zacchaeus gave half his possessions to the poor. And our Lord promises a reward for even a cup of cold water (Matt. 10:42). As St. Ignatius of Loyola said, “teach us to give and not count the cost.”
6. Courage. Today, a courteous person is countercultural. To dress modestly, to talk to those whom others shun, to refrain from retort when insulted, to offer help to a stranger whom others pass by—these can require a temerity that borders on the heroic. The deepest fear many of us have is “What will others think of me?” Courtesy often asks us to tell that fear where to get off. It is hard not to think about “But what will happen if I do?” A courteous person shelves that thought and asks only, “What is the right thing to do?”
7. Compassion. Compassion means asking not so much “How would I feel in his shoes?” but “How does he feel in his shoes?” It requires imagination, consideration, and tact. There’s the grandmother or uncle at the family gathering whom others ignore; the disabled person whom others rush past; a sibling going through a divorce or who just lost his job; the “good Catholic family” whose teenage daughter is pregnant or whose son got kicked out of school. It’s awkward for them, and it’s awkward for us. We can be so afraid of doing the wrong thing that we don’t do anything, which is usually the worst thing. It’s no good thinking how the other should feel or what the other should do. It’s a question of how he does feel and what you should do.

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