She Was Never Just His Mother

Our Lady of the Rosary | October 7

For much of my Christian life, Mary was simply the mother of Jesus. An extraordinary woman, certainly. Chosen by God. Faithful and obedient. Worthy of admiration, especially at Christmas. But beyond the Nativity, she occupied very little space in my theology.

And the Rosary? That was an entirely different matter. As a Protestant, I understood the objection. Why pray to Mary when we have direct access to Jesus Christ? Why involve His mother when Scripture tells us there is one mediator between God and man (1 Timothy 2:5)?

Those were reasonable questions. They were mine, too.

But becoming Catholic didn't require me to love Jesus less in order to love His mother more. Quite the opposite. It required me to look more carefully at Scripture. Yes, Catholics read the Bible. And we strive to follow it!

In Hail, Holy Queen, fellow Protestant convert and Catholic theologian Scott Hahn explores the biblical foundations of Marian devotion. His discussion of the Rosary helps illuminate something I had misunderstood for years: the Rosary is profoundly Christ-centered. Its mysteries invite us to contemplate the life, ministry, suffering, death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ through the eyes of the woman who knew Him first. And the prayers themselves are steeped in Scripture.

The opening words of the Hail Mary come directly from Gabriel's greeting: "Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with you" (Luke 1:28). The next words echo Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit: "Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb" (Luke 1:42). And Mary herself prophesied, "All generations will call me blessed" (Luke 1:48).

Catholics aren't inventing Mary's blessedness. We're acknowledging what Scripture already declares.

And what about those beads? They aren't magical. They aren't talismans or objects possessing some mysterious power. They're simply placeholders, helping us keep our place as we pray. A traditional Rosary guides us through five decades, each consisting of an Our Father, ten Hail Marys, and a Glory Be, while we meditate on particular mysteries of Christ's life. The repetition isn't intended to be mindless. It gives our wandering minds a rhythm and a place to return as we contemplate Jesus.

And, as someone who spends a great deal of time thinking about and focusing on the nervous system, I find the science fascinating. A 2008 study by Anastasi and Newberg found that participants who prayed the Rosary experienced a significant reduction in anxiety compared with those who watched a religious video. There is something beautiful about the intersection of faith and physiology. The rhythmic repetition of prayer, the gentle movement of my fingers across the beads, and the opportunity to quiet my thoughts provide a grounding experience. For many people, myself included, this is no small thing. My hands have something to hold, my mind has somewhere to rest, and my heart has Someone to turn toward.

The beads themselves aren't the source of peace. They simply help me become still enough to receive it.

But what about asking for Mary's intercession? Here is where my Protestant understanding needed some widening. Catholics believe that Jesus Christ is the one mediator of our salvation. Absolutely. Completely. Without question.

But Scripture also instructs Christians to pray for one another (James 5:16; 1 Timothy 2:1). Asking another member of Christ's Body to intercede does not replace His mediation. It participates in it. And because those who die in Christ remain alive in Him (Luke 20:38), Catholics believe the communion of saints is not severed by death.

We do not worship Mary. We ask her to pray with us and for us, just as we ask our brothers and sisters in Christ to do.

Consider the wedding at Cana: Mary notices a need before anyone asks her to intervene. She brings that need to Jesus. And then she turns to the servants and says: "Do whatever he tells you" (John 2:5). That is Marian devotion in one sentence:

Do whatever He tells you.

She never points toward herself as the destination. She points toward her Son. And motherhood has made this particular truth even more meaningful to me. It is deeply moving that God chose not merely to arrive in the world, but to be carried within a woman's body. To be nourished by her. Held by her. Taught by her. Loved by her. And then, from the Cross, to speak the words, "Behold, your mother" (John 19:27).

Catholics have long understood those words as extending beyond John's personal care for Mary, revealing something about her spiritual motherhood within the family of believers. A mother's love is not rendered insignificant when her child grows beyond her arms. Nor is her place in his story erased when the world begins to recognize who he is.

And Mary, who treasured these things in her heart (Luke 2:19), knew both the extraordinary joy and the piercing sorrow of loving a Son whose life belonged to a purpose far greater than herself.

Mary does not replace Christ, but Christ has given us a spiritual mother. Marian devotion need not be an obstacle to biblical Christianity. Properly understood, it grows from the very Scriptures we have always loved. Today, on the Memorial of Our Lady of the Rosary, I am grateful that the faith I once thought placed too much emphasis on Mary has actually taught me to see more clearly the beauty of her Son.

I still go directly to Jesus. I also ask His mother to pray for me. And I no longer see a contradiction between the two.

Hail Mary, full of grace. Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Further reading: Scott Hahn, Hail, Holy Queen: The Mother of God in the Word of God, especially pp. 163–175.

Scientific reference: Anastasi, M. W., & Newberg, A. B. (2008). A Preliminary Study of the Acute Effects of Religious Ritual on Anxiety. Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine, 14(2), 163–165.