This chapter will examine understanding of Mary’s humility as it developed from the early Christian writers down to the great flowering of medieval devotion in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.1 We shall not go beyond this period, partly from considerations of length, but also because a familiarity with this foundational period is crucial to an informed appreciation of Mary in the contemporary world. If one were to ask anyone with a passing knowledge of the Virgin Mary, at least in the Roman Catholic tradition, to jot down some words to describe her image, it is more than likely that terms such as meek, humble, lowly, and modest would crop up fairly quickly. Pressed as to why they had this impression of Mary, most would probably refer vaguely to her portrayal in the Gospels, to popular piety, and perhaps to paintings, prayers, and hymns. Yet, this was not always the way people viewed the Virgin. In the writings of the Fathers, prior to the eighth century, she was rarely associated with lowliness or humility, although her obedience was emphasized. Rather, it was her virgin motherhood that received overwhelming attention, since she was central to the centuries-long doctrinal disputes that characterized this period over the humanity and divinity of Christ, and was also the primary model of fruitful virginity for those who were called to the celibate life. Meanwhile, in the Eastern Churches she was also the implacable defender of orthodoxy, and continued to be a rather hieratic and austere figure long after the Latin Church began to stress her humility and tenderness. Even in the West, it is important to recall that alongside her more gentle side, Mary was also seen as a powerful queen, the ‘valiant woman’ (Prov. 31:10), indomitable in the face of sin, defence against Satan, and fierce guardian of those who had pledged their loyalty to her.
The elements that contribute to the development of the notion of Mary’s humility are complex. Most obviously, though it was not a major focus in the early centuries of the Church, there is her portrayal in the Gospel of Luke where she declares herself to be ‘the handmaid of the Lord’ (1:38), and later rejoices in response to Elisabeth’s greeting at what God has brought about in her and in how he has overthrown the mighty and raised up the lowly (1:46–55). This Lucan portrayal of the Virgin bridges the Hebrew notion of the anawim, the downtrodden or humble of God, and the newly-wrought teaching of Jesus, which goes beyond a sense of dependence on God to the idea that the Godhead himself has deigned to take on our lowly human nature in Christ, who has emptied himself to the degree of suffering a humiliating death on the Cross. It is Jesus’ life and teaching, but also the example of his Mother, that will inform the ascetic practices of the Christian monastic tradition, from the anchoritic and coenobitic monasticism of the Desert Fathers and Mothers to the Basilian tradition of the East and its Benedictine counterpart in the West. Eventually this passed to the new religious orders that emerged in the Latin West in the later Middle Ages. In the theological realm, the Fathers attempted to work out the implications of Jesus’ humility, struggling at times to reconcile his kenosis with their philosophical formation in the Greek and Roman tradition, a struggle that would also influence the question of Marian humility. The gradual divergence between West and East, with the Eastern Churches giving greater weight to theosis as opposed to the Latin stress on kenosis (in which Augustine’s teaching plays a central role), also has implications for the understanding of Mary. A further crucial element is the Irenaean doctrine that she is the new Eve, who recapitulates the first mother’s disobedience with her obedient adherence to God’s plan of salvation, just as Christ through his obedience even onto death on the Cross (Phil. 2:8) repairs the damage caused by Adam. This ultimately led to the idea that Mary’s humble assent to the Incarnation meant that she was instrumental, through her cooperation in God’s plan of redemption, in the restoration of Creation brought about by her Son. Since she is the only created person in whom the fruits of her Son’s redemptive act are fully received and brought to fruition, she alone is the perfect fulfilment of God’s creative design.2 Finally, although it will not be a major focus of this chapter, as our main interest is in the internal dynamics of Christianity, cultural and socio-political factors also play a role in forging Mary’s image. One reason that can plausibly be posited for promoting Mary as a meek and obedient woman was that it allowed male Church leaders to keep consecrated women, who might otherwise achieve a considerable degree of independence, under firm control. But this was by no means the only factor that came into play. In the Byzantine area, for instance, the Theotokos took on many of the trappings of an Empress (whether consort or mother of the Emperor) and was lauded accordingly in the high language of imperial panegyrics. The West, however, was long lacking such an exalted female example, giving space for a less hieratic image to take shape, so that when she began to be likened to medieval queens, she was neither distant nor haughty. Ultimately, one must recognize that Mary is, and always has been, a sort of Everywoman, whom both men and women have created according to their own image, but also that, for Christians, she is the most perfect exemplar of a created person, and it is therefore in her that one may find the synthesis of Creation already Christified.
That it should take so long for Mary to be identified with humility is really not so surprising given that Christianity as a whole struggled to arrive at a correct understanding of a virtue that was largely alien to the Greco-Roman world in which it took root.3 In classical Greek and Roman culture and philosophy, humility or lowliness (taipenos in Greek, humilis in Latin) generally had pejorative and derogatory connotations. The taipenìtotès were the hoi polloi or ‘great unwashed’, uncouth, small-minded, and incapable of the self-sufficiency so admired by the classical world. In fact, they would have been regarded by the upper echelons of society in much the same way as the marginalized of today’s world, those who live in what Pope Francis has described so eloquently as the ‘existential peripheries’ of society.
Instead, typical Greek virtues were balance, autonomy, detachment, magnificence (Plato), and magnanimity (Aristotle). What is more, in the Platonic and Aristotelian view, these are qualities that are available only to a privileged elite, while the majority, whether disadvantaged from birth or through a life of self-indulgence, wallow in mediocrity or worse. According to Plato, the philosopher does not concern himself (women are excluded from any possibility of greatness) with petty things, but instead lends himself ‘to thoughts of grandeur and the contemplation of all time and all existence’ (Republic VI, 1935: 486a), which quality allows him to be a great king. He rises above the illusory, sensible world to the ideal, and consents only to return to earthly affairs in order to bring order (see, in particular book V of the Republic). Where Plato had spoken of magnificence, Aristotle prefers the term magnanimity. It is through interior contemplation that one achieves the greatest measure of magnanimity, which is the recognition of one’s dignity as a person, a dignity that leads one to judge oneself worthy of receiving great honour and dominating society. For Aristotle only the few are capable of magnanimity, the rest being at best modest (recognizing their limited abilities) or at worst either pusillanimous (blind to their own dignity or fearful of asserting it) or vain (believing themselves to be greater than what they are).4 Aristotle also teaches moderation in all things,5 which contrasts with hubris, a presumptuous self-confidence that leads one to trespass into the realm of the gods. This is a risk especially for the magnanimous, if they do not recognize their limitations as human beings, evident in many Greek and Roman myths which recount the fate of those who become overly confident (see Sophocles, Ajax 758–61, Pindar, Nemesis 6.1.1–11, and multiple stories in Ovid’s Metamorphoses).
Unlike Platonic magnificence and Aristotelian magnanimity, Stoicism evolved a notion of the virtue of greatness that did not depend on external recognition and honour, and which was not confined only to the privileged few. Recognizing the cosmos to be governed by universal reason, people can, through use of their own reason and will, unite themselves to it. In feeling themselves of part of this universal law (as much an act of faith as of reason given that supreme wisdom is beyond the reach of any one human), they achieve greatness, rising above external causes and casual events (Gauthier 1961: 162–3) to achieve complete self-control. In later Stoicism, as it developed in the Roman world, two competing models of magnanimity arose. On the one hand, there was the example of men such as Caesar, whose life was a veritable litany of great deeds that harked back to the Greek glorification of the magnificent warrior-leader. On the other was the Stoic ideal of moral superiority and detachment, typified by men such as Cato and Cicero (Gauthier 1961: 165–76), the former being willing to commit suicide rather than betray the Roman Republic.
It will immediately be obvious from the brief summary above that the philosophical approach of the Greeks and Romans distinguishes itself sharply from biblical understanding of humility as an attitude of complete openness to and trust in God. The fundamental gulf is that the Greco-Roman worldview takes human self-sufficiency as a given, and therefore assumes that human effort alone can lead to virtue, while in the Judeo-Christian tradition, since humanity derives its very being from God, humility is the only fitting attitude towards the one who created us. This is already evident in the creation story of Genesis, and in the account of the Fall. When the serpent tempts Eve to eat of the tree of knowledge, it might seem that her act of disobedience is one of hubris, but in reality she does not wish to usurp God’s place, but rather to achieve autonomy, an autonomy that she paradoxically loses by becoming slave to her own desires, in contrast to Mary who achieves the fullness of humanity through her adherence to the divine plan.
The Biblical notion of humility arose not as a philosophical concept but out of the experience of dependence, of poverty, of being downtrodden, that the Hebrew people endured over the course of many centuries. The terms ani and anaw and their cognates originally could either signify a poverty and oppression that was inflicted by God as punishment for sin and laziness (Prov. 6:11–15), or alternatively misfortune that befell the entirely innocent as a result of the misdeeds of others or apparently random circumstances. As time went on, there was a gradual movement away from any notion of punishment towards an understanding of the anawim as those who have docile confidence in God’s providential plans no matter how incomprehensible their situation from a human standpoint. This attitude is typified in the readiness of the patriarchs and prophets to listen to God’s voice and follow his ways even when they defy human logic. In the Sapiential books, the term anawah begins to lose its connotations of poverty and oppression while acquiring an enhanced sense of humble openness to God (see, for instance, Prov. 15:33, 22:4, 29:3; Ecclus. 3:17–19, 7:17, 13:20). The Psalms are filled with the voices of the anawim (Ps. 9–10; 12–18; 131), while in Isaiah (61:1) the Messiah offers hope of future beatitude in the place of present lowliness. In the post-exilic prophets, we find anawah being used purely in a spiritual sense (for instance Zeph. 2:3), while in Zachariah not only will the Messiah bring the good news to the lowly, but himself will be humble (9:9–10).
In the attitude of Mary, as she declares herself to be the ‘handmaiden of the Lord’ (Luke 1:38), there is a fundamental continuity with the humility of the Old Testament, but now it is entirely imbued with the novelty of the Incarnation (see di Virgilio 2000). In the Magnificat, uttered by Mary in response to her cousin Elisabeth’s greeting (Luke 1:46–49), we find all the richness of Old Testament lowliness and docility, but also a powerful affirmation that the beatitude which the Hebrews had longed for is being fulfilled in and through her. The Messiah himself has come, and will show through the manner of his birth, his preaching, and his death on the Cross, that self-abasement is the way of God, the very key to Redemption. Humility does not imply a lack of strength or an attitude of passivity, but rather an openness to God, who alone can help each person to become fully human, and lead them to participate in the life of the Trinity. So, it is precisely because Mary was humble that she achieved greatness.
The earliest traces of the notion that Marian docility towards God’s will (here seen as obedience, later understood as humility) was fundamental to God’s redemptive plan lies in the notion of Mary’s recapitulation of Eve. This was first proposed by Justin Martyr (†c. 165), who, following Paul (1 Cor. 15), suggests that just as Jesus recapitulated Adam through his obedience to the Father, so Mary did Eve: ‘For Eve, when she was still a virgin and undefiled, conceived the word of the serpent, and gave birth to disobedience and death. Instead, Mary, the Virgin, with faith and joy welcomed the angel Gabriel when he brought her the happy announcement’ (Dialogus cum Trypho 100:4–5).6 In this he is followed by Irenaeus (†c. 202), who develops the notion in greater depth, thereby ensuring that the Eve–Mary parallel becomes one of the fundamental tenets of patristic and medieval Mariology. For Irenaeus, recapitulation does not simply mean a restoration of what has been lost through original sin, but rather a return of Creation to its original trajectory: ‘Therefore, just as Eve, by disobeying, was made the cause of death, both to herself and to the entire human race, so Mary …, by obeying, became the cause of salvation, both to herself and the whole human race’ (Adversus Haereses 3.22.4).7 Christ and Mary, through their obedience to the Father, bring humanity, and with it the whole of Creation, to maturation thereby fulfilling his original plan for the Cosmos.8
After Irenaeus, the contrast between the Virgin’s obedience and Eve’s refusal became one of the principal themes of the Fathers. Epiphanius († 403) is representative of many similar comments: ‘And just as in Paradise, Eve, still a virgin, fell into the sin of disobedience, again through the Virgin, the obedience of grace came’ (Panarion 78).9 Proclus of Constantinople († 446) writes along similar lines: ‘In fact, where the serpent had spread his poison through disobedience, there the Word entered through obedience and built himself a living temple’ (First Homily on Mary Mother of God 2).10 But relatively little attention was paid to the virtue that inspired that obedience—humility. One of the few commentators to deal specifically with the Virgin’s humility is Origen (†c. 254) in his reflections on the Magnificat. The passage is interesting not only because he sets up an opposition between Satan’s pride and Mary’s humility, but for the manner in which he attempts to reconcile Christian humility with Classical philosophy:
In saying ‘he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid’, it is as if she is saying: he has regarded the justice of his handmaid, he has regarded her temperance, he has regarded her fortitude and her wisdom. It is right, indeed that the Lord should turn his gaze on the virtues. Someone could say: I understand that God might look upon the justice and wisdom of his servant, but it is not too clear to me why he would look on her humility. Whoever asks this question should remember that in the Scriptures themselves, humility is considered to be one of the virtues. The Lord said, ‘learn of me, because I am meek, and humble of heart, and you shall find rest to your souls’ (Matt 11:29). And if you want to know the name of this virtue, that is, what it is called by the philosophers, know that the humility on which God turns his gaze is the same virtue that the philosophers call atyphía or metriótês. (In Lucam 8).11
Origen, however, is somewhat of an exception in the Eastern Churches, which generally tend to emphasize Mary’s unparalleled purity in soaring panegyrics, although occasional comments on Mary’s humility are also to be found in the Syriac Church, which draws on both Semitic and Greek sources.12
It is in the West, in the writings of Ambrose of Milan († 397), that we must pick up the thread of Origen’s reflections. Commenting on Mary’s self-definition as ‘handmaid’ Ambrose identifies humility as key to God’s choice of her as the starting point for his plan of salvation: ‘And given that she was to give birth to him who is meek and humble, she too had to give proof of her humility. … It is not to be marvelled at that the Lord, having to redeem the world, began his work from Mary’ (Expositio Evangelii secundum Lucam 16).13 Further on in his commentary on Luke, Ambrose holds up Mary’s humble attitude towards Elisabeth as an example for virgins of how they should behave towards older women, and gives a hint of what will become a major theme in the medieval period, namely that virginity is not sufficient for holiness without the practice of humility: ‘having made a vow of chastity also be a model of humility’ (Expositio Evangelii secundum Lucam 22).14 Ambrose also provided a more general commentary on Mary’s virtue in his treatise on virginity, offering her up as a model of comportment for consecrated women: ‘She was a virgin, not only in body, but in her mind as well, and never mixed the sincerity of her affections with duplicity. Humble of heart, grave in speech, prudent in mind, sparing in words, devoted to reading, she did not place her hope in changeable riches, but in the prayer of the poor. … (De Virginibus 2.7).15
Similar idealized portraits of Mary’s feminine virtue and modesty are to be found in a variety of patristic and medieval texts,16 very much reflecting the social and cultural values of the male-dominated Church. However, one must not make the mistake of attributing such attitudes entirely to a patriarchal outlook, since men too were expected to be pure and humble, and were encouraged to look to Mary as a model. Moreover, it is important not to confuse the theological understanding of the role that Mary’s humility played in the Incarnation with the more pastoral focus when she is held up as a model of virtue. Nowhere is the centrality of humility to God’s plan of salvation more clearly stated than in the writings of Augustine.
Although Augustine did put forward Mary as a model, he did not make any significant link between her and humility.17 But his teaching on the virtue permeates much of what was written in the centuries to come on humility. It is impossible here to do justice to the depth and breadth of Augustine’s thought, but even one short passage can already give us an insight into how central it was to his vision of what it means to be human, and of the relationship between God and humanity:
Why are you proud of yourselves, humans? God humiliated himself for you. Perhaps you might have been ashamed of imitating a humble man, but at least imitate a humble God. The Son of God took on human nature and made himself humble. You are commanded to be humble, not to go from being human to beast. He, God, became man, you, humans, recognize that you are human; your entire humility consists in recognizing that you are human. Now, since God teaches humility he said: ‘I did not come to do my own will, but the will of him that sent me’ (John 6:38). In this way he praises and urges humility. Whoever is proud does their own will, whoever is humble does the will of God. (In Evangelium Ioannis Tractatus 23.16)18
Bede the Venerable († 735) was the first churchman of note in the West to write at any length on the Virgin’s humility in the wake of Ambrose. Given his renown, his spanning of the patristic and medieval periods, and the widespread availability of his works throughout Europe, he may be regarded as a key figure in the growing emphasis that is laid on Marian humility in the coming centuries. In considering the writings of Bede, and of the other authors we shall encounter in the medieval period, it is important to keep in mind that their intended audience was primarily monastic, whether male or female.
His two sermons on the Annunciation and the Visitation, which constitute the most sustained meditation on Marian humility in the patristic period, bring together elements of an ancient tradition stretching back to Justin Martyr and Irenaeus, on the importance of Mary’s obedience in reversing the actions of the prideful Eve, with a largely Ambrosian and especially Augustinian understanding of the soteriological importance of humility in the Incarnation. Bede takes as his starting point the Irenaean contrast between Eve’s prideful disobedience and Mary’s humble obedience, noting that Eve was ‘the cause of the perdition of the human race when the serpent was sent by the devil to deceive the woman with the spirit of pride’, while Mary ‘generated the author of salvation for the world’. This spirit of humility is manifest in Mary’s self-designation as a ‘servant’, something that shows the very core of her soul:
And certainly she who calls herself ‘servant’ (Luke 1:38) when she is being chosen as the Mother of her Creator shows that she possesses a soul that is immutably inclined towards humility. The angel addresses her calling her ‘blessed among women,’ setting out the mystery of our Redemption which until then was unknown to other mortals. Yet [Mary], although made the unique object of a singular and excellent privilege, does not boast; rather, conscious of her condition and of the divine condescension, she humbly unites herself to the ranks of the servants of Christ and places herself in his service, obedient to what is commanded of her.
(In festo Annuntiationis beatae Mariae 10)19
Immediately he passes on to urging his brothers to imitate Mary in her spirit of service and in her openness to fulfilling the word of God. It is significant that Mary is being held up here as a model for a male audience. Although Bede’s tone is very different to the likes of Ambrose when he is writing for virgin women, the core notion of being docile to God’s will is essentially the same:
Dearest brothers, following her voice and the thoughts of her mind, insofar as we can, let us remember to be servants of Christ, in all our actions and all our thoughts. Let us consecrate and place at his service all the members of our body; let us turn the gaze of our mind entirely to the fulfilment of his will. … Together with the Blessed Virgin Mary let us pray assiduously so that for us to, it may come about according to his word. (In festo Annuntiationis beatae Mariae 10)20
Bede also concentrates on Mary’s humility in his comments on the Magnificat, something that has been curiously lacking in the writings of the Fathers up until this time. He begins by turning again to the notion that the Incarnation reversed the actions of the Fall. Where original sin had infected the human race with the sickness of pride, the first moments of salvation (the Annunciation and Visitation) necessarily show forth ‘humility as the medicament that will cure’ it (In festo Visitationis beatae Mariae 1).21 He continues in this vein, contrasting Eve and Mary, but where earlier Fathers had opposed obedience to pride, he emphasizes humility: ‘Now, the blessed Virgin Mary was the first to show us the way of humility, which leads to the sublimity of the heavenly fatherland’ (1). In lines that seem to echo Ambrose, Bede points out the humility of Mary in going to visit her cousin Elisabeth, who was her inferior since she was neither the Mother of God nor a virgin (2). In her turn, Elisabeth displays humility when, finding nothing in herself that would merit such an honour, she declares herself unworthy to receive ‘the Mother of my Lord’ (Luke 1:43) (8). He then notes that Mary attributes none of her privileges to herself, instead acknowledging that everything is a fruit of God’s grace (12). Commenting on Mary’s words, ‘He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble’ (Luke 1:52), Bede uses the example of St Paul, who initially opposed Christ but then humbly submitted to him, for which reason he was raised up (17). Bede then turns to the words, ‘He hath filled the hungry with good things; and the rich he hath sent empty away’ (Luke 1:53):
In truth we note that this is verified, even in the smallest degree, in this life too. For while the humble are filled to overflowing with divine bounty and become rich through the generous gift of heavenly virtues, those who boast, glorying in the riches of the earth, or who are filled with pride at the good works that they carry out thanks to their resources, are interiorly poor in the light of truth. To these two verses, in which blessed Mary referred to the different condition of the proud and the humble, we must add what she had said previously, namely, ‘from generation to generation,’ because, without doubt, for the entire duration of this ruined world the just and merciful Creator resists the proud and gives graces to the humble. Therefore, the Virgin, having made mention of mercy and justice in general, addresses the words of her confession of faith to the special plan of salvation involving the extraordinary Incarnation, through which he deigned to redeem the world. … What is more, the Virgin did well when she added ‘his servant,’ meaning her humility and obedience, because no-one can achieve redemption if not through the virtue of humility. (In festo Visitationis beatae Mariae 18–19)22
The lesson that the Virgin teaches us is that humility lies at the heart of God’s relationship with humanity. From age to age he favours those who are humble while laying low the proud, and nowhere is this more manifest than in the manner of his Incarnation. It is from her that we first learn that no one can achieve redemption without humility. For this reason, Bede went on to recommend frequent meditation of this Gospel passage, and urged his readers to keep the example of the Virgin constantly in mind, so that ‘we will merit, together with the Virgin to be raised up forever’ (21).
Let us now turn to a brief survey of how understanding of Mary’s humility developed in the medieval West in the centuries after Bede.23 Ambrose Autpert (†c. 784), a Frankish Benedictine whose sermon on the Assumption long circulated under the name of Augustine, thereby giving it great authority, states with a clarity not found in earlier writers that Mary’s humility was the key to the Incarnation, and therefore also to the restoration of the link between heaven and earth:
O truly blessed humility which generated God for men, which returned life to mortals, which renewed the heavens, which purified the world, which opened Paradise and freed the souls of men from Hell. O truly glorious humility of Mary, I repeat, she has become the door of Paradise and the ladder that leads to heaven. Without doubt the humility of Mary was transformed into a heavenly ladder by which God came down on earth. (In festo Assumptionis B. Mariae 10, Pseudo-Augustine, Sermo 208)24
His clever use of Jacob’s ladder, which is a type of the Incarnation but also points towards Benedict’s Steps of Humility,25 helps us to understand how Mary came to represent the monastic ideal of spiritual ascesis, an ascent to God through a descent into humility which would allow the monks or nuns to give birth to Christ spiritually.26
Hrabanus Maurus († 846), Benedictine Archbishop of Mainz, comments on the humility of Mary during her visit to Elisabeth in terms that are reminiscent of Bede: ‘Yet Mary, hearing these things, did not show herself to be presumptuous nor did she exult out of vainglory, but with a deep attitude of humility and with all the ardour of her soul she gave thanks to God.’ This attitude of humility, he believes is the reason why Mary brought life into the world where Eve had brought death, illustrating once again how patristic obedience has now been replaced with humility: ‘It was right that just as death had entered into the world through the pride of our first mother, so life entered through the humility of Mary’ (Commentaria in Cantica, Canticum Mariae).27 Haymo of Halberstadt († 853), the Benedictine bishop and companion of Hrabanus Maurus, commenting on the Magnificat, contrasts the humility of Mary with Eve’s pride by making use of a favourite wordplay made popular by the hymn Ave maris stella,28 between the Latin Eva (Eve), Ave (Hail), and vae (woe):
And indeed, when observing the humility of the one, Mary, we justly rejoice that men called her blessed; on the contrary, the contemptible pride of the other, Eve, is condemned, definitively stamped as she was with her own name of woe [Latin vae] and calamity. It was right therefore that, just as death made its way into the world because of the pride of the first mother, so the second time the entranceway of life should be opened through the humility of Mary.
(Feria sexta quattuor temporum, Homilia 5.2)29
Paschasius Radbertus († 865), the renowned Frankish theologian of the Eucharist, sees humility as Mary’s foundational virtue, lying at the base of everything that she is and does. For this reason, she is a model for the women whom he addresses in Cogitis Me, a letter on the Assumption of the Virgin Mary pseudo-anonymously attributed to Jerome:
So you too, daughters, if you truly want to be virgins follow humility, try with all the zeal and love of your hearts to imitate the Mother of the Lord, who proclaims herself a servant, who learned from the same Spouse to whom you have consecrated yourselves, that humility which he taught you through his example.
(De Assumptione, Pseudo-Jerome, Cogitis Me)30
Radbertus restates long-established principles, such as humility being at the root of all the virtues, and the necessity for humility to complement virginity, but whereas the Fathers tended to turn purely to Christ, or Old Testament figures such as Moses and David, to illustrate their point, here it is the close affinity between the humility of Mary and Jesus that is emphasized. This is a trope that we will find again and again in medieval texts. It is also worth noting that in so doing he avoids an over-feminization of the virtue, particularly in view of his female audience.
Fulbert of Chartres († 1028) turned to the favourite patristic theme of the Marian reversal of Eve’s sin to stress the close relationship between humility and virginity as the twin columns of Mary’s greatness. Through her virginity, which extinguished the concupiscence of the flesh, and her humility, which eliminated the concupiscence of the mind, she has crushed the serpent’s head:
And if someone else should object: ‘But in what way did she manage to crush the serpent’s head?’ The answer is: certainly because she sacrificed her virginity to God together with her humility. For the Virgin extinguished the concupiscence of the flesh by preserving her virginity; instead, by guarding her humility, which makes us ‘poor in spirit’ (Matthew 5:3), she destroyed the concupiscence of the mind.
(Sermo 4: De Nativitate beatissimae Mariae Virginis)31
Some decades later, the great Benedictine doctor of the Church, Peter Damian († 1072), referring to Matthew 12 (47–50), where Jesus says that whoever does the will of his Father is his mother, holds Mary up as the model to follow. This is a complete turnaround from some of the early Fathers, who interpreted this incident as a rebuke to Mary. Now it is in imitating Mary’s humility in doing the will of God that we too can bear Christ spiritually in our hearts (In Nativitate Beatae Virginis Mariae).32
Rupert of Deutz († 1130), Benedictine monk and abbot, made important contributions to the theological debates of his time and is also a noted figure in Mariology, especially for writing what is believed to be the earliest complete commentary on Canticles in a Marian key. Although there is little in what he has to say about Marian humility that is entirely original, what is striking is the novelty of the tone, as the imagery of Canticles gives a sensuous attraction to Mary’s humility, which he identifies with the aroma of the spikenard that she emanates (S. of S. 1:11 [12], I. 86, 8533). It is this perfume of humility that attracts God, who had been repulsed by the pride of Eve and thus had abandoned the human race (I. 87, 85). Likewise, he writes of Mary having ‘wounded’ (S. of S. 4:9) her Spouse with her humility (III. 271, 164–5). Glossing Canticles 4:4, which speak of the Bride’s neck as being like the tower of David, Rupert says that the strength of David lay in his humility, which was the foundation of all his other virtues (III. 256, 158–9) and goes on to affirm that this is even more true of Mary (III. 257, 259).34 What is most interesting here is how Rupert identifies strength with humility, thus rejecting any tendency that sees it as a passive (and one could add, feminine), virtue.
Hugh of St Victor († 1141) believes that it is because of the Virgin’s humility that God has mercy on humanity, whom he had rejected because of the pride of Adam and Eve. In her pride, Eve wished to be equal to God, but Mary, by declaring herself to be his servant, was numbered among the elect:
Mary affirms that the Lord looked only upon her humility because in Mary, thanks to her humility, human nature recovered divine conciliation, which had been lost because of the pride of her progenitors. In fact, since the Word of the Father took the substance of flesh in her in order to unite it to himself, he looked at that nature, which he had rejected before, as something that had to be made sublime through mercy. Therefore, God looked on the humility of Mary and, because of her humility, he consented to conceive his own Son in her flesh and to generate the true God and Man, Saviour of all men, from her flesh. … In fact, since she had humbly recognized what she was, that is, a servant, she merited to become that which she was not, that is to say, a sublime Mother. (Explanatio in Canticum Beatae Mariae)35
Hugh identifies four kinds of service of which the noblest is a service of love, and goes on to observe that all creatures are ultimately compelled to fulfil God’s plans, although they may believe that they are following their own will, since nothing occurs without God’s consent. Thus, even in disobeying God’s will, Eve guaranteed that his plan would be fulfilled in Mary:
Eve, without taking into consideration that she was a creature of God and his work, wished to be equal to him because of pride. Instead, Mary, submitting herself humbly to her Creator, declared herself his servant, and therefore the former was rejected while the latter was elect. God distained she who was proud and looked upon she who was humble, and what she who was proud lost she who was humble received.
(Explanatio in Canticum Beatae Mariae)36
Hugh might appear to be rejecting human free will, but this is not the case. By rebelling against God, as Eve has done, we do not alter God’s plans but just damage ourselves, whereas by cooperating humbly in God’s plan, as Mary does, we are in fact becoming what we should be in God’s mind.
Bernard of Clairvaux († 1153) is the most significant figure since Bede to preach and write on Mary’s humility, not so much in terms of originality but because of his exceptional eloquence and great fame, which spread well beyond monastic circles and influenced many later commentators. Moreover, he is also the author of The Steps of Humility, the most influential monastic text on the virtue since Benedict of Nursia’s Rule. In his Sermons on the Glories of the Virgin Mother Bernard stresses that it was above all Mary’s humility that made her worthy to be the Mother of God:
And who is this virgin, so venerable that she is saluted by an angel, yet so humble that she is espoused to an artisan? … If you cannot imitate the virginity of the humble Mary, at least imitate the humility of the virgin Mary. Very desirable is the virtue of virginity, yet humility is more necessary. We are counselled to embrace the former, but the latter is a matter of precept. To the one we are invited, to the other we are constrained. … One can be saved without virginity, but without humility salvation is utterly impossible. … The virginity even of Mary would have no value in his eyes apart from her humility. … Consequently, had Mary not been humble the Spirit of the Lord would not have rested on her.
(First Sermon on the Glories of the Virgin Mother, 1984: 7–8)37
Bernard asserts that virginity is not a prerequisite for entering heaven, but that one cannot enter the Kingdom of God unless one is humble: ‘One can be saved without virginity, but without humility salvation is utterly impossible. … I dare to affirm it—the virginity even of Mary would have no value in His eyes apart from her humility’ (First Sermon on the Glories of the Virgin Mother, 1984: 8). Indeed the Incarnation itself is an act of humility in which the God-child was obedient, submitting himself to the Virgin Mary. The holiness of the Virgin, whence comes her extraordinary splendour and beauty, is twofold. Her virginity endows her with holiness of body whilst humility sanctifies her soul (Second Sermon on the Glories of the Virgin Mother, 1984: 15–16). Bernard returns to the theme of Mary’s virginity and humility in the sermon known as the ‘Aqueduct’,38 again linking these qualities to the body and soul respectively, but now laying emphasis on humility as the wellspring of Mary’s charitable actions towards Elisabeth (Sermons for the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, 1984: 88).
While Bernard’s main audience is monastic, he did not just see humility as complementary to virginity but as a virtue that should be acquired by any soul that is pure or innocent, although such qualities are rarely found in the one person (Sermons on the Canticle of Canticles 45, 1920: II. 13). Bernard’s understanding of the fundamental soteriological role that Mary’s humility plays is also evident in a dramatically rhetorical passage in which he imagines the angels in heaven, the Old Testament patriarchs, indeed the whole of humanity waiting for Mary to utter her humble fiat:
We also, O Lady, await from you lips the sentence of mercy and compassion, we who are so miserably groaning under the sentence of condemnation. For lo! the price of our salvation is now offered to you; if you will only consent, we shall at once be set at liberty. We have been created by the eternal Word of God, and behold we die: by your momentary word we must be renewed and restored to life. See, the whole world, prostrate at your feet, awaits your answer.
(Fourth Sermon on the Glories of the Virgin Mother, adapted from 1984: 70–1)
In the centuries following Bernard, texts on Mary’s humility multiplied to an extent that it is impossible here to provide a comprehensive survey. We shall limit ourselves instead to some of the more significant and representative texts. It should also be noted that this is the period in which vernacular literature first began to appear, giving rise, particularly thanks to the mendicant orders, to new expressions of Marian piety which promoted the image of the humble Virgin beyond the walls of the monasteries.39 In art too there was a gradual move away from the hieratic and impassive style of Byzantine icons to a warmer and more human portrayal of the Virgin. Particularly noteworthy for our purposes is the appearance in the fourteenth century of the Madonna of humility, in which Mary is portrayed sitting on the ground (see Williamson 2009).
Bernard’s influence is evident in many writers of this period, even those outside the Cistercian orbit, such as the Premonstratensian Luke of Mont-Cornillon († c. 1182) who identifies six steps of humility in the Virgin, corresponding to the six steps that lead to Solomon’s ivory throne (see 1 Kings 10:18–20). in his Moralitate.40 In a number of churchmen we find Mary’s power in resisting the devil, which was attributed to her virginity in the patristic period, now being identified with her humility. Far from being portrayed as a passive, feminine virtue, Marian humility is here put forward as being an adamantine and incorruptible force. For instance, Osbert of Clare († after 1158), prior and abbot of Westminster Abbey, saw Mary’s humility as the foundation stone of her strength, which allows her to resist the temptations of Satan (Sermon on the Conception of Mary).41 Henry of Marcy († 1189), Cistercian monk and cardinal, also identifies the Virgin’s humility as the principle bulwark against sin: ‘She was truly a wall, having always hidden the excellence of her holiness behind her humility’ (De peregrinante civitate Dei 12).42 Pope Innocent III († 1216), using a well-known interpretation of Luke 10:38, which in the Vulgate speaks of the village of Martha and Mary as a castellum, writes of the Virgin as a fortified town who is protected from corruption not only by the walls of her virginity but also by the tower of her humility (Sermo 27, In Solemnitate Assumptionis).43 In another indication that Mary was not just a model for female virgins, Adam of Perseigne († 1221), a French Cistercian, declares that ‘it is not licit for a white monk, who is a lover of authentic virginity and a special son of Mary, to puff himself up with the breath of pride’ (Mariale, Sermo V: In Assumptione Beatae Mariae).44 Anthony of Padua († 1231), the famed Franciscan preacher offers precisely the same interpretation (Sermon 6: For the Assumption of the BVM 5, 2009). As might be expected of a Franciscan, Anthony frequently preached on Mary’s humility and poverty, usually employing elaborate typological exegeses, as was his wont. He links humility in particular with the virga Iesse type, in one sermon interpreting the root as being the heart of humility, the stem its flexibility and the flower, humility of mind, while in another the Virgin’s root is humility, which reduces the swelling of pride, her ‘stem’ stands for the renunciation of temporal things, and the contemplation of heavenly things, and her ‘flower’ the white brightness of virginity.45
In complete contrast to Anthony’s florid style is the rigorous scholastic approach of the Dominican, Aquinas († 1274), whose treatment of humility was heavily coloured by his qualified acceptance of the Aristotelian virtue of magnanimity. As a result, he assigned it a rather low place in the hierarchy of virtues, as a potential part of temperance under the subordinate virtue of modesty.46 It is not surprising, then, that he has little to say about the virtue in Mary, simply declaring that she possessed ‘the fullness of humility’ (Exposition on the Angel’s Greeting, 2000: 173–80).
As a disciple of Francis of Assisi, Aquinas’ contemporary, Bonaventure († 1274) had no such reticence. For him, following in the line of Augustine and Bernard, humility is the sum of all Christian perfection.47 It is for this reason that he gave the virtue such prominence in his Marian sermons, which repeat many of the themes we have already seen in other churchmen, but also add something new, especially related to the bodily assumption. In line with earlier commentators, Bonaventure urges the faithful to be humble, just as the Virgin was, so that like her, they may conceive God’s grace (First Sermon on the Annunciation, 2013). Mary is likened to both heaven and earth because she is at once humble and exalted, thus those who wish to receive divine grace must be humbled (Third Sermon on the Annunciation, 2013). Jesus bows down before his Mother (1 Kings 2:19) upon her assumption into heaven because of the honour that is due to her as a result of her humility:
Mary humbles herself, while God exalts her; Mary not only humbles herself but prostrates herself in humility and in this prostration empties herself and reduces herself to nothing so that she is conscious of nothing about herself other than being nothing; and God not only exalts her among the Saints and glorifies her over the Saints, but as a final honour he bodily bows down to her.
(Third Sermon on the Assumption, 2013)
He goes on to urge his listeners to imitate the example of Mary: it is only by making oneself ‘nothing’ that the ‘divine hand’ can ‘make something out of nothing’.
This is the essence of Mary’s humility, that she made herself into a nothingness of love, which emptied itself so as to be entirely filled with God. Far from being an obsequious abasement of the self and a craven surrender of the will, Mary’s humility entailed a conscious choice to listen to God’s voice in each moment of her life, even in the face of the most searing loss under the Cross. It was this humility that allowed her to become completely herself. Because she fulfilled the divine blueprint to perfection, no created person is more human than Mary. It is precisely because she ‘so ennobled human nature’, as Dante puts it (Paradiso 33.4–5), that God chose to take his humanity from her, and this is why she is now glorified in body and soul in heaven, a prophetic sign of the destiny that awaits all creation, recapitulated in Christ.