Mary of Nazareth was the first person to encounter Jesus Christ, and her testimony is preserved in the dogmas of the Catholic faith. Her Immaculate Conception, perpetual virginity, Assumption, and identity as the Mother of God each reveal some detail of God’s love, but perhaps none so mysteriously as her perpetual virginity.
The first aspect of Mary’s perpetual virginity concerns the conception of Jesus. Mary is a virgin ante partum, before the birth of Jesus. The conception of Jesus is miraculous, requiring no sexual relations but merely Mary’s consent to be overshadowed by the Holy Spirit. The teaching is evident throughout Scripture. Isaiah prophesies, “Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.” (Isa. 7:14). The Gospels of Matthew and Luke specify Mary’s virginity (Matt. 1:18; Luke 1:34–35), and nearly all Christian denominations are in agreement on this matter. The dogma communicates that Jesus’ Incarnation is not accidental to human action but is the direct will of God. He is the generous initiator of our salvation, and Mary accepts this gift on our behalf.
The third aspect of Mary’s virginity, her virginity post partum, states that Mary had no marital relations with Joseph after the birth of Jesus. While this cannot be confirmed or denied explicitly in Scripture, the dogma illuminates God’s generosity. Dr. John Cavadini has offered a compelling reflection on this matter. Joseph and Mary’s abstinence does not close them off to marital love but brings every one of us into the intimacy of their family life. Cavadini explains, “The marriage of Mary and Joseph is already full of children, and for Mary and Joseph to have had sex and begun their own private family, as it were, would be to in some sense decrease the scope of their married life.” The celibate marriage of Mary and Joseph invites us to join their family—to become the brothers and sisters of Jesus. Through Mary’s continued virginity, we encounter the love of God through fraternal communion with Christ.
The virgin birth enables us to ponder an unfallen world, a world whose recovery is heralded by the birth of Jesus Christ.
Mary’s virginity before and after the birth of Jesus invites us to ponder God’s generosity, but what of Mary’s virginity in partu, the second aspect of the dogma? This teaching asserts that in the very birth of Christ, Mary endured no physical distress. This is an extension of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception. Mary was conceived without original sin and is preserved from its punishments, including pain in childbirth (Gen. 3:16). The Church Fathers describe the birth of Jesus as miraculous. As light passes through a window, Jesus was born of Mary. She experienced no physical distress, endured no trauma, and required no recovery.
This part of the dogma might seem an obstacle to solidarity and union with Jesus and the Holy Family. The trials of pregnancy and the pain of labor, delivery, and cesarean section are deeply paschal experiences. Women enter into suffering and risk their lives in offering for the lives of their children. In doing so, mothers image the love of Christ crucified and find themselves in the gift of self. The insistence on Mary’s miraculous delivery seems to drive a wedge between her and all other women. It seems to say to mothers, “You have done a beautiful thing in suffering for your child. But remember, Mary didn’t have to!”
Fathers, too, risk alienation in this teaching. Men keep watch with the mothers of their children, helpless to prevent their suffering yet striving to ease their burden. In prayer and service, they discover awe and gratitude for women and for the gift of life. Was Joseph free from this? Was he able to take a back seat as divine power aided the delivery of Jesus? Perhaps he wasn’t even there! How could this teaching possibly edify fathers?
In the face of such doubts, we must approach the dogma with a hermeneutic of trust. Faith leads the way to understanding, and only when we approach contemplation with this attitude can we receive the insights that Christ offers to us. We must surrender to Christ through the teaching of the Church and trust that Mary’s virginity in partu is not a condemnation but an invitation to encounter the love of God. When we approach the dogma in this way, our hearts and minds become ripe for harvest.
The celibate marriage of Mary and Joseph invites us to join their family—to become the brothers and sisters of Jesus.
And so, we ponder the teaching. Christ becomes incarnate in Mary, and does no harm to her body. No physical suffering necessitates his entrance into the world through her. Jesus’ arrival is natural—free from labor, tearing, trauma, or frustration. Like the ease of falling asleep when tired or quenching thirst when parched, Jesus’ birth is effortless. He passes into the world so seamlessly, it might seem he was there all along. Perhaps that is the revelation offered to us in the dogma. Mary’s virginity in partu shows us a glimpse at the relationship of God and man in a pre-fallen world. In such a world, God’s work and nature’s processes are harmoniously synchronized.
Mary’s virginity in the birth of Jesus is not an exception to the laws of nature but a glimpse at God’s primal bond to nature. Flannery O’Connor describes this inversion saying, “For me it is the virgin birth, the Incarnation, the resurrection which are the true laws of the flesh and the physical. Death, decay, destruction are the suspension of these laws” (The Habit of Being). Before the fall, the mingling of the human and the divine knew no division or tension. It is alien to our fallen experience, and so it scandalizes and shocks us. Some might consider Mary’s virginity the relic of a medieval mentality, when it is really the icon of a more ancient age. The virgin birth enables us to ponder an unfallen world, a world whose recovery is heralded by the birth of Jesus Christ.
While we marvel at this revelation, we are invited to reflect on the entry of Christ into our own hearts. What does it look like for Jesus to come into our lives, to be born within and through us? When we encounter the love of Christ, we find an invitation to abundant life (John 10:10). Even in a fallen world, Christ does no true harm. Jesus prunes us of our pride, avarice, and sloth, replacing our stony hearts with tender hearts of flesh (Ezek. 36:26). We may fear what a life in Christ requires of us, but discipleship actually frees us from burdens (Matt. 11:30). Mary’s virginity in partu testifies: Christ’s entry into our lives takes away nothing, and gives us everything that is truly beautiful and good. Christ transforms without destruction, ushering in a world in which heaven and nature together sing.
