The Modern Saints

The Modern Saints

Feast: January 1

Marian Devotion

The short story—Mary’s title “The New Eve” is one of the oldest we have for her, signifying her necessary participation in the story of Jesus’s redemption. In the second century, St. Justin Martyr was one of the first to draw the parallel between Mary and Eve, just as one is drawn between Jesus and Adam. St. Irenaeus also wrote of this parallel, comparing Eve’s disobedience to Mary’s obedience, and Mary’s faith to Eve’s lack of it. Tertullian later continued this idea, comparing Mary’s belief in an angel to Eve’s belief in the serpent, and saying that Eve gave birth to a son who would kill, while Mary gave birth to one who would be killed. St. Jerome in the fourth century simply wrote that death came through Eve while life came through Mary. St. Augustine also used this title “The New Eve” to prove that both male and female bodies are pleasing to God because Mary’s divine role was just as necessary as Jesus’s. Symbolism around Eve often involves lush, fertile fruits of the garden, and though she and Adam brought death and Original Sin, Mary reclaimed that fertility and lushness of life for us.

by morgan strehlow


The liminality between Eden and Bethlehem leaves me with a delicate belief that often feels like holding faith in one hand and doubt in the other.

My curiosities are big and my hunger for knowledge is great, but the answers I have been given are more mysterious than they are mitigating.

I make a pretty good devil’s advocate if I say so myself.

Did God really say that? (Gen. 3:1 NIV)

I often wonder how Eve must have felt, on her knees outside of the garden, desperately grasping for the only home she had ever had, unknowingly striving for something she would never again touch or taste. I wonder how long she might have hovered there at the gates of Eden, begging God for all to be made good again, to be made right, to be made perfect. I wonder what it was like to feel shame, regret, sadness, and fear for the very first time.

I wonder what happened between Genesis 3 and Genesis 4—in between the garden and Eve’s new life as mother of all the living. Did the memory of what had once been very good and without sin remain with her? Or was it overcome by the lingering memories of birth pangs as she mothered children who would kill and who would be killed?

We learn in Genesis 5 that Adam lived to be 930 years old, but we do not get more about the life of Eve. Did she become a bitter woman, always ruminating on what could have been? Did she withdraw from her family? Was she lonely? Or was she able to forgive herself and live a life of love and delight, knowing God was still the good father who walked with her in the garden?

Did Eve remain curious and adventurous? Did she still talk to her animals? Or did she wilt away hiding in the shadows, disempowered and deflated in a silent prison of shame?

I feel a kindredness with Eve on the days when belief becomes a hard-fought battle to be won rather than a shelter that protects from harm, aching for some certainty that God is here with me, still.

When I close my eyes, I hope for Kingdom Come, and in my prayerful imagination I picture Eve and me returning to the garden in all of its lushness and goodness, where our heads are lifted, our fragile faith is restored, and our belovedness is known.

Greetings, favored woman! The Lord is with you. (Luke 1:28 NLT)

When Mary opened her eyes to a messenger from God, she welcomed the Christ into her very womb.

She said, “May it be done to me according to your word” (Luke 1:38 HCSB). I wonder how many minutes passed before Mary spoke these words aloud, giving her young body—her whole life—to God’s saving work. Did she tremble as the sentence left her lips? Or did she feel the Peace her body was now growing inside?

I marvel at this mysterious mother of Jesus, whom a spirit-filled Elizabeth called “blessed among women” (Luke 1:42 NLT) because of her remarkable belief that God would fulfill his promises in her. For when the rest of humanity perpetually failed to take God at his word, suffering from generational trauma and sin, retreating from the other and resorting to individualism, Mary believed—on our behalf—what God said to be true, and in doing so, she charted a path toward hope, toward peace, toward Love.

The promised one was on his way.

When hope is hard to come by and skepticism creeps in, I look to an expectant Mary and cling to her belief, following her all the way to Bethlehem. And, just before my waning faith dries up, the breaking of water brings an end to the drought, and the arrival of Jesus Christ makes a way out of the wilderness.

Mary points us to Jesus.

Jesus points us to Love.

And Love points us home.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. (Matt. 6:10 KJV)

I want to believe that belief in God—however big or small it may be—is enough, and that may be true. But I can’t help but wonder if belief is not the finish line to salvation but rather the starting line.

Will I have the courage to respond to God’s leading, echoing Mary’s obedience? Or will I remain a devil’s advocate, resigning myself to a self-indulgent pursuit of knowledge rather than the pursuit of peace? The tension between personal autonomy and choosing to follow God toward our collective liberation is palpable. I’m pacing in this liminal space between my desire for self-protection, for power, for control, and my desire for Kingdom Come.

Just as Mary carried and gave life to the Son of God, we are invited to consider that which is being conceived in our own lives and hearts. As bearers of God’s image and vessels of the Kingdom Come, may we each consciously choose to carry the Holy One and, like Mary, give birth to Hope, Peace, Joy, and Love for this weary world.

Prayer

O God, Creator of our wombs
Creator of our bleeding, birthing bodies
Creator of the mysteries we carry within
May your peace surpass our understanding
May our laboring make way for your Love
Help us to be generous with our faith, when we have it
Help us to be gentle with ourselves, when we don’t
When we find ourselves in the in-between space
May we find you in the unlikely places
Through unsuspecting wayfinders of your Love
Pointing us in the way of your glory.