The Protestant Revulsion to Mary

For a variety of reasons, I tend to avoid arguing with my protestant friends. For one, I stay busy teaching and defending the Catholic faith with fellow Catholics. Secondly, I’ve found that a person really needs to be open to hearing a different perspective for the possibility of productive dialogue.
 
However, when a friend says that a devotion to Mary is more repulsive than atheism, I’m inclined to speak up. (Yes, it was a Calvinist).
 
It has always struck me as illogical that protestants are so eager to ask one another-not just sinners, but those predestined to hell-to pray for them, but consider it idolatry (literally), to ask those *already in heaven* to pray for them.
 
This obstinance regarding Mary is all the more unusual given that even the most extreme fundamentalist would proclaim belief in the 10 Commandments, which even in abridged, modern translations includes the obligation to “honor father and mother”, and would even go so far as to admit that imitating Christ-the perfect, sinless man-would be a good thing (1 Cor 11:1)…so long as we don’t imitate too perfectly His honoring of His mother.
 
They recoil at statues to the mother of the King of Kings, but erect statues of earthly royalty, reformers, Masons and warmongers. They abhor pictures of the mother of God but cover their timelines with pictures of family, friends and acquaintances, all of whom are alienated from the righteousness of God and at least some of whom are no doubt completely depraved.
 
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How to Be Miserable, Forever

I have known many envious people in my life, and never found their company pleasurable.  While hatred can be satisfying for a envybrief time, even entertaining when its excess boils over into comical antics, envy burns somewhat more discreetly but far more insidiously.  While hatred often reveals itself in violent and stunning flashes, envy eats away predictably, consistently, eternally and often serves to cover up it’s owner’s shame because the emotions it brings forth from that well of victimization which it has carved out serve to block whatever remaining conscience the owner has remaining, leaving them in a perpetual state of self-inflicted pain and pity.

This life we live here, satiated in every physical way and yet so desperately hungry in the ways that matter, serves as a frequent exhibition of this pitiful vice.  I am reminded of it often as I hear petty criticisms spew forth from the mouths of those who, having been failures in whatever pursuit they began, find pleasure only in lamenting others.  No matter how far they have fallen, they always find something to resent in another, usually, more quietly suffering individual.  I am not immune from it, in fact, I am the worst of them, because having been granted by God greater fortune than most, I still find the time to wonder, indeed, seethe, why it is that I cannot compose prose like Hemingway, or music like Mozart or thoughts like Aristotle, although I would not desire any of their lives.  I am merely … Read the rest

I have known many envious people in my life, and never found their company pleasurable.  While hatred can be satisfying for a envybrief time, even entertaining when its excess boils over into comical antics, envy burns somewhat more discreetly but far more insidiously.  While hatred often reveals itself in violent and stunning flashes, envy eats away predictably, consistently, eternally and often serves to cover up it’s owner’s shame because the emotions it brings forth from that well of victimization which it has carved out serve to block whatever remaining conscience the owner has remaining, leaving them in a perpetual state of self-inflicted pain and pity.

This life we live here, satiated in every physical way and yet so desperately hungry in the ways that matter, serves as a frequent exhibition of this pitiful vice.  I am reminded of it often as I hear petty criticisms spew forth from the mouths of those who, having been failures in whatever pursuit they began, find pleasure only in lamenting others.  No matter how far they have fallen, they always find something to resent in another, usually, more quietly suffering individual.  I am not immune from it, in fact, I am the worst of them, because having been granted by God greater fortune than most, I still find the time to wonder, indeed, seethe, why it is that I cannot compose prose like Hemingway, or music like Mozart or thoughts like Aristotle, although I would not desire any of their lives.  I am merely … Read the rest