Saint Athanasius on Mary, Mother of God

Tuesday, January 1, AD 2013


O noble Virgin, truly you are greater than any other greatness. For who is your equal in greatness, O dwelling place of God the Word? To whom among all creatures shall I compare you, O Virgin? You are greater than them all. O Ark of the New] Covenant, clothed with purity instead of gold! You are the Ark in which is found the golden vessel containing the true manna, that is, the flesh in which divinity resides. Should I compare you to the fertile earth and its fruits? You surpass them, for it is written: “The earth is my foostool”. But you carry within you the feet, the head, and the entire body of the perfect God.
If I say that heaven is exalted, yet it does not equal you, for it is writen: “Heaven is My throne”, while you are God’s place of repose. If I say that the angels and archangels are great — but you are greater than them all, for the angels and the archangels serve with trembling the One Who dwells in your womb, and they dare not speak in His presence, while you speak to Him freely.
If we say that the cherubim are great, you are greater than they, for the cherubim carry the throne, while you hold God in your hands. If we say that the serphim are great, you are greater than them all, for the seraphim cover their faces with their wings, unable to look upon the perfect glory, while you not only gaze upon His face but caress it and offer your breasts to His holy mouth.

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5 Responses to Saint Athanasius on Mary, Mother of God

  • Delicious And Sweet these words of wonderment.

    The surest and most pleasing way to Jesus’ Sacred Heart is by the pure hand of Our Mother Mary. The Saints of old have it right!
    To Jesus through Mary. Humility and proper respect for Lady Poverty are footpaths leading to the crib most Holy. Immaculata teach us your ways to Holiness.

  • I think this is the full lyrics to the song, but I have seen other Latin versions:

    O Sanctissima O Piissima
    Dulcis Virgo Maria
    Mater amta intemerata
    Ora ora pro nobis

    Ora ora
    Ora pro nobis

    Virgo respice, Mater adspice
    Audi nos, O Maria!
    Sicut lilium inter spinas
    Sic Maria inter filias

    Jubilate, Cherubim,
    Exsultate, Seraphim!
    Consonante perpetim,
    Salve, salve Regina!

    O Sanctissima, O Piisima
    Dulcis Virgo Maria

    Ora, ora, ora Pro Nobis

    Sancta Maria, sancta Maria Mater Dei
    Sancta Maria, sancta Maria Mater Dei

    Jubilate, Cherubim,
    Exsultate, Seraphim!
    Consonante perpetim,
    Salve, salve Regina!

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  • Father McCartney’s sermon covered the Motherhood of Mary. She is not only Mother of God and of the Church. She is my Mother. Our Lord on His Holy Cross gave Her to St. John and St. John to Her, and through St. John Motherhood of the Church and to each of us.

    For a few years, each day I prayerfully read the “Litany of the Blessed Virgin Mary” also known as the “Litany of Loreto.”

    I have it on a prayer card my Grandmother (RIP) gave me many years ago. In her lovely handwriting she wrote my name on it.

    The closing prayer says, “Father, you gave the human race salvation through the motherhood of the Virgin Mary. May we experience the help of her prayers in our lives, for through her we received the very source of life, Your Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with You and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”

    I am compelled to report yet another (utterly unmerited) miraculous interevention by my Holy Mother in Heaven. Her intercession brought my wife and I through a dangerous traffic incident. That we were not injured and the car was unscathed can only be explained by the workings of Divine Assistance. The special intention of this day’s Rosary must be thanksgiving for this and all blessings.

    “Therefore, I fly to You O Virgin of Virgins, my Mother. […] before You I stand sinful and sorrowful.”

  • Our Lord gave us three wonderful gifts.
    He gave us Himself in the Eucharist
    He gave us His bride – the Church
    And He gave us His Mother to be our Mother.

Holy Mary, Mother of God

Friday, January 1, AD 2010

And he saw in a little picture,
Tiny and far away,
His mother sitting in Egbert’s hall,
And a book she showed him, very small,
Where a sapphire Mary sat in stall
With a golden Christ at play.

It was wrought in the monk’s slow manner,
From silver and sanguine shell,
Where the scenes are little and terrible,
Keyholes of heaven and hell.

In the river island of Athelney,
With the river running past,
In colours of such simple creed
All things sprang at him, sun and weed,
Till the grass grew to be grass indeed
And the tree was a tree at last.

Fearfully plain the flowers grew,
Like the child’s book to read,
Or like a friend’s face seen in a glass;
He looked; and there Our Lady was,
She stood and stroked the tall live grass
As a man strokes his steed.

Her face was like an open word
When brave men speak and choose,
The very colours of her coat
Were better than good news.

She spoke not, nor turned not,
Nor any sign she cast,
Only she stood up straight and free,
Between the flowers in Athelney,
And the river running past.

One dim ancestral jewel hung
On his ruined armour grey,
He rent and cast it at her feet:
Where, after centuries, with slow feet,
Men came from hall and school and street
And found it where it lay.

“Mother of God,” the wanderer said,
“I am but a common king,
Nor will I ask what saints may ask,
To see a secret thing.

“The gates of heaven are fearful gates
Worse than the gates of hell;
Not I would break the splendours barred
Or seek to know the thing they guard,
Which is too good to tell.

“But for this earth most pitiful,
This little land I know,
If that which is for ever is,
Or if our hearts shall break with bliss,
Seeing the stranger go?

“When our last bow is broken, Queen,
And our last javelin cast,
Under some sad, green evening sky,
Holding a ruined cross on high,
Under warm westland grass to lie,
Shall we come home at last?”

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