Not everyone gets a birthday on the liturgical calendar. The Church, by honoring Mary’s nativity today, celebrates her as one privileged from birth by a particular love of God, as the “favored one” (Luke 1:28). None of us were immaculately conceived and, chances are, we won’t be assumed into heaven at death either. Is this unfair? 

For this feast, Saint Paul declares the central mystery behind any discussion of grace, turning us first to the divine cause of Mary’s holiness:

For those [God] foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son…. And those he predestined he also called; and those he called he also justified; and those he justified he also glorified. (Rom 8:29–30)

Mary was predestined; the story of all sainthood begins, not with human efforts, but with the providence of God: “What do you possess that you have not received?” (1 Cor 4:7). “Star differs from star in glory,” Aquinas writes serenely, citing 1 Corinthians 15:41. Yes, even in heaven, not all will receive equal glory (ST I q. 12 a. 6 sc.). 

The Catholic teaching on predestination, when rightly understood, is consoling. God, in his mercy, directs us to an end infinitely beyond our creaturely limitations, giving us the otherwise impossible gift of new life in Christ: eternal life, his own divine life (see ST I q. 23 a. 1 c.). Whatever good works we do begin in grace: “Without me you can do nothing” (John 15:5). But with him, we can do everything: “Nothing will be impossible for God” (Luke 1:37), not even our future life in glory. (For more on grace, predestination, and free will, see our recent series here.) Our Lady marveled at this mystery, that mere creatures could be “conformed to the image of [the] Son,” who became her son, Jesus, God-with-us.

But then this returns us to the original question of Mary’s singular graces. Like acknowledging predestination, admitting inequality among the saints is essential to recognizing the absolute gratuity of God’s grace. The blessed rejoice completely in the presence of God, but they do so to different degrees, due to their different participations in the one divine charity. (For an excellent introduction to this topic, see here.) Their difference in goodness derives ultimately from God’s grace, and only secondarily from their cooperation: God loves creatures not because he sees some pre-existent goodness, but to make them good in the first place (ST I q. 20 a. 3 sc.). To return to Mary’s unique status: her superlative holiness, all her honors and merits, are themselves the result of God’s love for her.

If elevation to unequal heights of sanctity makes us egalitarian Americans uncomfortable, we should first insist that grace isn’t competitive. Envy plagues our fallen world, but in heaven it will have no place. Each of us will be totally caught up in one common beatitude, and we will finally stop squabbling over who is the greatest (Luke 9:46-48; 22:24-27). And we will rejoice, too, that this apparently insignificant woman from an apparently insignificant locale should reign as Queen of Heaven.

Second, we should remember that Mary’s exaltation is our honor, because no one in the Body of Christ operates in a zero-sum economy. When one member is honored, all the members rejoice (1 Cor 12:26). Through Mary we received Jesus! God has chosen to give us redemption through his saints, not because he needs to, but because he wants to honor human beings as his “co-workers” (1 Cor 3:9). For this reason, he gave us a Mother on Calvary (John 19:26-27).

“Star differs from star” but the star honored today is the Maris Stella, the Star of the Sea, whose prayers help her children navigate life’s storms. Could we balk at such a gift? Is God not free to do what he likes with his own graces? Will we be envious when he is generous (Matt 20:1-16)? No: rather, “all things,” and especially God’s unique gifts to Mary, “work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose” (Rom 8:28).

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Photo by Zoltan Tasi on Unsplash