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The Lay Cistercian Review · Advent 2025 · Articles

Finding Hope in the Humility and Humanity of Mary

Frederick Wise

Among Among the many rich and evocative motifs of the Advent Season, none surpasses that of the figure of Our Lady. Singularly, she is the symbol of so subtle a silence, so mild a meekness, that she can receive the Word’s whisper and conceive in her waiting womb the fullness of Love’s manifestation—the very Incarnation of the Living God. This littleness, this emptiness of self, makes possible the moment that has become the central mystery of salvation. For all Christians—and, in particular, for those of us who seek God in the Benedictine and Cistercian way—humility is fundamental, as evidenced by the weight we give to Chapter 7, On Humility, in the Rule of St. Benedict.

It could be said that the first seven “Steps of Humility” describe the ascetical program for the demolition of the false self, while the latter five express the fruits of that process—its humiliation and death: the emergence and flowering of the True Self. At first glance, we might conclude that Mary does not need the first seven steps. After all, in her Immaculate Conception, is she not, from the very moment of her existence, perfectly and entirely her True Self, and therefore always radically open to receive the Divine Love and to bear the Fruit of Love’s Incarnation?¹

If such a vision of Mary’s humility seems to flow naturally from her being without sin, it risks failing to honor the humanity of Mary, of Jesus, and of ourselves. The human need for psychological and spiritual growth is hardly one rooted in sin (though sin does make that growth especially confusing and painful). Rather, it is grounded in the very natural process of becoming human.² Indeed, we see this process unfold in various moments of Jesus’ life. One instance is his encounter with the Syro-Phoenician woman (Mk 7:24–29), described with fresh insight by Michael Casey. As Casey observes, Jesus appears to move beyond the cultural boundaries of his time toward a more radical inclusivity.³ This development does not imply sin or moral deficiency in Christ;⁴ rather, it belongs to the natural human capacity for experiential learning. He is invited by experience to an expansion of consciousness, and, in humility, he consents to it.⁵

Becoming fully human is about awakening to our real identity, which is Christ. This is true both by grace and by nature. By the sacramental grace of Baptism, we are incorporated into Christ’s very Body (see 1 Cor 12). At the same time, simply by being created human, we are made in the image and likeness of God (Gen 1:27)—which many early Cistercians understood as the image of Christ himself. Yet we are ever becoming what we already are. Merton describes this journey as the discovery of the True Self;⁶ Bernard speaks of the restoration of the Image of God within us. In Marian language, we could speak of one who continually cultivates an interior space that both is and is becoming full of grace (cf. Lk 1:28).

This learning to become who we are is intrinsic to being human. Again, though sin obscures our awareness and impedes our growth, the need to be in the “school of humility” is a natural, positive human experience—not merely a reaction to sin. If Jesus himself grew in this way—an experiential growth, and not a moral correction—then Mary too must have undergone, in the language of St. Benedict, such an expansion of heart.⁷

This truth affirms our human struggle to grow in wholeness and holiness, offering a profound source of hope. Divine though Jesus is, and immaculate though Mary is, their humanity is truly our humanity. Thus, our focus need not be on Mary’s being impossibly distant from us. Her holiness—her fully integrated humanity—is a grace given, differently yet genuinely, both to her and to us.

This grace flows from Christ’s Death and Resurrection. Still, it is also intimately connected to the mystery of the Incarnation, which reveals something deeper than the classic dualistic description of divinity “taking on” humanity. The Incarnation reveals not only that divine and human natures are united in the one Person of Christ,⁸ but also that human nature itself is, by design, capable of communion with the divine.⁹ Heaven is wedded to earth; they become one flesh in Christ.

Similarly, Mary’s Immaculate Conception manifests what is, in a certain sense, true of our essential humanness: that we really are fully enough, fully ready, fully prepared to receive, conceive, and give new birth to Christ, the Fullness of Life and Love. Though wounded, our nature remains, in the words of our Cistercian Fathers and Mothers, truly capable of the divine—capax Dei.

Yet being capable is not the same as being immaculate. She is fully fair; we are fully fallen. We struggle with much greater difficulty than Mary in the school of humility. To learn, as she did, to surrender every trace of the insubstantial, illusory ego that the Rule calls self-will is a daunting task for us. Nevertheless, with Mary, we are called to that lifelong journey of humility that frees us to be ever more actively receptive to the Word becoming flesh in us. “Behold, the handmaid of the Lord. Be it done unto me according to your word” (Lk 1:38), we respond with her in humble hope, both graced and able to do so—not in spite of, but because of, our shared humanity.