Faith as Struggle and Mother Mary as Comfort

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The Lady.

Three years later, this essay rings just as true.  Still struggling, still relying. . .

Of those I admired most—that is, the Catholics who bore witness to all of the love and best of Christianity—they each held a special devotion to the holy eucharist and to Jesus’ mother. These two devotions have always impressed me. While I certainly thought and think some Catholics take their love of Mary, the Mother of Jesus, too far and into dangerous territory (but, really, who am I to judge?), I have always found those who didn’t love Mary far more perplexing. In my own life, I have flirted with a number of other religions, both east and west. But, what held me back from becoming Protestant has always been what seems to be the unreality of ignoring or, at best, neglecting Mary. I’m fairly certain that if I ever leave Catholicism, it will be toward the East, not the West. Toward Constantinople, not Geneva.

With the Mr. Wilson, I can easily sing: “God only knows what I’d be without you.” With Mr. McCartney, “Mother Mary, comfort me.”

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