Writes Ralph Raico:
One of my minor pet peeves is how L.A. is constantly referred to as “the City of Angels.” It’s not. It’s the City of Mary. The full original, Spanish name is, “El Pueblo de Nuestra Señora, Reina de los Angeles.” “The City of Our Lady, Queen of the Angels.” Do you think that people are plain ignorant? Or is it that they don’t like to mention the name of Jesus’s Mother?
Indeed,
FrW
All of the above seems the best choice amongst those proffered . However, other possibilities are extant, and include:
ReplyDelete1. The people are in reality and in the main baptizing crypto-Baptists, who thus can be counted on to confine the Blessed Virgin Mother to a stable (or the closet in which it is stored), for the liturgical year.
For those with a plenitude of $2 bills in their pockets, there is no surer bet on earth now that glorious Secretariat has passed on.
2. They are unconsciously uncomfortable with the Incarnation, which I diagnose as deriving from a pestilent and MOST peculiar variant of Monphysitism ... Christ of one nature, thoroughly mixed ... but divine predominating and precisely where that DNA-drenched flesh of Jesse's Root is derived is left MUCH to the imagination. Unless it's snowy outside, Santa Claus is coming to town and there are pretty gift-wrapped do-dads under the tree.
It's no big deal, you see; her Pregnancy. Okay, the little lady's heart was pierced, says Scripture; and she could have been stoned to death by the blind of her neighborhood, because of a misperception of fornication and an ignorance of Isaiah's promise. But we are not moved by the dying Savior's care for His Mother.
Yet we call Lord Christ our Brother, easily enough, in our prayers, entreaties and our hymns. And Luther himself honored, revered and loved St. Mary with bravado and cheer throughout his life.
Something simply isn't computing inside the scarecrow's noggin, here.
3. Among us beggar-people, she's as disposable as the ripped gift wrapping on the morning of December 26.
That's the feast of Stephen, pilgrim ... I know, I know: Christ actually had a Mother with guts, and Christians celebrate the blood of the Proto-Martyr first thing after Happy Holiday, inconveniencing the timely exchange for the cool stuff we REALLY wanted this year. Christianity's a bummer, dude.
Your (unworthy) servant,
Herr Doktor