These three sisters lived as ascetics on a mountain. Many of the ill and infirm in the region were being healed by their prayers. The local governor was not terribly keen on this effective marketing strategy, and had the women summoned, and demanded that they abandon the faith. Naturally they refused, and were tortured and killed around AD 304.

According to legend, after their deaths, the governor, Frontonius was struck by lightening and died.

The sisters were buried at a hot-spring in Pythias.

The connection with the spring and the virgin martyrs is not uncommon. In this instance the fact that they were healers compounds the association. The sites of springs were healing places, both for mind and body because in addition to the benefits of hot-springs, and mineral springs, they are often found in places of pristine beauty, or “charis” (grace). An idea embodied by virginity, and the virgins themselves. See for example the frequent literary connection between Paradise which is beautiful and fruitful without the soil ever having been worked, or tilled.

As early as the late fourth century the Theotokos began to be closely associated with springs – there is a famous icon of her sitting in a fountain (no it’s not a late antique wet T-shirt competition!). Earlier, more abstract imagery (one example in the British Museum) shows a fountain flanked on either side by deer. It is not uncommon to encounter sites, named in the medieval period for their spring, still bearing a name associated with Mary. An example not too far from where I am now “Ladywell” comes to mind. Sadly the actual spring is now under a pub carpark!

After many months of indecision I have finally published my MA thesis on the emergence of the Virgin Mary as a figure of female asceticism in the third and fourth centuries. You can pick up a copy by clicking here.

Primarily through the writings of Origen and Athanasius I trace the development of the image of Mary from a young virgin to the paragon of female asceticism.

If you are interested in early developments in the image of Mary, or early ideas behind asceticism (and early monasticicsm) you might be interested in this essay.

I’ve been reading Mother of God: a history of the Virgin Mary, by Miri Rubin this week. I bought it in part, based on a review in the Guardian a few weeks ago, and in part because of my ongoing battle with the PhD from Hell.

Rubin’s writing style is very readable. A good thing when you consider how challenging it is to chart the tangled history of our faith’s interest in Mary. Rubin presents her ideas in manageable vignettes focussed on particular ideas or historical elements – such as the council of Ephesus, Mary’s patronage of asceticism, etc. With her style and map of the text this ought to make a fantastic survey book for students of Mary, cult and devotion. Unfortunately it falls down on accuracy and attention to detail.

I should point out that I’m only now just over a third of the way through the text. However, I’m finding that it is not just one vignette that is academically wonky, but multiples of vignettes that just don’t carry the day (I’m therefore, not hopeful for an improved second half). Rubin’s coverage of the events surrounding Ephesus for example is thus far the lowest point. She suggests that the emergence of the devotional title Theotokos was a top down development, when in fact the evidence points to the exact opposite being true. Rubin mis-reports basic facts about the players in the controversy – Proklos was a bishop, not a priest. Her grasp on the fine points of the theology involved is equally misleading and sometimes outright wonky – her description of Nestorius’ Christology for example is way out of sync with even his own writings. To be fair to her, however, in this instance, it is easy to make the mistakes she made, and given the structure of her text (vignettes) trying to grab the essence of Nestorius’ teaching in a few short lines is a real challenge that I can’t imagine anyone doing successfully without misrepresenting him.

Reviewers described the book as “masterful”, “fascinating”, “breathtaking [. . .] scholarship”, and “intellectually exuberant”, I think that the project deserves to be recognised as a laudable attempt at chronicling 1500 years of Marian cult and devotion – but it falls far short of the dizzying heights of authority suggested by other reviewers.

I was working on my thesis this morning and while considering aspects’ of Nestorius’ warning about the possible excesses of the title Theotokos – found myself thinking about the Roman Catholic idea of Mary as Mediatrix. I wondered to myself if it was not a bit prophetic on Nestorius’ part to raise issue with the title Theotokos, and went in search of some clarity on the use and meaning of Mediatrix. I found this, among others.

One element of this that surprised me was the heavy emphasis of Mary’s suffering at the cross during Christ’s crucifixion – and that it was in this moment that she truly becomes “mediatrix” and dispensor of grace.

My reading of the patristic sources suggests a . . . . counter argument . . . (perhaps not the best term). Mary’s importance as the subject of devotion emerges in the Late Antique period and is not focussed on her suffering, but instead on her becoming the Theotokos – the one who bore the one who is God – it is in this moment, according to the patristic sources, that Mary becomes the source of “super-abundant grace” (St. Proklos Hom. 1.1).

Patristic writers variously pointed to John’s account of Mary at the foot of the cross, as a demonstration of her post-natal virginity (because in vs. 19.26-7 Jesus – her only son, hands her into the care of John, and not for example James); or a fulfilment of Simeon’s prophecy (Lk. 2.35) that her heart would be pierced by a sword.

From an OC/IC perspective I wonder if the use of Mediatrix and it’s complimentary title Co-Redemptrix are actually helpful titles – after all, Nestorius held that the term too readily lent itself to excessive Marian devotion, distorting the true image of Mary as a woman, participating in the economy, and thus her real value in the tradition.