In the following video, Marshall (with a straight face) attempts to defend the historicity of the Bodily Assumption of Mary:
Only by conflating the concept of the "Dormition" (falling asleep/death) of Mary with her Assumption (God taking her up to heaven at the end of her earthly life, both body and soul) and reading back the dogma of the Immaculate Conception into comments by Juvenal can he even make any (albeit, bogus) foundation for his claims (see Answering Tim Staples on Patristic Mariology and the Immaculate Conception for a discussion of the early patristic testimony against the sinlessness of Mary; as with the Assumption, the Immaculate Conception [upon which Pius XII grounded, in part, the Assumption in 1950] is another myth of history). For a scholarly discussion (which Marshall does not provide), see Stephen J. Shoemaker, The Ancient Traditions of the Virgin Mary's Dormition and Assumption (Oxford, 2003).
On the Dormition, Ludwig Ott wrote the following:
In the East, at least since the sixth century, and at Rome, at any rate, since the end of the seventh century (Sergius 1, 687–701) the Church celebrated the Feast of the Sleeping of Mary (Dormitio, κοίμησις). The object of the Feast was originally the death of Mary, but very soon the thought appeared of the incorruptibility of her body and of its assumption into Heaven. The original title Dormitio (Sleeping) was changed into assumptio (Sacramentarium Gregorianum). In the Liturgical and Patristic texts of the eighth and ninth centuries, the idea of the bodily assumption is clearly attested. Under the influence of Ps.-Hieronymus, there was uncertainty for a long time as to whether or not the assumption of the body was signified by the Feast. Since the peak period of the Middle Ages, the affirmative view has gained precedence, and has now been dominant for a long time. (Fundamentals of Catholic Dogma, 210)
So we see, that the Dormition and Assumption of Mary are not one-to-one equivalents to one another. One can affirm the former and not necessarily the latter.
In reality, there is absolutely no patristic testimony affirming the bodily assumption of Mary in the opening centuries of Christian history. While some Roman defenders argue Epiphanius affirmed the bodily assumption, the reality is that he did no such thing:
This long and profound silence surrounding Mary’s life first arouses concern only late in the fourth century, when Epiphanius of Salamis pauses momentarily during his energetic refutation of the heretics in the Panarion to reflect on the disquieting fact that he can find no authorized tradition about how the Virgin’s life ended. Despite Epiphanius’ close contacts with Palestine, where the cult of the Virgin’s tomb would soon develop, he professes a complete ignorance of the Virgin’s final days. This is not for want of searching, however: Epiphanius reports that he has carefully investigated the matter and uncovered several possibilities, but ultimately he cannot decide which of these alternatives bears the truth. Epiphanius begins by addressing the biblical tradition, apologizing that the Scriptures are silent on this matter ‘because of the overwhelming wonder, not to throw men’s minds into consternation’. Despite the apology, Epiphanius quickly turns to the New Testament for clues as to how the Virgin’s earthly life may have come to a close. He first considers Symeon’s prophecy that ‘a sword shall pierce your own soul too’, thinking that this might suggest Mary’s death as a martyr. Then Epiphanius turns to chapter 12 of John’s Apocalypse, which describes ‘a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet, and on her head a crown of stars’, who gave birth to a son. When attacked by ‘the dragon’, she was ‘given the two wings of the great eagle, so that she could fly from the serpent into the wilderness, to her place where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time’. His attacks thwarted, the dragon then turns to persecute her children. This passage, Epiphanius proposes, may indicate that Mary did not die as other human beings, but somehow remained immortal, although he makes clear his own uncertainty and refrains from advocating this view . . . Ultimately, Epiphanius cannot himself decide if either of these two biblical traces is trustworthy, and, hedging his bets, he concludes: ‘[I] am not saying that she remained immortal. But neither am I affirming that she died’. This is in fact the general tenor of his entire discussion of the matter: throughout he very carefully avoids endorsing any of the possibilities he raises, merely noting their existence and some of the evidence in favour of each position. This does not necessarily mean, however, that when Epiphanius was completing his Panarion (c. 377) there were as of yet no developed traditions about the end of the Virgin’s life in circulation; it merely reveals that there was no authoritative or orthodox tradition (in his view) to which he could turn. Quite the contrary, Epiphanius’ indecisive reflections themselves suggest that some difference of opinion had already arisen among Christians as to whether Mary actually died or remained immortal, a difference which Epiphanius could not resolve through recourse to either biblical or church tradition. (Stephen J. Shoemaker, Ancient Traditions of the Virgin Mary’s Dormition and Assumption [New York: Oxford University Press, 2003], 11-12, 13-14)
Let us quote Epiphanius in full:
In section 78 of the Panarion, entitled, "Against the Antidicomarians" 11:2-6, Epiphanius of Salamis wrote the following:
If any think <I> am mistaken, moreover, let them search through the scriptures and neither find Mary's death, nor whether or not she died, nor whether or not she was buried--even though John surely traveled throughout Asia. And yet, nowhere does he say that he took the holy Virgin with him. Scripture simply kept silence because of the overwhelming wonder, not to throw men's minds into consternation. For I dare not say--though I have my suspicions, I keep silent. Perhaps, just as her death is not to be found, so I may have found some traces of the holy and blessed Virgin In one passage Simeon says of her, "And a sword shall pierce through thine own soul also, that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed." And elsewhere the Revelation of John says, "And the dragon hastened after the woman who had born the man child, and she was given the wings of an eagle and was taken to the wilderness, that the dragon might not seize her." Perhaps this can be applied to her; I cannot decide for certain, and am not saying that she remained immortal. But neither am I affirming that she died. For scripture went beyond man's understanding and left it in suspense with regard to the precious and choice vessel, so that no one would suspect carnal behavior of her. Whether she did, I don't know, and [even] if she was buried, she never had carnal relations, perish the thought! Who will choose, from self-inflicted insanity, to cast a blasphemous suspicion [on her], raise his voice, give free rein to his tongue, flap his mouth with evil intent, invent insults instead of hymns and glory, hurl abuse at the holy Virgin, and deny honor to the precious Vessel? (The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis, Books II and III. De Fide [2d ed.; trans. Frank Williams; Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2013], 624-25)
One should note the lack of information about the end of Mary's life.
Interestingly, Epiphanius' Mariology was much "lower" than dogmatic teachings on Mary in the modern Roman Catholic Church. Note the following comments based on John 2:4 in 4:6-7 of Book 79, "Against Collyridians"
Interestingly, Epiphanius' Mariology was much "lower" than dogmatic teachings on Mary in the modern Roman Catholic Church. Note the following comments based on John 2:4 in 4:6-7 of Book 79, "Against Collyridians"
Yes, of course Mary's body was holy, but she was not God. Yes, the Virgin was indeed a virgin and honored as such, but she was not given us to worship; she worships Him who, though born of her flesh, has come from heaven, from the bosom of the Father. And the Gospel therefore protects us by telling us so on the occasion when the Lord himself said, "Woman, what is between me and thee? Mine hour is not yet come." <For> to make sure that no one would suppose, because of the words, "What is between me and thee?" that the holy Virgin is anything more [than a woman], he called her "Woman" as if by prophecy, because of the schisms and sects that were to appear on earth. Otherwise some might stumble into the nonsense of the sect from excessive awe of the saint. (The Panarion of Epiphanius of Salamis, Books II and III. De Fide [2d ed.; trans. Frank Williams; Leiden: E.J. Brill, 2013], 640-41)
One should compare and contrast Epiphanius’ tentative approach to the end of Mary’s life (let alone her corporeal assumption into heaven as queen of heaven[!]) with Munificentissimus Deus, issued by Pope Pius XII November 1, 1950, which elevated the assumption as a dogma of the Roman Catholic faith (emphasis added):
44. For which reason, after we have poured forth prayers of supplication again and again to God, and have invoked the light of the Spirit of Truth, for the glory of Almighty God who has lavished his special affection upon the Virgin Mary, for the honor of her Son, the immortal King of the Ages and the Victor over sin and death, for the increase of the glory of that same august Mother, and for the joy and exultation of the entire Church; by the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ, of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, and by our own authority, we pronounce, declare, and define it to be a divinely revealed dogma: that the Immaculate Mother of God, the ever Virgin Mary, having completed the course of her earthly life, was assumed body and soul into heavenly glory.
45. Hence if anyone, which God forbid, should dare willfully to deny or to call into doubt that which we have defined, let him know that he has fallen away completely from the divine and Catholic Faith.
46. In order that this, our definition of the bodily Assumption of the Virgin Mary into heaven may be brought to the attention of the universal Church, we desire that this, our Apostolic Letter, should stand for perpetual remembrance, commanding that written copies of it, or even printed copies, signed by the hand of any public notary and bearing the seal of a person constituted in ecclesiastical dignity, should be accorded by all men the same reception they would give to this present letter, were it tendered or shown.
47. It is forbidden to any man to change this, our declaration, pronouncement, and definition or, by rash attempt, to oppose and counter it. If any man should presume to make such an attempt, let him know that he will incur the wrath of Almighty God and of the Blessed Apostles Peter and Paul.
Marshall also tries to support the Marian interpretation of Rev 12:1. However, yet again, the earliest Patristic testimony to the identity of the woman in Rev 12:1 is not Mary, but a corporate personality (the people of God); consider, for instance, the following:
By the woman then clothed with the sun,” he meant most manifestly the Church, endued with the Father’s word, whose brightness is above the sun. And by the “moon under her feet” he referred to her being adorned, like the moon, with heavenly glory. And the words, “upon her head a crown of twelve stars,” refer to the twelve apostles by whom the Church was founded. And those, “she, being with child, cries, travailing in birth, and pained to be delivered,” mean that the Church will not cease to bear from her heart the Word that is persecuted by the unbelieving in the world. “And she brought forth,” he says, “a man-child, who is to rule all the nations;” by which is meant that the Church, always bringing forth Christ, the perfect man-child of God, who is declared to be God and man, becomes the instructor of all the nations. And the words, “her child was caught up unto God and to His throne,” signify that he who is always born of her is a heavenly king, and not an earthly; even as David also declared of old when he said, “The Lord said unto my Lord, Sit Thou at my right hand, until I make Thine enemies Thy footstool.” “And the dragon,” he says, “saw and persecuted the woman which brought forth the man-child. And to the woman were given two wings of the great eagle, that she might fly into the wilderness, where she is nourished for a time, and times, and half a time, from the face of the serpent.” That refers to the one thousand two hundred and threescore days (the half of the week) during which the tyrant is to reign and persecute the Church, which flees from city to city, and seeks concealment in the wilderness among the mountains, possessed of no other defence than the two wings of the great eagle, that is to say, the faith of Jesus Christ, who, in stretching forth His holy hands on the holy tree, unfolded two wings, the right and the left, and called to Him all who believed upon Him, and covered them as a hen her chickens. For by the mouth of Malachi also He speaks thus: “And unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in His wings.” (The Extant Works and Fragments of Hippolytus, 61)
The woman who appeared in heaven clothed with the sun, and crowned with twelve stars, and having the moon for her footstool, and being with child, and travailing in birth, is certainly, according to the accurate interpretation, our mother, O virgins, being a power by herself distinct from her children; whom the prophets, according to the aspect of their subjects, have called sometimes Jerusalem, sometimes a Bride, sometimes Mount Zion, and sometimes the Temple and Tabernacle of God. For she is the power which is desired to give light in the prophet, the Spirit crying to her: “Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee. (Methodius, The Banquet of the Ten Virgins; or Concerning Chastity, Chapter V)
Furthermore, the vast majority (both Catholic and non-Catholic) interpreters of the book of Revelation rejects the Marian interpretation of this verse. Consider the following representative examples:
Woman. In Revelation “woman” or “women” occurs nineteen ties: 12:1, 4, 6, 14, 15, 16, 17, 17:3, 4, 6, 7, 9 f., 18 and elsewhere in 9:8, 14:4, 19:7, 21:9. It might be said therefore, that the woman symbol is almost as important as the Lamb. This woman and the new Jerusalem are the antithesis of the harlot . . . [such is a symbol] of the faithful community. (J. Massyngberde Ford, Revelation [AB 38; Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1975], 188)
Who is the cosmic woman? Some connect her with figures in Israel’s or the church’s past or future. Eve, the mother whose seed would bruise the head of the dragon/serpent (Gen 3:1-6); Mary, the mother of Jesus; or the heavenly Jerusalem as bride of the Lamb (19:7-8; 21:9-10). Others suppose a pagan or astrological connection: a queen of heaven like the Egyptian Isis, or the constellation Virgo. Still others hypothesize a corporate representation of God’s people: Israel, who escapes the dragon/Pharaoh into the wilderness on the wings of eagles (Exod 19:4; c. Ps 74:12-15); or Zion, the mother of the persecuted people of God (Isa 66:7-9; 4 Ezra 13.32-38). It is unlikely that John has in mind an individual woman, historical or otherwise. Mary, the mother of Jesus, did not give birth to the entire people of God as this woman will (Rev 12:17). Eve gives birth to all humans, not specifically the believing community. Though the “sign” language clearly intends to guide hearers and readers to look to the heavens in the way that they seek our constellations, John cannot have had Virgo exclusively in mind since she is the sixth sign of the zodiac and this woman (12:1) is connected integrally with the number “twelve” . . . We can gain a better sense of what John intends by his “woman” representation when we look at the way he puts it to narrative use. He deploys the word gyne (woman) nineteen times. He is preoccupied with several primary roles for women in first-century society: wife (19:7), mother (12:4, 13, 17), and sexual threat (Jezebel’s false teachings conveyed through symbolism of fornication, 2:20; sexual intimacy that defiles holy warriors, 14:4; harlotry of Rome, 17:3, 4, 6-7, 9, 18). A more comprehensive study reveals that John has oriented his use of gyne around the competing images. Most notable, though the images do not come into play directly in chapter 12, is the thematic opposition between the wife and the harlot. This woman is as directly associated with her children (12:17) as the harlot later is with Rome (17:18). The most intriguing opposition is the one between the competing signs of the woman in 12:1 and the dragon in v. 3. To be sure, war breaks out in heaven between Michael the dragon (v. 7), but that later conflict is based upon the enmity that already exists between the dragon and the woman. God’s intentions, as they operate through the characterization of the woman, are already being opposed by the dragon, according to vv. 1, 3. It is not an outright hot war, it is certainly a hypertense cold one . . . The woman’s attire reveals much about her identity. He is, first of all, clothed with the sun. Clothing in Revelation is more than mere outer wear; its type and color illustrate important qualities or character traits of the person wearing it. Sackcloth indicates mourning and judgment. A purple and scarlet dress symbolizes Rome’s harlotry and opposition to God (17:4; 18:16). Christ’s bloody robe indicates the slaughter he and his followers have endured for their witness (19:13). Yet John then declares the followers’ robes are dazzling (19:14); that is precisely because they have washed them in Lamb’s blood (7:14). The dazzling robe takes on a quality of particular significance; it signals a successfully established eschatological relationship to God. The mighty angel of 10:1 is robed in a dazzling white cloud. Dazzling robes are worn by those who witness victoriously to the lordship of Christ (3:5, 18; 4:4; 7:9, 13). The bride’s (i.e., the church’s) intimate relationship with the Lamb is indicated partially through her dazzling attire (19:8). Even more dazzling would be the brightness of the sun. Though John uses “sun” most often in reference to the physical star around which the earth orbits (even if he did not himself understand it in this way). In two other places besides 12:1 he connects the quality of the sun’s color or shining with a character who populates his prophecy. At 1:16 the child of humanity has a face that shines like the sun. The face of the mighty angel clothed in a cloud at 10:1 shines similarly. In both those cases, their sunshine indicates that they are representatives of God. According to the psalmist, it is God who is apparently so adorned (Ps 104:1-2). This woman’s relationship with God and her identity as a representative for God are highlighted by the fact that she, too, is cloaked with the sun. All of her shines like the sun! Clearly, she must represent something extremely important about how God expresses God’s self in the life of God’s people. I have already argued and will maintain subsequently that she represents Go’s procreative ability to birth a people of faith.
The “moon under her feet” signals elevated status; as a cosmic being she stands far above the human followers who trace their faith existence through her. But it is the stephanos (crown) of stars on her head that best complements that sun-cloak that robes her. Like the dazzling robe, the crown is an accoutrement awarded the believer who conquers by witnessing faithfully to the lordship of Christ (2:10-11; 3:11-12). The twenty-four heavenly elders whose perpetual worship is highlighted in the hymnic sections are outfitted with crowns (4:4, 10), as is the one like a child of humanity himself (14:14). Interestingly, the child of humanity also holds a symbolically complete 7 stars in his hand (1:16, 20 2:1; 3:1). This woman’s crown possesses stars in another symbolically complete number: 12. Though the number of the stars no doubt operates from the cosmological understanding that there were 12 stars of the zodiac, John integrates its use into his narrative as a number of representing completeness in terms of rapport with God (7:5-8; 21:12, 14, 16, 21; 22:2). Beale argues that the number represents both the 12 tribes (7:4-8) and the 12 apostles, who formed the leadership of the nascent church. This interpretation gains strength from the fact that earlier in his prophecy John equates stars with angels, who in turn represent churches (1:16, 20). The 12 stars, then, represent the completeness of the church that finds its foundation and indeed its genesis in this woman. (Brian K. Blount, Revelation: A Commentary [New Testament Library; Louisville, Ky.: Westminster/John Knox Press, 2009], 225, 226-27)
In the Middle Ages devotion to Mary saw the other of Jesus in Virgo, and from these the picture of the queen of heaven became a central motif of ecclesiastical painting and sculpture.
Yet the context rules out this interpretation of a specific historical future. The heavenly woman, rather, is an image of the end-time salvation community, a symbol of the church. She is the heir of the promises of the Old Testament a people of God; pointing to this is the reference to the twelve stars (cf. Gen. 37:9), which symbolize the holy twelve tribes in their end-time fullness and perfection (cf. 7:4-8; 14:1). Against the possibility that the heavenly woman refers to the people of God of the old covenant, out of which the Messiah was born, is both the continuation of the story (vv. 13-17) and quite generally the fact that nowhere in Revelation is the question of the relationship of Israel to the church treated as a theological theme. The certainty that the church has her roots in Israel and that ow she has entered into the claims of Israel to the church treated as a theological theme. The certainty that the church has her roots in Israel (cf. 7:4-8). Also, considerations of whether the heavenly woman may be understood as a heavenly prototype of the church, as a community of the consummation, find no support in the text, which clearly speaks in what follows of the earthly fate of this woman and localizes her place on earth. That the woman appears “in heaven” does not indicate a serious contradiction when one recognizes that here heaven is introduced not as the place of God and his heavenly assembly but as the firmament on which an appearance of symbolic significance becomes visible. That the woman is clothed by the sun and stands above the moon—no different than the crown of stars—signifies the promises to the church; to her is promised the future consummation and triumph over the powers of darkness. (Jürgen Roloff, Revelation [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993], 145)
woman: This woman is surely the bride, the heavenly Jerusalem (19:7–8; 21:9–10), antithesis of the harlot (Rome) (17:14; 18:16). . . . The woman, though first seen in a setting of splendor, is with child and close to delivery. Her birth-pangs may be those of Eve (Gen 3:16); they are, more immediately, the birth-pangs of travailing Israel. See Mic 4:10, “Writhe and groan, O daughter of Zion, like a woman in travail.” In rabbinical literature “the birth-pangs of the Messiah” is a familiar phrase. Verses 5–6 identify the woman more closely. Whatever his background, and whatever the later use of the text (in Mariology), for John this woman is the heavenly Israel, depicted in terms of the woman of Gen 3. She is faced by Satan, the ancient serpent (Gen 3:1); she brings forth in anguish (3:16); her child will suffer attack by Satan (3:15). She is, all the while, the people of God who gives birth to the Messiah and the messianic age.
In stark contrast to the woman stands another sign: a great red dragon. Much earlier than the Python image is that of dragon or sea-serpent as a mythic symbol of chaos. Babylonian and Canaanite texts mention a serpentine monster with seven heads. In his text, John links the “dragon” with the “serpent” of Gen 3. Already, in a retelling of the Genesis story, the nāḥāš (“snake”) had become “the devil” (Wis 2:24). In his reference to the sweeping down of “a third of the stars” John seeks to depict the colossal reach and vast strength of the monster. In Dan 8:10, which he surely has in mind, the “stars” are angelic representatives of pagan powers. John’s text has nothing to do with a legendary “fall” of angels. It is worth observing that a reading of Gen 6:1–4 in the sense of angelic “fall” is not biblical. It goes back to 1 Enoch 6–13.
The dragon seeks to destroy the child of the woman. Her “male child” is the Messiah, explicitly identified as such by the invocation of Psalm 2. The reference is significant. The anointed king of the Psalm is addressed by God not at his birth but at his enthronement: “You are my son, today I have begotten you” (Ps 2:7). See Acts 13:33, “This he has fulfilled … by raising Jesus; as also it is written in the second psalm, ‘Thou are my son, today I have begotten thee’ ”; the text is applied to the resurrection (see Rom 1:4). By the “birth” of the Messiah John does not mean the nativity but the Cross—the enthronement of Jesus. Interestingly, the idea behind this passage of Revelation is thoroughly Johannine: the death of Jesus, which is his glorification, is also the moment of the assault of Satan and of his defeat. Precisely by dying on the cross, Jesus defeated the dragon and was exalted to God’s right hand. The Fourth Gospel has no temptation story at the beginning of the ministry: Satan makes his bid at its close. It is he who instigated Judas’ betrayal (John 13:2, 27; see Luke 22:3). In his final discourse Jesus declared: “I will no longer talk much with you, for the ruler of this world is coming. He has no power over me” (John 14:30). Luke, who has many contacts with the Johannine tradition, reflects the same viewpoint. After the temptation story he adds, “And when the devil had ended every temptation, he departed from him until an opportune time” (Luke 4:13); the moment indicated by the “opportune time” is the moment of the passion (22:3, 53).
Meanwhile the woman—the people of God of the Old Testament who, having given Christ to the world, thereby became the Christian Church—found refuge in the desert where God cared for her for 1,260 days. This is the equivalent of forty-two months or three and one-half years—the earthly duration of the Church. By “desert” John seems to have in mind more than an unspecified traditional place of refuge; v. 14 surely has the Exodus in view. Wilderness suggests the Sinai wandering: the desert was the place of freedom and safety after Egyptian bondage, the oppression of the dragon/Pharaoh. Besides, God’s care, described as sustainment, or nourishing, recalls the manna.
To John the Church appears as a woman, pregnant with the Messiah, a woman who will become bride of the Lamb. In the here and now she is protected from the malignant design of the dragon. Jesus had spoken to Peter of “my Church,” promising that the “gates of Hades” would not prevail against it (Matt 16:18). We share that assurance. But we must also expect that the Church will ever be an ecclesia pressa, a Church under fire. The dragon will be around until the end. (Wilfrid J. Harrington, Revelation [Sacra Pagina Series vol. 16; Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 2008], 128, 129-31)
In reality, the reason why Marshall believes in the Bodily Assumption of Mary is that the Pius XII proclaimed such to be a dogma on November 1, 1950. There is no scriptural and even no early patristic witness to this as a doctrine, let alone a dogma en par with the bodily resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ.
Robert A. Sungenis debated James R. White on the topic back in September 2010, and took a different (and more honest) approach to the issue, basically admitting that it comes down to whether Rome is infallible or not. Compare and contrast Marshall's attempted defense of this dogma with Sungenis' who openly admits there is no early patristic testimony to the Assumption:
Indeed, as Catholic Mariologist, Michael O'Carrol notes about the dogmatising of the Assumption:
The dogma was part of a programme planned by Pius XII, as he confided to Mgr. (later Cardinal) Tardini shortly after he had become Pope. It came as a climax to a movement of piety and theology centred on Our Lady, and prompted continuity and expansion of this movement. Literature on the subject had increased in the present century; in the decade prior to the definition . . . Due largely to Fr. Jugie’s expertise and influence, the question of Mary’s death was removed from the scope of the dogma. The idea of tracing a historical tradition from apostolic times was abandoned. It was thought better to concentrate on the whole of divine revelation so as to bring to an explicit stage what it contained implicitly. (Michael O’Carroll, Theotokos: A Theological Encyclopedia of the Blessed Virgin Mary [Wilmington, Del.: Michael Glazier, Inc., 1982], 55)