Sunday Meditation: The Annunciation

This is the last Sunday in Advent and Christmas Eve all in one day.  It’s a strange coincidence of the calendar.  The Fourth Sunday in Advent is reserved for a Marian Gospel reading, and today’s reading is the most profound of the Marian passages.

 

The angel Gabriel was sent from God

to a town of Galilee called Nazareth,

to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph,

of the house of David,

and the virgin's name was Mary.

And coming to her, he said,

"Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you."

But she was greatly troubled at what was said

and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.

Then the angel said to her,

"Do not be afraid, Mary,

for you have found favor with God.

 

"Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son,

and you shall name him Jesus.

He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High,

and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father,

and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever,

and of his kingdom there will be no end."

But Mary said to the angel,

"How can this be,

since I have no relations with a man?"

And the angel said to her in reply,

"The Holy Spirit will come upon you,

and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.

Therefore the child to be born

will be called holy, the Son of God.

And behold, Elizabeth, your relative,

has also conceived a son in her old age,

and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren;

for nothing will be impossible for God."

Mary said, "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.

May it be done to me according to your word."

Then the angel departed from her.

~Lk 1:26-38

 

Fr. Geoffry Plant does a great job explaining both ends of the readings. 

Fr. Plant also highlights a poem by Denise Levertov.  Let me present it for you.  It’s a wonderful poem.  Levertov was born in England but immigrated to the United States.  Her father was a Hasidic Jew but converted to Christianity, and Denise grew up under both religions.  As a young adult she was more or less agnostic but in mid life she felt a powerful calling back to faith and ultimately became Catholic. 

 

Annunciation

By Denise Levertov

 

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,

almost always a lectern, a book; always

the tall lily.

       Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,

the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,

whom she acknowledges, a guest.

 

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions

courage.

       The engendering Spirit

did not enter her without consent.

         God waited.

 

She was free

to accept or to refuse, choice

integral to humanness.

 

                  ____________________

 

Aren’t there annunciations

of one sort or another

in most lives?

         Some unwillingly

undertake great destinies,

enact them in sullen pride,

uncomprehending.

More often

those moments

      when roads of light and storm

      open from darkness in a man or woman,

are turned away from

 

in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair

and with relief.

Ordinary lives continue.

                                 God does not smite them.

But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

 

                  ____________________

 

She had been a child who played, ate, slept

like any other child–but unlike others,

wept only for pity, laughed

in joy not triumph.

Compassion and intelligence

fused in her, indivisible.

 

Called to a destiny more momentous

than any in all of Time,

she did not quail,

  only asked

a simple, ‘How can this be?’

and gravely, courteously,

took to heart the angel’s reply,

the astounding ministry she was offered:

 

to bear in her womb

Infinite weight and lightness; to carry

in hidden, finite inwardness,

nine months of Eternity; to contain

in slender vase of being,

the sum of power–

in narrow flesh,

the sum of light.

                     Then bring to birth,

push out into air, a Man-child

needing, like any other,

milk and love–

 

but who was God.

 

 

This was the moment no one speaks of,

when she could still refuse.

 

A breath unbreathed,

                                Spirit,

                                          suspended,

                                                            waiting.

 

                  ____________________

 

She did not cry, ‘I cannot. I am not worthy,’

Nor, ‘I have not the strength.’

She did not submit with gritted teeth,

                                                       raging, coerced.

Bravest of all humans,

                                  consent illumined her.

The room filled with its light,

the lily glowed in it,

                               and the iridescent wings.

Consent,

              courage unparalleled,

opened her utterly.

 

It’s such a beautiful poem.  I absolutely love the last sentence: “Consent, courage unparalleled, opened her utterly.” 

And this gives occasion for a rendition of “Gabriel’s Message,” here by The King’s Singers.

Meditation: "Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord.  May it be done to me according to your word."