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."
