4th Sunday of Advent 2020
2 Sam 7: 1-5, 8-11, 16; Romans 16:25-27; Luke 1: 26-38
“And the angel left her.” Well, he would, wouldn’t he? That’s angels for you: they are a bit like double glazing salesmen, waiting for you to sign on the dotted line, then clearing off, leaving you wondering “What was all that about? What have I just done, and why on earth did I do it?”
I do wonder how it was for Mary. Paintings often depict her as a courtly lady, standing at a writing desk or prie-dieu, discoursing sedately with the angel. There is nothing wrong with that as a representation of who she is for us, and what she has achieved for us, but it is far from being a literal depiction of what must have taken place.
Far from being a mature and stately lady, she would have been a teenager, presumably with all the mixed up emotions which the teenage years bring. She was sinless, but that doesn’t mean she was emotionless, spiritless, bloodless, lifeless, a paper doll or a plaster saint. If she had been those things, how could she have resembled us—and she was and is one of us, her Immaculate Conception and her Assumption fulfilling the destiny of human beings, not separating her from them?
How then would this person have reacted to such a visitor? “She was deeply disturbed” says St. Luke, presumably reporting what Mary herself told him: the Greek word is dietarachthe meaning deeply confused, confounded, bamboozled, thrown into confusion. “What the hang is going on?”
She is a young lass, and she is called kecharitomene--full of grace, highly favoured, totally gifted by God—and told that the Lord is with her. Did she become conscious of the presence of God at that moment? Surely she must have done, with a deep awareness, of which we can catch fleeting glimpses during our times of deep prayer. Yet God’s presence, though it may be consoling, is at the same time deeply disturbing, reminding us, as the German theologian Karl Rahner wrote, that God is more than simply one more thing among those with which we have to deal.
For Mary, God’s presence was, at that moment, all-encompassing, turning her world upside down, throwing her plans into disarray, changing her future irrevocably. Did she grasp the full implications of what was being asked of her? How could she? Yet she is aware that the whole course of her life is about to change. “How will this come about, since I do not have carnal knowledge of a man?” It seems that she realises, however faintly, that this will not involve Joseph, but...........what?
Why did she say “Yes”? Deep faith, complete trust in God, but not clarity of understanding—far more than any of us, she was going to have to journey in faith, to follow a dark road, to put her hand into the hand of God, a hand which she could not even feel. We celebrate the Annunciation as one of the Joyful Mysteries: at the time, I feel there would have been more mystery than joy for young Mary—you know the one: Joachim and Anne’s lass, to give them their traditional names.
What about them? Were they still around? Mary seems very independent, but if her mother was still alive, she would surely have confided in her. Was it St. Anne who suggested the trip to the hill country to visit Elizabeth?
“Go and see Aunty Betty, then you will know one way or the other. She will need some help if she really is pregnant, and Uncle Zach has lost his voice through some business in the Temple”—perhaps with the added thought that this would get the girl out of the way of any malicious gossip.
So Mary went, trusting, wondering, fearing, hoping; as we too travel through life, trusting, wondering, fearing, hoping.
“Mary, mother of Jesus, mother of us, OUR Lady because you are OURS, one of us, the best of us: you know better than any of us what it is to walk in faith. Please walk with us: hold us up when we stumble, encourage us when faith is weak, and lead us to an ever deeper love of your Son, the Son of the Most High, our Saviour and our Brother. Amen.”
