Mary’s Courage In Saying Yes

Spiritual Sunday

This past Wednesday many Christians celebrated “the Annunciation,” which was the moment when the angel Gabriel annunciated (announced) to Mary that she would be carrying God’s child. March 25, after all, is nine months before December 25. I like the seasonal symbolism in the two dates, with the Annunciation occurring almost on the Spring Equinox and first day of spring (with all the hope that that implies) and Christmas falling close to the winter solstice and the darkest day of the year (when Jesus’s birth brings with it the promise of spring and new life).

I grew up thinking that Mary didn’t have much say in the matter, but Levertov changes my view. As she sees it, it’s a choice. We all face versions of such a choice.

First, here’s Luke’s account:

And in the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God into a city of Galilee, called Nazareth, To a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary. And the angel being come in, said unto her: Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women.

Who having heard, was troubled at his saying, and thought with herself what manner of salutation this should be. And the angel said to her: Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace with God. Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever. And of his kingdom there shall be no end.

And Mary said to the angel: How shall this be done, because I know not man?

And the angel answering, said to her: The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the most High shall overshadow thee. And therefore also the Holy which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God. And behold thy cousin Elizabeth, she also hath conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her that is called barren: Because no word shall be impossible with God.

And Mary said: Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her. (Luke 1:26-38)

The moment when Mary agrees to carry Jesus is symbolic of all those times in life when we are presented with momentous choices.  Too often we turn away from them.  Levertov challenges the traditional depiction of Mary as meek and describes her rather as courageous.  It takes a brave woman to step into destiny.

So here’s to the courage of the mothers who carry us and give birth to us.  They are participants in an event that it no less miraculous for being common.  

The Annunciation

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 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, spelt
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,
perceiving instantly
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.

The poem was a favorite of my friend Maurine Holbert-Hogaboom, an extraordinary woman who made her way from a small Texas town, via Burlesque, to New York City during the Great Depression. There, by dint of her charisma and determination, Maurine made a living as an actress until she was blackballed during the 1950s for supporting Civil Rights. Eventually she made her way to St. Mary’s City, Maryland, which is where I got to know her. I read the poem at her funeral—she died at 98—because of the way the poem captures her own momentous decisions.