Mary

Surprised by God

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Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Annunciation (1850)

 

During the remaining of these 12 Days of Christmas, I plan to share with you further images of the Annunciation to Mary, moving on from yesterday’s post featuring the theme of Holy Fear. We might refer to these as four moments of God’s decisive intervention in human history in the Incarnation of our Lord. And in each of these four moments we may find a personal connection with our own spiritual journeys, especially as Mary prefigures the church in some very significant ways.

Yesterday, we began with the unexpected moment of Mary’s encounter with the divine presence through the holy angel, and the holy fear that such a meeting might bring. Today, we consider what may often happen next, which is introspection prompted by being surprised by such an encounter.

One of the first things that strikes me about this painting by Rossetti is how Mary’s gaze is fixed on the middle distance. And this suggests that she is focussed more upon the potential significance of what she has just been told, than upon the prior object of her attention, the angelic visitor. She is now focussed on the possible meaning of the angel’s message. And so, as she abstractly looks outward, apparently not focussed on the stem of lilies held by the angel, she looks within.

Not only does she not appear to register the significance of the lilies, suggestive as we have noted both of her purity but also of the future resurrection of her son. She also seems to overlook the potential significance of the red colored, draped, fabric upon which perhaps she may have been applying needlework, placed so prominently by the artist in the foreground. Suggestive of both a priest’s or a deacon’s stole, as well as of altar fabrics, red is traditionally the color used for Holy Week as well as for saints days commemorating martyrs. And, once again, we notice the emblem of the lilies upon the needlework.

Four details briefly worth noting: the dove depicted above the angel’s left hand, symbolic of the Holy Spirit; that Mary is draped in white, in purity and resurrection motifs; the blue color of the fabric hanging behind Mary, in what is often referred to as Marian blue; and, the way that Rossetti depicts the angelic messenger hovering above the floor.

But note her gaze! I find it arresting. Especially as we consider the reality of God having come to us, to share our nature, our being, and our lives.

A Beautifully Hospitable Dinner at Bethany

 

It is evening in Bethany, the little village near the top of the Mount of Olives. A dinner party has been planned at a small and modest home inhabited by Mary, Martha and Lazarus. With their extended invitation the three siblings plan to honor a special guest. Since the three are living together, some folks assume they don’t have much money. This fits well with the highly symbolic world of their Scriptures because Bethany, in Hebrew, means house of the poor.

Jesus is a close friend to these three siblings, each one so different from the others. They embrace him with a love that helps us see what godly friendship is all about. Jesus and the siblings are especially close now. After seeing his loving tears at Lazarus’ tomb, and how he brought their brother back to life, he is dear to the two sisters’ hearts.

While evening brings quiet to the village, those gathered for the meal sense a wariness amongst their neighbors. Jesus’ arrival in nearby Jerusalem has evoked tension and conflict. Despite this, his beloved friends appear not to realize that Lazarus’ resuscitation has prompted a plan to kill Jesus. Just before describing this supper, John tells us that the chief priests and the Pharisees have ordered anyone knowing where Jesus was to report it, so they might arrest him. Tension radiates outward from the Temple, throughout the city. But at the top of the hill across the Kidron Valley, in the soft light of small oil lamps, Jesus and his disciples are welcomed to dinner. Despite having a small household with limited means, their hosts have planned a festive and joyous evening.

With spiritual insight, James Tissot has captured the circumstances of Jesus’ slow walk to the dinner. The Eastern Wall of the Temple is at Jesus’ back ~ the very place where he will enter in a few days on what we now call ‘Palm Sunday.’ He is ascending the Mount of Olives, from which it was believed the Messiah would someday come and enter into the Temple. In a very subtle way, Tissot visually hints at the storms hovering over the Holy City as the Passover approaches. Yet, at this moment, Jesus walks quietly toward what he surely wishes will be a peaceful evening ~ and for a pause from the stress and pressure that his coming to Jerusalem has aroused.

At this dinner, Mary models a beautifully extravagant idea. It is to offer all that we are, and all that we have to God’s self-revelation in Jesus! And, for the sake of God’s kingdom! To make such an offering is way beyond the usual and reasonable bounds within which we constrain ourselves. And far beyond the usual prudent limits by which we measure things in terms of cost. But as we see in Mary’s example, there is usually only one thing that moves us to respond in this way: joy! Sheer joy grabs her heart and moves her to give her all. Mary gives her all to him, and to the new life that he is even now unleashing in this world.

 

The above painting is James Tissot’s, Jesus Goes in the Evening to Bethany. This post is based on my homily for Sunday, April 7, 2019, which can be accessed by clicking here.  Other homilies of mine may be accessed by clicking here. The Revised Common Lectionary, which specifies the readings for Sundays and other Holy Days, can be accessed by clicking here.