Mirabilis nimis facta est scientia tua super me; sublimis et non attingam eam – This knowledge is too wonderful for me; it’s high; I cannot attain it (Ps 138/139:6).
The Angel appears to Mary. What does he say? He invites her to understand, to be part of a saving act of God that will be completely new, unrepeatable, utterly astonishing, apparently impossible. This act, at Mary’s consent, will stand as the central event in all human history. This intervention of God will be more radical even than the creation of the Universe from nothing. Here God supremely, unsurpassably will manifest and communicate himself. Here the ineffable divinity - eternal, unbounded, transcendent, unchangeable, all-holy, entirely spiritual - will step into the world he has made. Here infinite love, infinite wisdom, infinite power will take on a human form. The invisible will here become visible; the Creator will become a creature; he who cannot suffer will become subject to pain and death. He who holds all things in existence; whose guiding Providence cannot ever be frustrated; he who cannot not exist: he will here become dependent, vulnerable, fragile, mortal.
We know that this is what the Angel means. But it’s not at all what he says. Instead he talks about the throne of David, and the house of Jacob. The pattern of his annunciation follows that in the book of Judges, when an Angel of God tells the unnamed wife of Manoah of the perfectly natural birth of Samson. As illustration of God’s power at work here, Gabriel points merely to an unexpected conception by a woman commonly thought to be past the age of bearing. These apparently inadequate comparisons can be a bit perplexing to us. We might feel that the Angel’s words are somehow too limited, too tame, almost too parochial, given the awe-inspiring reality behind them. Why must the future theologians of the Church be given so much work, as they construct their tremendous doctrines from hints and allusions; from words that certainly imply all that we believe, but which are not quite as explicit as we might wish?
But of course the Angel conforms his words to God’s own method of revelation. When God chooses to communicate with human beings, he does so in a human way, in terms they will readily understand. And Jesus himself will reveal his own glory only gradually: always paradoxically; always in humility. So now, in Jesus we will at last be able to contemplate God himself, directly. We do that by gazing at the baby lying in the manger; then finally at the condemned man hanging dead on the Cross. The manner of the Angel’s words also fits of course with what St. Luke tells us about his own purpose. He, the Gentile writing for Gentiles, will take his stand in the first place on the holy scriptures of the Jews. On this firm ground his God-loving reader Theophilus will know how “well-founded” is the teaching he is being given (1:4).
So we, the heirs of Theophilus, are invited to read now with eyes and hearts open to the active, self -communicating presence of the Holy Spirit. Today’s Gospel tells of a mystery, which is to be received, to be accepted in faith. We interpret the Angel’s words, then, not minimally, but maximally. Reading with close attention, we note the many scriptural allusions and resonances they contain; also their perfect coherence with everything else that St. Luke writes, both in his Gospel and in Acts. Not one of these words is wasted, or dispensable. They are all proper to St. Luke, yet without question they teach the same doctrine we find in the Prologue of St. John.
Please allow me to take now just two words or phrases of the Angel. First: he begins with what could be a merely conventional greeting: given in our somewhat formal older English translation as “Hail”. But the word Chaire is also deeply evocative. It’s linked, in its root, with the word that follows, that we translate “highly favoured” or “full of grace”. So our current liturgical translation “Rejoice” is actually a good one. For the Angel is announcing a definitive joy, coming from God: joy without measure or end; a joy that can never be defeated or taken away. Without any doubt also the Blessed Virgin would have recognised the echo here of several Messianic texts in the Hebrew Prophets.
Shout for joy, you who live in Zion, sang Isaiah, for the Holy One of Israel is among you in his greatness (12:6). Rejoice, exult with all your heart, daughter of Zion, sang Zephaniah … The Lord has repealed your sentence … He is King among you (3:15). Or Zechariah: Sing, rejoice, daughter of Zion, for now I am coming to live among you, the Lord declares (3:14).
Then: Mary, do not be afraid, says the Angel (1:30). And this also seems very strange. Adam was afraid when confronted by God’s close approach. Abraham, Moses and Elijah were afraid. Isaiah, Jeremiah, Ezekiel and Daniel were afraid. The disciples on the Mountain of Transfiguration will be afraid (Lk 9:34). How much more now, surely, the Blessed Virgin! For God is asking of her now what he has never asked of anyone before, and will never ask of anyone again. She must represent the whole human race, as Adam and Eve did, only in a far greater way. God is asking her now to take into her safeguarding a treasure of inconceivable value, worth infinitely more than all the gold that has ever been or ever could be. And for this task, apart from the constant presence and love of St. Joseph, he will offer her no earthly resources at all. She must carry out her task in poverty, exile and social marginalisation. It will certainly involve suffering for her, of unimaginable intensity. Nevertheless: Mary, do not be afraid! Why? For this approach of God brings only Good News. He comes only in love, in mercy, in goodness, in salvation: only for your benefit, and glory, and for the benefit and glory of all who will be found in Christ! Also: you have God’s grace. That’s enough, and more than enough for you. God’s grace is his favour, his love, his unfailing help, his free gift, his predestination. It’s also God’s gift of Himself: for God is with you: if only you will receive him.
And we, when we see the most holy Eucharist lifted up; when we come to holy communion in Christ’s Body and Blood: this is truly what we receive: nothing less.