Behold: Seeing as God Sees

As Jesus invites us into his mother’s presence with contagious joy, so Mary points us to Jesus with fresh insight and renewed simplicity. This is the spirit of every Marian feast, and so it is the spirit of the Annunciation, which we celebrate today.

Although the scriptural account of the Annunciation is only twelve verses, and appears only in Luke, we learn more than we might imagine here about the personality and character of St. Mary. Most of all, we find the free and generous response of a faithful individual to the will and desire of God. And we learn as well how, in the case of St. Mary, such a response initiates widening circles of transformation. This transformation begins in the heart, mind, and body of Mary, but it bears consequences for the entire history of salvation and even the cosmos itself.

First, Luke presents us with the outward details. Mary is a resident of a town in Galilee called Nazareth; she is a virgin; and she is engaged to man named Joseph, of the house of David. This story is about a real person, a young woman, who lived in a time, a place, a culture, and a social network. It is in her dialogue with the angel Gabriel that we glimpse beneath these externals. Mary is “full of grace,” and “has found favor with God.” Gabriel’s descriptive salutation stirs a strong inward response: Mary is “much perplexed”; “greatly troubled”; or even “deeply disturbed,” as we read in three English translations.

It is quite possible that Mary is familiar with stories from Hebrew scripture that recount angelic visitations to her ancestors in faith. In each case, the messenger has come to bring both unexpected blessing and unsought after responsibility. It may be this that troubles Mary, or the simple discrepancy between her humble estimation of herself and the portentous title “full of grace.” Yet by the end of this brief passage, Mary proclaims boldly: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” What catalyzes this momentous shift in Mary’s experience and perspective? Certainly, her native instinct to ponder the meaning of the message and her courage and curiosity to ask the well-placed question: “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” But I think there’s something more, something crucial at play.

The original Greek of this passage uses one word in three separate places. The word is idou, usually translated “see,” “look,” or my favorite, “behold!”

Verse 31:  “And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call him Jesus.”

Verse 36: “And behold, your kinswoman Elizabeth, in her old age, has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren.

Verse 38: “And Mary said, ‘Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.”

The NRSV uses “And now” for the first two verses and “Here am I” in the third. The argument is that we don’t use the word “behold” anymore, so a more dynamic and ordinary-sounding English is a better choice.

But this word idou has a very specific function in the 200 places it occurs in the New Testament. Especially in Matthew and Luke, one translator notes that “[idou] gives a peculiar vivacity to the style by bidding the reader or hearer to attend to what is said.” It interrupts the linear prose of the story and – in an oral culture – demands the listener’s participation and response. Characters tell other characters idou, “Behold!” But just as often, the gospel writers aim the refrain idou at us, to introduce something new or unusual, or as a call to closer consideration and contemplation.

So it is not a linguistic accident that, having heard the angel Gabriel call her to close attention and contemplation twice, Mary has begun to think, feel, see, and perceive from the perspective of the messenger – and therefore, from the perspective of God. There’s a profound shift in Mary’s own self-perception, such that she proclaims back to Gabriel the same imperative idou: “Behold! I am the handmaid of the Lord.”

Her declaration of consent is an acceptance of a newly revealed facet of her identity. This is not just about what she will do, or what will happen because of her. It is about who she is, her soul’s purpose, and its connection to God’s purpose for all beings and for all time.

The mystery of the Annunciation is both intimately personal and universal in its significance. The event happens to one human woman: eternity enters time, the world of conception, birth, living, and dying, through her. But it initiates a transformation that happens again and again in the lives of each disciple who hears and responds with the same generous “yes.”

The Word that became flesh uniquely and forever in Jesus of Nazareth through this gift of his human mother’s consent desires with a cosmic longing to enter the world afresh and continue its saving work by means of you.

Martha Graham, the visionary pioneer of modern dance, gave some astonishing advice about this personal involvement and consent to a divine, creative force. A colleague, Agnes DeMille, recorded a conversation she had with Graham in 1943, at a moment when DeMille felt tempted to doubt the value of all her previous work. Graham counseled:

There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening
that is translated through you into action,
and because there is only one of you in all time,
this expression is unique.

If you block it,
it will never exist through any other medium
and be lost.
The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is;
nor how valuable it is;
nor how it compares with other expressions.
It is your business to keep it yours, clearly and directly,
to keep the channel open.[i]

 

We could say the same thing of God the living Word: “a vitality, a life-force, a quickening” – and again and again, an incarnation that is entirely dependent on the unique and open channel of your response. This process is not driven by motivation to express one’s individuality or to leave a mark on the world. It is the desire to please God alone by acting as a conduit for God’s self-revelation. The fruit of every such generous response to God belongs to all creation, for all time.

[i] Martha Graham, quoted by Agnes DeMille in Martha: The Life and Work of Martha Graham. New York: Random House.1991.