St. Luke’s account of the Annunciation to Mary, read today at Mass, follows the announcement of the birth of John to Zechariah in yesterday’s advent readings. Mary responds to the angel so differently than the priest Zechariah. (Luke 1, 5-25,)
In the temple where great mysteries are celebrated, the priest won’t believe he and his wife can conceive a child. They’re too old. He doubts.
In Nazareth, an unlikely place for a great revelation, the angel approaches Mary with a message far more difficult to grasp. “ The Holy Spirit will come upon you and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.”
Mary believes and does not doubt and by God’s power conceives a Son who will be born in Bethlehem. “Behold, the handmaid of the Lord, be it done to me according to your word,”
This is a golden moment, the 13th century painting above by Simone Martini and Lippo Memmi indicates. Mary is at home in prayer when the angel comes. Prayer enables her to believe and accept what is revealed. That’s true for all of us: prayer helps us discern and say yes to what God reveals.
“How can this be. I do not know man?” Mary says to the angel. Our painting seems to capture that moment in our gospel passage, but Mary will go on to respond in faith, “Be it done to me according to your word.” Mary is a woman of faith; we learn from her.
Today we pray:
O Flower of Jesse’s stem, you have been raised as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.
Readings www.usccb.org
The Victor's Place 
“Prayer enables Mary to believe and accept what is revealed. That’s true for all of us: prayer helps us discern and say yes to what God reveals.”
How true that my conversations with God become sacred space dialogues. When dark times overwhelm, I’m promised Divine assistance. In her poem, “The Garments of God” Jessica Powers affirms this belief:
God sits on a chair of darkness in my soul.He is God alone, supreme in His majesty.I sit at his feet, a child in the dark beside Him;my joy is aware of His glance and my sorrow is temptedto nest on the thought that His face is turned from me.
He is clothed in the robes of His mercy, voluminous garmentsnot velvet or silk and affable to the touch,but fabric strong for a frantic hand to clutch,and I hold to it fast with the fingers of my will.Here is my cry of faith, my deep avowalto the Divinity that I am dust.
Here is the loud profession of my trust.I will not go abroadto the hills of speech or the hinterlands of musica crier to walk in my soul where all is still.I have this potent prayer through good or ill:here in the dark I clutch the garments of God.
Jessica Powers
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