With Mary

 In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, ‘Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.’ (Luke 1:26-28)

This is likely the second most painted scene in all of biblical story. It has excited and strained the imaginations of artists fine and crude through the centuries.

What did Mary see? A gaseous form? A person? A light? A winged creature? Was she sitting? Standing? Reading? Drawing water? What was her expression? Did she lean close or recoil from the mystery of what was happening to and in her? Did she bow? Were her eyes cast down or did she look into the heart of mystery? Did she seem to hear a voice from without or an awareness within?

A thousand questions challenge the artist and us, as we, centuries beyond, seek to see and feel the mystery of the moment and what, if any, meaning and grace it holds for us.

One of my favorite paintings of the scene has Mary and the Angel Gabriel standing a few feet apart, humbly bowing before each other, their eyes cast down knowing the one before them is so much greater than they, aware, too, that their lives have been swept up in the great mystery and beauty of a Love that far transcends them.

Another favorite shows Mary as an adolescent peasant girl in Middle Eastern garb, sitting among rumpled blankets at the head of her cot. Hands folded in her lap, head titled to one side, she gazes, a guarded glance into the vertical shaft of light standing at the foot of her bed, little knowing but wondering who or what this is.

I am drawn to these images, painted several centuries apart, for more and deeper reasons than I can say. That’s would good art does.

But I know this: Both paintings awaken love in my heart for Mary, whose life was as much a mystery to her as mine is to me. For I find that my life, as hers, is swept up in the mystery of Love’s love affair with this crazy, broken, glorious, confounding, bittersweet world in which we find ourselves, despite the fact that we had nothing to do with putting ourselves here.

With Mary, we look into the mystery of the light that shines into our lives, little knowing what it all means and what it wants from us, except, of course, to feel its rays on our confused faces and to know, like Mary, that we are favored, chosen and loved beyond our capacity to understand.

And if we are a tenth so gracious as she, we try as best we can to give birth to the Life who longs to live in us.

David L. Miller

 

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