Chapel Talk, October 18, 2004

A reading from the Holy Gospel According to St. Luke (1. 28-32, 37-38)

Last January, I had the privilege, along with Professor Rick Fairbanks, of leading a group of 22 students, former students in our cycle of the Great Conversation—“ex-cons” as we call them--on a capstone study tour to Greece, Rome, Assisi, and Florence. Our purpose was to examine on site the great works of art that we had studied only through textbooks in the Con, including the architectural masterpieces of the ancient Greeks, the sculpture of Phidias and Michaelangelo, the painting of Cimabue, Giotto, Michaelangelo, and Caravaggio, while at the same time reflecting seriously on the purposes of travel and touring as part of one’s education. During that wonderful month, we visited several of the great museums of the world and, indeed, were able to see, study, and discuss many of the great masterpieces of these artists--including no less than 22 original Caravaggios! During the course of these visits, one could not help but notice how these and other great artists repair time and time again to the Bible and to Biblical stories for their inspiration. And indeed, the passage that I have just read from Luke’s Gospel is one of their very favorite themes, the so-called Annunciation, portraying young Mary, visited by the Archangel Gabriel, who announces to her what God has planned for her future.

It is no wonder, of course, why this theme remained so popular for so long throughout the course of western Christendom. After all, the scene depicted marks the very moment at which the almighty, eternal God chooses to break into mortal, earthly time to alter the course of Salvation History. The feast of the Annunciation is celebrated symbolically by the Christian Church on March 25, exactly 9 months before the Nativity of Our Lord, for it commemorates the very conception of Jesus, whose incarnation marks in an actual way the means of our redemption and salvation.

Now we’ve all read or heard this passage from Luke’s Gospel multiple times in our lives, but generally this episode is overshadowed by the story of the actual Nativity, which occurs shortly thereafter. I, however, find this scene to be every bit as fascinating as its sequel.

I never cease to marvel at this young woman called Mary. Try for just a moment to put yourselves in her place; indeed, she was most probably as young or younger than you who are students here. A poor, humble, ordinary young woman, living in an out-of-the-way location on the outskirts of the Roman empire is visited by God’s messenger, the great Archangel Gabriel, who proposes to her a situation that will radically change the rest of her life, a life that up to that point probably looked fairly normal, and maybe even promising. I often muse to myself what if Mary, instead of her resounding “Behold the handmaiden of the Lord, let it be done unto me according to thy word,” had responded a resounding “No, no way; I’ve got plans for my life with my fiancé, Joseph, and I’m not willing to throw them all away for you.”

At first blush, this alternative response might seem funny or even ludicrous. But Mary actually could have reacted that way. She was, of course, created like the rest of us, in God’s own image and likeness, and as such was endowed by her Creator with free will, able to say “yes” or to say “no” to any proposal. Have you ever pondered what would have happened to the course of Salvation History had Mary in fact said “no” to Gabriel and to God? I for one think about this often. I marvel at how it is that our almighty and eternal God prefers to work in this world through such humble, ordinary folk—people like you and me—and how such ordinary people, often in the face of great fear and with great trembling, do, in fact, answer “yes” to His call. But the fact remains that Mary, being a human being, might very well had said “no.” We as human beings do this on a regular basis, in fact, every time we sin. For sin can be defined in a fairly simple way as the placing of our will before the will of God. When you come to think about it, the Creator took a rather dangerous route in making us in His own image, with an intellect and free will, and from His point of view it didn’t take long for that plan to backfire when our first parents, Adam and Eve, chose to prefer their will to God’s—the “original” act that got the human race into very hot water.

So it seems that this struggle and this difficulty with free will is endemic to the human condition; we almost always think that we know what is best for us and we act and react accordingly. And that’s why I am so astonished at Mary, for she, like all great Saints of God, was able to muster up enough courage, enough faith, enough humility, enough love to submit her will to that of her Maker’s, to say “yes” to God. Thirty odd years later, her Son, on the brink of despair in the Garden of Gethsemane, would do the same when he uttered those memorable words, words that are absolutely terrifying for every serious Christian, “Not my will, but Thy will be done.” The thing that makes these words so difficult to utter for followers of Christ is, of course, the realization that following God’s will, while it ultimately holds out the promise of happiness and triumph, often spells difficulty, hardship, even disaster in the short run. Consider that only a few months after this Annunciation, Mary heard from Simeon and Anna of the suffering that she would encounter in her life; and Jesus her son, at his hour of temptation, knew that by following His Father’s will, he would face the ultimate human sacrifice! That’s why reciting the “Our Father”--if you take the prayer seriously--might (and probably should) leave you quaking in your boots: “Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven” is a powerful concession for any human will to make. And so, that’s why I marvel at Mary’s “yes” every time I read this passage, and I marvel at her Son’s “yes,” and I wonder where we all would be had either of them actually said “no.”

As I mentioned earlier, every time in our lives that we face temptation to break God’s law, we face the prospect of pitting our will against God’s, or to put it in a more positive way, we are presented with the opportunity of humbly submitting our will to our Creator’s. Such temptations may present themselves to some of us more than others, but they certainly do present themselves. And on a grander scale, each and every one of us, like Mary, has either already been called upon, or will soon be called upon by God to do something significant with our lives. This is our lot in life, this is the Christian condition: our Creator has put us on this earth for a definite purpose, to answer a call, or perhaps more than one call, as we live out our years in this earthly vale of tears. Now, it’s probably true that the course of Salvation History will not hang on our decision, as it did on the decisions of Mary and Jesus; but all of us WILL be visited by our Gabriel, and all of us will have the opportunity to say “yes” or “no” in response. While it is certainly possible, it is not particularly probable that an archangel in all his glory will visit us; but God’s messengers come in various guises—our Gabriel might be disguised as a parent or a relative, a professor or an advisor, maybe even a college president, a dean or a department chair, a pastor or a friend, a wife or a child; or indeed he might simply come as a voice sounding in our conscience, beckoning us, calling us, inviting us to take up some task, to change directions, to respond to some need. Be assured, the call WILL come; the only question is when and how. And when it does come, we must be open to hearing it, and open to saying “yes” to God. A daunting prospect, all of this—to have one’s plans, one’s life overturned by the unexpected visit of God’s messenger. And the only way to be prepared is to pray—and to pray often—that we might have the strength, the will to do God’s will. My prayer for us today is that when our Gabriel does make his appearance on God’s behalf, we might find courage, following the example of Mary, to say “Let it be done unto me according to Thy word.” With that in mind, I leave you today with a prayer, composed by Michael Quoist, which he entitles “Help Me to Say ‘Yes’”.

I am afraid of saying “Yes,” Lord.
Where will you take me?
I am afraid of drawing the longer straw,
I am afraid of signing my name to an unread agreement,
I am afraid of the “yes” that entails other “yeses.”

And yet I am not at peace.
You pursue me, Lord, you besiege me.
I seek out the din for fear of hearing you, but in a moment of silence you slip through.
I turn from the road, for I have caught sight of you, but at the end of the path you are there awaiting me.
Where shall I hide? I meet you everywhere.
Is it then impossible to escape you?

But I am afraid to say “Yes,” Lord.
I am afraid of putting my hand in yours, for you hold on to it.
I am afraid of meeting your eyes, for you can win me.
I am afraid of your demands, for you are a jealous God.
I am hemmed in, yet I hide.
I am captured, yet I struggle, and I fight knowing that I am defeated.
For you are the stronger, Lord, you own the world and you take it from me.
When I stretch out my hand to catch hold of people and things, they vanish before my eyes.
It’s no fun, Lord, I can’t keep anything for myself.
The flower I pick fades in my hands.
My laugh freezes on my lips.
The waltz I dance leaves me restless and uneasy.
Everything seems empty,
Everything seems hollow,
You have made a desert around me.
I am hungry and thirsty,
And the whole world cannot satisfy me.

And yet I loved you, Lord; what have I done to you?
I worked for you; I gave myself for you.
O great and terrible God,
What more do you want?

Son, I want more for you and for the world.
Until now you have planned your actions, but I have no need of them.
You have asked for my approval, you have asked for my support,
You have wanted to interest me in your work.
But don’t you se, son, that you were reversing the roles?
I have watched you, I have seen your good will,
And I want more than you, now.
You will no longer do your own works, but the will of your Father in heaven.

Say “Yes,” son.
I need your “yes” as I needed Mary’s “yes” to come to earth,
For it is I who must do your work.
It is I who must live in your family,
It is I who must be in your neighborhood, and not you.
For it is my look that penetrates, and not yours,
My words that carry weight, and not yours,
My life that transforms, and not yours.
Give all to me, abandon all to me.
I need your “yes” to be united with you and to come down to earth,
I need your “yes” to continue saving the world!

O Lord, I am afraid of your demands, but who can resist you?
That your Kingdom may come and not mine,
That your will may be done and not mine,
Help me to say “Yes.”