A Reflection for the Wednesday of the Second Week of Advent: Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin Mary
“The angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, ‘Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.’ But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” (Lk 1:26-29).
I have a confession to make. Many years ago (14 to be exact), the editors of America decided to do a more modest series of Advent reflections than the daily endeavor we are undertaking now, offering one reflection a week. I picked the second week of Advent, because I wanted to write about Mary’s agency in salvation history and how nothing could be possible without this one, single, probably terrified woman saying “yes” to God’s will. And what an important message the Immaculate Conception taught us in that moment.
I thought it went well. I was wrong. A polite but amused reader wrote in shortly after to say: “Great article! Except you’re thinking of the incarnation of Jesus, which is celebrated on the Feast of the Annunciation. Today we celebrate the Immaculate Conception of Mary.”
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he was right! After 17 years of Catholic education, I was still mixing up the incarnation of Jesus and the immaculate conception of Mary!
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, he was right! After 17 years of Catholic education, I was still mixing up the incarnation of Jesus and the immaculate conception of Mary! (Worse, like many football fans, I sometimes allowed myself to drift off in prayer into thinking of this famous day of miracles.) So, as my penance this time around, I decided to sign up once again to do the Advent reflection for the Feast of the Immaculate Conception...of the Blessed Virgin Mary. (It wasn’t entirely my fault. Who decided to put Luke’s account of the Annunciation as the Gospel for the Immaculate Conception? Harrumph. )
But what does that reading have to say to us today? What does it say to me 14 years later? This time around I find myself focusing more on Mary’s internal reactions to the message of the angel Gabriel. Our English translations usually say she was troubled by his appearance to her and pondered what his message meant: the sort of reaction to an event that a good spiritual director might say to you “is all head with no heart.” But this is a fault of our translations, I think—they don’t capture the dynamism and the drama of Mary’s internal discernment. It takes place in her heart, in her guts, and it involves warring ideas and impulses.
At Gabriel’s appearance, Mary is “greatly troubled.” The koine Greek word translated here is διεταράχθη (dietarachthē), which suggests more than just a misgiving. It conveys that she was “disturbed wholly,” as if her internal processes were boiling water. This is not someone placidly figuring out where a new experience fits within a coherent worldview; Mary is completely flabbergasted at what stands before her and speaks…and her reaction is not just an intellectual one but a physical and emotional one as well. She feels the great trouble.
The Mary we meet in today’s readings reminds us that our daily prayer and discernment is not just a cut-and-dry intellectual exercise but an ever-evolving process that includes our guts and our soul.
Similarly, in the aftermath, Mary “pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” The koine Greek this time is διελογίζετο (dielogizeto). It means “pondered,” sure. But it suggests an argument taking place within Mary’s heart, two or more voices deliberating and debating. (In fact, if you look at the Greek, you can see the roots of our own word “dialogue.”) She doesn’t sit in a rocking chair and think “that was weird.” She weighs and ponders the different inputs, tries to suss out what she feels. St. Ignatius might see a profound discernment of spirits happening here.
We all have a mental image of the Mary seen so often in statues and prayer cards (and, perhaps, in the Christmas crèche at our parish churches): stoic, stolid, perhaps slightly plasticine in her expression. That Mary seems immaculate in more ways than one: It is as if life has not touched her. It is a different one from the Mary who encounters the angel Gabriel. The Mary we meet in today’s readings reminds us that our daily prayer and discernment is not just a cut-and-dry intellectual exercise but an ever-evolving process that includes our guts and our soul as much as our head. Let’s let that pot boil!
Get to know Jim Keane, senior editor
1. Favorite Christmas Song
There is a moment—sometimes it’s the processional hymn, sometimes it’s the recessional hymn—at Midnight Mass where the choir bursts out with “Joy to the World.” If you’re in a church with a pipe organ, it’s 10 times more amazing...and everyone knows the words.
2. Favorite Christmas Memory
Maybe a time or two when we were young, my siblings and I would sneak out in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve to take a gander at our presents. In a family with eight kids, it wasn’t easy to keep that quiet, but we pulled it off...except for the year when someone found a new bike under the tree and decided to squeeze its air horn at 3 a.m.
3. Favorite Christmas Recipe
We always have my mother’s lasagna on Christmas Eve at the home in which we all grew up in Burbank, Calif. It’s a perfectly reasonable tradition for an Irish Catholic family.
4. Favorite Article You Wrote This Year
“The Catholic Women Who Write Your Favorite TV Shows.” This started out as a quick hot take that soon turned into an Ideas piece that then ballooned into a print feature. But it was a lot of fun to write and research—my father had been a television comedy writer in Hollywood himself, so it felt like a chance to pay tribute to him. And the responses these women gave to my questions provided a lot of food for thought about the entertainment industry and the church.
5. Favorite Christmas Photo
Eight years ago at my mother’s house, we had too many people for Christmas dinner, so the younger kids had to sit at, yes, a kid’s table. I decided to take Little Jimmy’s seat. As you can see, his siblings and cousin weren’t so sure what Big Jimmy was up to.
