Luke 1:26-38
The Gospel reading for today is misleading. Hearing of the Archangel Gabriel’s encounter with Mary and the news that she will give birth to the Son of God diverts our attention away to the story of Christmas and the birth of Jesus. But we don’t really celebrate the birth of Jesus on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception. Today we celebrate a truth about Mary herself: that she, from the moment of her conception in her own mother’s womb, was surrounded by a powerful force, God’s grace, which prepared her to be open, eventually, to utter that word fiat -- "Yes! Let it be done as you say" -- in brave response to the angel's visit and announcement to her. Without the proper preparation, Mary's response to Gabriel may have been different. In today's feast, we celebrate the fact of that preparation and that she is made ready for a mysterious purpose.
I recall a personal memory. As my eighteenth birthday approached, my mother got very excited and shared many (many, too many) stories about the days immediately before and including my birth. I was a surly teenager and didn't appreciate this sharing of my baby memories. I found the whole thing embarrassing. As a way to deflect, I said to her that rather than hearing so many stories about the day I was born I wanted to hear about the day I was conceived. My mother's face reddened, she got upset and scolded me. She said, “That’s none of your business!” My father, on the other hand, perked up, looked proud, and promised that maybe someday he'd tell me the story himself.
The idea that there is an important preparation made for Mary's call as Mother of God is an old one in our tradition. From the first centuries of the Church, people believed there was something special about her from the beginning of her life. Even though it wasn't until the nineteenth-century that the Church made this an explicit dogma, in the Middle Ages the Franciscan theologian and philosopher Duns Scotus taught that the heavy responsibility Mary would shoulder must have meant that she received some sort of extraordinary gift of strength from the first moment of her existence.
Reflecting on the mystery of the first moments of my own existence, as unnerving as it was for me to hear, my mother was right. In a sense, my conception really wasn’t any of my business. And that’s not because it had no bearing on my life (as it clearly does!) but because it was something done before I had the ability to choose. It was the coming together of two other people’s choices. Yet it set the framework for the whole rest of my life for what I would eventually be able to choose for myself.
My conception and birth put me into a particular family, into the world in a specific place and at a definite time. My conception endowed me with a limited set of physical and emotional characteristics which are the foundation of what I continue to grow into and become. These necessary limitations created the space for all the choices I make, all the freedom that I live within. Knowing this now helps me make sense of the feeling of awe and confusion that used to overcome me when looking at family photo albums. I have one older brother. His life began eight years before mine and it takes effort for me to make sense of photos of my parents and my brother together years before I was born and to see in them the same family I know -- the family before I was even conceived. I entered into that family at a particular point in time, my time to be there. But the family existed before I appeared within it. There is something mysterious and confusing about that. But the mystery touched in that is also the beginning of my own life story.
About eight years later, on the eve of my ordination as a priest, my father finally did tell me the story of the day I was conceived. I was grateful to hear it, not least because it was a lovely and unexpected kind of story. I learned that I was a surprise arrival into my family but the story proved, if I ever needed it proved, that though a surprise, I was completely desired and wanted. I was a happy surprise.
Mary's conception which is surrounded by the most pure and powerful of God's love sets the stage for her, and for us as the human family. The beginning for her creates a new beginning for us and continues to keep our hearts open and waiting for the coming of the Savior whom we will welcome at Christmas. May her prayers and example keep us expectant for what is to emerge graciously from that mystery for ourselves, too.
Joel Warden, Ph.D.
St. Francis College
Catholic Scholar in Residence
St. Francis College
Catholic Scholar in Residence
Thank you for that Reflection. It leads me to consider my own conception, though in no way immaculate.
ReplyDeleteThe author seems to touch on the mystery of how we were born into our particular family, rather than another one. This is a unique slant on the Immaculate Conception, but it provides a connection between our existence and that of Mary, our mother.