‘In
the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without
form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of
God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and
there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the
light from the darkness. And God called the light Day, and the darkness he
called Night. And the evening and the morning were the first day.’
Genesis
1.1-5, Authorised (King James) Version
When
God sends the angel Gabriel to Mariam, to Mary, we read, ‘she was much
perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.’
The
Greek word translated ‘much perplexed’ is diatarassó which means ‘agitated’ or ‘acutely distressed’
and conveys an intense to-and-fro between thoughts and emotions.
The Greek word translated ‘pondered’ is
dialogizomai which means ‘going back and forth, in order to evaluate something,’
in a way that, typically, leads to a confused conclusion.
Mary is churned up, like the waters that cover
the formless earth.
Which is interesting, because while the root of
her name is generally thought to be the Hebrew for ‘rebelliousness’—which fits
well in light of her defiant Song, the Magnificat; and may go some way to
explain why so many Jewish women born under Roman occupation were given the
name—St Jerome records another origin story, that Mariam means ‘drop of the sea.’
A microcosm of the great deep.
Mary is agitated, distressed, not by what Gabriel
has been sent to tell her, nor even (unlike Zechariah, or the shepherds) by the
angel himself, but by his greeting.
God comes to create anew, the first Day. Like the
earth of old, Mary’s womb is empty; indeed, like the earth of old, it has
become futile, for she has dedicated her life to God, giving up the possibility
of bearing children. As with the waters of old, Mary is deep, and her face is
covered with darkness, with confusion. And, as with the earth of old, the
Spirit of God is moving over her, as an eagle hovers over her chicks, to bring
forth the Day. God is brooding, sheltering, bringing forth.
Mary is amazing, not because she has it all
together, but because she responds to God’s word. And the mystery of that
‘Yes!’ is that God has a human mother. That God becomes human, shares in our
nature, that we might share in the divine nature. The mystery of that ‘Yes!’ is
that it births not only the Christ, but also the Church, the new humanity. The
mystery of that ‘Yes!’ is that it births not only the new humanity, but the new
earth. Because, in Christ, through Mary, God is making all things new.
If the depths and the riches of that mystery
doesn’t leave you churned up, you must be dead!
But here is something. As God moved upon the face
of the waters, and as God came upon Mary, so God comes, moving over the chaos
of your life and mine, the waste places, our emptiness. We don’t need to strive
harder, to be a better person, to be acceptable to God, or worthy to be called
by him. We don’t need to tame our tides, that ebb and flow, or drown our questions,
ignore our fears, mask our distress, or dial ourselves down. But we can choose
to say, “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to
your word.”
That is enough. And who can say what light and
life will break out from within us, that has long sat chained in darkness? Who
can say what will unfold, in you and through you, for the good of the world,
and to the glory of God?
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