The Catholic tradition celebrates Mary the mother of Jesus with many titles, applied to her long after her lifetime, including Queen of Heaven, Star of the Sea, Mother of Mercy, Our Lady of Sorrows, and Blessed Virgin. In Truly Our Sister: A Theology of Mary in the Communion of Saints, feminist theologian Elizabeth Johnson argues that Mary “has been symbolized to such an extravagant degree divorced from her own history,” that it becomes difficult to conjure a clear picture of her in our minds (xiv). Moving away from lofty titles, she proposes that we shift our thinking about Mary “from transcendent symbol to historical person.” Drawing on the wisdom of historians, biblical scholars, and contemporary feminist theologians, Johnson asks us to imagine: what might Mary really have been like?  

As a first-century Galilean Jewish woman living under Roman occupation, Mary lived in “an economically poor, politically oppressed, Jewish peasant culture marked by exploitation and publicly violent events” (161). She was both ethnically and religiously Jewish, and likely entered a betrothal arranged by her parents around age 12 or 13, in keeping with the local customs of that time (190). Betrothal lasted about a year and was legally binding, thus carrying more weight than our contemporary notion of “engagement.” Engaging in sex outside of this betrothal was considered adultery, and constituted grounds for divorce.

Equipped with this historical perspective, we can better come to see the more radical elements of today’s Gospel story, the Annunciation, in which the angel Gabriel appears with an extraordinary message to Mary, that she will bear a child. How astonishing that this is, where God chooses to enter the world – in a poor and politically oppressed corner of a vast empire. And this first revelation of God’s coming relies on the consent of this young peasant woman, agreeing to something that places her in danger of divorce and social ruin. Remarkably, the revelation doesn’t take place in a house of worship like the temple, and it isn’t mediated by a religious authority. In a patriarchal culture, it is also remarkable that neither a spouse nor father is consulted; this is a direct encounter between Mary and the angel.

Elizabeth Johnson digs deeply into the textual details of the original Greek to reveal important details of this story unavailable in the English translation. For example, she argues that the verbs are theologically significant when Gabriel says, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you,” and “the power of the Most High will overshadow you.” Johnson points out that the first verb – eperchesthai in Greek – is explicitly not sexual; rather, it is the same empowering verb used in Acts 1:8, when Jesus says to his disciples, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you.” In other words, God is not overpowering Mary here, rather, the Holy Spirit is empowering her. And the second verb – episkiazein in the Greek – is not meant to diminish Mary. Rather, in the scorching heat of the Middle East, the verb is often associated with the cooling, safe shade of a passing cloud. The divine presence draws close to Mary and protects her here (251-253).

More challenging for us is the word often translated as “handmaid” or “servant.” In Greek, the word doule literally means female slave girl. Rather than trying to explain this away, Johnson argues, we must accept the limitations of our own scriptural tradition, which carry with them the human sinfulness of unjust, violent social structures. Only in recognizing the historical harmfulness that word connotes, and approaching the text as a whole with a liberating interpretive lens, can we see the working of God in the Annunciation: what Johnson calls “a powerful declaration of the relationship between this peasant woman and the Spirit of God” (251). 

Using a lectio divina format, we invite you to meditate on the Annunciation story: After reviewing the historical context provided in the “explore” section, let your imagination settle into a first century Jewish community in Roman-occupied Galilee. Imagine Mary as a 12 or 13-year-old. Slowly read through the passage, seeing where the Holy Spirit draws your attention. Then read through a second time, seeing what new insights emerge out of this familiar story. How does this relate to you now? Do you feel moved to ask questions of God, the way that Mary does? Do you feel moved to say “yes” to an invitation God presents to you now, as Mary does? Allow yourself to conclude your contemplation however you feel drawn.

Annunciation House is a volunteer organization in El Paso, TX, dedicated to accompanying migrants, immigrants, and refugees. Situated just ten blocks away from the U.S.-Mexico border, the cluster of houses offers hospitality, including long and short-term housing, for migrants facing asylum. Volunteers live in the houses with those who they serve. As a community of welcome, Annunciation House takes its name from today’s feast, when Mary welcomed the angel into her home and consented to God’s radical invitation. Annunciation House also cites Jesus’ words in Matthew 25 as its animating principle: “I was a stranger and you welcomed me…just as you did it to one of the least of these, you did it to me.” 

In addition to providing material assistance to those in need, Annunciation House prophetically denounces the social structures that exclude and demonize migrants as part of their ministry.

For example, in 2018, when the U.S. government inhumanely separated hundreds of migrant parents from their children, Annunciation House offered housing and legal services in an effort to help these families reunite, staging a press conference to draw attention to this humanitarian crisis.

It is worth remembering that in the Gospel of Matthew, the peasant girl, Mary, and the newborn Jesus also become migrants, fleeing the murderous policies of the insecure King Herod. In our own day, Annunciation House ministers to those whose social locations mirror those of the Holy Family.

https://www.galeriedada.com/castera-bazile-annunciation-reproduction-painting.html

Image description for the art: Against a background of an orangey-brown log cabin, Mary with brown skin and a halo encounters the angel Gabriel, also with brown skin and a halo. Both wear red and blue robes, and the angel has light blue wings. Both bow towards the other. Behind Mary hangs a blue tapestry on the wall, with a crucifix hanging over top of it. 

After re-situating Mary in her historical context, as we have done in the rest of today’s entry, it can be spiritually enlightening to see how different artists have undertaken the perennial reimagining of Mary as a woman of their own time (those Renaissance paintings of Mary as a blonde queen are just as historically inaccurate as any recent artistic representations!) The more images we see, the more we can allow them to disrupt our preconceived notions. “Annunciation” by self-taught Haitian painter Castera Bazile (1923-1966) reimagines today’s Gospel story in the artist’s own context of 20th century Haiti. The vase of daffodils, the framed background painting, and log cabin walls take Mary out of first century Palestine, and into 20th century Haiti. The crucifix on the wall is of course anachronistic – these depictions of Jesus’ death were not popularized until centuries after his death. Perhaps Bazile includes it here to remind us of what is to come… this astonishing moment of the Annunciation will lead Mary and Jesus both down a path of great suffering, but also of great joy.