Advent Calendar – 6 December
Nativity Stories: Gabriel
At first all I saw was how young she was, standing in the room with a brush in her hand, but not sweeping. Her mind was elsewhere, a daydream, laying out her future with another. I saw her on the cusp of being adult, her skin smooth, her face still with its child’s simplicity, as yet undirected to the way so many faces become set – in worry or belligerence or kindness or sorrow.
I did not mean to scare her but I always do. My presence is enough: they know without knowing they are being visited. My message could only add to her fear. News received by Zechariah with obvious joy feels different to a girl who has not yet lain with a man. Would I feel, in her place, that my consent was real? Angels have it easy. I told her what was promised for her and the world. I would not have blamed her if she didn’t grasp a word of it.
But I saw more in her than youth, as she stood there, neither stepping back nor sitting. There was an honesty, a strength that hinted of pain before and courage for what would come. She was angry with me – no better word. Her voice bristled like the brush she jabbed my way. How dare I suggest she’d been with Joseph before their wedding day? After all, how could she comprehend what seems so far from the natural course of events? How can anyone, who builds their faith on the fabric of things alone? But with God anything can happen, and I told her this as plainly as I could.
It was only then, beyond her youth and strength, I saw imagination. She would not be bound by what men said, or women for that matter, of shoulds and shouldn’ts and can’ts and nevers. I saw the wonder of a story come into her eyes, eyes which looked me full in the face as creatures of dust and breath rarely do. I heard her ask me things I cannot know but only surmise, though she will know, all too well: the pain of letting life be, and letting it go.
I knew, then. I knew, before she spoke, that she had accepted this calling to be the mother of God’s son, the first to believe in the word made flesh. Flesh of her flesh. I realised I was in awe of this girl, I who have stood in the sapphire courts of heaven. She spoke with youth, with strength, with fear and with imagination. I left. I had seen enough.
Annunciation from 13th century Armenian Gospel