LET IT BE TO ME
ASSUMPTIONTIDE REFLECTIONS WITH MARY
In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth,to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the House of David; and the virgin's name was Mary.
He went in and said to her, 'Rejoice, you who enjoy God's favour! The Lord is with you.'She was deeply disturbed by these words and asked herself what this greeting could mean, but the angel said to her, 'Mary, do not be afraid; you have won God's favour. Look! You are to conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you must name him Jesus.He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his ancestor David; he will rule over the House of Jacob for ever and his reign will have no end.'
Mary said to the angel, 'But how can this come about, since I have no knowledge of man?' The angel answered, 'The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will cover you with its shadow. And so the child will be holy and will be called Son of God. And I tell you this too: your cousin Elizabeth also, in her old age, has conceived a son, and she whom people called barren is now in her sixth month,for nothing is impossible to God.'Mary said, 'You see before you the Lord's servant, let it happen to me as you have said.' And the angel left her.
The moonglow in a manshape after a light rain crooks and staffs or the limbs of trees tricking their shadows into angel wings, the bleat of sheep on a far-off hill and the whistle of a stiff night wind- perhaps it was nothing but that on my pallet I had drowsed into a dream.
Yet the next morning I would have sworn that there had been a man or the ghost of a man who announced himself as Gabriel and hailed me "full of grace." Yes, hailed, as I were a princess, a queen, a Roman empress, I . . . .
Perhaps it was nothing but that on my pallet I had drowsed into a dream,
Yet he foretold that I would bear a son, a son whose name would be Emmanuel, and I, a simple Hebrew girl, believed but wondered how, for there had never been a man . . . . Perhaps it was nothing but that on my pallet I had drowsed into a dream and had awakened only now, thinking that in my sleep no man but a ghost called Gabriel . . . .
The moonglow in a manshape after a light rain, crooks or staffs or the limbs of trees tricking their shadows into angel wings, and a ghost called Gabriel prophesying "And the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he shall be king over the house of Jacob forever"-- perhaps it was nothing but the bleat of sheep on a far-off hill and the whistle of a stiff night wind.
Written by an anonymous Religious
God spoke through Gabriel, Mary listened. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the pastor of the Confessing Church under Nazi rule, says "we understand God's Word by listening to God, and we enable others to receive it by listening to them."
It was said of Trevor Huddleston,
that whether it was three minutes or three hours, one had his complete and utter attention.
Mary gave Gabriel her complete and utter attention.
There was no doubt as to what was being asked of her.
When she heard it, she not only offered her life in God's service,
but she risked the loneliness and isolation
resulting from the moral assessments of her time;
even risking the hurt of the love of her life, Joseph.
"Let it be to me according to Your Word!" What trust on her part!
Through Mary’s fiat, no longer does God seem far-off and removed from our humanity; rather, God draws so close to us, taking on our human nature, so that we might be able to seek and find Him.
You who chose an ordinary village girl
to be the Mother of your Son; use me, Lord. Help me to be ready when my call comes,and to commit myself to your service.
Father, I abandon myself into your hands; do with me what you will. Whatever you may do, I thank you: I am ready for all, I accept all. Let only your will be done in me, and in all your creatures-- I wish no more than this, O Lord. Into your hands I commend my soul; I offer it to you with all the love of my heart, for I love you, Lord, and so need to give myself, to surrender myself into your hands without reserve, and with boundless confidence, for you are my Father.
Charles de Foucauld.