Gn 3:9-15, 2- | Ps 98 | Eph 1:3-6, 11-12 | Lk 1:26-38
Many people tend to love award shows (or did); before acceptance speeches became overtly political and presenters weren’t slapped across the face on live television. The red carpet and designer wear can be enamoring, but one of the best moments is always when an individual is truly surprised to win. As soon as the announcement is heard, we’ve all witnessed the genuine look of shock and awe. The winner shares hugs and kisses with those nearby before momentary panic sets in, and they make their way to the stage. Even paid actors and actresses struggle to find the right words to express their gratitude, and we hear them fumble, wishing that they had written something down on a note card.
This happened when Susan Lucci, after nineteen Daytime Emmy nominations, finally won. She’d waited almost twenty years for that moment, and based on the crowd’s reaction, everyone was equally surprised and excited to witness it. Susan alternated between hyperventilating and crying before she was able to choke out her thank you. I’m sure it felt surreal to win after so many years, thinking that the best actress award would just keep going to someone else. It’s easy for even the best candidate to feel like it will never be given to them.
It’s not difficult then, to imagine that Mary felt an even greater shock when the angel Gabriel appeared to her with the words: “Hail, full of grace! The Lord is with you.” Mary had listened to the prophecies her whole life about the coming Messiah. She’d heard the words of Isaiah that “the Lord himself will give you a sign; the young woman, pregnant and about to bear a son, shall name Emmanual” (Is 7:14). How could it be that she was the one selected? Generation after generation waited, but the Lord never came. Was this, at last, the answer to the prayers of her people? What did this mean for her people? What did this mean for her upcoming marriage? Would people believe her? Would Joseph believe her?
To quell her surprise and fear, the angel assures her not to be afraid. Despite this reassurance, however she may have received it, she expresses further confusion: for how was a virgin supposed to have a child? Gabriel proceeds to tell her all that he does, and then, as if that information wasn’t overwhelming and shocking enough, she finds out that her dear relative, Elizabeth, was also pregnant. Despite Elizabeth’s age, God was able to work a miracle.
If a camera panned to Mary at that moment, I wonder what we would have seen. This was her shining hour, the one for which her people had waited for so long. She could have leaned into fear and quietly sulked away. She could have told Gabriel, “No,” and none of us would be here right now. She didn’t have a note card to refer to, so no one would have blamed her if she stumbled over her words. She had nothing prepared. But she didn’t need to have anything prepared—because of all God’s creatures, she fully knew who she was and whose she was. And that truth enabled her to give the best acceptance speech of all time: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.”