A Courageous, "Yes" . . .

 

                    Annunciation Triptych (Merode Altarpiece) by Workshop of                           

                    Robert Campin, 1427- 32

Annunciation     

Denise Levertov

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.

       Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.

       The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.

         God waited.

She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.

                  ____________________

Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?

         Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.

More often
those moments
      when roads of light and storm
      open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from

in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
                                 God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

                  ____________________

She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child–but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.

Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,

  only asked

a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
the astounding ministry she was offered:

to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power–
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.

                     Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love–

but who was God.

This was the moment no one speaks of,

when she could still refuse.

A breath unbreathed,

                                Spirit,

                                          suspended,

                                                            waiting.

                  ____________________

She did not cry, ‘I cannot. I am not worthy,’

Nor, ‘I have not the strength.’

She did not submit with gritted teeth,

                                                       raging, coerced.

Bravest of all humans,

                                  consent illumined her.

The room filled with its light,

the lily glowed in it,

                               and the iridescent wings.

Consent,

              courage unparalleled,

opened her utterly.

Gabriel's Experience . .

 

Artist Unknown    

Gabriel’s Annunciation

For a moment
I hesitated
on the threshold.
For the space
of a breath
I paused,
unwilling to disturb
her last ordinary moment,
knowing that the next step
would cleave her life:
that this day
would slice her story
in two,
dividing all the days before
from all the ones
to come.

The artists would later
depict the scene:
Mary dazzled
by the archangel,
her head bowed
in humble assent,
awed by the messenger
who condescended
to leave paradise
to bestow such an honor
upon a woman, and mortal.

Yet I tell you
it was I who was dazzled,
I who found myself agape
when I came upon her—
reading, at the loom, in the kitchen,
I cannot now recall;
only that the woman before me—
blessed and full of grace
long before I called her so—
shimmered with how completely
she inhabited herself,
inhabited the space around her,
inhabited the moment
that hung between us.

I wanted to save her
from what I had been sent
to say.

Yet when the time came,
when I had stammered
the invitation
(history would not record
the sweat on my brow,
the pounding of my heart;
would not note
that I said
Do not be afraid
to myself as much as
to her)
it was she
who saved me—
her first deliverance—
her Let it be
not just declaration
to the Divine
but a word of solace,
of soothing,
of benediction

for the angel
in the doorway
who would hesitate
one last time—
just for the space
of a breath
torn from his chest—
before wrenching himself away
from her radiant consent,
her beautiful and
awful yes.

Author: Jan Richardson

Jan Richardson is an artist, author, United Methodist minister, and director of The Wellspring Studio, LLC.  Widely known for her distinctive intertwining of word and image, Jan blogs at The Painted Prayerbook.

https://www.janrichardson.com/

Annunciation . . . and a murmured "yes."

 March 25 - Feast of the Annunciation . . .

Poem” Fiat by Bp. Robert Morneau on viewing Henry O. Tanner’s
The Annunciation - 1988

On her bed of doubt,
in wrinkled night garment,
she sat, glancing with fear
at a golden shaft of streaming light,
pondering perhaps, "Was this
but a sequel to a dream?"
The light too brief for disbelief,
yet its silence eased not her trembling.
Somehow she murmured a "yes"
and with that the light's love and life
pierced her heart
and lodged in her womb.
The room remained the same
- rug still need smoothing
- jug and paten awaiting using.
Now all was different
in a maiden's soft but firm fiat.

The Face . . .

 

The Story of the Painting of the Last Supper
  by: Author Unknown, Source Unknown

Leonardo Da Vinci, the noted Italian artist painted the Last Supper. It took seven years for him to complete it. The figures representing the twelve Apostles and Christ himself were painted from living persons. The life-model for the painting of the figure of Jesus was chosen first. When it was decided that Da Vinci would paint this great picture, hundreds and hundreds of young men were carefully viewed in an endeavor to find a face and personality exhibiting innocence and beauty, free from the scars and signs of dissipation caused by sin. Finally, after weeks of laborious search, a young man nineteen years of age was selected as a model for the portrayal of Christ. For six months Da Vinci worked on the production of this leading character of his famous painting. During the next six years Da Vinci continued his labors on this sublime work of art. One by one fitting persons were chosen to represent each of the eleven Apostles -- with space being left for the painting of the figure representing Judas Iscariot as the final task of this masterpiece. This was the Apostle, you remember, who betrayed his Lord for thirty pieces of silver. For weeks Da Vinci searched for a man with a hard, callous face, with a countenance marked by scars of avarice, deceit, hypocrisy, and crime. A face that would delineate a character who would betray his best friend. After many discouraging experiences in searching for the type of person required to represent Judas, word came to Da Vinci that a man whose appearance fully met his requirements had been found in a dungeon in Rome, sentenced to die for a life of crime and murder. Da Vinci made the trip to Rome at once, and this man was brought out from his imprisonment in the dungeon and led out into the light of the sun. There Da Vinci saw before him a dark, swarthy man his long shaggy and unkempt hair sprawled over his face, which betrayed a character of viciousness and complete ruin. At last the famous painter had found the person he wanted to represent the character of Judas in his painting. By special permission from the king, this prisoner was carried to Milan where the picture was being painted. For months he sat before Da Vinci at appointed hours each day as the gifted artist diligently continued his task of transmitting, to his painting, this base character representing the traitor and betrayer of our Savior. As he finished his last stroke, he turned to the guards and said, I have finished. You may take the prisoner away. As the guards were leading their prisoner away, he suddenly broke loose from their control and rushed up to Da Vinci, crying as he did so, "Da Vinci, look at me. Do you not know who I am?" Da Vinci, with the trained eyes of a great character student, carefully scrutinized the man upon whose face he had constantly gazed for six months and replied, "No, I have never seen you in my life until you were brought before me out of the dungeon in Rome." Then, lifting his eyes toward heaven, the prisoner said, "Oh God, have I fallen so low?" Then turning his face to the painter he cried, "Leonardo Da Vinci, look at me again for I am the same man you painted just seven years ago as the figure of Christ."

Prayer while waiting . . .

 

You keep us waiting … you, the God of all time, want us to wait For the right time in which to discover Who we are, where we must go, Who will be with us, and what we must do. So, thank you … for the waiting time. 

 

You keep us looking … you, the God of all space, Want us to look in the right and wrong places for signs of hope, For people who are hopeless, For visions of a better world which will appear Among the disappointments of the world we know. So, thank you … for the looking time. 

 

You keep us loving … you, the God whose name is love, Want us to be like you – To love the loveless and the unlovely and the unlovable; To love without jealousy or design or threat; And, most difficult of all, to love ourselves. So thank you … for the loving time. 

 

And in all this, you keep us. Through hard questions with no easy answers; Through failing where we had hoped to succeed And making an impact when we felt we were useless; Through the patience and the dreams and the love of others, And through Jesus Christ and his Spirit, you keep us. So, thank you … for the keeping time, And for now, And forever, Amen.

 

John Bell, Iona Community

Into New Life

 

                                                    The Fifth Sunday in Lent 2026 

March 22, 2026

www.johnpredmoresj.com | predmore.blogspot.com

predmoresj@yahoo.com |

Ezekiel 37:12-14; Psalm 130; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45

 

The story of Lazarus is compelling because it is one of the final scenes before Holy Week and it gives us hope in the Resurrection. It teaches us how to live now especially when we are faced with the death of a loved one. Two of the most emotional lines are found in the Gospel: “Jesus wept,” and “See how much he loved him.” It tells us something about the heart of God who finds sorrow in our misfortune.

 

The Ezekiel passage shows us the God opens the graves of the Israelites and calls them to rise from them. Jesus acts in the place of God when he opens the tomb of his friend, Lazarus, who can now rise to new life. Jesus changes around the Jewish belief about a future resurrection when he says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” He makes sure that Martha knows that the resurrection is not only a future belief or an event that happens to Jesus after the Crucifixion. He tells her that resurrection is about a relationship with Christ now. He tells her that eternal life begins when we believe, not only when we die. 

 

What does this mean for us. Belief in Jesus means that we can live differently now because Christ has our back. We can leave fears behind because fear is not faith, and faith calls us to leave our tombs and experience the fullness of life. Martha asks Jesus, “Why didn’t you come sooner?” and he tells us what matters is not time, but belief. The only time that matters is now, and belief in Jeus will take care of all manner of things.

 

While Jesus raises Lazarus to life, and by implication, Jesus raised people to new life, he asks the community to help remove the bandages. He says, “Untie him.” There are so many layers of relationships that bind and limit people, and Jesus wants the community to set Lazarus free, to see us free of the restrictions that community places upon us. To do this, we must forgive. We encourage others and speak life-giving and life-sustaining words. We heal fractured relationships and we reconcile our suffering. What does Jesus do: He infuses his love into death. He weeps for Lazarus and loves him back to life. Jesus does the same for us. Therefore, it is important for us to put love into places where lost has been lost or where love is absent. It is the power of this love that heals, and it is given to us because we have eternal life. 

The question for us is, “Who needs my love to be freed from the shackles of life? How can my love give someone new life?” We, as community, help others live freely. What fear do I carry with me that prevents me from living to my full potential? Whose love do I need to liberate me from what holds me back? Jesus wants to give us newness of life, a renewed sense of energy and engagement, a meaningful purpose. We belong to him because his love has the power over death. His love knows no boundaries. His love is what transforms our world into a liberating breath of life. Hear Jesus speaks the words, “Untie Lazarus. Untie your loved one. Untie you.” Then our work begins. We then let each other go free. 

 

 

March 22, 2026: Fifth Sunday of Lent

Mary McGlone: The Fifth Sunday of Lent, The raising of Lazarus . . .

https://www.ncronline.org/spirituality/march-22-2026-fifth-sunday-lent?utm_source=NCR+List&utm_campaign=6121d834f3-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_03_18_05_46&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_6981ecb02e-6121d834f3-230180185