Yesterday, while having chemotherapy, I said my Office using the iPad version of Universalis. Usually, we say our own monastic Office rather than the Roman, so I was very struck by the responsory for the second reading at Vigils/the Office of Readings (Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses). Here is the text, first in English as given by Universalis, then in Latin as given by the 1977 editio typica of the Liturgia Horarium iuxta Ritum Romanum. The words that interest me are highlighted in bold.
The angel Gabriel was sent to announce the word to Mary, a virgin betrothed to Joseph, and she began to fear the light. ‘Mary, do not be afraid you have won the Lord’s favour:* You are to conceive and bear a son: he shall 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. You are to conceive and bear a son: he shall be called Son of the Most High.’
Missus est Gabriel angelus ad Mariam Virginem desponsatam Ioseph, nuntians ei verbum; et expavescit Virgo de lumine. Ne timeas, Maria, invenisti gratiam apud Dominum. Ecce concipies et paries, et vocabitur Altissimi Filius.
Dabit ei Dominus Deus sedem David, patris eius, et regnabit in domo Iacob in aeternum.
The scriptural references are to Luke 1, verses 26, 27, 30, 31 and 32. It is well known that antiphons and responsories often paraphrase the words of scripture or rely on older texts than those we normally use. My first thought, therefore, was that this ‘fearing the light’ might come from an Old Latin (i/e pre-Vulgate) version of Luke, but preliminary searches online have yielded nothing. Then it was suggested that the line might just be an addition based on the usual Old Testament reaction to the presence of an angel, fear. That is entirely plausible, for the responsory goes on to tell Mary not to fear. If that is the correct explanation, it is what we might call a psychological addition to the text. I know that some learned reader will p0int me in the direction of the true explanation and source of the words, but let’s stay with them a while and see what they offer us.
Angels are not chubby little cherubs. They are messengers of God, robed in fire and flame, truly terrifying to those of impure sight and mind. Mary’s reaction to the angel is not merely alarm, its is dread (expavescere is a strong form of pavescere, which would be the more usual form to be translated as ‘begin to fear‘). We know that there was nothing impure about her, and Luke’s narrative of the Annunciation is constructed in such a way that we are impressed by Mary’s calmness and humble acceptance of her strange and wonderful destiny. Do these words, so quickly said and equally quickly forgotten, remind us of something we all need to ponder this Advent season? From time to time, God has a way of shining light on the secret places of our hearts. Unless we are unusually receptive, our first reaction tends to be to shy away or plead some excuse or mitigating circumstance. Deep down we know it is all pretence: we must choose either to stand in the light or hide from it. Only daring to stand in the light of God’s truth will prepare us for the gifts he wants to give us. All of us can learn from that young Jewish girl he chose to be his Mother — and ours.