By Matthew Walz
For this year’s Lent, I set out to pray the Angelus in the morning, at noon, and at night; a practice that, of course, has long been part of Catholic piety. In my adult life, I’ve had ups and downs in observing this practice, and this year I wanted to remedy that. (Please don’t ask how it’s going so far!)
I was inspired to make this resolution by a passage from Gift and Mystery by St. John Paul II, which he published on the fiftieth anniversary of his ordination. This dense little book recounts JPII’s «vocational story.»
For a man who chose «Totus Tuus» as his episcopal motto, it’s no surprise that Mary played an influential role in that story. It seems that from very early in his life, Karol Wojtyla prayed the Angelus three times a day. In fact, while working in the stone quarry as a young man, Karol would pause at noon, set down what he was carrying, and silently pray the Angelus; a sight that his fellow workers found admirable but also somewhat amusing. Such is the fate of a fool for Mary!
Upon learning more about Mary and then consecrating himself to her (under the guidance of St. Louis Marie Grignion de Montfort), the young Karol «came to understand why the Church prays the Angelus three times a day.» The «powerful words» of this prayer, he writes, «express the deepest reality of the greatest event that has ever occurred in all of history.»
That’s a bold claim, to be sure, and yet what a powerful statement! Especially on this Solemnity of the Annunciation, a feast we might nickname the «Day of the Angelus.» His description of the Angelus highlights what is so significant, and yet so hidden, in the event we celebrate today.
Today we celebrate Gabriel’s announcement to Mary that she will conceive in her womb and bear a son, whom she will call Jesus (Luke 1:31). Gabriel’s announcement is, in fact, a proposal, since Mary remains free to accept Gabriel’s future-tense declaration as her own future… or not.
In a famous homily, St. Bernard of Clairvaux, another devotee of Mary, captures the drama of that moment beautifully:
You have heard, Virgin, that you will conceive and bear a son; you have heard that it will not be by a man, but by the Holy Spirit. The angel awaits a response; it is time for him to return to the God who sent him. We too, Lady, await that word of compassion; the sentence of condemnation weighs heavily upon us.
Bernard draws us into the magnitude of this moment. He intuits in this moment of the Angelus what John Paul himself describes: «the deepest reality of the greatest event that has ever occurred in all of history.» It is the turning point, and we, standing there with Gabriel, also await Mary’s response.
In fact, my own Lenten attempts to recite the Angelus three times a day have engraved in me John Paul’s description of this moment, which contains two implicit and fundamental assertions that should imbue the mind of every Christian believer daily, and especially today.
The first assertion is that the moment of the Annunciation is, in fact, the greatest event in all of history. All of history pivots around this event, around Mary’s decision and what results from it, namely, the absolutely hidden and mysterious conception of Jesus Christ in her womb.
This is the moment of the Incarnation that transforms the world, of the Word of God becoming flesh. Et Verbum caro factum est, et habitavit in nobis. All of history up to that point had been anticipating it, and all subsequent history has unfolded and will continue to unfold its reality and meaning. And at the center of it all is Gabriel’s Annunciation and Mary’s acceptance.
The second assertion is, in a way, even more mysterious: that the Angelus captures the deepest reality of this greatest event in history. The ultimate drama of the Annunciation lies hidden within Mary’s personal interiority, within her heart, within her deliberate and conscious exercise of freedom in response to God’s proposal.
In fact, when we strip away everything that led to this moment, as well as everything that unfolded afterward, at the core is a young woman in conversation with God in the depths of her conscience, and within that inner sanctuary she freely decides to undertake what God has proposed, and thus participate in His re-creation of all things.
Most fittingly, then, she responds: «Fiat!» This exchange, the most interior between a creature and her God, gives birth to the greatest event in all of history: the Incarnation; such is the «deepest reality,» the most hidden actuality, of that world-transforming event.
We must remind ourselves of this daily. We must remind ourselves that the deepest reality of history does not lie in the noisy events and clamorous actions that make up all the news, real or fake, that is published. The deepest reality of history lies, day by day, in the movements of the hearts of unique human persons who stand before God in the sanctuary of their consciences, freely choosing to collaborate with His proposals… or not.
In this way, we too can participate in the Annunciation, in the will to give flesh to Christ in the world, in every conscious decision we make, no matter how great or small. Such is the lesson of the Angelus; such is the lesson of today’s solemnity.
The true drama of each of our lives dwells within us, and it concerns whether we freely and consciously accept to conceive in our hearts the reality of Jesus Christ… or not.
It seems very fitting, then, that almost every year the Solemnity of the Annunciation (the «Day of the Angelus«) comes to us during Lent, during that season of the year, initially dreaded but ultimately embraced, in which, through fasting, prayer, and almsgiving, we are reminded of the most essential thing in all of history and the deepest reality of our own lives.
About the author
Matthew Walz will begin serving as president of Thomas More College in New Hampshire next September. He is currently an associate professor of Philosophy and director of the Philosophy and Letters and Pre-Theology programs at the University of Dallas. He also serves as director of Intellectual Formation at Holy Trinity Seminary. This year he is a visiting professor of Philosophy at the Augustine Institute and holds the Newman Chair of Catholic Studies at Thomas More College. He and his beautiful wife, Teresa, have been blessed with eight children.