The Virgin in the Home
The Feast of the Annunciation commemorates the humble and fervent response Mary gave to God, “FIAT”… YES! It is the feast of the Virgin’s consent to the unimaginable divine proposal. It is the feast of love, perfectly expressed in that brief, discreet, and powerful YES—the word by which the soul is given, and by which the soul is taken. It is the YES of the Bride to the Bridegroom, a consent both joyful and solemn, through which the heart surrenders itself and makes way for the other Presence: Mary said YES to God, and the Word became flesh within her.
Before that day, the world lived under the sign of “refusal”—the “no” that Adam and Eve opposed to the divine will. Indeed, in the persons of those distant ancestors, humanity had broken the primordial covenant and chosen to deify itself rather than submit to the Lord. Between “yes” and “no,” it had opted for the word of refusal.
At the Annunciation, humanity turns toward God. One woman had led it into rebellion; another set it upon the path of submission. The proud “no” had driven God away; the humble “yes” calls Him and welcomes Him. From then on, the word of love would be heard once more upon this earth. Mary sets the example and secures the gift of the grace of consent for all people. All who say YES to God—whether of the Old or New Testament—become her children. Yet it required her YES to make all the others possible—that YES which serves as the secret, vibrant soul of every other YES.
The Virgin Mother’s entire life, set in motion by the YES of the Annunciation, was a ceaseless ascent of love. It is, therefore, from her that Christian couples will learn to utter—first once, and then throughout their lives—the YES that is the very soul of their love. It is Mary, the humble handmaid of consent, who teaches their souls how to renew and live out each day the YES of that first day; how, in the silence of love—for Mary “kept all these things in her heart“—the burning flame of the initial YES remains truly alive, a demanding flame that accepts no ashes, but rather devours them, so as to burn ever more ardently and rise ever higher. Love is true only if it perseveres. More than that: it is true only if it grows, becoming purer and more absolute. Its perfection lies not in the joyful YES of springtime first exchanged by the lovers’ lips, but in the fullness of its ripened fruit, gathered late in the season after much labour, sorrow, and weariness. It is the YES spoken in old age, at the close of a life of faithfulness, that expresses the perfect mutual consent of two beings and brings to completion the union that is both its fruit and its reward.
This YES of one’s final days is no longer that radiant word, that vehement affirmation of young love. It is a solemn word—a word of the heart that shrinks from the clamour of speech, a mysterious word that the profound modesty of a holier love utters only in a low voice. “… Happy are two friends who love each other enough, who wish enough to please one another, who understand each other enough, who are kindred spirits enough, who think and feel enough alike—similar enough within, each in their own way, yet enough the same, side by side—who savour and experience the pleasure of silence shared, of silence kept side by side, of walking for a long, long, long time… of moving, of walking in silence along silent roads. Happy are two friends who love each other enough to share silence in a land that knows how to be silent…” (Charles Péguy).
Does this “land that knows how to be silent” not irresistibly call to mind the home of the perfect YES—the home of Nazareth, the heart of Mary, as it was and still is? It is by contemplating the mystery of this home of Love that earthly spouses will learn the secret of the truly Christian YES—a YES free of hesitation or reluctance, faithful and constant; a YES for hours of anxiety and hours of joy; a YES that embraces the other person—all of the other person, the other person just as they are; a YES given to requests that are understood and to demands that are not; a YES that shares in joys and bears sorrows, following the very example of Christ and the Virgin of Compassion; a YES of total self-giving, without holding anything back. “I want to learn with God to be that thing which is wholly good and wholly given, which reserves nothing for itself and from which everything is taken.” (Paul Claudel)
Not only will the Virgin teach spouses to live this mystery of the YES—a YES of ever-increasing fullness—but she will first reveal to them that no one can truly say YES to one another without first having said YES to God. For the person, who yields to God receives the riches of divine love as their share and can say in all sincerity, “The strength by which I love You is no different from the strength by which You exist.” (Paul Claudel). It is the very love of God that passes through his heart to reach another heart. May they consent more fully, may they open themselves more widely, and divine love will become a gushing, inexhaustible spring within them.
While it is true that one must first consent to God before saying YES to another person, it must be added that this YES spoken to the other person renews one’s consent to God. Thus, for Christian spouses, giving oneself to one’s partner means giving oneself to God and, at the same time, transmitting to the beloved one the graces received from God for their sake; opening oneself to the other’s presence means welcoming within oneself the divine life they bear and offer; true, we already possess it, but can it not always grow further? Love comes from God, moves toward God, and can only be lived perfectly in God. Whoever rejects divine love will never know the fullness of human love, whatever they may think or say. One cannot truly love apart from God. Spouses cannot evade the divine presence. “Lovers are never alone,” writes G. Thibon; “if God is not within them to unite them, He is between them to separate them.” This presence is the joy of Christian spouses, for they know that it is not jealous—nor does it require them to temper their love—but rather makes it a duty for them to love one another ever more deeply, strengthening and aiding them in this difficult yet magnificent endeavour. And when, in dark hours, they can no longer see the path, or when the vast divine presence feels daunting, they can always turn to the tender, ever-near presence of the Virgin Mary.
The couple, too, like each of the spouses, must say YES to God. The heart of the couple—that new, unique heart born of two hearts that have given themselves to one another—must consent to God and give itself to Him. Then, the YES that love speaks to God—and will renew many times—calls forth God’s own YES, which will become a source of life for the couple, and later a river of life, eventually raising up a people of God’s children across the centuries. Because the couple has said YES, life dwells within it, flows out from it, and goes forth to make the earth fruitful—a mystery closely akin to that of the Annunciation. The Virgin gave birth to the Head; the couple gives birth to the members. The couple realises with wonder that by uniting its YES with Mary’s, it collaborates with her and helps to give Christ to the Father and to mankind.
It is important to note, however, that parents transmit only natural life; the YES they say to God the Creator must be matched by a YES spoken to the Redeemer present in His Church. Humbly, and aware of their own insufficiency, they must come to seek for their child that divine life which human fatherhood cannot bestow, but which the Church possesses and communicates through the sacraments—above all, through the first of them: Baptism.
Presenting a child at the baptismal font means initiating them into the act of consent; it means preparing them, from the very start, to say YES to God. From the moment of baptism, the child’s entire upbringing will consist of teaching them the word of love.
By teaching a child to say YES to his father and mother, one initiates them into a life of consent to the divine will. That commonplace remark made to a well-mannered child—”We don’t say ‘no‘”—is infinitely rich in meaning. Teaching a child not to refuse or close themselves off—instilling in them alert and joyful obedience and the gift of self without bargaining, helping them discover and experience the joy of saying YES to their parents—is already guiding them, step by step, toward the acts of consent God will one day ask of them. It is already leading them to say YES to God, whose representatives their father and mother are. Through docility toward their parents, the child embarks on the path of saying YES to God. Sometimes, parents feel anxious at the thought that by teaching their child to say YES to God, they are committing themselves in advance to saying YES to the divine calls that will eventually take the child away from them. Yet their worry is soothed when they contemplate the Virgin of the Annunciation. She, too, sensed that one day God would call her Son away from the peaceful home in Nazareth, sending Him out onto the roads of Palestine and delivering Him to the crowds—that one day God would summon Him to Calvary and to the Mount of the Ascension—and that the Son’s YES would require the full consent of the Mother’s heart.
Alongside her, and following her example, truly Christian parents understand that their child does not belong to them. Their hearts rejoice—however torn they may be—on the day their child, prepared by a Christian upbringing, responds with a generous YES to the vocation God reveals to them.
I encourage families to call upon OUR LADY OF YES. If they desire her intimate presence in their home, it is she—that Mother who said YES—who will teach them the meaning of consent and watch over their love.
Why shouldn’t Christian families cultivate a more fervent devotion to the Angelus, the favourite prayer of Our Lady of YES? Like joyful bells, the Angelus, recited three times a day, would remind hearts in danger of hardening to cherish that youthfulness of soul which always answers YES to God, following Mary’s example.
On the Feast of the Annunciation, 1945.
Henri Caffarel, L’Anneau d’Or, No. 2-3-4
