Ecce Ancilla Domini!

This painting by Dante Gabriel Rosetti captured my imagination this morning.  It is entitled:  Ecce Ancilla Domini!, or "The Handmaiden of the Lord." 

I have been reading from the Revised Common Lectionary lately.  It has wonderful scripture selections that coordinate with Advent, and it includes related artwork, where I came across this oil painting from the mid-1800s. 

I read the fascinating account from Luke, where Mary is visited by an angel bearing life-altering news. 

Luke 1:26-38
1:26 In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth,

1:27 to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin's name was Mary.

1:28 And he came to her and said, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you."

1:29 But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.

1:30 The angel said to her, "Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.

1:31 And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus.

1:32 He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David.

1:33 He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end."

1:34 Mary said to the angel, "How can this be, since I am a virgin?"

1:35 The angel said to her, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.

1:36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren.

1:37 For nothing will be impossible with God."

1:38 Then Mary said, "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word." Then the angel departed from her.

Most art related to The Annunciation of Mary shows her in peaceful contemplation, but Rosetti rejected this.  Look at her.  Startled awake.  Recoiling.  Unsure.  It must be a more accurate representation of a person's reaction to a visit from an angel.

I wonder how much time passed between this visit and Mary sitting down to write the Magnificat.  How long does it take drastic news to settle on a person, to burrow its way into acceptance, to be embraced and magnified by the soul.  How much pondering must take place before you can treasure it all up? 

I know, these are deep, rhetorical questions for a Tuesday morning.  Maybe I'll just close with a few the words from my song, All These Things (CD:Herald),  inspired by this tender shoot of a woman.

All these things I treasure up

and I ponder them within my heart

and they change me

 and they move me

to follow hard after God

Things I did not want to happen, not my plan

I didn't understand

I did not know if I would bend under the weight

or if I would break

All the pieces of the portrait of my life,

shadows and light

shadows and light

Then the message of the angel in the the night

pointing out the way that is right