The Knitting Theologian

Today is the solemnity of the Annunciation, when the Church pauses in the midst of Lent to reflect on the Incarnation of Jesus Christ, who became human like us in all things except sin. I cannot reflect on the Incarnation without thinking of the free consent of Mary, the necessary condition for the Incarnation.

But I also kept thinking of the poem, “Annunciation” by Denise Levertov, which a friend pointed me to earlier this year. There is a wonderful passage in that poem about the “moments of annunciation” that occur in the lives of all humans.

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.

Reflecting back on my life, I could think of times when I had turned away from such moments in fear or dread or my own obstinate, stubborn refusal, when I had chosen myself over something much bigger than that.

It’s true that I have not been smited. It is also true that other pathways have opened, and that now I have been able, a few times, to step onto a road of light and storm. As a matter of fact, I’m on one. I have no idea where it is leading me. I only know that every time I stop and stamp my foot, fold my arms, turn my back on God, staying put is worse than going forward into the unknown.

Here is the text of the whole poem, in case you would like to read it.

I can say I am going to spend the day writing, and then I can spend an hour searching the Internet for an article I might have read back in November about how to write a novel in your spare time and end up on Amazon.com buying books (again) that might or might not have something to do with the novel I am going to write.

Meanwhile? Not one word towards the novel has come out of my fingertips.

Procrastination. Gluttony (who can resist the siren call of Amazon’s web site, urging the addition of just $1.14 more to qualify for super saver shipping?). Doesn’t seem like the most fortuitous way to write a novel, particularly in Lent.