20 December, Saturday — “Why her and not me?”

20 December

Isa 7:10-14
Lk 1:26-38

“I am the handmaid of the Lord, let what you have said be done to me.”

Today’s Gospel on the Annunciation was one of the passages we reflected on during the Advent Recollection titled “Hope”, conducted on 30 November at the Church of St Ignatius in Singapore.

When the angel Gabriel visited Mary, I imagine she must have been surprised. But surprise does not always mean fear. From my own experience, when I meet people for the first time, some make me feel uneasy within the first few seconds. And then others make me feel safe almost immediately. With them, there is no fear; only a quiet sense of peace, as though I have known them for years. These are people whose presence feels sincere, gentle, and somehow ‘God-sent’.

I wonder if Mary felt something like this when Gabriel appeared to her. Perhaps it was his tone, his presence, or the peace that accompanied him that allowed her heart to remain open. When the angel said, “Do not be afraid,” I heard it not as a rebuke, but as reassurance. That we’re safe. That we’re not alone.

Mary was very young at the time of the Annunciation, perhaps around 14 years old. Yet she was not cynical nor hardened by disappointment, unlike Zechariah in yesterday’s passage (Lk 1:5-25). When she asked, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” it does not sound like doubt to me. It feels like an honest, curious question — one asked in trust, not resistance.

Her reply, “I am the handmaid of the Lord, let what you have said be done to me”, is far beyond anything I would expect from someone so young. It reflects a spiritual maturity far beyond her age. And that can only come through God’s grace, a deep prayer life, and a quiet but steady trust in God’s providence. Unlike Zechariah, Mary does not ask for guarantees or explanations. She simply offers herself.

During the retreat, this passage reminded me of a friend in Korea. Like me, she is physically disabled and relies on mobility aids to move around. Recently, she joined the Franciscans as a secular Franciscan. When I first heard the news, I felt jealous. I found myself asking God, “Why her and not me?”

I, too, had tried to discern religious life. But I was discouraged by priests and nuns alike. I was told to get a job instead. I was told that I could not join because I was not fully physically able, that there were requirements to enter a community, and physical capability was one of them. After a while, I grew tired and almost stopped searching.

But over this year, what I have only recently discovered is how God has been gently guiding me. I found myself drawn to Ignatian spirituality by attending Ignatian retreats, learning more about St Ignatius’ life, and praying more frequently with the Pray-As-You-Go app created by Jesuit priests in Britain. There is something deeply comforting about learning to be contemplative and to find God in the ordinary moments of daily life.

The same has been true in my work. My plans fell apart when I failed to secure a training position at a law firm earlier this year. It felt like the door had closed. Tightly bolted shut. Yet, through God’s grace, I was offered a part-time role at another company, where my supervisor has entrusted me with legal matters. Just this month, I was also approached by a start-up to provide professional legal services. What once felt like failure has slowly revealed itself as a different kind of calling.

Mary’s ‘fiat’ at the Annunciation reminds me that discernment is rarely neat or straightforward. But it asks of us attentiveness, prudence, and courage — to trust that God knows our limits, our desires, and our fears better than we know them ourselves.

This Advent, as I prepare my heart for Christ’s coming, I am learning to trust in God, one “yes” at a time. And let’s ask ourselves in our hearts “Where is God gently calling us, and do we trust Him enough to respond?”

(Today’s OXYGEN by Brenda Khoo)

Prayer: Sweet Jesus, help us to recognise Your presence in our lives and not be afraid of Your invitations. Help us to be like Your Blessed Mother, and give us attentive hearts, prudent minds, and the courage to trust You, even when the path ahead is unclear. Teach us, Our Dearest Mother, to say our own quiet yes to You each day. We ask this through Christ our Lord. Amen.

Thanksgiving: Sweet Jesus, we thank You for the gentle ways You guide us, even when we do not fully understand Your plans. Thank You for walking with us through closed doors and unexpected paths, and for calling us by name in love. May our hearts remain open and grateful to You always. Amen.