Salve, radix, salve, porta
Ex qua mundo lux est orta
During the solemn months of Lent, the Church honors Mary after Compline with the words above from the Ave Regina Caelorum. They translate to “Hail, root—hail, gate, from which the light of the world has risen.” They honor Mary as the root from which grows Christ, the Fruit of the Tree of Life. She is like a gate, through which shines the first dawn of the Light of the World. The Solemnity of the Annunciation is our worship of the mystery of the Incarnation.
Jesus tells us “I am the Light of the World” (John 8:12). But what is this Light? Inspired by the Church Fathers, Saint Thomas Aquinas says that this Light is the knowledge of God. “By the mystery of the Incarnation are made known at once the goodness, the wisdom, the justice, and the power of God” (ST III, q. 1, a. 1). The Annunciation is the dawning of that Light on earth—the first glimmer of sunrise over dark hills. After years of separation, of flight from before his face, “the people that have walked in darkness have seen a great light” (Isa 9:2).
But at first, this Light shines in one alone. Only in a lowly, lovely maiden, upon whom the Holy Spirit has spread his power.
After the dawn of the Annunciation, only a single, radiant soul has received the Word of God. Like the sunrise of nature, the sunrise of the knowledge of God is gradual. The Word, as of yet, does not use words. He only dwells deep in Mary, and rests, and grows. She who was called “full of grace” has the Author of Grace within. Dawn breaks, but the sun is still below the horizon. God first comes in quiet: present, but hidden.
After some years, after the wonders of the Nativity, the Word would speak—the sun is lighting up the world. In the bubbly murmurs of a babe, he would speak “mama” to his mother. As he grew and played, his words of love and wisdom would grow longer. Perhaps the boy Jesus would look up with Mary to a night sky riddled with stars. He would tug her sleeve and point up, whispering to her their secret names from when he determined their number (Ps 147:4). The stars are wonderful, says he, and yet—how much more does he love her?
After many years, the Word becomes a preacher. His words are strong and dazzling, leading some to wonder: “Is this not the carpenter’s son?” (Matt 13:55). There is something different here. Jesus has “a new teaching with authority” (Mark 1:22). He is no mere speculator, theologian, or prophet, but an eyewitness of the inner life of God. To the crowds, he speaks in parables about the Kingdom—which is like a mustard seed, or like yeast. His works are a sign as well. He heals the sick, and after speaks revelatory words of his identity—“even though you do not believe me, believe the works, that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father” (John 10:38).
Finally, the Light of the World shines brightly. Just before the Word’s final trial, he shares the paschal lamb with his disciples. He speaks plainly and says to them “this is eternal life, that they know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent” (John 17:3). God, through Jesus, has revealed his goodness, wisdom, power, and might to a world far from him. He shows power and might such that “he who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live” (John 11:25). In his light, we find life.
Today, on the Solemnity of the Annunciation, we turn our gaze once more to a small home in Nazareth and recall the first light of a brilliant dawn. The light will rise slowly, and at the start, it will shine in one alone. With an angel we hail the root, the gate, the Queen of Heaven from whom that light dawns, and marvel that the child’s name will be Emmanuel—God with us.
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Photo by Fr. Lawrence Lew, O.P. (used with permission)
