Mary's "Here I Am": The Beginning of a New Story
"Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word." With these words from Mary begins a new, decisive chapter in human history and in our path toward salvation. Each word carries profound meaning—a mirror for every Christian confronting their own calling, and especially for us young people, who in these years must make important choices. Choices that should reflect the faith we profess.
This is no easy path. Often doubt and uncertainty overwhelm us. We struggle to surrender completely to God's plan for each of us, as if we fear the consequences of our yes. But Mary, with her "Here I am," offers the highest example of a human being who welcomes—even without fully understanding it—her vocation, the purpose she was called to: to become the mother of God.
Mary: A Model of Accepting One's Calling
The Annunciation is a story about vocation, and so it speaks to all of us, because we all bear a calling, a summons from God. In different ways, God has sent an angel to each of us with a message. Our whole life is simply our answer to that call.
We should follow Mary to learn how to say yes, to learn the "Here I am." What has always struck me most is the great freedom God grants us. The Almighty speaks, asks, even offers signs—but does not compel. Mary does not feel forced. She knows who asks her to accept this sublime mystery within herself: it is God in person, whom she has loved with her whole being since the beginning and in whom she has absolute trust.
Though she knew nothing of what would come to pass, though she could not foresee the consequences of her answer, Mary said yes to the angel: an unconditional yes, bending her will to God's, who among all women had chosen her—the humblest, the simplest, the most good—to become the Mother of God.
The Annunciation is a story about vocation, and so it speaks to all of us, because we all bear a calling, a summons.
The Annunciation is a story about vocation, and so it speaks to all of us, because we all bear a calling, a summons.Mary's Vocation and the Role of Woman
Rereading the Annunciation, one word has always struck me deeply: "servant." The angel is sent to Nazareth—to the "land of humility"—because it was in humility that Mary's vocation was born. Her greatness lies precisely in her humility.
Mary does not grow proud because of God's favor toward her. She knows herself to be both protagonist and servant of God's will. This is why she freely, spontaneously chooses to say her yes. In us, it is pride that blocks the openness of our freedom, that keeps us from a loyal yes, a true "Here I am."
Mary's "Here I am" is utterly loyal, without limits or hesitation. It is clear and unclouded—so different from our yes. Ours is often clouded by fear, by doubt, as if we cannot fully trust God, cannot accept the plan he has for each of us. Perhaps that is why we shut the door on true happiness.
God stands at the door and knocks. It is up to us, to our will, to open it and say "Here I am."
In the angel's message there is something important: the mention of Elizabeth, which connects two events across history that belong to one single design. Mary would have known about Elizabeth. John would be born to prepare the way for Jesus's coming.
Before Mary's calling came Elizabeth's calling, because no vocation stands alone—not even Mary's. Everything moves according to a design in which vocations must converge to form one complete picture.
In different ways, God has sent an angel to each of us with a message. Our whole life is simply our answer to that call.
In different ways, God has sent an angel to each of us with a message. Our whole life is simply our answer to that call.Mary's encounter with the angel changed history. When the Son of God began to live in her womb, something extraordinary happened—something destined to overturn how we understand all future events. God revealed himself in history, coming to be part of it. And he chose a simple Jewish girl to be the vessel.
To grasp the full weight of this event, we must understand the role and status of women in first-century Jewish society. First: Jewish women of Jesus's time were forbidden religious education. The rabbis justified this by pointing to Scripture: "You shall teach [the words of God] to your children" (Deuteronomy 11:19). If the Lord had wanted the teaching extended to daughters, they reasoned, he would have said so. Women had no public role in their community. When they left home, they kept their faces veiled, hidden from view. Moreover, because of their biological condition, women lived in a state of perpetual impurity (Leviticus 15:19–30) and were considered the humans farthest from God. In Jewish society, the birth of a daughter was seen as a genuine catastrophe. The Book of Sirach puts it starkly: "A daughter is a secret anxiety to her father, and worry over her robs him of sleep; when young, for fear she may not marry, or if married, for fear she may be childless; while a wife, for fear of unfaithfulness, or, when a widow, for fear of want. Keep strict watch over a headstrong daughter, or she may make you a laughing-stock to your enemies" (Sirach 42:9–10).
Against this cultural backdrop, what stands out is how extraordinary—how radical—is the prominence given to women in the Gospels and the role reserved for Mary in particular. To her, God entrusts the destiny of all. Through her yes, the fruit of free and obedient faith, Mary became the "new Eve," mother of all the living.
Mary's Example in Life and Faith
It is striking to consider the profound difference in the choices made by two women so important to human history: Eve and Mary. Eve, deceived by the speech of an angel—Lucifer—turned away from God, broke his word, and lost true freedom. Mary received the message of another angel—Gabriel—and in obeying his word, she restored to all of us that same freedom by which we call ourselves children of God, and truly are. Just as Eve's wrong choice cast us into sin, so Mary's free and joyful yes laid the foundation for Christ to renew the covenant and redeem us from sin.
Mary's example is deeply important to me: just as she accepted God's plan without understanding it, I live my disability as the design he has for me.
Mary's example is deeply important to me: just as she accepted God's plan without understanding it, I live my disability as the design he has for me.All of this has changed, I believe, the way we live our faith in God. It transformed human life. It moved us to turn to Mary, our heavenly mother, to ask her to intercede for us with the Father.
Over the centuries, the Church has looked to Mary as a model to follow—for her strength and gentleness, her simplicity and resolve. In short, for being different and special. I too am different, because I am a disabled girl, a quadriplegic, and those who know me consider me special.
Mary's example matters deeply to me. Just as she accepted God's plan without understanding it, I live my disability as the design he has for me. I have accepted my condition without fully grasping it, but I am convinced that wanting to comprehend all of God's plans is a sign of arrogance—as if we wanted to be like God, all-powerful and all-knowing.
I often ask myself what the meaning of my life is. Through prayer and the support of my wonderful family, I have come to understand that each of us fulfills God's will only by opening ourselves and giving ourselves generously to others, regardless of the limits we face. Prayer, I believe, is essential in this journey. It is what allows us to listen with our hearts to the one who speaks to us. Only by finding silence within can we dialogue with God and discover the vocation to which we are called—so that, as Mary invites us at Cana, we might "do whatever he tells you."
– Arianna Giuliano, 2013 (n.124)