How being a 'slave of God' is a declaration of female independence
The Annunciation: we say the Angelus less than we did in the past, but there is no updated version in common use.
At the Annunciation – which the Church celebrates on 25 March each year - Mary responds to the visit of the Angel Gabriel by totally dedicating herself to God. Does she become God’s ‘handmaid’, as we pray in the Angelus? Or ‘servant’? Or is a different word required?
At midday sharp, when I was at school, we used to leap up from our
desks and say the Angelus. “Behold the handmaid of the Lord, Be it done
unto me according to thy word.” Even at that time I was not enamoured of
the desire to be a handmaid, and I resented having the motto “I will
serve” emblazoned on my breast pocket, even if it was in Latin
(Serviam).
Since the publication of Margaret Atwood’s
eye-opening novel The Handmaid’s Tale, about the cruel abuse of
handmaids, echoing much biblical material, it should have become
impossible to go on using the term. But the practice has not entirely
ceased. We say the Angelus less than we did in the past, but there is no
updated version in common use. “We translate the word more politely as
‘handmaiden’,” wrote Raymond Brown in 1985, “but Mary speaks of the
female slave.” The word, in Greek, is doule (δο?λη). The polite
translation “handmaiden” conjures up, perhaps, a romanticised image of a
young and pretty girl, devoted to her master, handing around a plate of
choice pastries to the guests. Women’s work. Every man would like to
have a handmaiden to bring joy into his life.
More recent years
have seen a decline of “handmaid” in modern biblical translations of
Luke 1, and this is not so much because of changing views of women’s
work or better biblical scholarship (though those factors also play a
small part) but principally because the language is archaic. But then
all the language of the “Hail Mary” is archaic. We continue to say at
every Mass: “Blesséd art thou amongst women,” even though four of the
five words are archaic.
“Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord” (Luke 1:38; RSV) has been
replaced in our Bibles by: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord” (NRSV,
and “servant” is also the translation in the RNJB, NIV, Good News and
ESV). And there has been a small flurry of scholars explaining that this
is actually a better translation, because it relates Mary of Nazareth’s
role to that of a distinguished line of men who called themselves, or
were called, God’s servants (douloi), ranging from Abraham,
Moses, Joshua, David, Daniel and Jonah in the Old Testament to Peter,
Paul, Timothy, James, Jude and John in the New Testament. Prophets as
such are identified as God’s slaves in both the Old and New Testaments
(2 Kings 9:7; Revelation 10:7). But in the whole New Testament, the
title “God’s doule” in the feminine form is applied to only one woman: Mary of Nazareth, in Luke.
So,
Richard Bauckham, former professor of New Testament at St Andrews,
points out in Gospel Women: “The title ‘servant’ of God is certainly not
demeaning” but is “an honorific title that puts Mary in the company of
the special ‘servants’ of God, the great leaders of God’s people, active
agents of his salvific acts.”
Indonesian Professor Tabita
Kartika Christiani agrees: “The use of the word ‘servant’ for Mary is
very important and special … The word ‘handmaid’ connotes ‘domestic
helper’ … rather than Lord’s servant in theological sense like δο?λος of
God.” She goes on to deduce further consequences for ministry today. In
Protestant Churches, she says, “the ordained minister is particularly
called a ‘servant of God’ or a ‘servant of the Lord’. The translation
and connotation of δο?λη as handmaid finds fertile soil in Churches that
do not ordain women. By not emphasising Mary as the servant of God –
like the male apostles – there is no role model for ordained women from
the Bible” (“In God’s Image”).
The problem with the word “slave”
is self-evident. The word has such negative connotations from the
horrific colonial practice of slavery in the past, and of
people-trafficking in the present, that we want nothing to do with it.
“The degradations of slavery, including violence,” says Elizabeth A.
Johnson, “enormously complicate its use as a metaphor for relationship
to God.” This is compounded for women insofar as their role was not just
feeding and cleaning their masters but also “servicing them sexually”
(Truly Our Sister). She concludes: “The master-slave relationship, now
totally abhorrent in human society,” is “no longer suitable as a
metaphor for relationship to God, certainly not in feminist theological
understanding.” Traditional demands for women’s “obedience to male
authority figures, be they God, husband, or priest, make women shudder
before this text and reject it as dangerous to physical and
psychological health”.
By contrast, when St Paul repeatedly
describes himself in the opening of his letters as the doulos of Jesus
Christ or the doulos of God, then “interpreters think of ministry and
office rather than of humble obedience”. The moral seems to be that
since Paul’s role (and that of all the other male douloi of God
mentioned above) is usually translated as “servant”, then Mary of
Nazareth’s words should similarly be translated as “the Lord’s servant”.
So that’s sorted then: not “handmaid” but “servant”. Or is it?
Two problems remain. One is that the Greek – whether for Mary of
Nazareth or for Abraham, David, Paul, etc. – does not quite mean
“servant”, which would more normally be pais (πα?ς, e.g. Matthew 8:6), or paidiske ( παιδ?σκη,
e.g. Luke 22.56) for a girl; doule more accurately means “slave” in the
feminine form, corresponding to doulos in the masculine form. The other
problem is that it is not altogether clear why “God’s servant” should
be such an honorific title. On both these counts, I consider “God’s
slave” a better translation, but this needs some explanation. Beverly
Roberts Gaventa – one of the new generation of Protestant women
producing insights on Mary of Nazareth – is the only person I am aware
of who has put her finger on the solution: “If Mary is God’s slave, then
she cannot at the same time be the slave of human beings” (Mary:
Glimpses of the Mother of Jesus).
St Paul speaks of the paradox whereby slaves in earthly terms are
free in God’s eyes, while free people who commit to Christ become his
slaves (1 Corinthians 7:22). In the words of St Augustine, later taken
up in The Book of Common Prayer, God’s service is perfect freedom. The
resistance to applying “slave of the Lord” to Mary arises, says Roberts
Gaventa, “because generations of Christians have seen Mary as a model or
example for all women and have distorted her slavery to the Lord to
mean the subjection of women in general to men in general”. But that is a
misinterpretation. In fact, the translation “slave” of God claims more
privilege for Mary than “servant” of God. “To translate ‘servant’ is to
misconstrue Mary’s role as that of one who has chosen to serve rather
than one who has been chosen.” Far from presenting her as submissive and
deferential, Luke is giving Mary of Nazareth a role of independence not
usually claimed by women of his day. When she marries, her husband does
not have rights over her in the way that husbands normally did at that
time, for she belongs to God, not to Joseph. She is the protagonist of a
new era of female slaves of God, when – in the words of the prophet
Joel – God pours out the Holy Spirit on to women as well as men so that
both become prophets (Acts 2:18).
There are, in fact, three
modern translations of the New Testament that use the translation
“slave” in Luke 1:38. One is by the English Jesuit Nicholas King: “Look,
the Lord’s slave-woman.” Another is the Scholars Version: “Behold the
Lord’s slave.” The third is by David Bentley Hart: “See: the slave of
the Lord.” All these translations are particularly aimed at being
faithful to the original text. Mary of Nazareth’s role as a female slave
of God is not entirely unprecedented, for Hannah had called herself
God’s slave, too, and she became the mother of the great prophet Samuel,
again through divine intervention (1 Samuel 1:11). The echo of Hannah
is clear, for Mary’s Magnificat is modelled on Hannah’s paean of praise
when she has borne her son and commended him to the Temple. “My heart
exults in the Lord,” says Hannah. And Mary says: “My soul magnifies the
Lord,” proclaiming for a second time her intimate relationship with God,
who has looked with favour on “his slave” (Luke 1:46-48). In both
cases, the women are speaking as prophets.
Clearly, if we call
Mary of Nazareth and Hannah slaves of God, we have to use that
translation, too, for Abraham, Moses, David, Paul and the other men who
have been called the douloi of God. The three translations mentioned
generally do this (although Nicholas King is inconsistent, and the other
two translations do not cover the Old Testament). The word “slave” will
inevitably have shock value for us, and it will feel uncomfortable at
first because it is unfamiliar. But if we can overcome that initial
reaction, we will be helped into a healthier interpretation of the
Annunciation story, for no one is going to accuse Moses and Paul and
those other towering men of being weak, submissive and passive. Yes,
they were obedient to God’s will – but that obedience required
tremendous strength and initiative.
Do we not all pray to place
ourselves entirely in God’s hands, to give everything to God and to have
our will conformed to God’s will? In the words of St Ignatius’ famous
prayer, we say: “Take, Lord, and receive all my liberty.” A servant
gives limited service to a master: certain hours, in return for pay. But
a slave belongs totally to the master, every moment of the day. When
Mary of Nazareth claims for herself the title “the Lord’s slave”, she is
not only expressing her total conformity to God’s will; she is also
declaring to any man who might seek her compliance: “Hands off! I belong
to God!” Being a slave of God is the ultimate declaration of female
independence.
One artist who has powerfully expressed the “slave
of God” response of Mary at the Annunciation is Nicolas Poussin. His
unusual presentation, dated 1657 on the painting itself, can be seen in
London’s National Gallery. It shows Mary of Nazareth in mystical
ecstasy, and, apart from her eyes, everything about her is open: her
mouth, her arms, her hands, even her knees, as she sits barefoot and
cross-legged on a cushion in a darkened room, her garments loose at the
neckline, her head tilted back, a blush on her cheeks. Here is the
Lord’s slave in pure receptivity. Yet already there is a hint of the
mission to come, as the dove above her is upright, as though about to
soar and to bring her up with it.
A rather different emphasis of Mary of Nazareth as God’s slave can be
found in an illumination by the Flemish master Gerard Horenbout about
135 years earlier (British Library). This time, the status of God’s
slave has a stronger sense of promulgation. Erect, dignified and
tranquil as she kneels on her cushion, with one hand on her breast and
the other on the word of God, the dove of the Spirit hovers over her,
equally balanced between descent and ascent, while a massive
rainbow-coloured halo emits golden rays to the world. This is the first
illustration of the Hours of the Virgin, and the words immediately
following the picture are (in Latin), “Lord (Domine), open my lips and
my mouth will announce (annunciabit) your praise.” Here is Mary of
Nazareth receiving her prophetic ministry, which she is to exercise
immediately afterwards in proclaiming the Magnificat.
Mary of
Nazareth, like Hannah and David before her, and Peter and Paul after
her, is a slave of God, an example of total dedication to God, leading
to courageous and active ministry. If we are to continue the parallel to
Paul, the Annunciation is her Damascus experience, the moment when she
is bowled over by God and when her life takes a new turn.
Filled
with the Spirit, everything she does now is an expression of God’s
action in her. God’s “handmaid”, or God’s “servant”, is not good enough
for her. She is more than that. She belongs totally to God. Her entire
life is God’s work. She is no man’s servant, because she is God’s slave.
Margaret Hebblethwaite is writing a book about the women in the gospels.
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