MOST PEOPLE, at one time or another, have had the uncanny experience of déjà vu, which is French for “already seen.” It’s a disquieting state of confusion in which you’re certain that you’re looking at something that’s new to you but are nevertheless haunted with a feeling of familiarity. I know I’ve never been here before, you think to yourself; but it feels so familiar. It’s creeping me out…

Various theories have been advanced and none proven. Apart from odd cases in which the experience seems to have been triggered by a reaction to medication, the most likely explanation is a momentary brain glitch. Conscious awareness, after all, is only the tiniest tip of our mental iceberg. Our brain perceives a scene unconsciously and selects what we should pay attention to before we notice that filtered perception consciously. It’s possible, then, that the unconscious perception somehow makes a ghostly memory that creates the strange sense of having already seen what we’re now seeing.

We may never know for certain how it happens; it seems unlikely that we’ll ever catch someone having an experience of déjà vu while they’re lying in a brain scanner. But the most likely explanation is a momentary brain glitch.

Wait…haven’t I heard that sentence before?

. . .

IMAGINE, THEN, READING the gospel of Luke for the first time. You read the opening scenes: the story of the angel Gabriel’s announcement to Zechariah the priest, followed by the responses of both Zechariah and Elizabeth.

Then you put the story aside for a month before picking up where you left off, beginning with the angel’s appearance to a virgin named Mary. Even if you’ve never read the story of Mary before, you would probably be struck with that odd sense of familiarity: Haven’t I read this before? You might even turn back a page, wondering if you put your bookmark in the wrong place.

That feeling of familiarity would be well justified, and no brain scanner would be needed to explain it. Luke seems to intentionally follow the same pattern in the second story that he used in the first, as if using a fill-in-the-blank template. He begins by introducing his main characters: first, Zechariah and Elizabeth, then Mary. Gabriel appears, and the people react. He calls them by name, telling them not to be afraid, then promises them each a son. They react to the promise in a way that’s not immediately believing. And finally, Gabriel responds to their objections and leaves.

The story of Gabriel’s appearance to Mary has traditionally been known as the Annunciation—essentially, “the Announcement” with a capital A. The story of Zechariah and Elizabeth is also an annunciation story, but in Luke, it points forward to the Annunciation, the good news of the coming of the one who will occupy center stage for the rest of the gospel narrative. Here’s how the second annunciation story begins:

In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, God sent the angel Gabriel to Nazareth, a town in Galilee, to a virgin pledged to be married to a man named Joseph, a descendant of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favored! The Lord is with you.” (Luke 1:26-28, NIV)

From the beginning, Luke ties Mary’s story to Elizabeth’s: “In the sixth month of Elizabeth’s pregnancy…” Luke doesn’t actually use the words “of Elizabeth’s pregnancy,” but that’s surely what he means. At six months, Elizabeth’s pregnancy would now be obvious to all, and she has come out of seclusion.

Again, we can already see the parallels between the two annunciations. Just as God sent Gabriel to Zechariah, so too does he send the angel to Mary. Earlier, we were told repeatedly how impossible it would be for Elizabeth to get pregnant; here, we’re told twice that Mary is a virgin.

But the parallels serve to make the differences stand out. Gabriel’s appearance to Zechariah occurred in Jerusalem, in the temple, in the Holy Place—only the nearby Holy of Holies itself would be a more sacred space. But the angel’s appearance to Mary takes place in Galilee, a region that residents of Jerusalem would have considered out in the boonies. Zechariah is of the house of Aaron; but Joseph is of the house of David, since the Messiah was expected to come from David’s line.

And while Luke tells us that Elizabeth was also of the line of Aaron, nothing is said of Mary’s heritage. Indeed, earlier, Luke seemed to be at pains to describe Zechariah and Elizabeth as righteous and worthy. But here, he tells us nothing that would lead us to expect that Mary would be “highly favored” by God—despite the fact that she will be the one to bring the Messiah into the world.

Not surprisingly, Mary herself is confused by Gabriel’s words:

Mary was greatly troubled at his words and wondered what kind of greeting this might be. But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over Jacob’s descendants forever; his kingdom will never end.” (vss. 29-33)

Luke says that Mary is “greatly troubled,” as well she should be. It’s the only use of the word in the New Testament, and describes someone who is deeply perplexed or agitated. Like Zechariah, Mary is startled and fearful at the sudden appearance of a heavenly being, and again, Gabriel has to say, “Don’t be afraid.” He promises that she will become pregnant with a son and instructs her to name him Jesus. The Hebrew equivalent of the name means “God saves,” and Gabriel’s language is clearly messianic; her son will be the king whose rule will never end.

That’s quite the announcement. And now, the question is: how will she respond? Will she respond as Zechariah did? Let’s find out.