The Electric Presence of God: The Shocking Meaning Behind Mary Being ‘Overshadowed’ By Love

A powerful meditation on divine overshadowing, the Trinity’s indwelling and Emmanuel at Christmas.

Annunciation by Giambattista Pittoni, c. 1757. (Photo: Wikimedia Commons / Public Domain)

I’ve always found the Scripture passage in Luke 1 about the Annunciation fascinating and mysterious. After Mary gives her fiat, the Holy Spirit overshadows her, and then voilà! She is pregnant with the Lord.

I’m not sure exactly how that works, though I’ve had some insights lately. The idea of overshadowing felt a little vague until I heard it connected to the Transfiguration. In both events, the verb episkaios, translated as overshadowed, is used.

At the Transfiguration in Luke 9, Jesus asked Peter, James and John to go up the mountain with him. Jesus’ clothes became dazzling white, Moses and Elijah appeared, and a cloud came over them. Now, the NAB version of the Transfiguration we’ve been hearing for decades at Sunday Mass describes a cloud that “cast a shadow” on Peter, James and John. But the RSVCE says, “A cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were afraid as they entered the cloud” (Luke 9:34). So the part where they enter the cloud was lost on me because I was imagining clouds in the sky casting a shadow. But now I’ve connected “overshadowed” to the Annunciation, and the meaning goes so much deeper.

Another translation for episkaios is “to envelop,” which makes more sense in these two passages. The glory cloud of God, the power and presence of the Most High, envelops and immerses Mary at the Annunciation. Similarly, the disciples enter the glory cloud at the Transfiguration. Imagine: as the cloud envelops you, as the glory of God embraces you, you are in union with God. To be enveloped in a cloud is like being surrounded by a mist. Since a cloud is essentially water droplets, you can imagine the mist clinging to your hair, skin and clothes like a wet hug.

Then a voice comes out of the cloud, the one in which the disciples were enveloped. Where would you hear the voice from? I imagine all around you, like a deep bass that you feel inside your chest. You would know you were enmeshed in God’s presence, becoming enfolded and intertwined with the cloud of his glory. This total enmeshment is how Mary can be impregnated with the Word coming from the cloud of God’s presence: it’s a total union.

The idea of a cloud enveloping someone reminds me of a story of the time my husband and his friends got caught in a thunderstorm at the top of Mt. Princeton. While thunderstorms are common in the mountains on summer afternoons, they don’t usually appear out of nowhere at 10 a.m. And when you summit above tree line, there is no hiding from the threat of getting struck by lightning. Your only hope is to drop elevation fast to get back among the trees.

This particular morning, as they realized a thunderstorm was approaching, my husband was the first to start sliding down the mountaintop fast. He also has no hair, but the other two guys reported feeling a tingling on their skin and their hair standing up. The electricity permeated the air, enveloping their bodies. Thankfully, they made it down safely, but the danger was real. To me, that is what a cloud of the Lord’s presence would feel like: exhilarating, permeating, electric and slightly terrifying.

The presence of the Lord in a cloud is not new to these two passages, since a cloud appears often in the Old Testament. When Moses received the Ten Commandments on the top of Mount Sinai, a thick cloud descended on the mountain with thunder and lightning. “And Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke, because the Lord descended upon it in fire; and the smoke of it went up like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain quaked greatly. And as the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him in thunder” (Exodus 19:18-19).

As the Israelites wandered in the desert, God instructed them to build a tent called the tabernacle. When the tabernacle was finished, the cloud covered (or overshadowed) the tent, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle (Exodus 40:34). This overshadowing foreshadows the new Ark of the Covenant, Mary, when she is enveloped with God’s presence at the Annunciation, and gives us insight into our own journey in union with the Lord. The archangel Gabriel tells Mary that the Holy Spirit will come upon her by the power of the Most High (Father), and the Son of God will dwell within her (Jesus). Mary experiences the indwelling of the Trinity, which is the destiny of all the baptized.

Now let’s bring this exegesis to our Christmas experience: the Incarnation changed everything. God became man to dwell with us, and now we receive the gift of his very Body at every Mass. Because he humbled himself in the form of a baby — and now in the form of bread — we don’t have to fear and tremble at the smoke and thunder of the glory cloud.

Yet, if we can imagine ourselves overshadowed in the presence of the Eucharist, with thunder and smoke and fire, it will awaken us to the reality of who is truly before us, wanting to reside within us.

Being overshadowed by love isn’t just for Mary, Peter, James or John. It’s possible for each one of us when we give our fiat and the Trinity comes to dwell in us. “Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will come, and we will come and make our dwelling with him” (John 14:23). To dwell with God, be one with him, and have him abide in us forever: this is the goal of our love.

This is good news. This is joyful news! He has come to dwell in us! We don’t have to be afraid.

God is with us: Emmanuel.

Excerpt adapted from a forthcoming book, Ineffable, to be published by Sophia Press in Fall 2026. All rights reserved.