Lectionary Readings: Year A, Third Sunday of Advent
When I was young, the time before Christmas was always an exciting time. My mother always had an Advent Calendar for us, so we could expect something every day until Christmas. But the big work up was for Christmas Eve, when we would go to church and celebrate with what seemed like everyone in the small town I grew up in, in Alaska. It was tradition there for people to bring their presents for family and friends to the church. After the service, designated callers would call out the name of the person who was receiving the gift, and designated runners would run the gifts to the people in the pews. Every now and again, there was a bigger gift, like a fur parka, or mukluks made with seal skin, and everyone would stop and ooh and ahh at the lucky person who was getting the gift. Then we returned to the calling of names, and the running delivery of gifts. Everyone sat in awe, wondering, “I wonder what’s coming out of that back room next?” It was organized chaos, and everyone loved it.
As I’ve gotten older, this sense of anticipation for Christmas has dwindled, if not completely disappeared. Now, I have responsibilities, and am required to be an adult. And rather than relishing in glorious anticipation of the birth of Christ in the flesh, I tend to be more concerned about making sure I’ve contacted friends and family; that I’ve prepared all the liturgies for both Advent and Christmas; that I’ve finalized my sermons; and that I’ve and purchased any gifts that I still need to purchase. It’s just not nearly as fun as being a child, where we spend our time looking forward to the question that marks Christmas, and which is so full of future possibilities in our own lives: “What’s in that box for me?”
Advent has been called a mini-Lent, because it is also a season of penitence. The difference between Lent and Advent is that during Lent, we prepare for Christ’s crucifixion (and then resurrection), while in Advent, we prepare our hearts for Christ’s birth, and in another sense, for Christ’s Second Coming. Accordingly, Advent, while still a penitential season of preparation, is more joyful than Lent because of the anticipation of something new, something greater than ourselves, something that sparks hope for a better future for all God’s children – through our work, and our gifts that allow us to care for all, guided by the love that God has showed us.
In the last reading we had today during our Lessons and Carols, we hear again the story of the Angel Gabriel announcing to Mary that she will be the mother of the Messiah. And her response is at first wonder and awe, and then a humble acceptance and submission to God’s will in the words, “let it be with me according to your word.”
In the first chapter of Luke, we see Mary traveling to visit her cousin Elizabeth. Now, before this meeting between the two women happens, we see that Zechariah, Elizabeth’s husband, has been chosen to enter the temple and offer incense to God. There, the Angel Gabriel appears to him, and tells him that his wife – who is both old, and has been barren her entire life – will bear him a son, and “even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit” (Luke 1:15). A few verses later, we are told that the Angel Gabriel appears to Mary, and tells her that she will bear the son of God. This is after Elizabeth has been pregnant for six months, and so when Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s house, the baby within Elizabeth – filled with the Holy Spirit before his birth – leaps for joy at the presence of the future king of all creation.
But we mustn’t forget that Elizabeth herself was filled with the Spirit, as she recognizes what this thumping in her womb means. She turns to Mary and says, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” (Luke 1:42-43)
It is this proclamation that helps Mary to see the amazing privilege and gift that she has been granted for being the Mother of God, and this realization brings her the peace of mind that allows her to sing this song:
My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; *
for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
From this day all generations will call me blessed: *
the Almighty has done great things for me,
and holy is his Name.
He has mercy on those who fear him *
in every generation.
He has shown the strength of his arm, *
he has scattered the proud in their conceit.
He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, *
and has lifted up the lowly.
He has filled the hungry with good things, *
and the rich he has sent away empty.
He has come to the help of his servant Israel, *
for he has remembered his promise of mercy,
The promise he made to our fathers, *
to Abraham and his children for ever.
– Luke 1:46-55
I look back on my childhood, and I remember the anticipation I felt for the crazy chaos of Christmas Eve. And I look at these passages of scripture we read today, and I see the sheer joy and anticipation in the words of Elizabeth – and in John’s leaping in her womb. I see the peace that has flowed over Mary at the knowledge that God has given her the greatest gift of all humanity in being the mother of the Christ.
I look at this song, and I see in it the future work of God.
And then I remember the hope of our future, the salvation of the world by the child, born in a manger, the greatest gift available to all. And I remember our own mission to care for all God’s children, guided by the greatest gift of love ever given.
And I remember, at those moments, that this amazing gift, and this sense of wonder, and this sense of purpose, can be drowned out by the constant parade of tasks as we try, ironically, to create a sense of wonder for those in our lives whom we love as we prepare the gifts that we wish to give them.
Advent allows us to begin afresh, to feel again the hope and possibility for the work of the church. It allows us to contemplate once again this great gift that comes in the form of a baby, laid in a manger. Will we be able to turn our hearts to this gift, and away from the constant parade of tasks long enough that we, ourselves might be able to sing the words that Mary did – and rejoice both in God’s present and future work?
Will we be able to see that we are a part of this work, and that our gifts to God can fill the church with hope and possibility at the furthering of God’s kingdom? Will we turn away for a moment from those things that seem more important in our own lives, and say, as Mary did to the angel, “Let it be to me, according to your word.”
It is in recognizing this gift of Love from God that we are able to recognize all the gifts that God has given us, and sing these words for ourselves:
My soul magnifies the lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my savior,
who has looked with favor on his lowly servant.
[This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on December 14, 2025.]
