Advent, presumably, has been a time of preparation, a time now drawing to a close. Advent, presumably, has been a time appointed by the Church, and set apart by her faithful, to prepare for the coming of the Lord into our liturgy and lives at the great Christmas Feast, to prepare for his entrance into each trembling heart each day which now remains to us.

Advent, presumably, has been the time to get ready, to prepare ourselves in heart and mind to go to Bethlehem, and see this thing which has come to pass in a manger, and will come to pass in our hearts and hopes, our lives and loves, our concerns and our commitments.

Advent, presumably has been a time well marked, well spent, well observed, well honored, as it has sought through these four Sundays and their dependant weekdays to prepare us, to attempt to prepare us, to assist in preparing us, to remind us to prepare, to require us to prepare, to expect us to prepare.

And now the preparation is over, the preparation draws to a close. The fulfillment of the promise for which we have been readied by Advent is now upon us, the bringing forth of the ancient promise in our Church, and in each of our lives, is now here. Presumably.

Doubtless we presume too much. Once again the Church seems to have presumed too much in her expectations of us, we have presumed too much in regard to what we can do and how faithful we will be this time, that we will prepare well this year, will prepare fully and decently and honorably and devoutly.

And we probably have not. Once again we are probably not well prepared for Christmas, not as prepared as we would have liked to be And certainly not perfectly prepared for Christ. And so the Church, always seeking, perhaps fitfully, but always seeking to be as loving as our Lord, appoints a final consolation at the end of Advent, on the near Eve of the Incarnation, the coming of our Lord among us, the time of Immanuel, appoint lessons of surpassingly consolation, and unimaginable tenderness for our lives and our loves and a world so desperately in need of God, God with us, Immanuel - and the quiet glory of Mary at the moment of the Annunciation.

We who are ourselves perhaps expectant with the promise of God, expecting the fulfillment of his purpose, observe every Fourth and Final Sunday in Advent, this woman who was the first to prepare for the birth of the Savior. Not the first to expect the savior, all Israel had always expected the Savior, the first to actually prepare well and modestly and seriously. To prepare for his appearing, in heart, in her world, in her very life.

Each of us is called, individually and as a Church, as Christians, and as a Community of Christians to bring forth in our lives the promised living Christ, to nurture in our hearts and souls, as Mary did in her womb, the Incarnate saving Word of God, and then to bring that forth, to show him to the world in both our lives, and the lives of those around us, those lives we touch and grace, to make present and real and active the Incarnation of the loving purpose of God and his divine intention, bring that forth into our lives and the life of the world.

And that, presumably, is what Advent has prepared us for, and, presumably, has failed, once again. But not failed fully. There is a partial and winsome success at work among us - we may not be well prepared, but we are well begun.

Mary, blessed above all women, and rejoicing in that blessedness, while acknowledging the accompanying nervousness which seems a necessary consequence of the mighty working of God in our lives, and asking dazed, nearly uncomprehending questions about how all, or any, of this will be, questions and considers, and casts things about in her mind and soul at the same time that she has opened herself to the momentous enterprise of God now at work in her womb, possessing her life.

The Annunciation speaks of the Incarnation not yet fully brought forth, the Christ implicit, developing, growing, only just begun. The end of Advent probably finds Christ in us in some similar state of development. We may not yet be well prepared to bring forth in our lives, to show forth in our faith, to set forth in our love, the full developed Incarnation, the Christ ready for manifestation.

What is proclaimed in the tender and powerful Annunciation to Mary is not the full story, or the final story or the completed demonstration of either Mary's faith or God's power. It is just the beginning.

So it may be, on this Sunday, for us, note the gloriously wrought, fully fashioned fulfillment of all our preparations, but the realization and the acknowledgement that Christ is in our lives, at the core of our being, though he may be as deeply obscured in our lives as he is in the womb of Mary.

The full season of Advent presumably hoped that we would be prepared or close to prepared or almost nearly prepared, but the Fourth Sunday of Advent no longer presumes, that we are prepared, or will be prepared to bring forth Christ. It reminds us, finally and just in time, that GOD is prepared. And that is enough.

Regardless of what we have done, or left undone, or not yet done, God will bring forth in us according to his word.

It is important for us to keep in mind always, but so very important for us to remember right now, in our lives together as a parish, that closing reassurance to Mary and to us - "with God, nothing is impossible."