Today we lit the pink candle, the rose candle on the Advent wreath, not because they were hoping for a girl – as some cartoons have suggested. Since the 10th century, the Third Sunday of Advent has been recognized by the Catholic church as Joy Sunday.

As early as the fifth century, Christians prepared for Christmas much like we prepare for Lent – with a forty-day fast that treated the season with penitence. So a little joy mixed in with the long solemn days of repentance was welcomed.

But now we approach Advent more as a time of reflection and preparation, of expectation and surprise, of rejoicing in what we have and for what is to come. Yet we still keep this reminder that joy is always needed in our lives. In our readings today Paul even though in prison, counsels his followers to. “Rejoice in the Lord always,” and Zephaniah tells his people to rejoice because God is going to bring them home.

John, on the other hand, could stir up anxiety in a New York minute by the way he preaches and that’s what is happening in today’s Gospel story. Eugene Peterson’s The Message puts it this way: “When crowds of people came out for baptism because it was the popular thing to do, John exploded: “’Brood of snakes! What do you think you’re doing slithering down here to the river? Do you think a little water on your snakeskins is going to deflect God’s judgement? It’s your life that must change, not your skin.’”

The crowd, anxious I am sure, began asking questions. I mean after all if you’re being called snakes that slither you’d be wondering just what you could do to make it right…right? So the entire crowd – and the tax collectors and the soldiers all asked, “Then what are we supposed to do?” They were probably bracing themselves for some really hard and drastic changes they would have to make and worrying that they would not be able to make those changes.

And John, for all his bombastic rhetoric, doesn’t tell them, “Oh you better get back to the temple on a regular basis or you better overthrow the Roman Empire (although it needed overthrowing), or you better get out there and totally transform all of Nazareth and beyond. He doesn’t tell them they need to leave their jobs or vocations or homes in order to bring about the kingdom of God.

Instead he speaks to them of everyday behaviors at home or in the work place. He speaks to them of things they can actually do, in their jobs or families or home, wherever they are at the present time. He speaks to them of a way of being that encompasses integrity of action on their part and well-being for others.

He says to the crowd, “If you have two coats, give one away, and do the same with your food." He tells the tax collectors "No more extortion—collect only what is required by law." And he tells the soldiers, “No shakedowns, no blackmail—and be content with your rations." Share what you have – be kind – be honest – be fair – rejoice in what you already have. In your home, in your work-place, in your vocation, live a life of honor, of uprightness, of gentleness, of love. Your life counts, John said to the crowd…Your life counts.

So if we were in that crowd we might ask the same question, “And us, what about us John, what should we do? Do our lives count?” Because we live in a time when doubt is plentiful, people are afraid of not having enough, the war in the Middle East seems hopeless and endless, and we are learning how fragile this precious earth is through the climate changes that are rapidly happening.

Probably like that crowd we could agonize over the huge things we think we should or could be doing to save the world, bring peace, provide health care and education for everyone, end all wars and at the same time fear we are insignificant and inadequate for the job. So John, what shall we do in the Advent of our Lord 2009?

Kathy Beach-Verhey, a contributor to Feasting on the Word, a commentary on the scriptures, writes, “Check out your life in the mirror of how others might see you: ask yourself, ‘Can anyone tell, by observing our lives, that we bear the mark of Christ and are living as his faithful disciples?’” Can anyone tell by observing our lives that we are living as faithful disciples of Christ?

Looking in that kind of mirror can be a scary thing, conjures up images of the queen from Snow White, “Mirror, mirror on the wall – who’s the holiest of them all?” If I look in that mirror and can see my faults and foibles, can others see them? Am I the person people think I am, or I think I am, or have I fooled myself and others?

In these times of fallen heroes, misappropriation of funds, people leading public and secret lives, good questions to ask of ourselves.

How do we make our lives and the lives of others count? What in our lives needs to change or be re-focused or practiced more so that on a day to day basis we make the moments of our lives count and also pay attention to the lives of those around us? What do we need to re-prioritize so we live our lives focused on the love of God, the love and care of neighbor?

So much in this country has already changed in my lifetime. I grew up in an era when everything felt very safe. The Huntley-Brinkley report told me what was going on in the world – or at least as much as we were supposed to know. We trusted our heroes and sheroes, our politicians and stars. And in our house, dinner always, always, was served right after the Huntley-Brinkley report.

During Advent we sang O come, o come Emmanuel even riding in the car. We made those huge, sticky, popcorn balls with molasses or Kayo syrup, wrapped them in the only thing available for such a thing – aluminum foil. I watched for the postman (and it would have been a man) to deliver packages because Aunt Betty always sent a huge box from the one and only magical store in New York – Macy’s.

When we put the manger scene on the top of the mantle, surrounded by cumquat leaves and pine boughs, I knew we were pretty close to Christmas. I loved playing with the figures – moving them all over the place till they were finally settled down for their part in the waiting, with the three magi way off on a window sill, to arrive at another time. On Christmas Eve, before my mother went to the late service – we left out sherry and cookies for Santa (it was an Episcopal household) and I anxiously awaited the arrival of the magic of Christmas morning. It was always very quiet in the house and the smell of the Christmas tree permeated the house.

Now I think the word term aluminum foil is no longer used, those popcorn balls are long out of style but caramel corn or chocolate popcorn can be ordered on the internet. Macy’s is everywhere having taken the place of Burdine’s and Maas Brothers in Florida. There’s more news every night than I can handle – a lot of it being produced more like entertainment than actual news – and I’m told much more than I want or need to know about people’s private lives. But we’re still probably being told only what someone else thinks we ought to know. And we know we’re not safe…not 100% safe at all.

Do households actually sit down at the dinner table anymore? Do people still put out manger scenes on the mantle or somewhere in the house? Are there memories being created from the quiet, the music, the smells and the expectation? There is true joy to be found in breaking bread with family and friends, with talking about the who is in the manger scene and why and when, and there is a deep longing in our souls which is satisfied when we can recall experiences through our senses.

Maybe in the everyday living these are some of the areas of our lives to be examined. How do we live out our lives? Are we gentle as St. Paul suggests. Do we pray for the well-being of others, tell God we are thankful for what we have, and then go into the world to pass along the joy and the hope that abounds in living a life in Christ?

When I was newly divorced and living in Michigan, my children were very young. One of my friends was worried that my children might not have the opportunity to get me a Christmas present. She was not concerned about me – that I might not have a present from them – she was concerned about them not having the experience of giving, of thinking about what they might want to give, of planning, shopping, and finally wrapping something from them. So she expressed to me a desire on her part to remedy the situation. I gave her some money and she took the girls shopping. I think they may have gone to the dollar store. She said they touched and examined everything they saw and with glee finally picked out some ‘beautiful’ ceramic bowl. They wrapped it as only a three and five year old can wrap a present. I treasured the gift but more importantly I treasured that friend who had seen to it that my girls experienced the joy of giving. That friend was living out the faith she professed.

Years later, when my youngest daughter was living with me in Florida, I came home at 1:00 AM after the last Christmas service to find a little wrapped gift laying on my pillow. It was a string of bells with a note that said, “Mom, you make music in my life even when I don’t want to hear it.” I thought back to that friend who had passed on the joy of giving to my daughter.

Such a small thing isn’t it – to show love for each other – to help others experience the joy that comes from living the faith we profess.

We continue to pray for peace and the ending of war because we know that an end is possible. We continue to pray for the well-being of all humanity because we know that it can happen and whenever we contribute in whatever way we can – we are helping this world become a better place today than it was yesterday.

Perhaps the whole world will not over night become restored, where all people will live in freedom from fear, all people have adequate health care and education, all people have a voice in their destinies, and yet, some things do happen, here and there, sometimes even overnight, which are signs to us of hope and joy.

What shall we do? What shall we do? We will do God’s work with willingness, eagerness, love and Joy, living out the faith we profess.