Do Not Fear: Listen and Speak

This is the sermon for Advent 1, preached on November 30, 2025 by the Rev. Marissa Galván Valle, based on Luke 1: 26-56.

Fear is Real

In her foundational essay for the study we’ve chosen for this Advent season, MaryAnn McKibben Dana writes that...

“the reminder not to be afraid is one of the pivotal threads in the Bible, along with the commandment to love and the assertion that God is abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.”

Why do you think that is?

Throughout Scripture, there are many moments when God calls someone to do something extraordinary—something that stretches them beyond what they had planned or prepared for. Think about a roller coaster, for example. You could say it offers a kind of “manufactured fear.” We know what we’re getting into. We anticipate the experience, feel the rush of adrenaline, and often enjoy it afterward—even if, for some of us, it feels like we’re going to pass out.

But the fear of the unknown, the kind that comes out of nowhere—that’s different. That kind of fear is raw, disorienting, and deeply real.

I believe Mary encountered that kind of fear—a real fear—when the angel appeared to her on that amazing moment that the passage describes today.

Why Was Mary Afraid?

Why was Mary afraid? We may know some of the reasons, but it’s good to remember them.

First, she encountered a messenger from God. No one expects an angel to appear in real life. That would scare the crap out of anyone! Angelic appearances in Scripture almost always provoke fear. And if Mary had paid attention to the stories her family told about Moses, Isaiah, or Jeremiah, she would have known that divine messengers often bring life-altering news—frequently calling people into difficult or even dangerous paths.

Second, as we may know, Mary was a young woman in a vulnerable position. She was likely a teenager, betrothed but not yet married—without the full protection that came with marriage. When the angel told her what God intended, she must have remembered that pregnancy outside of marriage could lead to social disgrace, rejection, or even death. And she belonged to an economic class that made her especially exposed. This calling wasn’t just intimidating—it was dangerous.

Third, she was asked to do the impossible. Gabriel told her she would conceive without a man, bear a child, and that this child would be called the Son of the Most High. No pressure! But her honest response—«How can this be?»—was not necessarily a sign of disbelief, but rather an acknowledgment of human limitation in the face of divine mystery.

Fourth, even as a teenager, she might have understood the cost of saying yes. She might have known that accepting this call would change everything: her body, her relationships, her social standing, her connection to her family—her entire future.

And still, she amazes me. She amazes us. Because her response to this overwhelming call is: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Listen

How can Mary answer in such a way? She is no different from you or me. She is not holier than we are. In our tradition, she is not a saint or a superhuman. So how does she show such maturity and assurance in the midst of fear?

MaryAnn McKibben Dana notes that author and researcher Brené Brown often asks a question during interviews for her podcast that may be helpful for us too: “You have to be brave, but the fear is real; you can feel it in your throat. What’s the very first thing you do?”

There are many possible answers to that question. Prayer might be one. Breathing might be another. You might talk to someone, focus on something else, or—as my therapist says—remember that feelings are not facts. But McKibben Dana proposes that the Biblical response to fear is to listen.

That sounds beautiful and true. But here’s the problem: when we’re afraid, we often listen to the wrong things. We listen to our anxiety. We listen to our stress. We listen to the voices in our heads that tell us everything will go wrong, or that we’re not capable of doing what we’ve been asked to do. Listening beyond those voices is hard. It requires a kind of intentionality that can be exhausting.

And yet… we need to listen.

We need to practice the art of listening, because in listening, we may discover that some of our worst fears aren’t even real. There are many reasons why listening is a wise response to fear. Listening opens us to God’s presence. Our instinct when we’re afraid is often to panic, shut down, or flee. But Mary doesn’t flee. She listens. She asks questions, gathers information, and keeps listening. Listening—in prayer, in silence, or in honest conversation—creates space for God to speak. And when God speaks, we may find peace and purpose, even during our fear.

Listening also helps redirect our attention. When fear traps me, the “what if” thoughts take over—always negative ones. But listening helps me (and us) shift from the chaos of catastrophic thinking to the stillness of truth:

The plane is not going to crash.

The car is not going to wreck.

I will not fear, for God is with me.

Hearing God’s presence is healing. We are not alone.

When Mary listens beyond her fear to hear God’s plan, she realizes she won’t be alone—and that this call is holy.

Listening also helps us discern between fact and feeling. Some fears are appropriate; they help us respond to real danger. But not every fear is grounded in truth. Some fears come from isolated experiences that don’t need to define our future. Others are rooted in trauma, assumptions, or lies. Some are fed by prejudice or outside pressure. Spiritual listening helps us tell the difference between what’s truly dangerous and what’s simply unfamiliar, uncomfortable, or untrue.

And finally, listening connects us—to God and to one another. Fear isolates. Listening reconnects.

Mary listens to the angel, but she also seeks connection, traveling to see Elizabeth. When we listen to someone else’s story—or when someone listens to ours—fear loosens its grip. We find community. We find hope. We find peace. And we hear God’s voice in the love and care of those who are called to walk with us.

McKibben Dana describes Mary’s listening in this passage as the kind of listening that helps us face our fears: listening that is open, curious, and attentive to God’s voice. This kind of listening cuts through our desire to control everything and leads us to trust, to flexibility—to the deep knowing that God has called us and that God has a plan, even when we don’t yet understand it.

Listening Invites a Faithful Response

Another gift of listening is that it invites a faithful response.

Mary’s words—«Let it be with me according to your word»—are only possible because she listens first.

Her bold declaration—«He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty» —is possible because she listens first.

Listening allows her to speak.

Listening allows her to grasp the magnitude of what God is doing in and through her.

And listening allows her to proclaim words that still echo today—words that give us hope and strength.

Rainstick Baptism

A long time ago, while I was on a trip, I bought a rainstick. It’s a long, hollow tube made from dried cactus and partially filled with small pebbles or rice. The most beautiful thing about a rainstick is the sound it makes—it really does sound like rain. And rain is one of those sounds we often turn to for relaxation, even to help us fall asleep. But to truly appreciate it, you have to listen—paying attention to every drop.

In South America, rainsticks are believed to have been created by the Mapuche people. They were traditionally played with the hope of bringing rainstorms. And for those who lived by planting and harvesting the land, rain was and is a vital gift—one that sustains life.

I mention this because during Advent, we’ll be reflecting on water and baptism. The story we heard today doesn’t involve water, but it does involve listening—and remembering. Just as a rainstick reminds us of rain and its importance, listening to stories like Mary’s reminds us that we are not alone—and that we will never be alone.

Do not fear! We are not just one voice. We are many. God is with us.

The rain will fall to nourish the earth and bring forth a harvest.

Justice will roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

And God called Mary to do something frightening at a time when the people felt like God had left them in the wilderness, and that there was no justice. Nevertheless, she listened… with intention, with commitment and with dedication. And she remembered the things that God had done for God’s people… remembered God’s covenant… remembered God’s love… and she responded—with faith, with courage, and with gratitude—for the calling to be the mother of Jesus, our Savior.