This reflection is the third in my four-part Advent series, which seeks to recover the often-overlooked women at the heart of salvation history. I turn now to Anna. At first glance, her presence in Luke 2:36-38 may seem merely to enhance the sanctity of the presentation scene. Yet a closer reading, attentive to the historical and canonical contexts of Luke’s Gospel and informed by Catholic Social Teaching and feminist theology, reveals Anna as a paradigm of prophetic endurance and gendered resistance.

Luke introduces Anna with striking detail: she is ‘a prophetess’, ‘of the tribe of Asher’, and ‘advanced in years’, having lived with her husband for seven years and then as a widow to the age of eighty-four (Lk 2:36-37). Such specificity is rare for women in the New Testament and anchors Anna within the prophetic lineage of Israel. Her tribal heritage ties her to the deep hopes for national restoration found in Isaiah 11 and Ezekiel 37, positioning her not as a peripheral figure but as a meaningful sign of God’s coming promises. That she is named as a prophetess recalls Miriam, Deborah, and Huldah, situating her within the canon of women who mediate God’s word in moments of crisis (Ex. 15:20; Judges 4:4; 2 Kings 22:14).

Anna’s constant presence in the temple, spanning day and night, is often seen as a sign of deep covenantal devotion. Yet in the social and cultic context of Second Temple Judaism, where sacred authority and temple space were dominated by male priestly structures, Anna’s persistent visibility constitutes a counter-cultural witness. The Greek text says: ‘She did not depart from the hieron.’ This tells us that she remained within the temple precincts, close to the centre of Israel’s worship. She is not cloistered in the Court of Women, nor does she enter the inner sanctuary reserved for priests. Instead, she inhabits the threshold spaces of the temple, where her presence becomes embodied prophecy. When Anna speaks, it is as a witness ‘to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem’ (Lk 2:38). Her proclamation mirrors Simeon’s earlier canticle yet differs crucially: hers unfolds not in ritual performance but in interpersonal testimony, within the ordinary practices of Israel’s covenant life. This quality renders Anna’s voice both radical and accessible, a model of subsidiarity in Catholic Social Teaching, where insight may arise from the margins as much as from official structures (Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, 2004, n.185).

Anna also stands as an example of how social precarity becomes a site of divine action. Her marginal status, as elderly and widowed, amplifies rather than diminishes her authority. Her long vigil in the temple speaks to those who stand at the thresholds of institutional power, reminding us that prophecy and resistance frequently take the form of quiet endurance: women who inhabit contested spaces not through confrontation but through sustained prayerful solidarity. Anna’s witness is echoed today in women who keep vigil outside detention centres or Palestinian mothers watching amid the rubble of their homes. These are activists and women of prayer whose presence becomes a form of resistance.  This steadfastness aligns with the Church’s call to uphold the dignity of the vulnerable and to support those whose perseverance challenges structures of power (Compendium, nn182, 185).

In the Advent season, Anna’s example calls on the Church to recognise the prophetic power in endurance and the strength found in remaining faithful when hope seems distant. Her voice, though quiet and marginalised, heralds the promise of God’s coming through those who keep watch long after others have left. Anna’s theological weight lies not only in what she says, but in where she stands and how long she stays. Anna invites the Church to reimagine witness not as dominance or doctrinal control, but as relational and enduring. In this way, Anna emerges not as a narrative footnote, but as a theological cornerstone. Her presence at the infant Christ’s presentation reminds us that divine recognition often comes through those whose voices have been most at risk of exclusion. She stands as a patron of every woman whose presence defies erasure, and every believer who stays, night and day, long after others have gone.

In my concluding reflection, I turn to St Anne, mother of Mary and grandmother of Jesus, to consider how the enduring faith and quiet labour of older generations nurture growth and sustain communities. 

Dr Amelia Fleming is a lecturer in Theology at Carlow College, St. Patrick’s.