The Feast of the Presentation, Year A

Luke 2:22-40                                                                                                   

   

Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed-- and a sword will pierce your own soul too." (Luke 2:34-35)

This morning’s gospel is really part two of the Christmas story.  You may remember that last week we had Jesus all grown up, an adult and calling to his first disciples to get out of their boats and get to work.  But now we’ve jumped backwards 30 years and are again with that cuddly swaddled baby.  Will Ferrell of “Talladega Nights” would be pleased.

That’s because it is the Feast of the Presentation, which rarely falls on a Sunday.  In most Protestant churches this story is told on the Sunday after Christmas, as the next action of the family.  But we Episcopalians – being Protestant and Catholic – on that day, we always hear the prologue of John.

So here we are a month out from Christmas and Jesus hasn’t called his first disciples or even taken his first steps.  And the action of the story is Jesus being presented to God – but the good news of the story comes from the actions and reactions of the supporting cast.

Perhaps you noticed that word – law – repeated several times in this passage.  Mary and Joseph are following the law, the prescribed rituals of their Jewish faith.  After a woman gives birth she is to go to the temple for purification.  After a male child is circumcised he is to be presented in the temple in a symbolic action that gives the child to God. (We kind of do that in baptism, but it’s different) The author is combining the two to make the point that Mary and Joseph are devout.  They do what they are supposed to do when they are supposed to do it. 

And we learn something else.  What you are supposed to bring to the temple for this, is a lamb.  Unless one is too poor to do so in that case, the sacrifice of the turtledoves and pigeons will suffice.  We are again reminded that Jesus was born into poverty.

And it’s kind of interesting that Mary and Joseph even follow through with this whole ceremony.  Because if we think back to Christmas Eve when we hear part one of this long passage, you know when they are on a hillside in a region where there are shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night – when an angel of the Lord stood before them and the glory of the Lord shone ‘round about them to announce – Good news – don’t be afraid – for to you born this day is the Messiah – and suddenly there is a heavenly host of angels proclaiming – Glory to God in the highest and peace to God’s people on earth!

That’s a pretty big deal, yes!  That sort of holy proclamation that their baby is a Messiah!

Why, do they bother with taking the baby to the temple when they got that?  I mean, have you ever been to a church service on a Saturday, like for a wedding and thought – eh, I don’t need to go on Sunday – Saturday/Sunday – that’s pretty close. 

So we learn something else, the mountain top experiences don’t seem to keep Mary and Joseph from following through on the ordinary ones.

Now a few weeks ago on the Feast of the Epiphany, you heard Josh preach about the wacky Magi, also known as the wise men, and their very strange gifts for a baby.  Imagine, he said, you’re at a baby shower and the expectant mom opens a gift bag of spices, on top of a bar of gold.  That would be a very weird gift.

Well, now imagine you’re at a baptism and a strange old man, comes over, takes the baby, lifts him high and starts singing, “Thanks be to God – now, Lord, I can die! Now I can go in peace because I have seen the salvation of all people in this child, prepared in the presence of the whole world!!”

If that happened at a baptism here – awkward silence, before I started rambling in an attempt to move it along.  So I guess we can only assume Mary and Joseph are just used to strange gifts, and very strange things happening around their child by now; for they are filled with wonder and amazement. 

And in their amazement they accept Simeon’s blessing but it is attached to a warning.  This child is destined for amazing things – but mom, you are destined to know pain in your soul because of it all.

There is something I hear so often, and I’ll bet many of you do too.  When I tell someone what I do, or that I go to church, or believe in God – a response I often get is, “Well, I can’t believe in God.  There are just too many horrible things that happen in the world.”

I tend to keep silent and just nod my head.  The correlation of these two things just doesn’t make sense to me.  Did Mary and Joseph go to the temple and fulfill their religious obligations because they believed to do so would protect them from the challenges and difficulties of life?  Do we?

I hear echoes of Simeon’s words at every child’s baptism.  For we all know loving – particularly loving a child – will bring pain to our hearts, whether or not they are a Messiah.  And isn’t it in the temple, in the church, when we come before God with our prescribed words that we acknowledge God is the constant.  God is with us in times of joy and in the times of sorrow. 

Since God’s children share flesh and blood, Jesus himself likewise shared the same things – we heard from Hebrews.  This scene in the temple is all about God’s humanity.  Mary and Joseph didn’t disregard what they were supposed to do because Jesus – was, well – Jesus with all that accompanied his birth.  But because he was a boy, a baby, flesh and blood.

When people say, I don’t believe in God because there’s too much bad stuff in the world – what is the god they picture?  A magician?  A super-hero?  Or genie from a fairytale?  Do they imagine a god who floats above us on a magic carpet in the sky withholding some magic power that would solve all our problems and all the world’s issues?

That’s not the God that gave us Jesus.  A person who did not fix every problem he encountered.  Who did not answer every question he was asked.  Who did not heal every hurt that crossed his path.  Jesus, flesh and blood – fully human – who presented himself before the whole world – not the king of glory triumphant – but accused, alone, broken and ashamed – nailed, flesh and blood, to a cross – saying, Father forgive them, it is finished.  And leaving the forgiving business to us.

But not, leaving us alone.  We cannot forget Anna – the prophet.  Surely, she was homeless because it says she lived at the temple, a widow who relied on the generosity from people like Mary and Joseph.  She completes the scene because she sings about Jesus from then on.  To all who enter looking for redemption she points to the person of Jesus as the living answer to what they seek.

We are the flesh and blood people who point to God through Jesus.  We too follow the rituals, say the prayers, do what it is we’re supposed to do when we’re supposed to do it.  Not because we believe it will protect us from the many swords that will pierce our souls – but to help us remember God constant.  God is always there yearning to help us see the light shining in the midst of any darkness. 

And every day, we present ourselves to God.  As we do I pray we follow the example of Mary and Joseph’s devotion and humility.  I pray we we risk the craziness of Simeon’s song of praise and joy.  And I pray we remember we are prophets like Anna – who can say to all we meet – you have got to meet this guy who transformed my life – Jesus.  The real-life, flesh and blood Jesus who longs to be with us, not to fix all our problems, but to walk the walk beside us; helping us see that love, that acceptance, that redemption that all of us are longing and looking for.  Amen.

- The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks