Presenting Ourselves to God

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, the parents of Jesus brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, "Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord"), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, "a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons." Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

"Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."

And the child's father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then 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."

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel,  of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.'

--Luke 2: 22-40

The Presentation of Our Lord Jesus Christ

This past Sunday, February 2, was a high holy day in the life of the Church, the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple. It is the last day that directly connects us back to Christmas Day; that is, until we start the whole cycle over again with the Annunciation in March.  That means Sunday was the very last day to have your Christmas decorations up, so take them down if you haven't already! 

Roughly 40 days after a birth every Jewish woman was to present herself in the Temple for a purification ritual, and if she had just given birth to her first son, then she brought him with her to be dedicated to God.  All of this was in-keeping with the laws prescribed in the Torah.  Thus, the day is sometimes referred to as the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary, as well as Candlemas, the day that churches blessed all of the candles that they would use over the course of the coming year.  So whichever way you slice it, today is a special day, a high holy day, a major feast day, and because it fell on a Sunday this year our parish got to celebrate it together with all the smells and bells befitting a high holy day.

It isn’t too hard to see why the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple is regarded as such a special occasion.  Like the Feasts of the Holy Name, Baptism of Our Lord, and the Transfiguration—all of which are high holy days that take precedence if they fall on a Sunday—the Presentation marks a moment of significance in the life of Jesus of Nazareth.  Like other first-born sons before him, Jesus is blessed and dedicated to God, a tradition that paralleled the killing of the Egyptians’ first-born sons prior to the Passover.  If the Incarnation really matters, if God taking on the human condition is truly a big deal, then it should be celebrated whenever God takes part in these human rites of passage.  From a cultural and religious standpoint, the Presentation matters because it is another day to remind us that God participated in our lives as fully as any of us , and that really does matter.

But there is something most peculiar and really quite beautiful about the Presentation that goes beyond just the Holy Family's obedience to their religious identify.  The day itself begs the question: is this a joyous occasion or a somber one?  Because while the family’s trek to the Temple must have been filled with excitement, and the prophet Anna joyfully offers praise and good news at the sight of the Christ child, there is another moment that often gets overlooked.  Old man Simeon had been told that he would not die until he saw God’s Messiah.  He sings a song called the Nunc Dimitis upon seeing Jesus, and that song has become so much a part of our Christian traditions that we sing it at every Evensong service.  Still, his proclamation that comes after that song warrants our attention also:  “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.”

Simeon meets Jesus.  Notice how we can't tell if he's crying for grief or joy.

Old man Simeon was speaking to Jesus’ mother—so yes, Mary absolutely DID know—and his words bear the sting of truth, the truth that pain and gladness are interwoven into human life, that even as we celebrate we cannot escape the reality of a world that is often cruel and unforgiving.  Mary will experience this first-hand when she sees Jesus return to Jerusalem some 30 years later, only for that visit to not have a happy ending.  Pain and gladness go hand-in-hand on this blessed feast, forming a pattern that is not quite discernible.  For all of us who are tossed to and fro between the waves of blessing and dread on a daily basis, this day is here so that we might find some measure of understanding for our own journeys when we hear Simeon’s words to Mary, words I’d like to think are meant every bit for us as for her.

There is nothing simple, easy, or convenient about this common endeavor of ours that we call human existence.  Every day unspeakable tragedies occur mere moments after our hearts are inspired by something miraculous.  With every cry heard in a maternity ward there is also a final gasp in a hospice bed.  We are part of a story so much larger than we can understand or imagine, a story that contains all manner of joy and sorrow, and our world will draw us into that story whether we like it or not.  One minute we will sing and dance with the same exuberance as Anna, and the next our own souls will be pierced by the sharpest of swords.  It’s paradoxical, unpredictable, and very seldom fair, but this is our story, this is our song.

What good news then to also remember that we are not alone in the paradoxes and unpredictability of life.  Every one of us has felt indescribable joy and soul-piercing heartbreak.  And it is on those paradoxical elements of life that I want to invite us to ponder today, remembering truly that God is big enough for all of them.  Each week we remind ourselves in our communal worship that is right to give God our thanks and praise, but do we ever remember that it is right also to give our pain and our grief?  God is not just in our moments of elation, but God is also in the times of distress and fear, the moments when we can’t discern the pattern of our lives.  God’s promises and purposes from long ago were not about maintaining an everlasting joy in our hearts but providing an everlasting presence for every single moment of our lives.  This includes the times of joyful singing and dancing, celebration and elation, but also the times of fear, confusion, pain, and trauma.  

Brothers and sisters, these paradoxes of our human experience are what I would like to suggest we present to God.  Not only do we honor Jesus’ bodily presentation in the Temple, but may we also present ourselves to God.  Present our gratitude and our thankfulness, yes, but also present our bruises and our scars.  Present our joys, present our sorrows, present our sadness, present our fears.  Maybe if we can open up to present them to God then we might be more willing to present them to one another, to talk about our feelings and experiences and in doing so realize that our journey is a common one, that there are more folks out there who understand what we’re going through than we may think. Chief among them being God, who experienced the full spectrum of human emotion in the person of Jesus. Only when we bring it all into the light can it all be redeemed. The Presentation is a feast of holy paradoxes, so this week let us remember that each and every day God has invited us into a relationship in which we need not fear presenting all of our paradoxes to God, trusting that God will do something with it all, though we may not yet know or understand. 

Could Mary have fully understood all of Simeon’s words that day in the Temple?  Probably not.  But she could live everyday after that knowing that whatever the world would throw at her and her son, God would be there.  Some of you may be reading this blog with joy on your hearts, others with pain.  Some will experience in these words good news for the future, others will finish reading and still feel worried and dreadful.  Just as the Presentation is a day of paradoxes, brothers and sisters, I pray you will know today and everyday that God is with you in the paradoxes.  At all times and places may you present yourselves—all of yourselves—to the one who has made you, called you beloved, and promised never to leave her.  A glorious feast of the Presentation to us all!