First Sunday After Christmas

Sermon-Year B-1st Sunday after Christmas-12-28-08
The Cloud of Unknowing,
"O God, our great companion, lead us ever more deeply into the mystery of your life and ours, that we may be faithful interpreters of that Life to each other, through our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen."
Years ago I was watching a sci-fi show on tv. It was about a planet full of people. I can’t remember much about the show except that the planet exploded creating this incredible pulse of light. A thousand light years away some wise men saw the light and thought it was a star and followed it to Bethlehem. The whole purpose of that planet was to detonate and create light so others could follow it.
The story in today’s gospel is about Simeon and Anna. They were both quite elderly and had been waiting, waiting at the temple, it appears for many years, waiting for the moment when a savior would appear. And when Mary brought Jesus to the temple to go through the purification rituals, Simeon and Anna were there. And they praised God and sang songs, and made prophecies. Simeon’s words are not all praise. They are both good and terrible. At first Simeon says that this child, this infant will be a revelation and a glory for Israel. But then he goes on to say that Jesus will lift people up, and also tear many down; he will tell the inner thoughts of many, and Mary will suffer greatly because of her son-and a sword will pierce your own soul, also.
This is a terrible prophecy, and Mary and Joseph must have been confused by all these predictions.
But I want to stay with Simeon and Anna. Two elderly people who had been waiting, waiting for this moment all their lives. For them, this was the moment they were made for. This was their purpose. This was their reason for life. To see the savior, to praise him, and to share these prophecies.
How would you like it if your whole life was meant for this one brief shining moment? This one opportunity? We want our lives to be more than that, we want our lives to be full of purpose and meaning throughout-not just for five minutes.
Years ago I took an ethics class and the professor posed the oldest conundrum in the book. You’re in a life raft with a bunch of other people, there’s only enough food for a few people, some will have to die for the few to live. So everyone comes up with a variety of solutions so that the most people can live. But it always entails several dying. At the end of the discussion, the professor asked, “what if no choice was made about who had to die?” The class erupted-but if some didn’t die, then all would die. “Yes,” the professor said, “but is that the worst thing that could happen? What if the few days that everyone had alive were the best days of their lives? What if their time together was what they were put on earth for?” In all the times I’ve played this game, never once have I ever heard anyone make th is suggestion-that all live-and all die.
I don’t know about you, but from time to time, I wonder about my purpose. Why was I put here? What did God hope or want from me? What is my mission? Do you wonder that, too?
Ever since I heard that professor explain a different possible ending for that story, I have often wondered about that. Sometimes when I am in a tough spot I will think to myself, “maybe my whole life was meant for just this one moment, maybe my whole purpose is to bring the good news into this one bad awful position.”
I never know the answer. I think we live and die, never knowing why we are here or what exactly our purpose20is. But I do know this, when I am in a very awkward situation, it really helps me when I think, maybe this is why I was made, maybe this is why I’m here-for just this moment.
Like I say, I’ll never know. But there have been several times when I changed how I was going to act, and became a better person, because I asked that question.
When I listen to Simeon and Anna, I think, would they feel alright knowing that this is their purpose, this is their whole reason for living-this very moment at the temple, this praise, this prophecy. Would they feel ok about that?
I don’t know. But I do know this, when I am in a bad spot, thinking that my purpose, my reason for being alive may just be to make that situati on better, to redeem that moment-that helps me and gets me through.
When I listen to Simeon and Anna, I think, maybe that’s what kept them waiting all those years-knowing that that one brief moment would be enough. When I hear of someone who dies too young, too tragically, too suddenly, I think to myself, it’s not how long we live that matters. It’s the effect that we have in whatever time we have.
For Simeon and Anna-it was a long life-building to this moment. For us, it may be something different. Why do you think you were made? What are you here for?
2:29 "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word;
2:30 for my eyes have seen your salvation,
2:31 which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
2:32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."
2:33 And the child's father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him.
2:34 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
2:35 so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed--and a sword will pierce your own soul too."


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Holding Promises (Luke 2:22-40)
by John Stendahl
John Stendahl is pastor of the Lutheran Church of the Newtons in Newton Centre, Massachusetts. This article appeared in The Christian Century, December 4-17, 2002, p. 17. Copyright by The Christian Century Foundation; used by permission. Current articles and subscription information can be found at www.christiancentury.org. This material was prepared for Religion Online by Ted and Winnie Brock.
Picture the old man with the baby in his arms He stands chuckling with giddy joy, or perhaps he gazes with streaming tears on his cheeks, or is lost in transfixed wonder; in whatever way, he is so very happy. Then he says that this is enough now, he is ready to die. He has seen salvation and he can depart in peace.
But what has he seen, really? It’s just a little child in his arms, a powerless, speechless newcomer to=2 0the world. Whatever salvation this baby might work is still only a promise and a hope; whatever teaching he might offer will remain hidden for many years. Nothing has happened yet. Herod still sits on his throne and Caesar governs from afar. The world looks as it did before.
But Simeon stands there in grateful wonder. It is the future he holds in his hands. He has seen and touched it. He is satisfied. It is, as he said, enough. And then Anna, also old and approaching the end of her days, adds her own joy and praise to the moment. She’ll be telling everybody about this baby whom she saw for just a few minutes.
By the time a mature Jesus comes onto the stage of history, Simeon and Anna will be long dead. So will most of those shepherds who came to see the child in the manger, and possibly Joseph, who watched over him, and some or all of the magi who feature in the other nativity story. Thirty years or more will pass before the gospel story recommences in the ministry of Jesus. In the meantime they who saw the baby, knelt at the stable or laid their tributes before him would not know what became of him. They would know only what they had heard and seen back then.
Though some might take this aspect o f the stories as no more than an accidental effect of nativity prologues for the Gospels, it seems to me to offer us both connection and encouragement. We too are people who have seen something but not its full unfolding. Paradoxically, Simeon and Anna do not so much belong to the gospel’s prehistory as they are paradigmatic for our own experience of that gospel.
What we have, in a sense, is hardly more than they had. We have the scriptures that school us in hope and attentiveness. We have stories and covenants and signs. We have moments, or the memory of moments, when the tender compassion of our God has come close enough to see and feel. We have something like the shepherds would have had, recalling all their lives a night of mysterious glory, or like what the magi brought back to their homelands, a vision of a different kind of king and kingdom. Their eyes had seen the glory of Israel, the light for the nations.
We have that as well, though for us the world has resumed its accustomed form and, in the light of day, seems largely unsaved and unchanged.
We have also the children now briefly entrusted to our arms for blessing and who will, we ho pe, live on after us. We pray that their lives will be grand with wisdom and courage and that they will make the world better. As we get older, life becomes increasingly about them and less and less about us. When I hold a child in my arms, as Simeon cradled Jesus in his, my life seems literally recentered: not in myself but just in front of me there. It is around this present future, this vulnerable and miraculous little one, that my universe bends.
You may argue that we have much more than Simeon and the other prologue-dwellers did because we have the rest of the gospel story. We know what happened to the baby and understand more fully the pattern of his life. We know his teaching and the pattern of his passion and vindication. But note that Luke describes Simeon as fairly clued in on that score as well, telling Mary of the conflict and the sorrow that lay ahead. We have no significant advantage even there.
What we have is in these ways hardly more than what Simeon had. But what that is, is wonderful indeed. The canticle he prays has become for much of the church a song to follow the communion meal. We have now seen and tasted the promised future. We have held the Christ child. Taking bread and wine to our lips, we have kissed him and with words and songs we have caressed his presence. We may not get all the way to his future ourselves, not in this life -- but we’ve seen it, and that’s enough, we say. We can go in peace now.
But is it really enough? Are we not both ethically and spiritually called to dissatisfaction with such partiality? Should there not be more, and should not the blessing be made something present rather than just a memory of the past or a hope of heaven? Having tasted the kingdom’s presence, we hunger and thirst the more for it. Having seen it, we strive to bring it home. Frustrated and yearning, we call for God no longer to tarry, to fulfill the promise, to give us today the bread of tomorrow.
That’s all true, but with that struggle and longing we may be the more grateful for the spirit of Simeon and for those times we find ourselves with him. His song has become a sort of Christian Dayyenu, that great Passover song which proclaims each little part of the salvation as sufficient and great enough. We may want more than this manna, but still our hearts lift in thanksgiving.
We have seen. It’s enough for now.


Luke 2:22-40
2:22 When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord
2:23 (as it is written in the law of the Lord, "Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord"),
2:24 and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, "a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons."
2:25 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.
2:26 It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Messiah.
2:27 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,
2:28 Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,
2:29 "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word;
2:30 for my eyes have seen your salvation,
2:31 which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
2:32 a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."
2:33 And the child' s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him.
2:34 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
2:35 so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed--and a sword will pierce your own soul too."
2:36 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,
2:37 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.
2:38 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.
2:39 When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth.
2:40 The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.