Practising being people of patience and hope     

The Presentation of Christ in the Temple

Luke 2: 22-40

          ©Suzanne Grimmett

Candlemas brings to a close the period of forty days after the birth of Jesus; a sacred time when we attend to this inbreaking of divine revelation of God in Christ and the fulfilment of ancient prophecies of salvation and promises of redemption. It is a season where we may be particularly conscious of deep time- of the way our lives are interconnected to ages and ancestors past and reach forward to those who will pick up the trails of our story in the future. This day arrives with the backdrop of the long, winding story of Israel’s journey as God’s people and the promise of becoming a blessing to all the nations. It carries the echo of Mary’s waiting for this promised child’s birth, and of the patient seeking of the Gentile wise ones for the promised king of the Jews. Sometimes we wait, and we hope, and we persevere as we look for the fulfilment of what has been promised.  Dr Charles Moseley, in a recent article, picks up on this theme of waiting;

For promises are kept — but perhaps never when, or how, we expect. Simeon and Anna, worshipping in the Temple over long years, are alive to the unexpectedness of God’s providence. The lamps must be kept trimmed, the candles ready against the Bridegroom’s advent. Did Simeon expect to hold “the glory of thy people Israel” as a tiny child, unable to feed itself or move unaided?[1]

This is a fascinating question. The Gospel story we share today is about waiting for the fulfilment of promises. A picture is painted of two faithful Jewish people who trusted throughout their long lives in the God who had promised never to forsake them. In the frame of the universe, our lives are so very short, and yet we still expect to see within this fleeting gift so many questions answered and so many hopes fulfilled. Death hovers over this reading as much as new life, for Simeon has been promised by the Holy Spirit that before his little life was over he would see the Lord’s Messiah.

Then we have Anna who we are told was an 84-year-old prophet worshipping faithfully at the temple night and day. Both are lives lived in humility, patience and hope- not demanding answers on their own terms but trusting across the long years that God’s revelation was coming, waiting expectantly on the Holy Spirit. I know for me, (as someone who really needs this reminder), Simeon and Anna are a witness to the virtue of patience and of the power of living life in expectant hope, trusting in the promises of God.

But would Simeon ever, in his wildest imaginings, have expected the promise that he would see “the glory of Israel” to take shape as a mewling infant? Have you ever had that experience of something being fulfilled in a way that was utterly unexpected? I am sure, at the very least, we have all had the experience of our lives not turning out to be like anything we had imagined but yet can attest that some of the greatest gifts have been ones we would never have planned. We cannot know just what Simeon was expecting in the knowledge that he would see the Messiah before he died, but there is every reason to guess he might have imagined a king like David. But the same Holy Spirit who placed that promise on his life reveals to him the truth and grace of the babe that he wonderingly takes in his arms. And Simeon bursts into a thanksgiving that becomes the Nunc Dimittis which some of us may recite most easily in its 1662 version from the Book of Common Prayer;

Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word.
For mine eyes have seen thy salvation,
Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people;
To be a light to lighten the Gentiles and to be the glory of thy people Israel.

It is a prayer that is included in the daily Anglican round of prayer at Compline- or Prayer at the End of the Day. It is a prayer of both rejoicing and trust as Simeon recognises with wonder the way God’s promise has been fulfilled, and then offers his life back to God. In praying this at Compline I always feel like the end of the day is a little death- there is in the release of the control of our conscious minds into the peace of sleep, each night a preparing for the day when we will release ourselves fully into the hands of God at our death. To hold such a focus is to remind ourselves of the great gift that is our lives each day, returning our attention to the one who sustains us in every moment of this life.

But what kind of thanksgiving erupts from Simeon, the one who waited, and Anna the faithful prophet? Unfortunately, we do not have Anna’s words recorded- only that she began to praise God and speak “about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.” Clearly when Anna looked at the infant Jesus she saw with her prophet’s eyes what this child’s birth meant as part of a very long story indeed. In Simeon’s song, however, we hear the expression of joyful gratitude that the child will be a light for revelation to the Gentiles and glory to Israel. This child is Israel’s glory and through him the whole world will be blessed. When scripture speaks of the blessing to the Gentiles, it is meaning a blessing to all nations and all peoples.

As I have said before, relationship is foundational to life, and all of our lives find their place in a particular space and time, but also in the deep time of our ancestors, joining stories from every tribe and nation  and keeping company with all the saints who have gone before us. Richard Rohr comments that ;

We carry the lived and the unlived (and unhealed) lives of our parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents as far back as DNA and genomes can trace them—which is pretty far back. It does take a village to create a person. We are the very first generation to know that this is literally and genetically true. 

There is more to you than just you. Rohr also comments that this means that our very best moments- those times when we achieve real goodness- are not just our own, but nor is our badness just our own. I don’t know about you, but I would prefer to think of any goodness being mine and any badness being the fault of someone else! But there is both relief and the promise of something more beautiful when we lay down the burden of our individualism and take our place with other light bearers continuing the incarnational story of God.

There is also a sense of greater responsibility once we lay down the fiction of being a solitary individual. As we symbolically processed for Candlemas this morning, bearing our little light, we might have just caught a glimpse of what the church is to be and become, and the commitment and patience that creates this belonging. To show up, gather in prayer, attend to the word and break bread together each week is on its own an act of persistent faith and hope- and so counter cultural! We may sense too, something of the prophecy spoken over Mary that, “a sword will pierce your own soul too.” In faithfulness to Christ and Christ’s way, we too must go via the cross. We also must go together, unique parts of a greater whole in which we are all chronically interdependent; so much so that not only the light and hope of the church may be seen, but the pathologies of our individual and communal lives are always also on display. The harm done by any one member harms us all. We find ourselves following the Saviour but enmeshed in all the world’s problems. Despite this, we are called to the same faithfulness shown by Simeon and Anna to persist in waiting upon God because the body of Christ is called to be light in the darkness and a sign of healing for the nations.

So may we be reminded to trust anew in Christ whose incarnation continues to be revealed across the deep time of creation’s story. And may we trust in the promise of a God who has begun a deep, slow work in us, and will see it to completion.

+Amen


[1] Dr Charles Moseley, Faith: Still light in the darkness, Church Times 31 January 2025