The Presentation is also a turning point in the church year--as our focus shifts from the manger to the cross, from the wonder of "God among us" to the wonder of the “He is Risen.”
Several years ago when Pete and I were serving at Good Shepherd in Buffalo, one of our parishioners liked to paint paintings of favorite Bible stories. He knew I loved the story of the Presentation so he painted me his depiction of the story. I love it and I can tell you what I love about it: Mary’s eyes. They show a combination of surprise, fear, and wonder. When I look at them I imagine that she was hoping all the strange events: the angel, the magi, the heavenly hosts, had ended, and that life would return to normal.
But of course, there's nothing normal about the Savior of the world.
Now things did settle a bit: The angels went back to normal angel activity. The shepherds continued to pasture their flocks.... Jesus did what babies do—he ate, he cried, he slept, he grew----life continued its usual course as if nothing had happened. Joseph and Mary did what parents of a newborn do—they oohed and ahhed, they had sleepless nights and on
the fortieth day they traveled to Jerusalem to complete the purification, presentation and sacrifice traditions expected of them... it was the normal thing to do.
But there's nothing normal about this story, is there?
Now, the trip down to Jerusalem was unremarkable---no one noticed them, no one paid any attention to the baby they held.
The baby who will save the world. They entered the temple and offered the usual sacrifice for poor people, two doves. The priest approached them and automatically laid his hands on Jesus, as if this was just another first born son. He noticed nothing special about this child, Jesus was just one among many, it was a regular, ordinary day.
But then an older priest, eccentric at best, crazy at worst, burst onto the scene and headed straight to Mary and Joseph. He knew who this child was! He knew, deep in his bones, that this was the One for whom he yearned, the one for whom all of Israel had yearned: the Anointed, the Messiah.
For decades, Simeon had been praying that he would live to see the coming of the Messiah and every day Simeon heard God say, "not today, but soon." On this particular day, Simeon didn't hear "not today", on this particular day Simeon heard-- "go and see, He’s Here!" Rushing to the Temple, Simeon zeroed in on the Holy Family. And, without even realizing how bizarre the whole scene was, Mary offered the baby to Simeon.
Simeon, overcome with joy, with Jesus in his arms, praises God by singing the hymn we use during Evening Prayer, the Nunc Dimittis:
"Lord, you now have set your servant free to go in peace as you have promised. For these eyes of mine have seen the savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see; a Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people, Israel.”
Why does our focus shift, after today, from Christmas and the manger to Good Friday, the cross and the tomb?
Because of one clause in this hymn: "a savior for the whole world--- A light to enlighten the nations.” This messiah was not just for Israel, no this Messiah was for all the world to see. This simple phrase in a song of praise sets in motion all that leads to Calvary--- Jesus came for everyone, always, no exceptions. Not just Jew, but Gentile too(if this was written in modern parlance it would read “not just Christian, but Muslim, not just Jew, but Sikh…). Not just us, but them. Not just you, but me, not just some but all. Simeon professed what Mary would learn, what she would endure, what she would see. Simeon announced what the world was not yet able to bear: Love had arrived. For everyone, forever.
In the painting, Mary's eyes reveal the truth: Through this child the strong will weaken and the weak will strengthen. The world will get turned inside out and upside down.
And her precious Son, God in the flesh, will be nailed to a tree.
Young Mary knew what Simeon predicted was true: the world that had longed for the Messiah, yearned for Him would, in the end, be unable to bear the reality of Him. That the darkness that feeds our fear, fuels our doubts and tries to deaden our souls would kill that Love and pierce her heart on the darkest Friday of all time.
How she must have longed to keep that knowledge buried for a while longer, how she must have longed to get out of that temple and home to Nazareth where Jesus could be just another boy.
But, before they could leave another character enters the scene: the 84 year old widow and permanent resident of the Temple, Anna. Although she may not have known what she was looking for, when Anna saw Jesus she knew she'd found it. Anna, like Simeon, sang about this great wonder, but, unlike Simeon, who wandered off to rejoice in private, Anna told everyone she met that the Messiah was finally here.
On this day 2000 yrs ago and today, the word is out, the die is cast. The strong will weaken, the weak will strengthen and Love will take its earthly journey until, overcome with fear and doubt, we will do everything we can to snuff it out, to stop it, to stop Him in his tracks. It's a reality none us like or want to admit. But it is a fact of our faith that we join the crowd and shout “Crucify Him!” And, thanks be to God, through God’s amazing, outrageous and abundant grace, we’re also part of the throng shouting, “Alleluia, He Is Risen,” on Easter Morn. Buckle up my friends, the ride of faith is bumpy!
We, along with Mary and Joseph, along with Anna and Simeon, along with Jesus, have embarked on a journey that began at the manger, travels to the temple, the shores of Galilee, the gardens of Gethsemene, the dusty despair of Calvary, the depths of death to emerge, at the last, into the amazing victory of Light, Life and Love on Easter morn. This journey we are on not easy, but by taking it we, along with Simeon and Anna will, at the end, be truly free.
Amen.
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