Year A • The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple
Malachi 3:1–4 • Psalm 84 or 24:7–10 • Hebrews 2:14–18 • Luke 2:22–40
.png)
Scroll Down for the Texts of the Scriptures
Sermon available on YouTube by clicking here,
as an Audio File by clicking here,
and as a PDF by clicking here.
The Sermon
Dear
God, make known to us the salvation that
you have prepared in the presence of all peoples. Amen.
The Feast of
the Presentation of Jesus — a.k.a., Candlemas
But why February 2nd? Because it is forty days
after Christmas, forty days Mary gave birth to the Lord and Savior of the
world. According to legislation laid down in the book of Leviticus, if a woman
conceives and gives birth to a male child, she shall be ritually unclean for
seven days. Afterwards, she enters into a period of purification that lasts for
another thirty-three days. So for forty days after the birth of a baby boy, a
woman couldn’t touch anything holy and she couldn’t enter the temple. At the
end of the forty days, she would come to the temple to offer a sacrifice for
her purification (Lev 12).
That’s what Mary is doing at the outset of today’s Gospel. Her period of
purification has concluded, and she has come to the temple to offer the
appropriate sacrifice. So that’s why the Feast of the Presentation occurs on
February 2nd.
Candlemas
By the way, this feast goes by another name, Candlemas.
It used to be that this was the day of the year—when all the candles that were
to be used during the coming year —were blessed. So it was known as the Feast,
or the Mass of Candles, thus Candlemas. The first time ever heard the term was
when I was attending the University of St. Andrews in Scotland. The Fall
semester was called Martinmas, and the spring semester, Candlemas.
Groundhog Day
I should add that over the years some superstitions
have grown up around Candle-mas. For example, there is a proverb about the
weather that goes like this:
If Candlemas Day be fair and bright
Winter will have another fight.
If Candlemas Day brings cloud and rain,
Winter won’t come again.
Or, how about this little proverb from Germany.
The badger peeps out of his hole on Candlemas Day, and if he finds snow, walks abroad; but if he sees the sun shining, he draws back into his hole.
Does any of this sound familiar? Clearly these proverbs
regarding Candlemas stand behind our American tradition of Groundhog Day. But
enough of superstitions, let’s get back to the gospel where we might find the
truth that will challenge and inspire us.
The Holy
Family
Luke’s account of the presentation of Jesus in the
temple discloses some interesting and important details about the Holy Family.
First,
it emphasizes their commitment to the Old Testament covenant with Yahweh, the
God of Israel. No less than five times are they described as acting in
accordance with the Law, and these references to their covenant obedience serve
as bookends to today’s episode. So in the opening scene, reference is made to
“their purification according to the law
of Moses,” to their presentation of their firstborn “as it is written in the law of the Lord,” and to their
offering a sacrifice in accordance with what is “stated in the law of the Lord” (Luke 2:22–24). Then, in the closing scene, they return to
Nazareth having “finished everything required by the law of the Lord” (2:39).
This is a faithful family; this is a religious
family. This is the family that raised and nurtured the salvation of
God—Israel’s Messiah and the world’s Light. Because we know Jesus to be the
incarnate Son of God, I think we often overlook the fact that he grew up and
matured like any other human being. He didn’t benefit from any spiritual
shortcuts. He didn’t get to skip puberty. He didn’t get to skip stages of
emotional, social, or spiritual development. He had to pass through every one
of them as we do. This, I think, is part of the point that the author of
Hebrews is trying to make.
Since the children [God has given him] share flesh and blood, he himself likewise shared the same things.... For it is clear that he did not come to help angels, but the descendants of Abraham. Therefore he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect, so that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God,.... Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested (Hebrews 2:14–18).
There is no doubt in my mind that Jesus’ growth
and development—his character, his strength, his wisdom, his
compassion—everything that endeared him to God and human beings, all of it was
shaped by his family, this holy, yet ordinary family who was committed to the
covenant—to the worldview, values, beliefs, practices, and traditions of the
people of God. That’s not to say that God was not at work in Jesus’ life. Far
from it. It is to recognize that God’s work in Jesus’ life was in part—and I
would say—was in large part mediated by Jesus’ religious and faithful family.
This is something worth reflecting on.
The second
thing that today’s episode reveals about the holy family is their social
status. They are poor. This, of course,
comes as no surprise to Luke’s readers. In his account of Jesus’ birth,
we are told that the infant king was wrapped in bands of cloth and laid in a
feeding trough. Not exactly the clothing and furnishings of the rich and
famous, nor even of the middle class, for that matter.[1]
In today’s episode, we find additional evidence that Jesus’ family belonged to
the very large peasant class of first-century Palestine. The clue is Mary’s
sacrifice. According to Leviticus, when a mother’s days of purification are
completed, she is to bring two offerings to the temple: a year-old lamb for a
burnt offering and a pigeon or a turtledove for a sin offering. The law states,
however, “if she cannot afford a sheep, she shall take two turtledoves or two
pigeons” (Lev 12:8),
which is exactly what Mary does.
The holy family is poor; they are economically and
socially challenged, which makes what is said about Jesus all the more
remarkable. How is this child, this son of a carpenter, going to bring glory to
Israel and salvation to all the nations of the world? How is this eldest son of
a poor family, with all of the obstacles and limitations that entails, going to
turn the world and its systems of injustice upside-down? This is something
worth thinking about. Jesus was the firstborn of peasants. The Son of God is a
peasant. That’s why there is no fanfare when this infant king comes into the
temple, into his temple. Recall the
words from the prophet Malachi:
See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me,
and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple (Mal 3:1).
“The Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple.”
Malachi said he was coming, but nobody was watching, so nobody noticed when the
young Master entered his temple. Well, that’s not exactly true. In my sermon on Christmas Day, I said that God entered
the world quietly, that he wanted to keep his arrival a secret. But I
also noted that God isn’t very good at keeping secrets, especially where his
Son is concerned. So, God let it slip to some homeless shepherds that his son
had been born in a stable. Likewise, when God’s six-week-old Son makes his
first trip to the temple, his first visit to his heavenly Father’s house, God
let it slip again. He just had to let a few more people in on the secret. And,
unlike the shepherds, we know their names.
Simeon and
Anna
Simeon and Anna are not related, but they share a number
of things in common. They are both quite old (and God sure seems to like old
people). They are both aware of what God is doing
in the world, having attuned themselves to the movements of the Spirit.
And, they are both awaiting the redemption and restoration of Israel. Recall,
at the time of Jesus’ birth, God’s people had been subject to foreign
domination for the better part of five hundred years, and most recently they
had endured six decades of foreign occupation by the Roman legions. So it is
not surprising that Anna—eighty-four-year-old, animated Anna—goes about the
temple precincts, telling anyone who will listen about this special child.
After all, she was alive before the Romans came; she knew what life had been
like. And it is of no great wonder that Simeon is so overjoyed having finally
setting his eyes on the one God has appointed to deliver his people from their
bondage. Simeon picks up the child and blesses God for he knows that what he
holds in his hands is God’s salvation, not only for Israel, but for the whole
world.
But it is not all salt and light. Simeon blesses
Mary and Joseph, but the words he speaks to Mary are filled with dark things to
come.
“This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel,” he says, “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 2:34b–35).
For the past few weeks, as I have read and studied this
passage, as I have allowed it to play in my thoughts and prayers, I have been
repeatedly brought back to these portentous words of Simeon’s. And I am not
exactly sure what to make of them. I mean, on the one hand, it’s fairly clear
what Simeon talking about. When Jesus becomes older, he is going to make some
waves. He is going to challenge some cherished traditions, and he is going to
frighten and anger some very powerful people. He will be betrayed by one of his
closest associates, he will be rejected by the leaders of his people, and they
will deliver him up for destruction. And through it all, his mother will be there,
watching in horror, unable to lift a finger. Surely, this is the sword that
will pierce her soul. But… I wonder. I wonder if she will feel the prick of
that unfeeling blade long before she sees her beaten, bruised, and bloodied son
hanging from a Roman cross. I wonder. When Jesus turns twelve, he will stay
behind in Jerusalem, and it will take his parents three frantic days to find
him. And when they finally do, he will dismiss their anxiety with a
matter-of-fact question, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that
I must be in my Father’s house?” Luke says that Mary treasured all these things
in her heart, but I wonder if she noticed the sword among all those treasures.
Later, when Jesus is older, he will leave his hometown
and moves to Capernaum. He will travel about the occupied region proclaiming
the arrival of God’s kingdom. Mary will get concerned and come to visit him
with her other sons. When they arrive, there will be so many people that they
cannot get to him. When word reaches Jesus that his mother and brothers are
outside wanting to see him, he turns to the crowd and says, “My mother and my
brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it” (Luke 8:20). I wonder,
will she feel the sword then?
And I also wonder, will we feel this sword? The
author of Hebrews writes that “the word of God is living and active, sharper
than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints
from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart” (4:12). Well, Jesus is the
Word of God, and Simeon said that he would “be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will
be revealed”(Luke 2:). I
wonder, are we among those whose inner thoughts will be revealed. I kind of
think we are, because there have been times in my life where the inner thoughts
of my heart were laid bare. Sometimes it’s been a pleasant surprise, but mostly
it has been painful, at least initially. God shines the light of Christ into
the dark recesses of our hearts. God already knows what he will find there, and
so he is not shocked by what the light reveals. We, however, we who are good at
hiding from ourselves, we can become frightened by what is revealed. Like the
groundhog who sees his shadow and so retreats into his borough, we are tempted
to retreat back into our boroughs, hoping to hide ourselves until winter has
passed.
But that would be a mistake, for that would be to
miss out on the salvation that awaits us. For when the light of Christ reveals
the darkness of our hearts, it is not to judge us as unworthy, nor is it to
punish us; it is, in fact, to set us
free. For only that which is revealed by the light of Christ can be healed. The
light of Christ is the light of salvation. It is a sword that cuts without
wounding. It is a sword that heals, for it is a sword wielded by our Creator in
grace, mercy, and love.
And so, on this day of Candlemas, on this Feast of
Lights, let us celebrate the Light that shines into the darkness, which the
darkness is not able to extinguish. and with Anna and Simeon, let us rejoice in
the salvation that God through Christ has prepared for all the world to see.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of
the Holy Spirit. Amen.
[1] Sometimes, we assume that Jesus must
have grown up in the middle-class, because he was the son of a carpenter. But
in first-century Palestine, there really wasn’t much of a middle-class to speak
of, and in any case, carpenters weren’t associated with the middle class, but
with the peasantry. Why? Because if you carried on a trade that wasn’t
connected to agriculture, it was a possible indication that your family had at
one point lost its ancestral lands.
The Scriptures
