Luke 2:22-40
December 31, 2023
When Phoebe was born, I had quite a
few visitors at the hospital. We had visitors when Zach was born too, but they
waited until we got home. But with Phoebe, they started arriving a few hours
after I was moved from labor and delivery into my regular room. And when people
would come to see us, they wanted to hold the baby, of course, understandably.
When Zach was born, letting other people hold him for a while was easier
because I also had a two-year-old to chase around. But Phoebe was my first, and
when people would ask to hold her, especially when we were still in the
hospital, I would certainly let them, although I insisted everyone who touched
her wash their hands first because I was that new mom. But while
I agreed to let them hold her, inwardly I was thinking,
“But,
but I just got her. I didn’t realize I would be expected to share her this
soon.”
After a time, this inner turmoil
wore off. The realities of taking care of a newborn sunk in pretty quickly and
getting a break for a few minutes when someone else wanted to hold her was a
blessing. But right at the beginning it was hard for me. So, if Mary and Joseph
had some qualms about this old man coming up to them at the temple and taking
their precious days-old baby in his arms I get it.
Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the
temple to make a sacrifice as the Law required after a baby was born. So, if
they were being respectful and polite and not outwardly protesting when Simeon
took him out of their arms and into his because custom and culture dictated it,
I understand that. But I can’t help but wonder if inwardly they were slightly
panicking thinking,
“Hold
his head. I think you might be pinning his arm down in a weird way. You know,
he really likes to be held against your shoulder to help his tummy. He’s a
little colicky. Is this man strong enough to hold a baby and stand up at the
same time? Could we ask him to sit down with him first?”
And
even though the circumstances surrounding Jesus’ conception and birth were
already extraordinary, considering it began with a visit by one angel and ended
with the heavens full of them, it was probably still strange and peculiar for
Joseph and Mary that this old man took baby Jesus into his arms and then started
praising God. This was no ordinary praise either. It was no thanksgiving about
the blessing of children in general. It was thanksgiving that this
child had been born and that he, Simeon, was finally experiencing what had been
promised to him. Before he died, he would see the salvation of God, and the
salvation of God was right here in his arms.
The
text tells us that Joseph and Mary were amazed at what Simeon was saying about
their baby, and I bet they were. But before they’d even had time to process what
Simeon said, another person came over to them and added to the unexpected and
strange scene. The prophet Anna, a widow of many years, who lived day and night
at the temple worshipping and fasting and praying, joined their small circle,
and began to praise God. She exclaimed to everyone around them that those who
were looking for the redemption of Israel had found it in this child.
I
have officiated for quite a few infant baptisms in my time as a pastor, and
I’ve held my own babies while they were baptized, and yet with all the prayers
and joyful blessings and exclamations of hope and delight that I have witnessed
and offered myself, I’ve never seen or experienced anything quite like this.
Probably none of us have. As I said earlier, even though Mary and Joseph
already had plenty to be amazed about with the birth of Jesus, this must have
been even more mindboggling for them. They had been told many things about
their baby, who he was and who he would become, but our human minds can take a
while to process information and processing such astonishing information as
this could take even longer. Mary and Joseph had been giving an overwhelming
amount of information to process.
So,
what do these stories mean for us today? Certainly they are confirmation of who
Jesus is, confirmation of the incarnation of God into the world, the Word
become flesh. And that confirmation is more than enough. But what do we take
away with us today? Normally, when I sit down to write a sermon my struggle
comes with how to begin. But today it is reversed. How do I end it? What deeper
message needs to be imparted?
One
detail about this story that, even though I’ve read it many times, I hadn’t
paid much attention to before, is that the Holy Spirit rested on Simeon. When
it comes to the gospels, we tend to think of the Holy Spirit coming later. Even
though there are many references to the Spirit of the Lord throughout
scripture, the Holy Spirit is associated with Pentecost. The Holy Spirit comes
as the comforter and the advocate after Jesus leaves this earthly realm. And
since the author of Luke is also the author of Acts, and the coming of the Holy
Spirit on the disciples at Pentecost is a foundational part of Acts, I forget
about references to the Holy Spirit before that moment. But here it is, in
chapter two. The Holy Spirit rested on Simeon. The Holy Spirit revealed to
Simeon that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah.
Simeon clearly trusted the Holy Spirit. He trusted and he waited. And his wait
was rewarded. When he saw Mary and Joseph bring their baby into the temple, he
knew who he was truly seeing.
There
is no more mention of Simeon or Anna after these verses, but I think that it’s
fair to assume that Simeon did not live much longer. He knew when he saw Jesus
that the Messiah had entered the world and because of that he
could now depart it. He could be dismissed from this life in peace.
But
let’s also think about what Simeon said. He praised God. He said that he, God’s
servant, could be dismissed in peace because he had seen the salvation of God,
the light of revelation, not just to Israel but to the Gentiles. And then he
blessed Mary and Joseph both, but he had one last word for 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.”
And
a sword will pierce your own soul too.
I
wonder, if as Frederick Buechner suggested, that Simeon hesitated before he
said those last words. Maybe he didn’t want to say them at all. Maybe he wished
he could just not say them and let this young mother leave with nothing but joy
in her heart. But he had to say them. He had to be honest. He must share what he
knew. This child is the salvation that the world had been waiting for. But this
didn’t mean that there would not be a cost. The man Jesus will tell those who
want to follow him the same thing. You must count the cost of discipleship.
There will be a cost to Jesus, and a cost to those who would follow. Mary will
also suffer and pay her own price. There will be a cost for her as well. A
sword will pierce your own soul too.
What
mother, what parent, doesn’t look with wonder at their precious baby, imagining
their amazing future, and also know, deep down, that one day this child will
grow up and go into the world and be hurt by it? We long to protect our
children, but if we’re honest, we know that we can’t protect them completely.
And we will feel every hurt, every rejection, every pain they feel, no matter
their age or ours. That is real the cost of parenting. Mary learned early that
she would pay a greater price than others.
A
sword will pierce your own soul too.
And
maybe this is the message we need to take with us today, especially as we enter
into a new year. We wish one another a happy New Year, but we know that in the
coming months there is the opportunity for both great joys and great sorrows. I
want nothing more than for all of us to experience overwhelming love and
happiness in these next twelve months, but we also know that we just don’t
know. We just don’t know what lies ahead. But we do know that God was and is
incarnate in this world, in our lives, in our hearts. We do know that the Holy
Spirit is alive and moving and stirring up good and beauty and hope. We do know
that we are not alone. We do know that we are loved and that this love will
carry us and abide with us and comfort us, no matter what swords may pierce our
souls.
And
for all of this and so much more, we give thanks and praise, because God is in
the world. God is in the world. Our eyes have seen his salvation.
Let
all of God’s children say, “Alleluia.”
Amen.
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