Luke 2:22-40
We don’t hear much from the gospels about Jesus’ early life – his infancy and childhood, nothing at all about his teen years. But we do get a few important highlights from Luke.
After the journey to Bethlehem, the birth, the angels and the shepherds. Then very briskly, 8 days later, at the appropriate time, the baby was circumcised and named Jesus, in accordance with what they had been told by the angel.
Then came the time for the purification at the temple. It is prescribed in the book of Leviticus that a woman, after giving birth, should go through a ritual of purification which ends with the offer of sacrifices at the temple. Mary and Joseph travel to the temple where they will offer two turtle doves, which is an acceptable alternative for those who cannot afford to offer a sheep. This would have happened about 40 days after Jesus’ birth. At the same time, they are dedicating their firstborn child to the Lord, in accordance with the law of Moses.
Mary and Joseph do these things out of a sense of obligation – these are the rituals that were a part of life for Israel. It is an obligation to God and to their community. But more importantly, their actions come from a place of hope. Mary and Joseph share in Israel’s hope in the promises of God, promises they have been taught them since childhood.
And the promises, the rituals, are all a part of the assurance that is voiced in the words of the Shema, spoken in prayer every day: Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God; the Lord is one.
There is comfort in the rituals, it is a way of joining in the whole community’s affirmation that this is what we believe, this is what we hope. And so, according to Luke, Mary and Joseph make their way to the temple at the appropriate time in order to complete the rituals. They are participating in the community of faith. They will hand their turtle doves over to the priest, who will then offer them as a sacrifice on Mary and Joseph’s behalf – a sacrifice of purification and of thankfulness.
It is a happy day for the little family, surely. And there is Simeon, in the temple. Simeon is a righteous and devout man, a man we can assume is of an advanced age, because he is awaiting his death. There is one thing he is hoping to receive before he dies, and now, when he sees this little family enter the temple, Simeon knows that this is it. “Master, let your servant go in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation: a light to all the nations and the glory of your people Israel.”
It’s a beautiful moment for Simeon, obviously. But I wonder about Mary and Joseph at this moment. Because Simeon goes on to say a few other things about the child, and with every word that comes from his mouth, I imagine Mary holding her baby tighter and tighter. “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.”
This is good news. This is not good news.
As Mary listens to these words and tries to draw her baby back into her body to protect him, Anna approaches. A woman of great age, a prophetess, Anna begins praising the Lord for this child, loudly for all to hear, all people who are seeking the redemption of Israel.
This is much more than Mary and Joseph came for. They came to the temple for the rituals which signified their membership in the community of faith, but they did not anticipate this. Who are these two old folks, Anna and Simeon, who apparently cast off their filters a while ago and now say anything they feel like saying. Truthful things. All of the truthful things. Things no new parent would want to hear.
And I wonder what Mary and Joseph thought. Did they think these two old folks were a little off? Missing a few screws? Did they get annoyed or resentful of them? Who walks into a stranger’s party and starts proclaiming all kinds of uncomfortable, disturbing things?
Maybe Simeon’s grandson was there with him, keeping an eye on him. Maybe he took the old man by the arm and said, “Okay, come on Pops. That’s enough now.” Maybe Mary just looked at him, sucked her teeth and muttered, “Inappropriate.”
It is inappropriate to offer the whole truth.
We believe in the importance of being honest, but we also believe that there is a time and a place for everything. We don’t approach a couple on their wedding day and tell them there will be many fights and tears in their future, days filled with despair, moments of wondering if they made the right decision. We don’t say to parents who are baptizing their child that they will have years of worry, sickness, financial strain, disappointments, and maybe have their hearts broken. We say encouraging things. We go for the easy assurance that feels appropriate on days like this one.
Simeon didn’t take that approach. He gave a different kind of assurance, one that probably didn’t feel so assuring at the time. But Simeon and Anna, they were there for a reason. They were charged with speaking the whole truth. Inappropriate as it may seem. Because there is no truth without the whole truth.
When Mary and Joseph had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. I wouldn’t be surprised if they left in a hurry. I don’t think they wanted to hang around with Simeon and Anna. But, if I know Mary at all, I think she treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.
Because Mary knew, didn’t she?
Mary had received the assurance of the angel – The Lord is with you. Do not be afraid.
She had received the assurance of her cousin Elizabeth and the witness of the shepherds in the fields. And in all these messages Mary has been given, there are doubtlessly things that delighted her, things that piqued her curiosity, and things that troubled her. That’s what the good news is like for any of us.
It’s a whole package.
And so we are drawn into the community of faith, where we will, together, listen for a good word and reaffirm our hope and belief. Where we participate in our own rituals, listen to one another and lend a supporting hand. Where we celebrate with one another in the joyful times and sit with one another through the hard times. Through it all, we offer the gift of presence.
Just like Mary and Joseph and Anna and Simeon, it is in the community of the faithful, where we return again and again to draw strength for our days and clarity for how we live in the world. Where we receive the assurance of God’s grace, which is God’s way of saying to us, to borrow a few words from Frederick Buechner:
“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. I am with you. Nothing can ever separate us.”
May the grace of God shine on you and in you through all the hills and valleys of your days.
Photo by Jametlene Reskp on Unsplash
