Text: Luke 2.22-40
I too am a first-born son. And when, about 20 years ago, I went to my
parents to tell them that I planned to become a priest, my mother got a little
emotional. She said, “I’ve never told
you this, because I didn’t want to put you under pressure. But when you were born, and were initially
very sick, I prayed to God with all my heart.
I prayed that if he would save you, I would dedicate you to him and for
his service.” So, for me, this story of
Jesus’ parent’s dedicating him to God has special resonance for me. As we so often discover, the Bible’s story is
our story too.
But that’s not the main focus of this particular story.
Today is Candlemas…and it’s all about the light! In the middle of winter, at a point which is
more or less equally between the winter solstice and the spring equinox,
Christians of the Northern Hemisphere gather to light candles against the
darkness. In times past, candles from
parishioners’ homes would have been brought to church, to be blessed as a sign
of Jesus the light to the Gentiles, and then carried back to burn brightly
through the year. The church’s own stock
of candles, for its altars and chandeliers would have been similarly blessed at
the same time. Today, with our electric
lights, and our year-round banishment of darkness, we don’t perhaps feel the sense of deep winter that our
forebears did. We don’t perhaps get the symbolism of being lights in the
darkness as easily as they did.
But the symbolism is there, especially made real to
us by the words of Simeon, when Jesus was presented to him in the temple. “…my eyes have seen your salvation, which you
have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the
Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel”.
Jesus called us to be lights in the darkness, but Simeon recognised that
Jesus himself was the Great Light, the one from whom all our small candles of
faith are lit.
I’ve spent quite a few words, over the last few
weeks, encouraging us to think of ourselves as lights to our community and to
our world. Today, I want to focus on the
Great Light himself, and especially on what Simeon’s powerful words convey to
us.
First of all, Simeon tells God that he now ready to
die… “Lord, let your servant depart in
peace…” he says. Why? Because his eyes have seen God’s salvation, in the form of the infant Jesus, cradled
in his mother’s arms.
Now, this is important. Simeon does not gaze upon Jesus’ death – although he knows that Jesus’
end will indeed pierce his mother’s heart.
But that’s not his focus. He says
that he has already seen God’s
salvation in the form of Jesus himself.
This observation should bring us up
short. It tells us that whilst we rightly commemorate the death of Jesus as a vital part of the history of salvation, it is
the life of Jesus which also has the
power to save. Jesus did not only die
for our salvation: he also lived.
What does this mean?
It means that we are encouraged to let our focus drift sometimes away
from the Cross. There is a tendency, in some
parts a Christian teaching, to place all our hopes, all our stories of how God
has saved us onto the Cross. But the
Gospel writers don’t just focus on the death of the Lord. They also recount his life, his teachings,
his sayings, his actions. They show us the
Jesus who ate with sinners, and who welcomed children. They show us the Jesus who included women,
and who counted a Zealot freedom fighter as his friend. They show us the wisdom of a man who could
stop the lips of religious teachers, and debate the philosophy of Truth with a
Roman leader. They show us a wronged man
who could forgive his tormentors, a wise teacher who's guidelines for living
bring life itself.
The Great Light does not only burst out of the tomb,
on Easter morning, it also bursts into the normal, everyday life of everyone it
encounters. He brings wisdom and healing
everywhere he walks and talks – and we find salvation and healing in his
teaching.
It is for this very reason that the church’s
calendar takes us so carefully, and so systematically, through all the major
events in Jesus’ life, and through all his major teaching. We are not invited only to linger at the
Cross, or even the Tomb. They are
important parts of the story, but they are not its complete focus. The church’s calendar also takes us to the
nativity manger, and into the desert of temptation. It walks us beside the Sea of Galilee, and
into the crowd of hungry people fed by two fishes and five loaves. Through the Gospel stories we sit at Jesus’ table
with other sinners, and at the feet of Jesus with Mary and Martha. Jesus saves us, heals us, through every one
of these encounters…and invites us to save others in the same ways. The Great Light calls us to be lights, too.
So, on this Candlemas, we mark the end of the season
of revelation, of Epiphany. We pause at
the midpoint of winter, and we declare to the darkness, like Gandalf on the
bridge, ‘you shall not pass’. Even in
the depths of winter, even in the depths of a pandemic, Christ’s light
shines. Hope is present, life is
present: Jesus is present.
And we, the bearers of the light, the followers of
the Way, we will carry the presence of Jesus into the world. Christ’s light has been borne to the
Gentiles, glorifying the people of Israel from which it came. But this light is now ours. We choose to let it shine.
Amen.
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