Sermon for the Presentation of Our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple, February 2, 2025

Malachi 3:1-4+Psalm 24:7-10+Hebrews 2:14-18+Luke 2:22-40

When my children were small, Disney movies were absolutely their favorite way to spend their quiet time when they were too old for naps (at least in their minds) but when I still needed a little break in the activity of the day. We watched these films so many times that, to this day, I can recite a significant portion of the dialogue and sing all the songs. Cinderella, Snow White, Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland - you name it. But their all-time, hands-down favorite was Sleeping Beauty with its three fairies and noble prince and a sorceress who could turn into a dragon. These days, we might call it exposure therapy, maybe, confronting the thing you fear the most, but Rachel and Seth could not get enough of it.

At the beginning of Disney's version of this 17th-century fairy tale, the king and queen have a great party to celebrate the birth of their daughter, Aurora, and, angered at not being invited, the wicked Maleficent places a curse on the child that, before her 16th birthday, she would prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and die. One of the three good fairies, not having yet had a chance to bestow her gift, can't reverse the curse but can soften it. Aurora will not die but will fall into a deep sleep until she receives true love's kiss.

Frantic, the king orders all spinning wheels in the realm to be burned, and Aurora is sent off to be raised by the fairies in order to protect her from Maleficent's curse. It doesn’t protect her, of course, but we all know that, in fairy tales, a happy ending is guaranteed. And so it is with Sleeping Beauty.

It may seem odd...well, maybe it is odd...that I would have been reminded of Sleeping Beauty while reading the story of the Presentation in the Temple, but stick with me here.

Over the past few weeks, we have established that Mary and Joseph were pious, faithful people, and so of course they are doing what is required of them in thanksgiving for the birth of their son and following the purification code for women after childbirth. They took Jesus to the temple with a sacrifice of two doves since they were too poor to offer a lamb, and while there, they encounter Simeon who somehow recognizes who this infant is and will grow up to be. Like any parent of a newborn, I imagine this warmed their hearts. The angel Gabriel has told Mary that the child she would bear would be "great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end" (Luke 1:32-33). Her cousin Elizabeth had also said, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?" (1:42-43). So, Mary knew who this child was, at least in some respects, but when old Simeon says, "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," (2:34-35) she must have been a little confused. Nobody had said anything about swords. What on earth could he mean? This child is to be great; he is to restore the throne of David. Why are you talking about being opposed, about a sword, about my suffering?

There's a contemporary Christian Christmas song called "Mary, Did You Know," which I really dislike, but I think she did know something because the angel had told her and Elizabeth had told her, but knowing that your child is destined for greatness is not the same thing as knowing that your child will be tortured and beaten, that he will be crucified. Simeon and the old prophet Anna know who Jesus is, but Simeon, at least, foreshadows Mary's broken heart, that she will be the Mater Dolorosa, the sorrowful mother.

Even if a sense of uneasiness gripped Mary at this encounter, she and Joseph did not do anything differently than they might have. The next scene in Luke is when they return to the temple for the Passover when Jesus is a 12-year-old. They continue to live pious and faithful lives and to raise Jesus to do the same. They don't hide him away with fairies or wrap him in bubble wrap (see, I told you I would get back to that). Heck, they even leave him behind in Jerusalem for three days. Once returned home from that escapade "Jesus increased in wisdom and years and in divine and human favor," but "his mother treasured all these things in her heart" (Luke 2:52, 51). A heart that one day a sword would pierce.

And what of Simeon and Anna? It really is one of the most touching scenes in all of scripture. We know absolutely nothing about them, just that they were waiting to see the messiah, and they knew that the place to find him was in Jerusalem at the temple. We are left with the impression that Simeon died shortly thereafter.  The canticle said or sung at every service of Evening Prayer (and chanted by the choir at the beginning of this service) includes the nunc dimittis, meaning "now you let depart" in Latin. In the words of the 1662 English prayer book, the nunc dimittis begins "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation..." (Luke 2:29-30). Beyond that speculation, all that we know is that they had been waiting a very long time for Jesus to appear, and when he does, they know him. They recognize him. They recognize him because they are looking for him, watching and waiting.

Maybe we ought to ask ourselves if we come here looking for Jesus. Do we expect that he will actually show up? That he is here?

Mary got a glimpse of the pain and suffering that lay ahead, and yet she kept moving into that, faithfully, raising her child to live faithfully, too. It led to suffering, and then it led to life.

I pray that the candles we blessed and lit today, and those we take home to serve as a reminder of the light that has come into the world, I pray that they will light our way as we seek Jesus. As we follow Jesus. And as we wait for Jesus, so that when he shows up in the face of our neighbor, we will know that he's here.

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Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany, February 9, 2025

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Sermon for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany, January 26, 2025