Christmas 1: Now I've Seen Everything

Scripture:

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons.”

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
    according to your word; for 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.”

And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother 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.”

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.
~Luke 2:22-40

The month of January was named by the ancient Romans for their god Janus, the god of beginnings and endings. And also the god, therefore, of transitions, gateways, doorways and time. Janus was the god who looked both backwards and forwards, so he was depicted as having two faces, so that he could do both at the same time. 

Looking back and looking forward is what we do at this time of year. We look back at the year gone by. Critics will offer up their lists of the best movies, but in a year in which we stopped being able to go to movie theaters, those lists will feel strange. Looking back on 2020 will, by force, have a far more somber tone than we would have hoped, as bound up as the entire span was in the pandemic that raged through the world, and continued to rage through our nation and our own communities. What will our own lists look like? The ones on which we usually say, “Lose weight! Start exercising! Read more books!” My guess is that this year, more of us will list things like, “Say ‘I love you’ every chance I get,” and “See friends and family as often as humanly possible.” 

The media we consume are already beginning to provide us with  photographs and biographies of the famous and infamous people who died this year—people taken all too soon, like basketball wonder Kobe Bryant and his 13 year-old daughter Gianna; like Chadwick Boseman, the iconic star of “Black Panther”; like rocker Eddie Van Halen, and like Naya Rivera who broke our hearts on “Glee”, and who broke our hearts again when she died while out boating with her young son. We will miss our favorite brainy game show host, Alex Trebek. And there are the people who were, as scripture would put it, full of years, like Charley Pride, and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and Sir Sean Connery, and Dame Diana Rigg. Civil Rights leader John Lewis. And of course, we will also remember our own heroes and heroines who went before us: family members, beloved friends, people who, when we were with them, we were home.  

And those who have succumbed to Covid-19. As I write this, our families, friends, and neighbors throughout the United States have lost 320,000 loved ones to this devastating pandemic, and, as you know, we are in the midst of a sharp spike in cases. 320,000 moms, dads, grandparents, sisters, brothers, children, cousins, partners, and friends. A year like no other, at least in our lifetimes.  

Have you ever wondered why this time of looking back and looking forward is most commonly celebrated by getting good and drunk? I’m thinking this year, no one is asking.  

These are many painful realities that will still be with us as we transition into the New Year. The vaccines are here, but Covid isn’t going anywhere just yet. And as you already know, looking back can draw a sharp red line under pain that only seems to increase the ache. Thus, the impulse to dull it, deny it, and cover it up with a celebration whose main feature seems to be not being able to remember too much the next day. 

We are looking back, but we are also looking forward. And as we do so, we can look to Simeon and Anna, whose eyes are trained to look for the fullness of the promises of God.  

When we meet Simeon, we are told he is a man “righteous and devout, and looking forward to the consolation of Israel.” Simeon looks back, and he sees the pain—the story of the struggles of God’s people. But Simeon looks forward as well. He looks forward to God’s consolation.

That word, consolation, is from a Greek word meaning “calling near.” Simeon is looking forward to that time when all God’s people will know that God walks beside them, that God hears their cries and pleas and calls for help. You could make the argument that Simeon is looking forward to the coming of a Messiah.

Simeon sees that consolation in the flesh when he sees the infant Jesus, carried into the Temple for a ritual of dedication by an unsuspecting Mary and Joseph. 

Anna, too, looks back on a life with its share of pain. She and her husband had just seven short years together, and she has lived the rest of her life—fifty years or more—in the temple. Anna is a prophet, and that means she is a truth teller. Anna’s truth is that she spends all her days wishing and hoping and thinking and praying to God, looking forward that time when the balm and healing of God, will pour down upon her and upon all God’s hurting children.  

Anna sees Jesus, and her wishes, hopes, thoughts, and prayers are all answered. Here is that healing balm of God.

Both Anna and Simeon look back and see in the past, not just the pain, but also the joy. They see both pain and joy in the future as well, in their own lives, and in the life of this tiny child, still in the arms of his parents. We hear Simeon’s words to Mary, and we gulp— is it ok to say that, to a new mother? But this is not just the very real and human story of the life of Jesus unfolding; it is the story of scripture, too. As we tell the story, we tell it all—we don’t leave out the painful bits, or the traumas, and we don’t leave out the joys and beauty. We try to tell the truth, and tell it whole.

Looking back and looking forward. Like Anna and Simeon, we are here in the midst of both a pandemic, and the still-beautiful celebration of Jesus’ birth, God’s consolation, God’s drawing near to frail and fragile humanity. We have called, and God has come.

My eyes have seen your salvation, Simeon says, salvation for all people, a light for all of us, every last one. I have seen it all, because God’s consolation is for all. God’s promise of consolation is not about holiness or worthiness or praying hard enough. God’s consolation, God’s healing, is a gift we can bring with us as the New Year dawns. Thanks be to God. Amen.