Feast of the Presentation of the Lord
“Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign of contradiction ….” Lk 2:34
Everybody loves a story.
Children love stories. Adults love stories. Luke, the writer of this Gospel, certainly loved stories.
In fact, Luke loved them so much that he developed one of the most celebrated sacred stories of all time.
As a writer, one of the many qualities that distinguishes Luke is his extensive emphasis on the marginalized, especially women. And so, he begins his gorgeous rendition of the birth of Jesus, not with any male figure, but with a story featuring two women: Mary and Elizabeth.
What distinguishes them, according to Luke, is their utter reliance on the astonishing news they both receive from an angel, a messenger from God. They are chosen to receive this message because they are two people totally attuned to the Spirit.
It is that fundamental quality of trust that will be highlighted repeatedly throughout Luke’s Gospel.
Today Luke presents another story:
The story of a newborn child, Jesus, being brought to the Temple by his parents. It’s a very small story, but one that points to a much, much bigger one:
The story of a God who wanted people to understand just how loved and how passionately cherished they truly are.
Even this little story of the child Jesus being presented in the Temple today reminds us that we, like him, have a destiny – a destiny ordained by God.
The destiny of Jesus as pronounced by Simeon to Mary his mother was that he was to be “the fall and rise of many … and to be a sign of contradiction.”
What that means is that the destiny of Jesus is to be the revelation of God, the picture of what God looks like, the human depiction of what is possible for each one of us to experience:
Mercy and hope – and that overwhelming feeling of knowing that we are loved way down deep.
This is the ultimate story of all the Gospels. This is also the meaning behind everything we treasure to be holy and true and beautiful:
To remember.
To remember that we are loved this much – infinitely.
The problem with stories, though, is that we tend to forget them. Particularly a small one, like todays. We remember parts of the story, but often miss the whole point – unless we keep reminding ourselves.
Elie Wiesel, the famous Jewish writer, loved to tell the tale of how easy it is for us to forget what the whole story is that we’ve come to believe. It goes like this:
“When the city was in trouble, Rabbi Israel would retreat to a certain place in the forest to light a fire and say a prayer, and the misfortune that was upon the people would be avoided. After this first Rabbi died, this task fell to a second rabbi, who knew both the place in the forest and the prayer but did not know the ritual for lighting the fire. Nevertheless, he did what he could, and the misfortune was avoided. A third rabbi knew only the place but forgot the prayer and how to make the fire. But this too was enough, and the misfortune was avoided. Many generations later, the task fell to a rabbi who knew neither the place, nor the fire, nor the prayer. He simply remembered the story. All he could do was feel a deep compassion for his people and tell them the story. And this was sufficient to avert the misfortune.”
That’s why the Gospels were written:
Not so that we could get all the details, but so that the never-before-told story of mercy and forgiveness and love could be heard and experienced – and remembered.
That’s what we’re doing today on this Feast of the Presentation of the Lord. We’re remembering. We’re remembering a story – the story of Jesus’ destiny. And we’re remembering it through the eyes of two little known people: Simeon and Anna.
I’m certain that when Simeon rose from bed on this day that we now commemorate as the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord, he had no idea it would be different from any other. After all, for Simeon, every day was one devoted to anxiously waiting for the Messiah to come and deliver Israel from all forms of captivity.
Little did he know that he would be remembered down through the ages – remembered and honored.
The same was true for Anna who “worshipped day and night with fasting and prayer.”
Luke’s small but never forgotten story highlights for us that our small and seemingly insignificant lives can have lasting importance. And the reason is that our destiny is the same as Simeon and Anna’s – and that of the rabbi in Eli Wiesel’s story:
To remember.
To remember the story.
To remember the story of how two little known, but faith filled people, experienced the tangible presence of God in their lives.
To remember that we also are called to make this remarkable story come to life in our hearts during the everyday events in our lives – just as Simeon and Anna did.
Remember.
Ted Wolgamot, Psy.D.
