Believing is Seeing [The Presentation]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Luke 2:22-40
Believing is Seeing
What did they see? In the crowded chaos of the Temple, what did
these prophets see that made them notice this family with this baby? Day after day the Temple square filled up
with pilgrims and pray-ers – throngs of people.
Some of the families brought babies.
Babies are miraculous but they are also incredibly common. Every person is at one time a baby. And most babies look pretty similar –
especially newborn babies. So what did
they see in this baby with this family?
The family was just a common family
from the north country, from the hill country.
They were not at all remarkable.
In fact, they were poor; in our Gospel text, Mary and Joseph offer the
peasants' offering in the Temple – no sheep, apparently they could not afford a
sheep; instead they offered just a couple of small birds. They paid the reduced rate – a merciful
provision allowed in the book of Exodus.
It was the offering required for the purification of the mother after
childbirth. For the dedication of the
son who “opened her womb”.
It was written in the Law. Every good Jewish family did the same
thing. Go to the Temple. Offer a lamb and a bird. Poor Jews, like Mary and Joseph, would offer
a couple of birds. For purification
after childbirth. It was normal and they
were normal. So what did Simeon see?
It was written in the Law. Every good Jewish family brought their first
born male child to the Temple. And they
presented the child to the God of the Exodus –
an offering to the same God who long ago, in Egypt, passed over their
homes and spared their little boys. It
was what good Jews did. It was normal
and they were normal. So what did Anna
see?
Today we celebrate in the Church,
the Feast of the Presentation. The feast
takes precedent today over Epiphany 4 and Groundhog Day and even the Super Bowl
– at least in the Church. Today we
remember that Jesus was presented to God – as an offering – by his
parents. And we remember, that on that
day, two prophets saw in the tiny baby of two Jewish peasants the answer to all
of their prayers.
The Gospel lesson assigned for this
feast never shows up in the Sunday lectionary – just today, just the Feast of
the Presentation. And I'm glad. I'm glad because it is one of my favorite
Gospel stories. I am glad because it is,
just on its own, so emotional and lovely, that I don't really want to talk
about it too much or over-explain it. I
feel like I can't really add to its simple beauty.
Instead, I just imagine it in my
head or in my heart, maybe both. I
imagine two young parents – nervous and a little overwhelmed – carrying their
new baby proudly into the awesome shadow of the Temple – that place in which
the presence of God is its strongest. I
imagine them shyly offering two birds – while every other proud couple around
them offers a lamb. And, I am a parent,
I image them feeling disappointed that their son will not have the
opportunities that the other baby boys might have – coming from wealthier
families, sheep-offering families. I
wonder if they wish they could offer God more.
And I imagine Simeon, righteous and
devout. Also old. Still alive because he was not dying until he
saw the Lord's Messiah – there was no way.
Maybe it was that thing that was keeping him alive.
He probably imagined that moment
all the time. He probably scanned the
Temple crowd each day. If I was him, I
would have pictured an adult – doing miracles, preaching amazing homilies, you
know, changing the world, acting like a Messiah. That's what I would look for. I would be like Samuel L. Jackson in the
movie Unbreakable; I would be
checking news reports for miraculous survivors and super heroes.
And I imagine what it might have
been like when Simeon saw that family of three.
And I imagine what it might have been like for the family as the old man
approached them and then took their baby from them. And whatever he saw in that tiny baby, it
compelled him to burst forth in song.
All of his years of waiting poured into this short canticle. All of the hope of the ages just came
out. He saw all of salvation history, he
saw the kingdom of God, he saw the future in a poor, little baby.
And I imagine Anna, she of a great
age. She lived as a widow in a world
without social safety nets. She lived as
a widow for decades. And she dedicated
those years to her God. And she trusted
her God was listening. She trusted that
the kingdom of God was coming. And so as
she waited, she also watched.
I don't know what they saw. Jesus was just a baby; he looked like other
babies. His parents were common. They stood out only as much as a family from
rural West Virginia stands out in New York, New York – just another tourist
visiting the big city. Hundreds of people
probably passed the Holy Family that day and thought nothing of them. But two prophets looked out over a sea of
pilgrims and saw the Messiah cradled in his mommy's arms.
What did they see? What was it about this child? This was before the miracles. This was before Jesus ever spoke a word –
before the sermons and before the parables.
Before the Cross and before the Resurrection, Simeon and Anna recognized
the Messiah. In that tiny face they saw
the salvation of the world. They saw
that baby and knew he was everything that God had promised.
And I stand here in awe of
them. Because too often I miss it. I fail to see Jesus all the time – even when
he is looking right at me through the eyes of a friend or stranger, even when I
am holding him in my hands, even though the light of Christ is burning within
me. Sometimes I am distracted. Sometimes I'm just not looking.
Anna and Simeon saw it; they could
see the Christ in a most unexpected package – despite a complete lack of
evidence. I think they saw him because
they never stopped looking. They waited
and they watched. They waited through
the years of absence. They watched
though nothing came. And so they were
ready to see what they had always believed.
St. Augustine once wrote, “Faith is
to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you
believe.”[1] Jesus
came. And the ones who could see were
the ones who believed. Who believed
enough to never stop looking.
It's not always easy to spot him in
the crowd. If you can't seem to see
Jesus right now, keep looking. Keep
waiting through the absence. Keep
watching when nothing comes. Keep
believing; it is the only way to see.
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