It’s been said about Luke’s Gospel that he very often framed his narrative about the life of Jesus in such a way that even just the characters in the stories helped to shape what he wanted people to understand. Much like a play, where every character has a purpose. And if we read this story of Jesus’ presentation, we see some of those elements.
Our first character is Simeon, a man of many years, holy and devout. During his time spent with God, the Holy Spirit had already revealed to him that he would not die before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. And, Simeon, we see, went to the temple on a particular day, because the Holy Spirit had directed him to go there.
Our next characters are Mary and Joseph, a husband and wife, young parents of a newborn infant. They have come to the temple to fulfill the requirement of the law, to purify Mary after the birth of her son. We know that they were poor, because rather than purchasing the sacrifice of a lamb, they bought a turtledove and a pigeon, one for the sin offering, and the other for the burnt offering. And after they had completed the requirements, it was then that they could present their firstborn son to God in the temple.
Then, we are introduced to the baby Jesus, God incarnate. Of him, Simeon proclaims that he will be the salvation of Israel, and will be a light to enlighten the gentiles. The child, Simeon prophecies, is also destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, a sign of God that will be greatly opposed by many people and nations.
And finally, we come to Anna, an old widow, a woman who never left the temple but fasted and prayed daily in the temple, spending time with God. Anna never left the temple – instead she fasted, and she prayed continuously. I don’t know about you, but that sounds exhausting.
Why these characters? These people? Why did Luke use this story out of all the stories he could have chosen? As we look closer, we begin to see that Luke is concerned with equality. He shows us an old man, an old woman, a poor young man and his wife. The spirit of God rests upon each of them equally. And at the center of the story is the child, who, as Simeon has prophesied, is destined for the rising and falling of many in Israel.
And when some rise, and others fall, what happens but a leveling of the field? A leveling that takes those who think that they are great in the eyes of God, and humbles them, and takes those who think they are lowly, and raises them up to be equals with those who think themselves mighty.
Who among those deemed great and mighty by the world would not oppose that type of message? Who would be willing to stand by and lose their power and their prestige to one born of lowly parents, without education – and from Nazareth, no less? Nazareth was considered a backwater village, from which no good could come. Think about that for a moment. God incarnate was born into human existence in a barn in Bethlehem, and grew up in a place so low on social status that even the people of his own country judged Jesus to be worthless because of where he grew up.
The obvious take away from that theme is that if we try to limit access to God because of prestige, or age, or material poverty or any other number of social comparisons then we have missed the mark – by judging others based on their status in our eyes, rather than their status in the eyes of God.
And if we realize that this is what we are doing, then we may very well need to prepare ourselves – not for a rising, but a falling.
Another theme that we cannot escape is that these characters are devout, and faithfully obedient. Simeon and Anna had dedicated their lives to service of God, and Mary and Joseph came to the temple – obediently – to fulfill the requirements of the law. Every one of them is doing what they have been told is righteous in God’s sight, giving of their time, dedicating themselves to God.
At one point in seminary, I was having a discussion with a friend about the resurrection, and he was expressing doubt that the resurrection of Jesus ever happened, and that he didn’t think that believing in the resurrection was necessary. When I asked him, “Yes, but what about 1 Corinthians 15:12-19?” he replied, “You say that as if I ought to know what that passage says.” “Well, yes,chapter 15 is kind of an important chapter about sin, the resurrection and the incarnation.” And he said in a tired voice, “Dude, I’m a seminarian. I don’t read the bible. I read books about the bible.” Which is essentially saying, “I don’t read the bible, I just take other people’s word for it, because I just don’t have time for that sort of thing.”
It’s so easy to do the same thing in our daily lives. It seems that stories like this – about Simeon and Anna, among other people in the Bible – that we are encouraged to do those things touted as spiritual and righteous as often as possible, because that’s what the righteous do. We go to church because that’s what “good people” do, We give money to the poor, because that’s what “good people” do. We volunteer in outreach programs, because that’s what “good people” do. Almost as if the quantity of the time spent in these activities is what brings about God’s presence.
It’s as though we are looking at and judging our time as a commodity. Something with which we can barter our way into a spiritual life and a closeness with God.
But, and we all know this from personal experience, that we can spend all of our time in worship and corporate prayer being hating our neighbor, or being judgmental of those we are serving on our outreach, or being distracted by all the other things in our personal lives that we still have to do in the limited time that we think we have left.
In a wedding proposal, in some cultures, one partner will get down on one knee, open a small box, and ask the question: “Will you marry me?” What’s happening at that very moment, in our present age, is that they are no longer asking, “Will you take this over-priced bauble that I purchased for you as a symbol of my fiscal responsibility, and a symbol that I am an appropriate social partner?” No. What they are really asking their partner is “Will you take me, just as I am, and walk forward with me together from now until forever?” All the other trappings aside, what’s really being said non-verbally is this: “I present myself to you, just as I am, warts and all. – This gift of myself, will you accept it?”
It is a joyous moment when people say, “Yes.” And it begins the process of becoming united as one.
And, perhaps also from personal experience, we know that it is a not so joyous moment when people say, “No. I do not accept you.”
Thinking of the time we spend with God as a commodity, and thinking of our own time as a bauble to be handed to God in a box in order to win God’s favor is still viewing this whole thing transactionally. More time doing what people consider “righteous” = more God. It’s as if we believe that we have earned the right to claim God as our own, because we have worked so hard at all the righteous things.
And while we might like to claim God as our own, the truth of the matter is that God claims us as God’s own. We did nothing to earn it, and if we continue to spend more time doing righteous things in the hope that God will show up and perhaps even bless us, we may be greatly disappointed. Jesus himself tells us that many people will come before God and say, “Did we not prophesy in your name? Did we not drive out demons in your name? Did we not do many great and mighty things in your name?” And God will say to them plainly, “I never knew you. Get away from me you evildoers.”
Time spent doing righteous things, and mighty deeds in God’s name are of much less importance to the God of infinite time, and to a God who desires nothing more than that we present ourselves, as St. Paul says, “a living sacrifice, holy and well-pleasing to God.”
And what is amazing is that we can present ourselves, our whole selves – just as we are, to God in less than five seconds, while sitting on a park bench, sitting in a doctor’s office, or walking wearily through the heat of a summer’s day, simply by saying, “Here I am Lord. What do you ask of me?”
And then … we simply remain present.
We try our best to listen, to sense, to see God’s response, and to do according to God’s will. Not our will, but God’s will.
Sometimes God shows up in five minutes; sometimes, it seems, not at all. Sometimes, as in the case of Anna and Simeon, it takes a lifetime to see the Messiah. These revelations of God – these epiphanies, as it were – happen as God sees fit for us, and they always happen at the right time, and in God’s time. Because God does not work on transactions. God works on humility and self-sacrifice – presenting ourselves as gifts to a merciful God, and allowing God to shape us and mold us, and transform us – in God’s own time. And definitely, not on account of our own time.
You see, when Mary and Joseph presented Jesus in the temple, what they were doing was offering their son to God. And every family that did this in the temple was essentially saying, “This child of ours is no longer just ours, but is now a sacrifice to You, Lord God.” That is, from Mary and Joseph’s point of view, they were sacrificing their own child into the arms of a loving God, and now, he would be both their son, as well as a child of the God they worshipped. And they were allowing God to do with their child as God pleased.
And so, as we relive this story of Jesus’ presentation in the temple, what we are confronted with in our own lives is the question of our time and of our selves. Are we viewing our time as a commodity in which we hope to somehow earn God’s favor? Are we doing these things because it’s what we believe to be righteous – an obligation required of “good people?” Or are we presenting our very own lives to God as a living sacrifice? And do we trust God with our very lives? With our minds? With our hearts? Because when you offer yourself to God, God will change your life, your mind, and your heart. Do you trust God enough to make that sacrifice?
It begins here, in humility, asking God to shape us, to mold us, to conform our will to God’s will that we begin the process of seeing God. It may still take a lifetime before we see God – before we have an epiphany, a revelation in which God is present with us – but it never has anything to do with how much we do. Instead, it relies on our ability to say, “You are God, and here I am. Do with me as you please. I’m all yours.”
We are not offering a bauble in a box, our time, but instead offering ourselves, warts and all, as the Bride of Christ when we present ourselves in this way. And when we make this sort of presentation of ourselves, God will never say, “No.”
And then, perhaps, just like Simeon, we may be able to say, “My eyes have seen the salvation of the world. Now let me go in peace.”
[This sermon was delivered at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church in Wickenburg, AZ on February 2, 2025.]