A Sermon for Candlemas - Luke 2:22-40
If the Pew Research Center follows up on their landmark study in 2018 about church attendance, I hope they call us at Christ Church. And I want us to be ready with some great answers. The original reasons people gave for going to church were solid. The most common ones were to become closer to God, to give children a moral foundation, to become a better person, and to find comfort in times of trouble or sorrow. Unfortunately for preachers, finding sermons valuable was not in the top four. That answer was in good company with a few others lower on the list, like meeting new people and continuing the family’s religious traditions. But I think we could do better. If they call me, I’m going to say that I go to church to look for the consolation of Israel and the redemption of Jerusalem. Can't you just picture the poor graduate research assistant who has to code that answer?
It might not roll off the tongue, but it gets at the heart of church, especially on this day. Today is The Presentation of Our Lord. We also call it Candlemas, because the church added the dedication of candles along the way. Candlemas may be a little on the obscure side, but the church settled on it quite early as an important day. A pilgrim by the name of Etheria documented her journey to the Holy Land around the year 380. In her notes, she observed Candlemas in Jerusalem. It was as big as Easter, full of processions and elaborate rituals. She wrote, “All the priests preach, and also the bishop, always treating of that passage of the Gospel where, on the fortieth day, Joseph and Mary brought the Lord into the Temple, and Simeon and Anna the prophetess saw him… And when all things have been celebrated in order as is customary, the sacrament is administered, and the people are dismissed.” It is safe to say that church was long that day in Jerusalem.
It might seem strange to celebrate an archaic feast from old church calendars. Which means it’s right up our alley as Episcopalians. In a world worried about more serious matters, (our 10:30 service will have) here we are with extra processions, added collects, and the dedication of candles, all of which could be viewed as quaint or irrelevant. Unless, of course, we take a closer look at the significance of this day. Apparently it took several sermons in the ancient world to cover that question, but I’ll do my best in just one.
The Gospel appointed for today has Mary and Joseph bringing Jesus to the Temple when he was 40 days old. It was time for Mary’s purification after childbirth. And on that day, all first-born males had to be redeemed - literally bought back - from God, tho whom they belonged. That custom dates all the way back to the Passover when God spared first-born Jewish males. By the time Jesus came along, there was a sliding scale at the temple, and the holy family was able to get the lower rate of two turtledoves, and the presentation was made. To any onlooker that day in the Temple, everything about this scene was ordinary and customary under the law. That is, until two strange characters entered the Temple and saw something entirely unordinary happening.
Simeon, a righteous and devout man who had been waiting faithfully for the consolation of Israel, was prompted by the Holy Spirit to enter the Temple at just the right time. He recognized Jesus as the messiah. He picked him up and burst into one of the most beautiful songs in scripture. “Lord, let your servant go 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 then Luke tells us about Anna, an 84-year-old widow and prophet. She, too, recognized Jesus and became his first evangelist, telling everyone around about him. She had spent decades at the Temple in prayer and fasting, looking for the redemption of Jerusalem, and thoroughly preparing herself for this moment of encounter with God’s anointed. You’ll recall that Luke loves to use widows as part of the great reversal of the gospel message - taking those who seem powerless and turning them into prophets and game changers against the empire. The consolation of Israel and the redemption of Jerusalem had political overtones and a sense of wrongs being righted at last. Anna was so steeped in prayer and worship that she could see that unfolding in what looked ordinary to everyone else. We could use more Annas and Simeons in the church. They have eyes to see early signs of the divine at work, as something holy unfolds, but which is not yet fully revealed.
We, too, can have eyes that see light coming into the world and imagine a holy future. Luke makes it clear that Anna and Simeon were steeped in ritual and religious observance, which was the training ground for their ability to recognize Christ. You and I are trained here. St. Augustine of Hippo believed that we can all develop our spiritual senses to see what is good and holy through the liturgies of the Church. A likely observer of Candlemas himself, he added that candles are helpful in this spiritual growth. He even offered a few verses in praise of candles. “These are thy gifts, O Lord; and they are good.” Candles are a symbol of light in the darkness, of hope against despair, of grace shining through our sin - all of which we can learn to see more clearly. Like Anna and Simeon, we can see the beginning of a holy future already unfolding.
If, by chance, you don’t think this applies to you, that you are insufficient for such spiritual insight, remember that Luke told this part of the Gospel through a guy off the street and an elderly widow in the Temple for our inspiration. Each of us can follow in their footsteps, dedicating ourselves to religious observance, and looking for the Savior, trusting that the consolation of the world has already begun in Christ. Far from being a quaint holdover from dusty old church customaries, it turns out that this feast day captures the very heart of our faith and our hope. When that Pew researcher calls to ask us why we go to church, we’ll be ready.