Saturday, December 26

Scripture: Luke 2:22-33
And 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 male who first opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord’) and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said 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, and this man was righteous and devout, waiting for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ. And he came in the Spirit into the temple, and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the Law, he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said, ‘Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.”

At Communion
By Madeleine L’Engle

Whether I kneel or stand or sit in prayer
I am not caught in time nor held in space,
But, thrust beyond this posture, I am where
Time and eternity are face to face;
Infinity and space meet in this place
Where crossbar and upright hold the One
In agony and in all Love’s embrace.
The power in helplessness which was begun
When all the brilliance of the flaming sun
Contained itself in the small confines of a child
Now comes to me in this strange action done
In mystery. Break time, break space, O wild
and lovely power. Break me: thus I am dead,
Am resurrected now in wine and bread.

SIMEON’S MOMENT

He’d waited his whole life to meet the Messiah.

His people had been waiting for the Messiah for thousands of years. They waited while their backs dripped sweat under the yoke of slavery in Egypt. They waited while they wandered in the desert, their hearts aching for a home. And they waited while they endured centuries of Kingdom-invasion and exile. The Assyrians. The Babylonians. The Greeks. The Romans. They all took turns conquering and controlling the Jews. And the Jews waited and wondered: When would the Messiah come to save them?

I always imagined that Simeon sung an ancient Jewish equivalent to Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” the day he finally laid eyes on the Messiah after a lifetime of anticipating. In Ron DiCianni’s depiction of Simeon and Jesus in the temple, it looks like Simeon is singing. His head is tilted to the heavens and his mouth is open. And yet, there is anguish etched on Simeon’s face. His eyes are closed; his face is crumpled. Is he wailing a lament?

Simeon is suspended between light and darkness while he sings. The newborn he cradles is the source of light that reaches beyond him, first illuminating Simon’s anguished face and then the nations: Africa, Europe, Asia, the Americas. But the nations’ light is mottled. It looks like the painter was weeping while he painted; his own grief and joy intermingled with Simeon’s.

“Now I can depart in peace,” Simeon declares to the heavens. But if Simeon is buoyed by the light of the incarnation, he is grieved by the darkness of suffering Jesus will endure. He knows Jesus must still reveal the rebellion in human hearts in order to lead them to repentance and forgiveness. He knows the Messiah will split the nation in two: some will oppose him and some will praise him. Simeon warns Mary that the grief of it all will feel like a sword thrust through her soul.

Today is December 26^th. Christmas, with its joyous celebration, lies behind us. Winter stretches ahead. Unlike Simeon, we’ve seen the Messiah’s salvific work on the cross; but like Simeon, we know God’s story of redemption isn’t finished yet. Even as we participate in Christ’s transformative work, we labor under the burden of sickness, heartache, and death. We find ourselves suspended between light and darkness too, waiting for Jesus to return and consummate His Kingdom like He promised He would.

The song “St. Simeon’s Prayer” reflects the difficulty of waiting. Songs are like rooms, each with a rhythmic foundation and walls which are formed by 12 musical notes called a scale.  Songs built with major scales create a room full of light and hope, and songs built with minor scales create a dark and sorrowful space. “Simeon’s Prayer” is built with a minor scale, taking into account the suffering within Simeon’s, and our own, hearts as we behold our unfolding redemption. And yet, in this song, incredibly, the third note of its scale is raised a half step, making it a major note. It’s this unexpected sound of hope that resounds with the incarnation: light splinters into the darkness, and we now can see.

PRAYER
Lord Jesus Christ, You are the same yesterday, today and for ever, and have promised to be with us all of our days. We pray today for all those who wait. In their weakness may they find Your strength, and in their loneliness know the joy of Your very presence. Be to them a sure and certain hope of the life You have prepared for them in heaven.
Amen.

Sarah C. Jackson, Adjunct Instructor, Department of English