Simeon and Anna (MPLS)

Luke 2:25-39

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

“Master, now you are dismissing your servant 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 the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband for seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four.

She never left the temple but worshipped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth.

When my kids were young, running errands was really a chore. Four kids in tow, they were with me at the grocery store, the hardware store, Target, the pharmacy. Where I would go, they would go. And, it seemed to me, with every excursion the request lines opened: “Mom, I want one of those. Mom, why can’t we get that? Mom, I need one of these.” I came up with a standard response: put it on your wishlist. It wasn’t a yes. It wasn’t a no. It was a wait and see. Which was enough as it turned out. The requests became quiet. Now, there wasn’t an actual wishlist but by the time we got home, the kids had almost always moved on.

What’s on your wishlist?

I suspect we’ve all created these kinds of lists — maybe we’ve written things down, probably not. That doesn’t mean they don’t exist. They most likely look different for each of us.

Some lists are pretty straightforward, made up of practical things like a certain coat or a backpack for work or school. Some lists are more ambitious, like naming places to explore or dreams to be realized, sometimes called a bucket list.

And then there are the lists that carry a heaviness — the list of things we wish were true, that should be true but aren’t: that the pandemic would be behind us, that peace would be realized; that storms would be non-existent, that hunger and suffering would cease. Maybe your list includes finding meaningful work, grieving the loss of a loved one, a terrifying diagnosis, a marriage that’s dissolved, the need for everyone to have a safe place to call home.

These kinds of lists are never short. They reflect the reality of being human: to live with longing… for something else, something more, something different. Sometimes we’re able to name exactly what it is we long for. Sometimes not.

This longing is at the heart of the Christmas story: our longing to be loved and belong, The story of Jesus’ birth is the story of God incarnate, God’s coming to us, born for us in a world longing for God to be close. It’s also a story about God’s longing to be in relationship with us — willing to set aside divine powers to be one with us.

Longing is at the heart of today’s story too. Simeon, a faith-filled man, had been given a divine promise: he would see the Messiah before he died. We don’t know how long he’d been waiting… years? Decades? We don’t know. We only know that when Mary and Joseph showed up with Jesus in the temple, Simeon took one look and knew that the salvation God had promised had come. Simeon’s longing ceased in that moment. He could depart in peace.

It’s really quite amazing. Even Mary and Joseph were amazed. Simeon takes the infant in his arms, and holds him. That’s it and yet it’s enough for him to know that Jesus is God’s promised hope. Nothing about the world changes in that moment — Herod still sits on his throne and Caesar governs from afar. But the present reality can’t keep Simeon from singing about the hope he holds for the future. It’s been a long season of wait and see but in the presence of Jesus, Simeon blesses God and sings: “Now, Lord.”

“Now, Lord, I’m trusting that whatever sliver of hope I’ve lived on all these years is finally coming to pass. Now, Lord, I can depart in peace.” And then Anna gets into the act too. The old woman adds her own joy, telling everyone about this baby. She is both prophet and witness to God alive in the world.

Simeon and Anna caught a glimpse of God’s promised future and it is enough. It may not have changed reality in that moment but now they lived with hope for the different reality that Jesus makes possible.

I had a glimpse of something similar at my house earlier this month. I was finishing up decorating for Christmas. It’s always a process, a little at a time… the tree one day, lights a few days later, eventually I get to the ornaments and other table décor. This year I noticed something in a new light.

On the buffet in our dining room sits a beloved creche, hand-carved out of olive wood, gifted to me from my parents. They bought it from a man in the Old City of Jerusalem when they traveled there in 1996. It sits on top of a table runner which is actually an antique camel’s blanket from Turkey given to me by a Muslim family emigrated from Lebanon as a thank you for hosting their son who had grown up in New York City and now lives in California.

Did you get all that? Jewish, Christian, Muslim, Lebanese, American, ancient and modern stories, mixed up together and sharing the same space. It could have been a mess — all those different traditions, peoples, generations and faith practices could have created a scene of chaos, but instead they created something rich and beautiful.

The scene is a glimpse of a future that Jesus makes possible, God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven. Our reality can sometimes feel so far from the beauty of the nativity scene, but in Jesus, God gives hope for a world in which love and peace are the reality for all of creation.

I’ve quoted the poem before, it’s one of my favorites by Gerhard Frost: “We live on glimpses,” he writes, “Fleeting glimpses in the forest. A bit of furry fluff disappearing behind a log, the flash of a many-colored wing telling us that a bird is hiding in the bush. We live on glimpses and wish for time exposures. But perhaps this is best: to see wild things in the open, untamed and free. For beauties are enhanced when they are fleeting; they leave us hungry still… we live on glimpses of great truths, wild truths, like the fact of God’s saving love… unpredictable, unmanageable truth that will not be captured or contained.”

Our Christmas celebrations may be wrapping up until this time again next year but the story of God’s coming into the world for you is still unfolding. You will need to pay attention. For even in the seemingly ordinary moments — a meal here, a baptism there, a beloved friendship, a gesture of kindness, an act of unexpected generosity or even, say, where two or more are gathered — Jesus does show up with the extraordinary gift of hope and God’s saving love.