let Nothing you dismay

Sunday, December 31, 2017
Trinity United Church of Christ, Deerfield
Kent M. Organ, Interim Pastor
Texts: Isaiah 52:7-10; Luke 2:22-40

    That was the last scene  in Luke's story of the birth of Jesus.  Luke divides the story into several acts – each act with dialogue, and a song.  We are familiar with most of the scenes:  the angel’s announcement to Mary, after which  she sings.  The birth of John, and his father's song.  Then the shepherds are visited by angels, who sing, “Glory to God in the highest.”  Then  the birth itself, and all is quiet.  Mary ponders all of this  in her heart.

    The last scene is our Gospel text for this morning,  the concluding scene in Luke’s drama, the visit to the Temple.  The final song belongs to Simeon.  He sings,  “Now  you are dismissing your servant in peace.. for my eyes have seen your salvation.”

    The holy family  have come to Jerusalem  to the Temple  for a Jewish ritual.  Mary and Joseph are devout people.  They intend to raise their son in the faith.  There are two old people there, Simeon and Anna.  Luke says  they were constantly in the Temple.  In Jerusalem they are probably known as the odd couple, Simeon and Anna.  You could always find them in the Temple.

    Simeon is there  because he is expecting the Messiah.  In Malachi, it is prophesied  that when the Messiah comes,  he will come  “suddenly  to the Temple.”  So every morning,  old Simeon gets up and goes there.  It also says that Simeon is righteous, old and righteous.  Those are offered as impressive credentials for Simeon, which is important  because, for Luke,  Simeon is an expert witness.

    So Simeon is standing at the entrance to the Temple, looking for the Messiah.  He's been there for years, waiting, watching.  He even checks out babies.  He sees Mary, Joseph and the baby come up the steps,  holds out his arms.  “Let me see the baby.”  Mary lets him.  There is an instant  of recognition.  And Simeon sings, “Now, let your servant depart in peace.. for my eyes have seen  your salvation.”  Translation:  “The Messiah has come.  I can die  now;  the reason I've been holding on  for so long  has now come.”   

    Simeon is the expert witness.  If anyone should know who the Messiah is,  it’s Simeon.  This is it, he announces.  The Messiah is here.  

    Simeon’s song is called the Nunc Dimittis, after the first two words  in the Latin text, the Vulgate.  “Nunc dimittis” means  “Now I can leave.”  It's a song of thanksgiving to God  for the gift of this child, “a light to the Gentiles, glory  to the Jews.”  Which means,  this child  is a savior  for everyone.  

    After the song of thanksgiving, though,  there is a prophecy  of pain.  Simeon announces,  “This child is destined for the falling and rising of many,”  which means  this child is going to be controversial.  There's going to be division  because of him.  Then he turns to Mary, and says,  “A sword will pierce  your own soul  too.”  She herself  is going  to undergo pain  because of this child.

    Which is a harsh conclusion  to the lovely story of the birth of Jesus.  Already,  Luke has  sketched in  the shadow  of a cross beam.  But, wait.  There’s something more.  Right after the warning of Mary's  suffering,  the very next verse,  Anna is introduced.  It says, “There was also a prophet, Anna.”

    * * * *                    

    Anna is the other half  of that odd couple  that was always at the Temple.  Anna, who prays and fasts night and day, is identified  as a prophet,  so  she too  is an authority.  Luke says also  she was  “of great age.”  Another expert witness.  And Anna  agrees with Simeon.  This baby  is what we have been looking for.  And, what's more,  Anna told that  to anybody who would listen:  “This is the Messiah.”  She is  a corroborating witness.

    But I think she’s also there  for another reason.  Luke is the gospel writer  who pays most attention  to women.  He has women appear continuously  in his writings, both in Luke  and  in Acts.  He did this in an age  in which  to do so  was controversial,  even defiant  of convention.  For instance,  Luke mentions widows at least eight times.  Widows were dependent on other people's charity in that time, often  poor  and treated unjustly.  

    And here  comes Anna,  a widow.  Luke is specific in describing that part of her life.  She has been a widow  for 84 years,  which means  she knew  what suffering is.

    Simeon has just said to Mary, “You will have a sword put through your soul.”  And here comes Anna.  It was said  of the Messiah, in Isaiah,  “He was a man of sorrows  and acquainted with grief” (53:3).  Mary, you will know that too.  And here comes Anna.  She can tell you all about that, also.  She is  a woman of sorrows, acquainted with grief.

    When Simeon says, “This is the Messiah,”  it means something.  It’s an authority speaking.  He’s a Messianic scholar.  He knows  all the Scripture texts.  He knows  who to look for,  he knows  where to look.  He’s an expert.

    Well, Anna is too. She is from the university of life, the school of hard knocks.  She is among the company of sufferers in this world.  She is, as we say nowadays,  “a survivor.”  So when Anna says, “This is the Messiah,”  this is also  authority speaking.  

    Luke wanted to make it perfectly clear  that the Messiah  had come.  So he subpoenas  authorities,  because it  wasn't all that clear.  The days after Jesus was born, the world looked just the way it had  the previous day.  An alien army still occupied the land; Rome still ruled with an iron hand.  Eruptions of violence kept happening. Taxes went up.  The rich got richer, the poor got poorer.  The sick didn’t get well.  The problems that plagued the people  before Christmas  were there to greet them  after Christmas.

    So,  somebody  had to ask it.  Are you sure  this was it?  Is this  what we were really looking for?  That’s why Luke brings in Simeon and Anna,  expert witnesses  to reassure us  that in spite of the way it appears,  this  was  it.

    * * * *    

    It is an appropriate question  on the first Sunday after Christmas,  a poignant question to ask  on  New Year’s Eve.  When we are still basking  in the holiday spirit.  And  you haven’t gone back to work yet.  (I’ve gone back to work,  but  you haven’t.)

    Are  we  sure  this was it?  The fades.  The world returns  to its  pre-Christmas state.  Terrorist threats remain. An ugly political era continues. Your problems remain.  And you will know  some sorrow  this year,  some grief.  The world  will be the same.

    Martin Marty has an apt illustration of our world.  He went to see  a  dreary  Irish play, full of heartbreak,  in which  there are four  unmarried sisters,  one of whom,  near the end of the play,  says this:  “You work hard at your job.  You try to keep the home together.  You perform your duties  as best you can,  because you believe  in  responsibilities,  and obligations,  and good order.  Then suddenly you realize  that hair cracks  are appearing  everywhere,  that control is slipping away,  that the whole thing is so fragile  it can’t be held together much longer.  It's all  about to collapse.”

    “Hair cracks  are appearing  everywhere...”  Things we have to live with:  a world at war,  threats abounding,  economic priorities gone haywire.  And, close to home,  the beloved spouse now gone,  a dreaded diagnosis, children who have wandered away – we wish we could change these things, but we aren’t able to.  A job that is no longer exciting  or fulfilling.  And the world you grew up in  and found meaning in  is cracking.  There are hair cracks  everywhere.  The whole thing  seems so fragile now.

    What this text says to us, so soon after Christmas,  is  that the Messiah has come to this world, to the world  with hair cracks.  This is it.  The witnesses have testified.  This is it.  This really is.  There will be no  additional Messiahs.  No one is going to come and solve your problems for you.  So, if the world is going to get better, and if your life is going to get better,  then  you have to trust  that the power to change things  is already here,  waiting for you.

    Anna  is telling everybody  about it.  Old Simeon, he has now departed in peace.  But Anna is still here, announcing, “The Messiah has come.”  Which means,  the world  doesn’t have to be  perfect  for me  to know  all the things  that were promised:  Peace, and joy, and reconciliation,  forgiveness  and new life.  It means  that my life  can have  a wholeness  and purpose,  even though there are cracks in it.

    There’s a wonderful verse in today’s final hymn, “It Came Upon the Midnight Clear.”  It fits perfectly with this text.  It could be written about Anna.  It goes  like this:

            And you, beneath life’s crushing load,
            whose forms are bending low,
            who toil along the climbing way
            with painful steps and slow,
            look now! for glad and golden hours
            come swiftly on the wing.
            O rest beside the weary road,
            and hear the angels sing!
                      
        - With thanks to Martin Marty and Mark Trotter