A sermon preached by the Reverend Canon Dr. David Anderson at St. Jude’s Church, Oakville, on the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord, Sunday, February 2, 2025. (Text: Luke 2:22–24)
Today is the Feast of the Presentation of our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple. It’s a major feast in our calendar, but one we observe here at St. Jude’s in this grand fashion, only when it falls on a Sunday. It commemorates the events recorded by Luke in today’s Gospel Reading. Jesus’ parents, Mary and Joseph, brought him to the temple forty days after his birth to conform to Jewish ritual obligations—the presentation of the first-born to God; and the purification of a woman after giving birth.
It is understandable if we find today’s Gospel Reading somewhat disorienting, because at a time when we have been moving forward with our Gospel Readings in the unfolding of the story of Jesus, today’s reading draws our attention backwards, to Christmas.
Christmas already seems like a long time ago, however, in a very real sense, this holy feast we celebrate today is the final observance of the Christmas season, which explains why some Christian churches do not take down all the Christmas decorations—and especially the crèche—until this feast has been celebrated. Our attention is drawn back to Christmas, to the birth of Christ, and to the Holy Family. And even as our lives have moved on, and the world is no longer paying attention to this story, the church allows us one last glimpse of the joy of Christmas.
It is a story full of joy! There is the joy of parents who are faithfully fulfilling the practices of their faith, not unlike the joy of Christian parents who bring their infant children to baptism. And there is especially the joy of two elderly people who recognize the identity of the baby, testify to his cosmic significance, and welcome his salvation.
Luke apparently believes it is important that we, his readers, learn of Jesus’ parent’s obedience to the Jewish law, mentioning it no fewer than five times in this brief passage. He is concerned to show the Holy Family as observant Jews. He will do the same when he tells us about Jesus’ own religious practices as young child and later as an adult.
Luke also brings us to the temple in this story, because the temple will be a focal point in his Gospel. Joseph and Mary bring Jesus here twice, now forty days after his birth. They will bring him again when he is twelve years old, an incident which we read about together just a couple of Sundays ago. Jesus remains behind at the temple after his parents leave; when they discover he is not with the group returning to Nazareth they naturally become very anxious and they return to the temple and find him in conversation with religious leaders about scripture. “Did you not know that I should be about my Father’s business?” Jesus says to them.
Jesus will return to the temple when he comes to Jerusalem just before his crucifixion and the temple will continue to be a focal point for his disciples after his ascension. In fact, Luke’s description of the disciples following the resurrection and ascension, calls to mind his description of Anna, “They returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple blessing God.” (24:53)
In addition to the prominent role of the temple throughout Luke and Acts, this story introduces us to other themes that will be central to Luke’s telling of the story of Jesus.
Simeon’s is not the first song Luke records in his Gospel. The nativity story is accompanied by hymns: that of Zechariah, the Benedictus: “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel, for he hath visited and redeemed his people.” He sang it when his voice returned after the birth of his son John the Baptist. There’s Mary’s song, the Magnificat, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.” There’s the song the angels sang—and which we have already sung this morning—the Gloria in Excelsis, “Glory to God in the highest and peace to his people on earth.” And there is the one contained in our reading this morning, the Nunc Dimittis, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.” These have become the church’s songs, sung for nearly two thousand years.
While emphasizing tradition, the law and the prophets, and these two elderly witnesses, Luke also emphasizes the role of the Holy Spirit, mentioning her movement three times in describing Simeon. Simeon, we are told, was righteous and devout and looking forward to the consolation of Israel. His song is one of benediction and leave-taking. But Simeon has more to say and turns to ominous prophecy: “this child” he says, “is destined for the rising and the falling of many in Israel … and a sword will pierce your own soul, too.” Unfortunately, Luke doesn’t tell us what Anna said, but instead only leaves us with the image of an elderly woman who spent all of her time in the temple speaking about Jesus to everyone who would listen, “who” Luke says, “were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.”
On the surface, this episode that brings to an end Luke’s story of Jesus’ infancy, is little more than confirmation of what has gone before—the birth of the Son of God in keeping with what had been foretold in holy scripture and witnessed by people who were able to testify to its importance. But when you step back and take a moment to reflect, it opens yet greater meaning.
Think again about the temple’s significance. It plays an important role in this episode as it does throughout Luke and Acts. Yet by the time Luke was writing, the temple lay in ruins. In fact, it may have been destroyed anywhere from ten to forty years before he wrote. So, few of Luke’s readers would have been able to remember the scene and most would only have been able to imagine it in the same way we do ourselves this morning. Luke bring us, his readers, into the temple and in this story introduces us to Jesus, who in his body, is the new temple for us.
And think about those two elderly people who express their joy, of Simeon who sings “my eyes have seen my salvation,” and of Anna, “waiting for the consolations of Isreal.” Here is the thing, the sort of hopes expressed in this text—the consolation of Israel and the redemption of Jerusalem—had not been accomplished, and with the destruction of the temple and the ongoing Roman occupation which lasted another 300 years, that hope may have seemed further away than ever before. Would Simeon and Anna been able to hold on to their hope if they knew what the future held? Are we able to hold onto that same hope today as we wait for the fullness of all that God has promised?
And even in this story of faith, hope, and joy, there is an ominous note. In his blessing, Simeon speaks of the falling and rising of many in Israel, of opposition and division, and most of all, of a sword that will pierce Mary’s soul. Even here in the joy of incarnation, the shadow of the cross looms. In the painting by Andrea Mantegna, which depicts this scene, Jesus is wrapped, not in swaddling clothes but in what looks like burial wrappings (see the image above).
We hear this story today, forty days after our celebration of Christmas, when the joy of that season has long since left us, cooled by endless gray days, by the relentless cycle of news that wears us down and grinds our hope into despair. We hear this story when our attention is fleeting. At this time of year, it feels like we have little to look forward to but more winter, with few diversions other than the Super Bowl or the silly rituals of Groundhog Day. That’s not much, is it?
Can we appreciate the power of the story that Luke has crafted, a story of long waits, expectation and hope in the midst of disappointment? Can we see ourselves in the aged Simeon and Anna, whose faith did not falter through years of struggle and disappointment?
This is the Feast of the Presentation. Mary and Joseph brought Jesus to the temple. Much of the art depicting this scene shows Mary handing Jesus over to Simeon. But it also shows Simeon’s outstretched hands. While our translations says that Simeon “took” the baby, a better translation would be that “he received him.” Indeed, Simeon didn’t just see Christ, as one commentator has written, quote,
[Simeon] touches him, holds him, embraces him and given that Jesus comes to Simeon in the weakness of babyhood, for this moment Simeon actually carries him, as the stronger carries the weaker. Simeon has waited faithfully upon God, and the reward of his faithfulness is that for just a moment he becomes the bearer of Christ. (Emphasis added.)
Mary and Joseph presented Christ in the temple; they presented him to Simeon and Anna. Yet Simeon’s and Anna’s confessions make clear who Jesus is: our salvation, our redemption, the Son of God. Our Collect of the Day this morning reminds us that Christ presents us to God, and in a real sense that is what was happening here; Jesus was in his way presenting his parents to God and presenting Simeon and Anna to God.
Christ is made present on our altar today was we recall his life, death, and resurrection. But the fact of the matter is that in a deeper sense, Christ is presenting us on this altar. We approach this altar hand in hand with Jesus, carried by him, who presents us to God, just as today’s Second Reading speaks about Jesus presenting us to God as our Great High Priest.
May we, like Simeon and Anna, proclaim our faith in Christ, may we see him here, on the altar, in our lives and in the world around us. May we sing with Simeon:
For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, which thou hast prepared before the face of all people, to be a light to lighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory of thy people Israel.
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