THE PRESENTATION OF THE LORD

[cappie]

The story began forty days ago when the baby was born: the boy who was born to be a light. Or maybe it began when the angel first told Mary of her special calling; or during the reign of King David; or when our people were slaves in Egypt;  

Whenever we choose to begin the story, it is fraught with difficulties. Yet Mary and Joseph managed to rise above the uncertainties. They travelled to Jerusalem. It was the custom to dedicate the first son to God forty days after his birth; to offer a sacrifice at the Temple to redeem the child. They did so to remind themselves that their child belonged to God. It was a reminder that God has a genuine claim on the best we have to offer.

The required sacrifice was a lamb, but those too poor to buy a lamb could offer the lesser sacrifice of birds. The crowds in the Temple precincts would know who they were: bird people were poor people. Common people had trouble making ends meet. The lines in front of the pigeon sellers, it can be assumed, were probably very long.

Mary and Joseph were faithful to the custom of the forty days. The offering of these birds would be a memorial to all of the firstborn males ordered killed by Pharaoh in that first Holocaust -- the one that only Moses survived. The custom of forty days bound Mary and Joseph to their people and their past just as this Eucharist ties us to ours. 

They had come to make a sacrifice and a commitment.    

Simeon had been praying and waiting, hoping and studying, waiting for God to reveal the light of the world. Simeon was an old man waiting to be released, waiting for his people to be released, waiting to see a glimpse of the future, a glimpse of the truth, a glimpse of relief and release.

Simeon had, we can imagine, like so many of us, grown weary: weary of the Roman occupation; of the failure of religious and political leaders; weary of being weary.

 Suddenly, Simeon became a poet for the ages: announcing for all who cared to listen and hear that the child he held was not Mary's child, but God's very own; a child born to be light; light for all peoples everywhere and throughout all time. Simeon had seen the light.

"Can you see it?" he cried out. "Here is the light which will withstand all darkness, any darkness, even death upon a Roman cross." Then, quietly, Simeon handed the child back to his mother-and he is gone, released, God's promise fulfilled. Simeon returns to God as the mother and father look on: Joseph with the birds in his hands, Mary with the child born to be a light. All of the other mothers and fathers gathered in the Temple were looking on.

Now we are here today, holding the light in our own hands if only for a moment. As it was for Simeon, a moment will have to be long enough, like Mary and Joseph we come to remember our past and God's saving actions. We come to renew our commitment to our God and, like Simeon, to catch a glimpse of the light so we can tell others what we have seen; so that we can feel the release; so that we, too, can become a light for others.

We have now only a moment to catch that glimpse, and then live accordingly. At your baptism, you were reborn into the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, We hold the light of the Eucharist the very body of Christ in our hands, a sign of God's holy Spirit of Love, which enlightens us and empowers us to reach out to one another and allow ourselves to be transformed and to reflect the light and life of God beyond the boundaries of our parish or congregation, our church, our community, and even our country.
If only for a moment, it is more than enough to become the light that we carry.