One way to make sense of what’s happening now is to look back and see what has happened before. For example, how many of your family Christmas rituals are based on things you’ve done in years past? Think about it. The food you eat—when you eat—when you open your presents—what’s hanging on the Christmas tree—when you get the tree—all those details plus many more are likely tied to Christmases past more than to Christmas present.
I mention this because much of the bible is shaped by the fact that God’s plan for the future, for the salvation of the world and the hope for the nations, moves in a line from the ancient past through the present moment and into what is yet to come. God is the One who was, who is, and who will be. That is why to understand where we’re going, we have to look carefully at where we’ve been.
At the end of Luke’s gospel, the risen Christ walked alongside two disciples heading to the town of Emmaus. They didn’t recognize him and were telling him about how Jesus of Nazareth was crucified unjustly. In response, Jesus began to teach them, going back through scripture to explain how all that had happened was in fulfillment of ancient scriptures. He pointed back to Jewish prophecies about a coming Messiah. He possibly told how the prophet Micah 700 years earlier had prophesied that this Messiah would be born in a manger in Bethlehem. He might have then noted that this new king would be of the house and lineage of David, which goes back to 900 BC, and would be one who embodied the fullness of the Law of Moses that goes back to 1200 BC. He could have even extended his teaching all the way back to the dawn of creation, that time before the Garden of Eden when God looked over the world and said, “It is good.” From that point, through the life, death and resurrection of Christ, and on to the horizon of God’s future kingdom, the same desire has been active in God –namely, that what was good in the beginning will be good again.
In a similar way, we see the same sequence of events unfolding in today’s reading from Luke 2. Jesus, the infant Child-Messiah makes his first real public appearance in the temple of Jerusalem. He was born into a faithful Jewish family who were doing what was required of them by the law. And by bringing their son into the temple, they linked Jesus’ story with that of the prophets, David, and Moses and prompted old Simeon to exclaim, O Lord, my eyes have seen your salvation at last.
Mary and Joseph were there in the temple to present a humble offering of a pair of turtle doves as part of the required sacrifice given after a child is born to a family. Simeon came up to them and asked to hold the child. Simeon presumably wasn’t a priest; he didn’t have any official role in the temple. He was a layman, a person of faith and piety with wrinkles and crow’s feet and flabby arms, but from whom the years seemed to melt away once he cradled the infant Jesus in his arms. Eyewitnesses would have only seen a poor couple standing off to the side in the Jerusalem temple with a tiny child held in an old man’s grasp. But Simeon insisted he could see much more than that. He could look back far into the past and glimpse far into God’s future, and in that moment say that now he’d seen enough for a lifetime. Although he wouldn’t live to see it, he knew that in time God’s plan would be fulfilled and he could die at last in peace. His faith, based on the past and looking toward the future with hope, was confirmed in that brief present tense moment in the temple holding the infant Jesus.
Here’s another way to think about all this. There’s an apocryphal story told about Martin Luther—the famous German reformer and founder of the Protestant church. While he was working on his translation of the bible, he was continually tempted by the devil. At one point he even flung his inkpot at the pesky demon. When Satan refused to leave him alone, Luther bellowed out, “I am baptized” and he was bothered no more. That’s a truly significant choice of words. Imagine being cornered by a pitchfork-poking devil. The contents of your wallet or purse won’t remove this pest. No words on paper nor guns in a holster will chase away the demon. Even shouting “I believe in God” won’t faze the creature because Satan believes in God too. Demons aren’t chased away by what we bring to the temptation battle—our wealth, status or knowledge, our tough-guy bluster or pious professions of faith. When we are tempted by sin, by addictions or lies or disloyalty at work or at home, those demons aren’t deterred by what we possess. But they are dispelled by the simple words, “I am baptized.” Those words announce not who we are, but whose we are. We belong to God. We are a child of creation, of Passover, of the temple and prophets and the river Jordan and the Easter empty tomb and the life-giving Spirit of Pentecost. We are baptized—we are part of a promise that precedes us in the past, goes ahead of us into the future, and saves us now and for always.
So, in that way, we have a lot in common with Simeon. We are gathered here today because someone at some point told us about Jesus, about the church, about how we are part of a larger story of hope and healing and salvation. We are the compilation of our pasts—our negative scars and times of woundedness, our positive memories of being affirmed, loved, set on the right path with encouragement. Ask yourself: What are your sacred moments? What sustains you even now, just as Simeon was sustained all those long years in the temple? Does it give you the strength to shout at demons and temptation alike, saying “I am baptized”? If your life would conclude this day, could you echo Simeon’s words and say, “Dismiss your servant in peace, for my eyes have seen your salvation”? That’s a big question—but also an important question.
I don’t ask you to compare yourself with Simeon to make you anxious. The reality is that we never experience in this life the full height and breadth and depth of God’s grace and love. We don’t get to have the tactile experience of holding the Christ child in our arms even for a moment. But we do get to hold children—we do get to hug and be hugged—we do catch glimpses of grace in our life and they are sufficient if we trust God, if we trust in our baptism, and if we trust in the promises of what is to come.
Sometimes we need to stop and work through the details of what it is we believe. Here’s a humorous example. Once upon a time, a little girl named Melanie had this under-the-pillow correspondence with the Tooth Fairy after losing a tooth. FEB 1st: Dear Tooth Fairy, Thank you for the $1. Some of my friends got more than $1 for their tooth. Yours truly, MELANIE. FEB 2nd: Dear Melanie, Some Tooth Fairies have more money than others. That was the best I could do. Be a good girl now. FEB 3rd: Dear Tooth Fairy, I’m sorry that I asked for more. Can you give me a picture of yourself to show my friends? FEB 4th: Dear Melanie, I’m sorry, but only Tooth Fairies are allowed to know what other Tooth Fairies look like. I’ll visit you again soon. FEB 5th: Dear Tooth Fairy, O.K. P.S. Your handwriting looks just like the handwriting of Santa Claus.
Melanie was trying to sort out the important people in her life. And she started to glimpse a connection between the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. Now back to theology: In our brief lives, we will never experience the full range of God’s love and Christ’s salvation history. We can only glimpse it. We sense some of the connections between faith and prayer and trust and joy. We taste it sometimes and then hunger for it the rest of our lives. We still get distracted but then we are able to reach out for it in times of need—in those times when a tossed inkpot won’t get the job done but the assurance from baptism water will. The wonder of faith, of God made known in Christ through the Holy Spirit, we see only in part, as in a mirror dimly; but in time we will know it all fully, even as we have been fully known and fully loved by God. For the Lord of days past is the God of days present and the Savior of all days to come.
So what are the rituals that shape your days right now? Whose texts and traditions are you living out in your daily routines? Are you serving the rat race or the human race? Are you part of an oppressive family or a progressive family? Worried or welcoming? Too tired to keep going or trusting the One who will never leave or forsake us? Try to shape your days and weeks around sacred moments—a word of prayer, a devotional reading, a bit of scripture, a lit candle, a time of silent reflection, a gathering for worship, a moment when your thoughts can focus on others’ needs and on the God who holds us all. Be Simeon once a day and imagine holding the Christ child. Imagine God being as near to you as a child in your arms. It will be enough. It will bring you peace. It’s what it’s all about—yesterday, today and tomorrow. To God be the glory. Amen.