Malachi 3. 1 – 5

Luke 2. 22 – 40

The Feast of Candlemas

 

Fr Kenneth Crawford

 

To understand fully this wonderful moment in our liturgical year, we have to go right back to Leviticus, the third book of the Old Testament, because it explains the procedure for coming before the Lord for purification and blessing. Purification is a dreadful word because it describes the cleansing of women after childbirth, the same as the churching of women in the Book of Common Prayer. There’s nothing dreadful about what God creates for the benefit of childbirth; nothing is unclean.

Be that as it may, in Leviticus 12 we have the instruction about the offerings to the temple. The first was a lamb in its first year for a burnt offering; the second was a pigeon or a turtle-dove for a purification offering. In chapter 12 verse 8 we read, “If she cannot afford a sheep, she shall take two turtledoves or two pigeons, one for a burnt offering and the other for a purification offering, and the priest shall make atonement on her behalf, and she shall be clean.”

The critical words, here, are “If she cannot afford a sheep …”. We know from St Luke’s account in tonight’s gospel reading that Mary and Joseph took two turtle-doves for their offering; poverty was their station in life. They couldn’t afford the lamb—perhaps Luke doesn’t mention the lamb simply because he knows of the family’s poverty. Jesus was born into poverty as we see not only from these words in Leviticus but from the rejection for his birth at the Inn—there’s a stable you can use—and because of Jesus’ lowly work as a carpenter.

Mary and Joseph were some of the devout poor, doing that which the temple proscribed at the time of birth. They couldn’t afford a lamb as they had not the money to pay for such an up-market offering. We appear to be left in no doubt that this baby was anything more than a poverty-level child.

When we read St Luke’s account of the presentation in the temple, we read clues that the lack of the sheep was not the whole story. Simeon, in his joy, says that he can now depart in peace because his eyes have seen God’s salvation in this child. He knows that the salvation is through the gift of this baby. He knows, also, that the salvation will be accomplished through the sacrificial gift of this child. So we begin to realise that a priceless lamb of great richness is present and was offered in the temple on this occasion, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world. The lamb is this baby, born into poverty, the one who identifies constantly throughout his ministry with the poor, the outcast, the unloved, the crippled, the blind, the lame, and those who fear that nothing will save them. This is the lamb whom Simeon recognises as the salvation of the world through the lamb’s ultimate sacrifice of himself.

Once we understand that enormously powerful symbol of the Lamb of God, we begin to understand from the gospel reading the falling and rising of many in Israel. In the English language, the vowels listed in order are I, A, and O. Hence, tick-tock, mish-mash, sing-song, big bad wolf, rising and falling, and so on. However, Luke tells us through Simeon that this child is destined for the falling and rising of many in Israel. Immediately the vowel order is contradicted; immediately we hear something negative about the destiny of this child. In amongst all the happiness and fulfilment in the birth of Jesus, the joy for Simeon seeing before his death the Lord’s Messiah, there’s foreboding in the word order. Falling and rising.

As we contemplate the reason for this reversed word order, we begin to understand that the advent of Our Lord doesn’t fit the world order. The world isn’t going to be turned upside down, everything put into its rightful place, and the whole of humanity simply saying “Isn’t this wonderful”. That’s not the way human nature works. To say the falling and rising of many in Israel is to indicate that there will be great opposition to the kingdom before it is brought in—the clue is the end of Simeon’s statement, that this child will be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed.

The process is down-before-up, loss-before-gain, agony-before-ecstasy. The way of the kingdom will be the way of the cross: not only in Jesus’ own death, but in the cost to us all of true adherence to the kingdom.

In human life, we have sorrows and struggles, the cost-of-living crisis not least of all. They seem to be around us, daily. This gospel passage alerts us to the fact that Christianity, even in our day, will be a struggle if honoured properly. However, the “rising” after the “falling” is exemplified in the greatest human act of all time, the resurrection of Jesus, making that same resurrection possible for us through faith. Jesus had to fall so low in order to rise so high. It’s in the rising that the true nature of the promises of the kingdom are revealed to us. It’s interesting that Mary also speaks about falling and rising in the Magnificat: he has brought down the mighty from their seat (falling) and has exalted the humble and meek (rising).

We glimpse some of this rising even in the temple through Anna, the prophetess. She worshipped in the temple with fasting and prayer, night and day. When she sees the child, she begins to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Israel.

Here is darkness before the dawn. Anna has been worshipping night and day—darkness before dawn. When she sees the child, the dawn breaks for her, a new dawn of love and thanksgiving that her prayers are answered. Her prophecy is that this child will be the redemption of Israel. A glimmer of hope in the foreboding message from Simeon.

Finally, we hear Simeon’s challenge to Mary in the concept of the sword piercing her own soul, too. Certainly this happens most poignantly at the foot of the cross, but it happens much before then in Jesus’ ministry, when we hear him say that he comes not to bring peace but the sword, and will turn families against each other. We know that this isn’t a literal sword, but the challenge of his word which will bring people to separate through lack of acceptance of the kingdom. These are the issues which pertain to the sword piercing the soul. 

What, then, does it all say to us? After the joy of Christmas —in its proper sense—and the pleasure of this great season, we’re warned that the progress of the revelation of the kingdom won’t be easy. We’re warned that we will have sorrows and struggles in this life, but that the power of prayer and the love of Our Lord will carry us beyond these sorrows and struggles. 

The sign of the Messiah is opposition. There is no resurrection without crucifixion. There is no unbinding without the binding. The hard reality of repentance preceding forgiveness tells us plainly that there is no forgiveness where there is no perception of any fault.

It reminds us of the work of the Holy Spirit, to bring consolation and deliverance. As one commentator says, “The Holy Spirit guides the faithful to meet the Messiah in order to take on the same mission: to lose ourselves in order to find ourselves. Just as the Spirit ‘rested’ on Simeon, the Spirit rests on the baptised in every age, compelling prayer and fasting, urging us to righteous deeds, calling us to see through our failures a pathway to the good.”

As we turn, now, towards the passion, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, may we all say in our hearts and aloud, that we can depart in peace, having seen God’s salvation and recognised that salvation in the Christ-child, especially as he comes to us unfailingly in his body and blood at the Altar.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.