The Presentation of Our Lord (Candlemass), 2 February 2014

“The Story Beneath”

The Presentation of Our Lord

(Candlemass)

2 February 2014

Saint Francis Lutheran Church

San Francisco, California

Malachi 3:1-4

Psalm 84, Psalm 24:7-10

Hebrews 2:14-18

St. Luke 2:22-40

INI

The Story Beneath

You will have to forgive me as I have recently returned from my doctoral studies at Bexley Hall – Seabury Western Seminary in Chicago.  There, for a week, we studied Murray Bowen’s Family Systems Theory, and it has influenced heavily my reading of the Gospel text for this morning.  Bowen understands, unlike Freud who did most of his psychiatric inquiry with the individual, that such a study is really found in the story and context of families, and of generations.  It is that generation’s part, and the story part, that leads me to the character of Simeon, and indeed Anna, this morning.  Simeon represents a story that goes back for generations in the biblical text, and yet in Luke, it is a story that is told in the presence with anticipations of the future.  This, Dr. Bowen says, is how we begin to know ourselves.

Robert Bellah, in his outstanding book called Religion and Human Evolution, makes this poignant comment, “The self is a telling.”  Right in line with Bowen theory, this sociologist understands that the history of humankind is a narrative a story – a story that needs to be told, spoken, and shared.  The Church is a telling.  As we move through the events of the liturgical year, we struggle to understand both the story and teaching beneath the actions, and deeds.  Thus it is a good time to ask ourselves whether or not we have forgotten the story?  Certainly our time has.  Go outside onto the street and ask anyone who Jesus was and you will hear some pretty amazing stuff.  Have you forgotten the story as well?

Nunc Dimittis

Just moments ago we sang the story.  It is possible that we have sung this story so long and on so many occasions that we may have forgotten its truth and meaning.  Here it is:

"Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."

Simeon, like Zechariah, the Angels, and Mary in Luke’s Birth Narrative, sings the story.  That is what ancient story tellers did – Homer, Australian Aborigines, Scheherazade, Vyassa, and the Chanticleers.  That is what Pete Seeger did.  Simeon remembers the ancient promises and hopes and weaves them into a communication for Joseph and Mary.  Simeon not only knows the prophets, but also indeed is a prophet, speaking God’s word for the here and the now.  Simeon’s reality and his story is one of waiting and hoping.  It is a story and destiny that has been assigned to us by the one who promised to come again, and asked to live in an Advent of hope.

Now you are dismissing your servant in peace.

Simeon’s song does not avoid the difficult.  Indeed it is the difficulty of death that serves as an impetus for his song.  Simeon recognizes that he will soon die, and he indicates in aside to the Virgin, that he understands Jesus’ fate as well.  Jesus will be the one who will be upsetting a peoples’ story with his own story and his own actions.  Salvation in Simeon’s song is seen in the context of death.  Death becomes a moment for truly knowing God’s will, and for hoping and trusting in the promises.  It is in the context of promise and peace that Simeon dies, and it is in that same context that all of us will die.  The question is how will we make it a part of our story, of God’s story, of the Church’s story?  Simeon calls to mind the “favored ones” who had a peaceful death before him.  He recalls for us those who died in God’s bosom, who rested in peace.  He participates with them in this peaceful passing.  Simeon realizes that this is a gift for all, but more about that later.

My eyes have seen your salvation

What is your story?  What is your story in the context of the promise of salvation and redemption?  How have you seen salvation?  How has it been an Epiphany (a manifestation) to you?  We have an example in the person of Mary who took all the elements of her on-going story and “pondered them in her heart.”  After the shepherds and the angels, this is what she did – reflected.  After Jesus stays behind in the temple, seemingly disobeying his parents, and noting to them that he “must be about his father’s business”, Mary ponders and reflects.  Simeon, however, goes beyond Mary’s interior practice.  Simeon sings the story of his experience.  His self is in the telling. 

Anna has a similar reaction.  She, a prophet as well, in a long line of women who were prophets, does not keep the story to herself, but rather tells it.  Luke says, “she spoke of the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem”.  I wonder what she said?  I wonder what I might say so that I might understand “redemption” in such a way – so that others might know what it is for which I hope.

A light for revelation to the Gentiles.

Who are the gentiles now?  Have we moved beyond the traditional understanding of the gentiles, people outside of the nation of Israel?  Perhaps the gentiles of our own time are people who are outside of our understanding of the family, of the redeemed.  To tell the story leads to self-understanding, but it also leads to a sense of understanding amongst others.  Again, Robert Bellah,

“If personal identity resides in the telling, then so does social identity.  Families, nations, religions, (but also corporations, universities, departments of sociology) know who they are by the stories they tell.” I assume that Christians are included as well.  So as we tell our story, is Simeon’s story there?  Is Jesus’ story included?  The question becomes one of connection and inclusion.  How does my light enlighten your story, and visa versa?

The Theme of Light

We have a simple but beautiful candelabrum in our dining room.  It was made in Sweden with delicate wrought iron.  We don’t use it.  Arthur thinks that it makes a mess – and it does.  As we prepared for the liturgy this morning there was an extended conversation about whether or not you were going to light your candles.  The sacristan was right in warning us about the mess, the risk, and the trouble.  Then there is a fond memory I have of an annual argument that Pr. DeLange and I had each and every Easter Vigil.  “The stair lights need to be on!” he would declaim.  To which I would respond, “Jim, its about darkness, then the light.”  I always won. 

There is an importance to light, because light is the symbol of Jesus’ presence in our lives and in our stories.  We light lights regularly here – do we know their story.  The light at the Jesus’ statue – do you know its story?  The lights that surround the reading desk – what are they?  Why the lights at the altar, and why the ever-burning light in the chancel?

These light are a sign of our common story, and like lights everywhere they can be messy and difficult.  We see the messiness of Simeon’s story in his aside to Mary, “and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”  The reading from Hebrews makes this messiness in the story abundantly clear.  Jesus’ story is intimately linked with our own.  The author comments on Jesus’ story, much like Simeon comments on Mary’s.  “Therefore he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every respect, he himself was tested by what he suffered.” Messy indeed.  In the light we will see sometimes more, and sometimes less, but we will see, we will understand and wonder, and then we must tell.  Remember, “the self is a telling.”

Take your light home with you, even if we gave it to you.  Take your light home but don’t put it into a drawer or in a box.  “Hide it under a basket no! I’m goin’ to let it shine,” as Pete Seeger would sing.  Take it home and put it by an icon, or stand it by itself – a singular light – your story in Jesus.  You can reflect, and you can ponder.  And when all of that is over, tell the story.

SDG