Meditation on Luke 2:22-38
The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple;
Simeon and Anna Bear Witness to the Redeemer
I met Julian of Norwich in a seminary history class. The anchoress and writer in 14th century England was chosen by her community to live in a room of her church and serve God in the quiet through prayer, fasting, worship, and contemplative reading. Julian offered spiritual advice and comfort to people who came to her window that opened onto an alley. Her life was a stark contrast to the violent, frightening times in which she lived… through the Hundred Years War and the devastating outbreaks of Black Plague.
Julian was stirred to write after she received a series of visions during a grave illness. The visions began while she gazed at a crucifix and a man, believing she was dying, performed last rites. Her revelations focus on the love of Christ who was willing to suffer even more for the salvation of human beings and the love of God who was willing to sacrifice His own Son for the sake of all who are Christ’s followers or, as she puts it, Christ’s “lovers.”
Julian, amazingly, writes of a God with no wrath for humanity when the Medieval Church is preaching the opposite—the wrath of God being poured out on people and nations because of sin.
She learns through her visions—both visual and auditory—that in Christ, God does not blame us for our sin. The wrath is all on man’s part—not on God’s. She finds hope when she hears Christ speak of a marvelous mystery hidden in God that will be revealed to us in Heaven, where we will have endless joy and bliss with Him.
Christ tenderly assures Julian that despite the sin and suffering in her world, “all shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”
***
Anna in our Luke reading today reminds me of Julian, in some respects. Anna also lives in her house of worship, the temple. She serves God with prayer and fasting, night and day. She is only married 7 years when her husband dies. She does not remarry, despite the certain economic struggle she will have without a husband to care for and provide for her. She is either 84 years old or has been a widow for 84 years—it isn’t clear in this passage.
We know less about Julian’s personal life—not even her real name. She likely took the name of her church – St. Julian’s—when she took the vows of an anchoress, symbolically shedding her former, worldly identity. Like Anna, she may well have been an elderly widow. But not having the freedom to leave her room or church, Julian preaches the gospel through her writings, which are miraculously preserved for hundreds of years.
Luke calls Anna a “prophetess.” She is the only one in the New Testament to bear this title. A prophetess, like a prophet, has spiritual eyes to see what others cannot. Anna enters just as Simeon is giving his blessing to Mary, Joseph and Jesus. Simeon, an elderly man, very touchingly tells God that he can now die in peace, “For my eyes have seen Your salvation….”
But God uses Anna—not Simeon—to carry His message out to the world. Anna sees the infant and knows she has come face to face with her Savior. She gives thanks to God, and then, probably for the first time in many years, she leaves the temple. The elderly widow goes out into Jerusalem to preach the Good News of God’s redemption to all who seek to be redeemed.
***
On Friday, when I was preparing this message, I took a long walk. It was the day we had woken up to the surprise of a dusting of snow all around. I paused a while in front of our Nativity scene on the church lawn to consider the work of Christ that began with such a humble birth. My mind drifted to how 2 men worked hard to rebuild and strengthen the wooden shelter. It can now withstand wind and blowing snow to protect the 10 hollow plastic figurines inside. Those figurines may not look like much in the light of day, with their white power cords visible and their paint looking weathered and worn from decades of use. But after the sun goes down, the scene takes on an entirely different look. Bathed in soft, golden light, our Nativity announces to all who drive by on County Road 6 that Christ has arrived!
And God is with us, still.
The Nativity became a familiar and peaceful sight for me during the weeks leading up to Christmas. Just as the sun rose every morning to welcome the day, the warm glow—cast by 3 sheep and a shepherd; 3 kings bearing gifts; and Mary and Joseph with the Baby Jesus—greeted the night.
Then yesterday afternoon, I looked out my window, and the Nativity was gone! Those who had labored so hard to set it up at the beginning of the season had taken it down.
After all, it was New Year’s Eve. It was time to put away our Christmas decorations. Our trees. Our lights. Our stars. Our Nativity scenes.
But I felt sad.
And then a song came to mind that dispelled my gloom. It was “Joy to the World.”
“Joy to the world! The Lord is come. Let earth receive her king. Let every heart prepare Him room. And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and heaven and nature sing.”
The Spirit was reminding me that although Dec. 25 has passed, Christmas is not really over. It doesn’t end when we put away the decorations.
The Lord is come! Let earth receive her King.
Christmas isn’t stored in boxes and bags in basements with strings of lights, angel ornaments, and figurines that glow. These are only reminders, symbols, of God’s sacrificial gift to us—forgiveness and new life through His Son.
Let every heart prepare Him room!
Christmas is forever inside of us, where we have made a place for Christ to dwell. He is as close to us as our beating hearts. His loving Spirit fills and renews us with every breath we take.
Wherever we go, we carry the vision of God’s salvation. The vision gives us the boldness to speak the Good News to those who don’t know Christ. And the vision comforts us as we eagerly await our Redeemer’s return. When we, like Simeon and Anna, will see our Lord face to face. And we will say, “My eyes have seen Your salvation.”
And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and nature sing. And heaven and heaven and nature sing.
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