December 27, 2020
William G. Carter
Now there was a man in
Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of
Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by
the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s
Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the
parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the
law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, “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.” And the child’s father and mother
were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and
said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising
of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner
thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”
There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.
This
is a poignant story. For all the beauty of Christmas, there is also pain. For
all the joy and delight, there is suffering and loss. For all the happiness of
the holiday, it is frequently accompanied by disappointment. And we know this,
even though we would rather not talk about it.
I love Christmas, as you do too. The songs lift my soul. The story of Christmas never fails to evoke wonder. Yet the plain truth is this: every time I put up a string of white twinkle lights and plug them in, one of the bulbs has already burned out – even if the string of lights is brand new.
I have come to concur that’s the way Christmas is. The Light has broken into the darkness. In neighborhoods like mine, all the houses are lit up. And I deeply believe what the Gospel of John announced on Christmas Eve. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. Yet there’s still darkness.
The scriptures say that when Jesus was born, there was an old man Simeon, and an old woman Anna, and they were hanging on until they could see the Messiah. Luke introduces them and dismisses them in the same scene. We don’t know much about these senior citizens, except they were hovering around the Jerusalem Temple waiting, praying, fasting, hoping to see the Messiah before they even learn his name.
Of the two, Simeon is the more excitable. He waits for all the mothers to present their children and offer them to the covenant of God. No doubt he frightened all the mothers. Here comes the old man, wobbling up with his walking stick. He peeks into every one of the blue blankets to ask, “Is it a boy? Could this be the one?”
All the fathers stand by, shifting from one foot to the other, worried if they can remember the right words to speak when the priest comes along. Here comes old Simeon, not staying in his lane, going from one family to the next, to say, “Is it a boy? Can I see your boy?” The fathers say, “Get away from him, old man, you’re scaring his mother.”
But Simeon persists. He means well because he hopes deeply. Somehow God has whispered into his ear that Simeon will not see death until he sees the Messiah. He will see him, although that means one more light will flicker and go out.
For all its candlelight and good cheer, Christmas can be a difficult holiday in the best of years. We are told to be happy when plenty of us are worn out. We are encouraged to look up when seasonal shadows and empty seats at the table are pulling us down. Fifty-five years ago, Charlie Brown confessed how he felt hollow during the season, and for good reason, that cartoon has never gone off the air. For there is appropriate joy and it’s entangled with sorrow.
This year, of course, is so much harder. We have pulled back from one another to stay well. Meanwhile the unseen virus infects and claims some of the people we love. If you crossed the state line this week, you saw the signs requiring a two-week quarantine. If you sneaked through anyway, the threat of illness is chasing over your shoulder. Even if you unwrapped everything you wanted this Christmas, there is the whiff of disappointment. “Hindsight is 20-20,” some have said, and we are ready to put 2020 in the rear-view mirror.
I guess that’s why I have frequently been moved by the story of Simeon and Anna. Jesus is born and it’s not instant success. The Messiah has come and there’s plenty of work yet to do. At its best, Christmas is a magic moment, but it’s not instant transformation.
Simeon pulls back the next blue blanket, sees the infant child, and the Holy Spirit whispers, “This is the One. Here he is.” It’s all he can do to keep back the tears of joy. After so many centuries of longing, all the balancing of patience and impatience, the Christ has come. The old saint breaks into song. With four of the biggest words in his vocabulary, Simeon declares what he has seen: peace, salvation, revelation, glory. The storyteller tells us that Joseph and Mary are speechless.
But then Simeon offers a mixed blessing to the parents. Here is how somebody translates his words:
This child marks both the failure and the
recovery of many in Israel,
A figure misunderstood and contradicted –
the pain of a sword-thrust through you –
But the rejection will force honesty, as God reveals who they really are. (The Message)
The baby Jesus has come. He is the Promised Messiah. The heart of his work will be to reveal what kind of work in our own souls must be undertaken. He will show us what the world cannot provide. He will invite us to choose between our illusions and that package of those four great words: peace, salvation, revelation, glory. If we make that choice, it will require some hard work for our souls.
I don’t know what Christmas it was, but it was sometime in my early adolescence. I cannot date it, but it must have been the year when I opened all the packages and realized something was missing. It wasn’t something on my list; I’m sure of that. I have been blessed to spend all my years within a family that provided everything I wanted and gave me more than I needed, and I know that’s not the case for everybody.
But that year, I sat in a pile of ribbons and wrapping paper and felt like I wanted to cry. For all the Yuletide abundance, something was missing. I didn’t want to let it show. Have you ever felt like that? Around you, there’s happy laughter, shouts of excitement. You feel that, but there’s also an absence. What is it? What I was missing?
I ask because the feeling has returned on other occasions. Not just in this horrible year of covid-19, but in other times when loved ones could still gather and we were free to celebrate however we wanted. What was missing? What was it?
And I sat down, reflected the story of Simeon, and suddenly the Holy Spirit whispered into my ear what we are often missing. In a word, consolation. It’s the sense of a settled heart, the dispersing of anxiety, the sufficiency of grace. Simeon’s life work was to anticipate the “consolation of Israel,” the abiding sense that all will be OK, that what you will be provided will be enough.
This year, if you unwrapped socks and underwear, someone thought they were a necessity. If you received a good book or a great toy, it may be a sweet diversion for a long, hard winter. But true consolation comes with the deep assurance there’s something invisible beyond the external stuff – and this something invisible will hold your life and the lives of a lot of other people. Call it “the consolation of Israel.”
There was a fascinating article about Theodor Geisel, the poet known by the name “Doctor Seuss.” He confessed how he became a curmudgeon after he became famous. Geisel was living in an overpriced beach house in a swanky suburb of San Diego. Every children’s book he wrote hit the top of the charts, something to be sold every autumn to become a Christmas best-seller. He grumbled how his publisher had turned him into a commodity, something to be marketed and sold. Doctor Seuss came to hate it, even though the money was good.
As he scowled in a dark mood, it suddenly sparked his imagination. By gazing into the mirror of his soul, Theodor Geisel created his most enduring poetic character, the Grinch. [1]You know the story. And if I may quote from the moment of the Grinch’s awakening:
Every Who down in Whoville,
the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any presents at all!
He HADN'T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: "How could it be so?"
"It came without ribbons! It came without tags!"
"It came without packages, boxes or bags!"
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before!
"Maybe Christmas," he thought, "doesn't come from a store."
"Maybe Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!"
(Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas, New York: Random House, 1957)
Of course it does. Christmas means consolation. There is something beyond what we can see. There is a Child born to Mary and circumcised into God’s covenant. But he will grow up to do more than build furniture in the family wood shop. This is the One “destined for the falling and the rising of many.” He reveals the deepest hungers of the human heart and prepares a banquet in the presence of his own enemies.
This is the Christ, who has been born into our world to reveal God’s true dominion and to call us toward it.
In the midst of all our disappointments, he
is Wonderful Counselor.
When we sense our limitations, he is Mighty
God and Everlasting Father.
When our hearts tremble, he is Prince of Peace.
And when we discover in him what the world cannot
offer, the promise of the prophet rings true:
“His authority shall grow continually,
and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom.” (Isaiah 9:6-7)
Trust
the Christ and leave all things into his hands. For he is the consolation of
Christmas.
[1] Brad Witter, “Who was Dr. Seuss’
Inspiration for the Grinch? Himself!” 1 December 2020, https://www.biography.com/news/dr-seuss-grinch-inspiration
See also “You’re a Keen One, Mister
Grinch” - https://www.huffpost.com/entry/the-grinch-dr-seuss-christmas_n_5fe0d3f7c5b60d416344abbb
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment