Words before introducing the liturgy:
Today is my first Sunday leading worship at St Barnabas, and before I introduce the liturgy with the words on our service sheet, I wanted to say how propitious, how fitting it feels that this service is the celebration of Christ being presented as a baby in the temple, an event that was celebrated from the very earliest days of the church. Today we celebrate God drawing close to his people in a new way. We are going to hear how two faithful members of the older generation, who had been waiting and praying, were guided by the Holy Spirit to recognise this new beginning and to actually hold God’s future in their arms and praise him for it. So, this is a service celebrating new beginnings. And it is also known as Candlemas, because Jesus was named as the light of the world, and people would bring their candles to church to be blessed. We are at the mid-point of winter, between the winter solstice and spring equinox, when servants’ annual contracts would be concluded, their wages paid and new contracts signed. It is the beginning of the farming year, when farmers start to think about preparing their fields for the coming crops. Our service this morning is going to include a Candlemas procession as we too greet the light of the world coming among us and re-dedicate ourselves to God, turning from the season of Christmas and Epiphany towards Lent and Easter.
The Sermon:
Earlier, in the children’s service this morning, Val did a wonderful job of playing the role of Anna, the prophetess, who along with Simeon was able to recognise something special about the couple with the 40-day-old baby, coming into the temple to offer their humble sacrifice of two small pigeons, for Mary’s period of post-birth seclusion to be ended with rites of purification, for them to fulfil all the requirements of the law of Moses. They would have been one couple among many people coming and going in the busy temple; there was probably nothing visible to the human eye that would have made them stand out. We are told that it was the Holy Spirit that revealed the deeper meaning of what was happening to Simeon and then Anna.
I love these figures of Anna and Simeon, because they are two people who powerfully speak to us of what it means to faithfully pray and wait for God to act. They represent those times when we don’t see the answers to our prayers, when it isn’t clear where God is or how God is acting in our lives. They represent times when God’s people might be tempted to ask: ‘What is the point, what are we doing here, where is the future we long to see?’ What sustained someone like Anna, through all those long years of prayer and fasting and worship in the temple? What gave Simeon the faith to believe that he would actually see the consolation, the hope of Israel, before he died?
Our reading from the Hebrew Scriptures, from Malachi, the last prophet of the Old Covenant, was written at a similar point for the people of Israel. As one commentary states: ‘Malachi and his contemporaries were living in an uneventful waiting period, when God seemed to have forgotten His people enduring poverty and foreign domination in the little province of Judah. Zerubbabel and Joshua, whom Haggai and Zechariah had indicted as God’s chosen ministers for the new age, had died. True the second temple had been completed, but nothing momentous had occurred to indicate that God’s presence had returned to fill it with glory, as Ezekiel had indicated would happen. The day of miracles had passed with Elijah and Elisha. The round of religious duties continued to be carried on, but without enthusiasm. Where was the God of their fathers? Did it really matter whether one served God of not? Generations were dying without receiving the promises and many were losing their faith.’ (Tyndale Old Testament Commentaries).
I don’t think I need to spell out too obviously the resonance this has for our own times in the Church of England, where many are asking what is the future, how do we sustain parish mission and ministry, where is God? An older faithful generation wonder if they will catch a glimpse of God’s future with a new generation.
When we think about God coming to us afresh, perhaps in new and surprising ways, I think we have to be honest and reflect something of the ambivalence and even resistance that we see in the prophet Malachi and in Simeon’s words to Mary. Malachi announces, ‘The Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple, the messenger of the convent in whom you delight, indeed he is coming’. So, on one hand, there is a longing for God to come, an anticipation of joy and delight, but on the other, there is a question about whether we can really handle God drawing close, whether we really do want that, and are ready for that. ‘But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears?’ Simeon’s words also have this tone of a judgement and sifting of God’s people, some will rise but some will fall, the inner thoughts of many will be revealed, and a sword will pierce Mary’s soul. God’s drawing close is not always comfortable, because God’s drawing close means our transformation, our being changed, right in the depths of our being; in our innermost thoughts, God’s light penetrates to the heart of who we are.
How can we be open to such a transformation – to become those who want to co-operate with, rather than oppose or resist what God wants to do? I think a lot of our ambivalence and resistance to God is because we haven’t yet grasped the extent and depth of God’s love for us, and so we can’t fully commit or trust ourselves to that love. It’s a sort of double bind: because we can’t see, we don’t draw close, and so we remain in the shadows, unseeing, uncertain and therefore unwilling to trust and surrender ourselves. The only way through this double blind is the grace of God; it is the work of Christ we receive in the Eucharist, the gift of the Holy Spirit who can work in us that which we can’t do in ourselves.
I believe we are at a pivotal point in the life of the whole church in the West, reflected here in the life of St Barnabas. Last Sunday, I committed myself to seek God’s future with you here in this place, to ask the Holy Spirit to show us that future, to give us eyes that can see that which is not obvious to normal human vision and perception; to commit ourselves to continuing in worship, prayer and loving service, but also to ask God to give us that spiritual insight and faith to see where God might be doing a new thing, where the Holy Spirit wants to come to us afresh. Where might there be new possibilities, new joys, new challenges that will stretch and grow us?
When we come to the Candlemas Procession I want to invite us to take the opportunity together to use this ritual to commit ourselves to God’s future for St Barnabas – to dedicate ourselves to this, to be open to God meeting us, coming to us afresh, cleansing and purifying us, to renewing our minds and hearts, to growing our sense of expectation and faith about what might be possible in the power of the Holy Spirit.
The future ahead will no doubt be challenging and at times difficult; it will stretch us, but I also believe it will be a future which contains joy and laughter, that it will be fun, creative and hope-filled.
I am committed to this. I cannot do it without God’s help, and I cannot do it without you. So, I want to ask each of you this morning – however you are able and feel called, to play a part, and we all have something to contribute: will you commit with me to praying and seeking God’s future for St Barnabas? I believe we are being invited, like Simeon and Anna, to hold that possible future, like a tiny baby in our arms, to rejoice and give thanks, but also to know that it does not come without cost and without our own transformation.
My personal hope is that in ten years’ time, God willing, I will be able to say along with all of you:
‘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 here in this place.’
Amen.
