Twas the Night Before...

Christmas, as usual, is the season of much color, decorating, music, gift exchanges, and all-around festivities.  Though Durham’s Christmas eve this year was wet and gray, most celebrated the holiday with gaiety.   1406 Oakland was again garlanded in lights and greenery and colorful packages.  For whatever reasons we chose not to follow an Advent devotional guide during the weeks preceding Christmas.  However, I personally appreciated joining with a group during three Wednesday evenings to read and reflect together on several of the “birth narratives” from the Gospels. 

During one of those group studies I was struck afresh by the account of two old folks, who identified the infant Jesus as his parents presented the appropriate [purification] sacrifice at the temple in Jerusalem.  Without consulting one another both Simeon and Anna predicted that Jesus would fulfill the role of God’s Messiah. Jesus would have been less than two months old at that point.

Simeon’s forecast has been percolating in my mind and soul for the past two weeks.  It helped that I chose Simeon’s comments to form the heart of my attempt to summarize briefly about Christmas before a mixed audience of thirty Chinese and about forty local church people.

“Sovereign Lord, as you have promised,
    you may now dismiss your servant in peace.
For my eyes have seen your salvation,
    which you have prepared in the sight of all nations:
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
    and the glory of your people Israel.”

We ought to sing about it and rehearse the story well.  After all, the incarnation of God in Jesus merits our highest adulation!  His words also remind me, however, of a deeper disconnect or ambiguity about the arrival of Jesus, God-with-us, for Simeon proceeds in a solemn tone to speak directly to Mary, “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed.”

As a parent and now a grandparent I can imagine feeling pretty good if a virtual stranger might predict greatness of my offspring.  But excuse me, Simeon, you should have ceased while you were ahead and omitted the latter comments.  After all, they do not seem to coincide with what you said previously.  In fact, you will have made Mary feel very badly.  Here she is, young and tender, and you issue a caution about the future reception given to Jesus, despite his anticipated impact as light and glory and the very instrument of God’s ultimate victory.  It is very insensitive of you, Simeon.  But you didn’t even stop there but added harder words:  “And a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

What might these newly-wedded, young parents have thought about all of this?  Mary at least is already practiced in wondering about and reflecting on the potential immensity of her role and relationship to this child.  I doubt that she would ever forget this ominous prophecy.  In fact, I expect that it was at the forefront of her misery as she lay at the foot of Jesus’ cross several decades later and watched “God’s salvation” and her own light die.  It is unlikely that Mary would guess that,

            …this child that you’ve delivered

            will soon deliver you.[1]

Perhaps we should insure that the reading of Luke 2:21-40 never occur during our Advent meditations.  It just does not fit with the brightness, cheer and good tidings of great joy that befits the Season.  At least let us postpone it until after the twelve days of Christmas and the festivities of the New Year celebrations.  Only then might we allow ourselves to return to those “swords” that pierce our daily routines: local, national and international events that defy solution or peace.  Then again we return to deal with the swords that pierce our very souls.  And we find ourselves praying from those stricken and hurt depths, come, oh come, Immanuel.

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[1] From “Mary Did You Know” by Mark Lowry