SERMON FOR CHRISTMAS I, DECEMBER 27, 2020
     Today’s Gospel is the last of the three infancy narratives in the Book of Luke. The first one is a kind of prelude:  There are two foretellings, one of the birth of John the Baptist, the second of the birth of Jesus. It also includes two joyous hymns, one from Jesus’ mother and the other from John’s father. Mary responds to the annunciation with the Magnificat, while Zechariah begins to prophesy on the occasion of his son’s birth. One birth leads to another:  the second narrative tells the story of the nativity. Again there is a doubling of characters and roles: the angels proclaim, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors.” The shepherds in turn, after seeing the baby, glorify and praise God “for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told to them.” The third of the infancy narratives is concerned with the religious ceremonies performed following Jesus’ birth. On the eighth day he is circumcised and formally named. Later, his parents bring him to the temple in Jerusalem to carry out two further rituals required of the family by the law of Moses. 
     First, the purification of the mother. After a woman gives birth to a son, she is impure for 40 days (for a daughter it is 80 days). According to Leviticus 12, “When the days of her purification are completed, whether for a son or for a daughter, she shall bring to the priest at the entrance of the tent of meeting a lamb in its first year for a burnt offering, and a pigeon or a turtledove for a sin offering. He shall offer it before the Lord, and make atonement on her behalf; then she shall be clean from her flow of blood. This is the law for her who bears a child, male or female. If she cannot afford a sheep, she shall take two turtledoves or two pigeons, one for a burnt offering and the other for a sin offering; and the priest shall make atonement on her behalf, and she shall be clean” (vv. 6-8). It is worth noting that Mary and Joseph were not able to afford a sheep, which tells us something about the socio-economic status of Jesus’ family. 
     The second ritual is the presentation of the firstborn son. At the time of the Exodus, after giving directions for the Passover, God tells Moses, “Consecrate to me all the firstborn; whatever is the first to open the womb among the Israelites, of human beings and animals, is mine” (Exodus 13:2). Moses then instructs the people, “Every firstborn male among your children you shall redeem. When in the future your child asks you, ‘What does this mean?’ you shall answer, ‘By strength of hand the Lord brought us out of Egypt, from the house of slavery. When Pharaoh stubbornly refused to let us go, the Lord killed all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, from human firstborn to the firstborn of animals. Therefore I sacrifice to the Lord every male that first opens the womb, but every firstborn of my sons I redeem.’ It shall serve as a sign on your hand and as an emblem on your forehead that by strength of hand the Lord bought us out of Egypt” (Exodus 13:13b-16).      
     The law of Moses contains no requirement that the first-born son be physically presented at the temple. The fact that Mary and Joseph make the trip with Jesus calls to mind the Old Testament story of the boy Samuel. This is Luke’s intent. When Hannah, who was childless, prayed to God for a son, she vowed that she would give him to God for all his days (I Samuel 1:11). After his birth she brought Samuel to the house of the Lord and presented him to Eli the priest, saying, “For this child I prayed; and the Lord has granted me the petition that I made to him. Therefore I have lent him to the Lord; as long as he lives, he is given to the Lord” (I Samuel 1:27-28). Jesus is not simply consecrated to the Lord as the firstborn male and then redeemed; Mary and Joseph, like their ancestor Hannah, have brought him to the temple to dedicate his life to God.
     And so Luke has set the stage for the rest of the story he will tell. He has identified Jesus clearly for his audience. The Savior was born a Jew among Jews; he comes from a humble and devout family, who observe the Mosaic law. 
     The last of Luke’s infancy narratives concludes with another doubling of praise from a man and a woman. We had Zechariah and Mary in the first narrative; now we encounter Simeon and Anna. They are not witnesses to the birth of Jesus but give outside confirmation of his identity. “. . . to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior . . .” the angel of the Lord announced in Bethlehem. Here in the temple in Jerusalem Simeon repeats these tidings of great joy in words echoing the prophet Isaiah “ . .  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.” The prophetess Anna also rejoices. She has spent decades fasting and praying in the temple, looking for the redemption of her people, and she realizes that the Lord has answered her prayers in this child. Having rooted Jesus firmly in the history and heritage of Israel, Luke now turns us to the future, God’s future, revealed in Jesus, who will not only restore Israel but also bring healing to all the earth.
     Yet in the midst of the rejoicing the cross casts its shadow from the start. Simeon tells 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 is pain to come and conflict. Human souls are never immune from piercing, nor are our inner thoughts safe from exposure.    
     Fast away the old year passes/Hail the new year, lads and lasses — so goes the third verse of the familiar carol Deck the Halls. For many of us this year can’t make its exit fast enough. We are clinging to the prospect that brighter days lie ahead. Possibilities for recovery and reconciliation are beckoning. As we stand at the threshold of the new year, think about the road we have traveled these past 12 months, full of unforeseen perils and unimagined challenges. Our faith has been buffeted. We have known both the falling and the rising Simeon foretold as we try to find our way through the rage, the divisiveness, and the suffering that have engulfed our nation. Yet here you and I are, sustained by God’s grace, betting our bottom dollar on God’s faithfulness, confident of our love for one another. Simeon’s words to Mary aren’t a threat; they simply describe our reality. Storm warnings are always flashing; uncharted territory lies ahead; there will be falling. And we know from experience there is being raised up again. “Fast away the old year passes/Hail the new year, lads and lasses/Sing we joyous all together/Heedless of the wind and weather.” — Christ our Savior has come. Amen.