Sermon on Luke 2:22-40
Pastor Jennifer Garcia
Today’s Gospel reading is all about endings and beginnings.
Mary and Joseph were observing the rituals that came with the beginning of their baby’s life.
Simeon was waiting for an end to his waiting. He was looking forward to the consolation of Israel and the fulfillment of the Holy Spirit’s promise that he would see the Messiah before he died. And, though the Bible doesn’t actually say how old Simeon was, perhaps his life was coming to an end with the completion of God’s promise to him. There’s at least a sense of an end to his task of watching as he sings, “now you are dismissing your servant in peace.”
Anna was continuing her faithful practices in the Temple until she encountered the baby Jesus and then began to speak about the child and this new beginning to everyone around her, spreading joy and hope.
Endings and beginnings can be hard. And waiting is also hard. God’s people had been waiting for a long time for the fulfillment of God’s promise of a Messiah.
But with the endings and beginnings in this story, the waiting was over. God’s promised Messiah was here!
Mary and Joseph were setting out on the journey of parenthood.
Simeon had received God’s promise and had seen the Messiah with his own eyes and held him in his arms.
Anna became one of the first preachers of Jesus as she shared her encounter with him with those around her.
The waiting was over.
It’s what we celebrate at Christmas—that God’s promises were fulfilled and heaven and nature sang theirjoy to the world.
The day we remember Jesus’ presentation at the Temple is called Candlemas. It’s the final holiday in the Christmasy season cycle, and the candles in the church would be blessed as a reminder that Jesus is the light of the world.
Candlemas involves endings and beginnings for us too, not just the characters in today’s Gospel. We’re ending the cycle of reading about Jesus’ birth. Other than one when he was twelve, there are only stories about the grown-up Jesus from now on. We’re beginning the rest of his life and ministry.
We’re turning our focus from the Incarnation, when God became human and lived among us, to Jesus’ death and resurrection, when we killed God because we couldn’t stand someone upsetting the power structures and daring to preach that all people are beloved by God and are included in God’s mercy, justice, and freedom.
The Messiah was here, but he didn’t act the way people expected.
And while the waiting was over for Simeon and Anna and for all God’s people, because the Messiah was here, our waiting isn’t over yet.
We’re still waiting for the world to be as it should. We’re waiting for the completion of the Reign of God. We’re waiting for the fullness of God’s justice, mercy, and peace.
We’re in the middle of some endings and beginnings ourselves.
I know we’re a month into the new year, but it still feels like a new beginning to me.2025 still feels like a blank slate, full of opportunity and also uncertainty.
The wildfires have brought about endings and scary new beginnings for a lot of people, not to mention all the people affected by hurricanes and storms in other parts of the country last year who are still picking up the pieces of their lives and finding new normals.
There’s a new administration in our government. There are probably different feelings about that in this room and among those watching from home. For some of us, it may feel like a beginning, and for some of us, an ending. Regardless of our political leanings, let’s continue to follow Jesus, whose mission statement we read last week:
1. to bring good news to the poor,
2. to proclaim release to the captives
3. and recovery of sight to the blind,
4. to set free those who are oppressed,
5. and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
And as always, let’s continue to be the church that feeds people body and soul.
Last week, we also elected new council members who will meet to set a new vision for this congregation this Saturday at our council retreat. We need to set a new path because our world is changing, and we need to be responsive to the leading of the Holy Spirit.
But change is hard. Even good change is hard.
And the world still isn’t as it should be.
This is one of the paradoxes of our faith: “already and not yet.”
On the one hand, Jesus already came and lived and died and rose again to show us God’s love and bring reconciliation.
On the other hand, there’s still great need and war and tragedy and disasters and cruelty and selfishness in our world.
We’re still waiting for the completion of God’s promises, for the restoration of our world. And considering it’s been 2,000 years since Jesus’ earthly ministry, there’s a good chance that completion won’t happen in our lifetimes.
Sure, we spend every Advent preparing the way of the Lord and remembering that it could happen at any time, but we also have to live with the possibility that we won’t witness it on this side of life.
We have to decide how to respond to that.
Do we throw up our hands and give up because we won’t see the results?
Or do we resolve to do whatever we can by the leading of the Holy Spirit to make earth a little more as it is in heaven?
Simeon and Anna did the latter.
Sure, Simeon had the promise that he would see the Messiah before he died, but I wonder if, as the years wore on, he started to doubt or get weary of waiting.
And Anna lived faithfully for decades, fasting and praying in the Temple, waiting for God’s promises to be fulfilled with no assurance that she would live to see it.
And yet, both continued to listen to the Holy Spirit and live their lives centered on God.
I came across a poem this week that encapsulates that feeling of powerlessness to fix a world that’s not as it should be and what we can do even as we contend with that sense of frustration.
BECAUSE
by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
So I can’t save the world—
can’t save even myself,
can’t wrap my arms around
every frightened child, can’t
foster peace among nations,
can’t bring love to all who
feel unlovable.
So I practice opening my heart
right here in this room and being gentle
with my insufficiency. I practice
walking down the street heart first.
And if it is insufficient to share love,
I will practice loving anyway.
I want to converse about truth,
about trust. I want to invite compassion
into every interaction.
One willing heart can’t stop a war.
One willing heart can’t feed all the hungry.
And sometimes, daunted by a task too big,
I tell myself what’s the use of trying?
But today, the invitation is clear:
to be ridiculously courageous in love.
To open the heart like a lilac in May,
knowing freeze is possible
and opening anyway.
To take love seriously.
To give love wildly.
To race up to the world
as if I were a puppy,
adoring and unjaded,
stumbling on my own exuberance.
To feel the shock of indifference,
of anger, of cruelty, of fear,
and stay open. To love as if it matters,
as if the world depends on it.
So, this Candlemas, let’s remember that God will keep God’s promises, and while we wait for the fulfillment of the Reign of God, whether we see it on this side of life or the next, let’s walk around heart first, showing the love that God is always pouring into us.
God has already saved the world, and God will make all things right one day. As we live in the tension of the “already and not yet” paradox of our faith, let’s be ridiculously courageous in loving our neighbors with all our hearts and feeding them body and soul.