Cradling & Being Cradled by Jesus

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark on the Presentation of Our Lord, February 2, 2020 by the Very Reverend Tyler Doherty.

Though the twelve days of Christmas ended on the Twelfth Night and Feast of Epiphany, there is a way in which this season of light coming into a dark, broken, and strife-addled world comes to its great fulfillment on February 2nd—the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord. This is the day when we celebrate the recognition of Jesus by old Simeon and Ancient Anna. And you might have noticed that the liturgy began a little differently today. We began with prayers the bless the “lights,” the candles of the Church, not because we are fire-worshippers who spend our free time at Yankee Candle in the mall, but so that the light we see kindled there, the light of Christ’s love for all people and all of creation, might find its proper place in our hearts. In a world of darkness, in a world of turmoil, we pray that we might root and ground our lives in the light of the gratuitous out-pouring of God’s love in the person of Jesus and be that love to all whom we meet without exception.

So the seasons of Advent-Christmas-Epiphany are really all about recognizing the light of God revealed in the person of Jesus and then opening our hearts that that light might transform and transfigure us, that that gentle flame kindled through weekly worship in community, dwelling on God’s word as revealed in Holy Scripture, daily prayer, and service to the least of these might burn away, purify in our hearts, everything that is not the light of belovedness. The Christian journey is about seeing clearly where the peace, joy, happiness for which we were made is to be found and then becoming bearers of that light. That’s why in some parishes you’ll see people leaving church at the end of the service with lit candles at the Deacon’s dismissal. It’s an outward and visible sign in wax and fire of the inner and spiritual grace of Christ making his home in us that we might be that light in the world.

I remember when I held our first child, Madeleine. She was, of course, perfect, and the most beautiful baby ever. But I specifically remember looking at her tiny little pinky finger. It was shaped exactly like Michelle’s and suddenly I was overwhelmed by the thought that somehow from the Big Bang 13.8 billion years ago God had ordered things in such a way that this tiny little finger belonging to this tiny little person had come into being and was staring at me with eyes so piercingly blue they were a little unsettling. I knew at that moment what love was. I knew that there was literally nothing I wouldn’t do for that child. I knew that I would gladly and without a second thought give my life for her. And then, I realized that as overwhelming as that experience of love was, God loved me even more than that.  It started to dawn on me what it meant to be loved before I was formed in the womb, what it meant for God to give God’s only son for the salvation of the world—that there was no place, no situation, no experience God would not willingly enter into in order to draw us to Godself.

Why am I talking about holding a baby? Well, Simeon, of course. Old and wizened, well past his usefulness in the eyes of a youth-obsessed society bent on productivity, Simeon is the one who recognizes in the face of the child Jesus light that is to enlighten all nations. This old man to whom nobody pays much mind, is the vehicle for recognition, the first candle to glow with the light of God’s revealed in the person of Jesus. So he recognizes Jesus, but then what does he do? He takes Jesus in his arms and holds him close. Think about that for a second. What would it look like for us to hold Jesus in our arms? What would it be like to gaze into the depths of those eyes? How would we order our lives if everything were directed towards that one thing—cradling Jesus? How would that change how we read scripture? How would that change how we receive Eucharist? How would that change our time of private prayer? How would that change how we serve others?

Of course, it works the other way as well. Certainly, Simeon cradles Jesus, but Simeon is also cradled by the one in the cradle. Simeon bursts forth in song partially in response to knowing himself as held, loved, cradled by the love of God manifest in the child Jesus. Old, wizened, washed-up in the eyes of the world, Simeon knows that that’s not who he is in God’s eyes. And it’s like that for all of us. The world tells us we aren’t young enough, skinny enough, smart enough, straight enough, rich enough, white enough, connected enough on Facebook…. It’s a constant bombardment of scarcity and lack, of not enoughness. Is it any wonder we have a suicide epidemic amongst our teenage population, or that Utah has the highest per capita use of prescription anti-depressants? Internalize that story of something missing, of never being enough, of always falling a day late and a dollar short and the results are devastating and tragic.

Cradling Jesus and being cradled by him is what starts to undo the death-dealing power of those stories our consumer culture feeds us. Cradling Jesus and being cradled by him is what undoes that sense of something missing. Cradling Jesus and being cradled by him is what undoes the narrative that our elders, our wisdom voices, are old and in the way, unproductive producers in world bent on production. Cradling Jesus and being cradled by him is what undoes the story of never being enough. Cradling Jesus and being cradled by him us what undoes the tape-loop in our head that we’re unlovable, a failure, always falling short of some idealized and unattainable futurized goal. Cradling Jesus and being cradled by him is puts an end to the pernicious culture of endless self-improvement and perfectionism in which we live and move and have our being and tells us—No! Just as you are, beloved child of God, just as you are. Before you’ve moved a muscle, made a virtuous act, or prettied yourself up—you are loved.

Simeon tells Mary that the child Jesus is, “to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed.” And that’s exactly what happens when we gaze into the face of love, isn’t it? We see that there is a whole machinery in this world whose sole purpose is to denigrate or flat out deny the dignity of the human person created in the image and likeness of God. Gazing into the face of love we see hear those voices of greed, people-sacrificing profit at all costs, unbridled environmental exploitation, those voices of hate and exclusion, those voices of wall-building fear revealed for what they are. Those inner thoughts, revealed by love, are exposed to the light—are revealed for what they truly are: the powers of death working against the building up of God’s kingdom.

Before we’re done, let’s not forget about Anna—a woman of advanced age (especially in that time) who never left the temple. She, like, Simeon, shows us what it might be like to be a someone who recognizes, embodies, and proclaims the light to others. What is it that facilitates Anna’s recognition of the child Jesus? What has tuned her to vibrate on the frequency of love so that when she is in its presences she sings? Simply put—never leaving the temple. She’s a person of prayer. She knows stillness and silence. She’s present enough to recognize the new thing God is doing in Christ and carries that clear-sighted, open-heartedness with her wherever she goes.

Don’t make the mistake of thinking that Anna is a church rat who never goes outside. Never leaving the temple has a far more profound meaning than mere reference to physical location. Never leaving the temple is being present to God’s presence even in the midst of activity. It’s not God who is absent, but us who are absent so much of the time. We trade the courts of God’s dwelling place for the cramped enclosure of our ego-woven rooms in the words of our psalm. Never leaving the Temple means building in those times for sacred pauses throughout the day—at the traffic light, at the coffee pot, serving folks at the food bank. We practice the presence of God throughout the day and discover over time that never leaving the temple means that we discover the temple, in fact, is everywhere. “The place where you are standing is holy ground” God says to Moses. “Surely God is in this place!” Jacob exclaims rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Cutting the grass and never leaving the temple. Doing the dishes and never leaving the temple. Marching up at the capitol and never leaving the temple. Greeting the stranger and never leaving the temple.

Simeon and Anna—the one who cradles and is cradled by Jesus and the one who dwells in the presence wherever she is—these are our two icons this day for what it means to be a people of the light in a world of strife and darkness. Get to know them. And get to know the One they know. It’ll change your life and your changed life will change the world.