Falling and Rising

The Sermon Study Guide is here.

Luke 2:21-40

December 30, 2012 • Portage First UMC

Another year is almost gone, and it’s been a busy one, and in some respects a tumultuous one. Just a quick perusal of the various “best of 2012” lists shows a lot of change, a lot of unrest. One 2012 story especially close to my heart was the first democratically elected president for the nation of Egypt, and one could of course argue as to whether democracy really worked there or not, but nevertheless it was a huge change for a country that is faced with huge problems. We also elected a president in this country, and engaged in what was, to my recollection, one of the most contentious campaign seasons in quite a while. Of course, the world came together for the summer Olympics in London, as we watched amazing feats of athletic ability, and the country came together to mourn the shooting deaths of children in Newtown, Connecticut even as we wondered whether or not we would find ourselves plunged over the fiscal cliff. Violence again erupted in Israel between the various factions there, and Hurricane or Superstorm Sandy hit the east coast, devastating many lives there. It’s interesting how such lists are compiled these days; I found many lists that decided the most popular stories of 2012 based on what people searched for most often. One of the most amusing facts was that Bing (Microsoft’s search engine) admitted that the number one searched-for term on their site was iPhone 5 (an Apple product).

There are also, at this time of year, several lists of so-called “notable” folks who have passed away in the last year—people like George McGovern, Andy Griffith, Whitney Houston, Neil Armstrong, and, in the Christian world, one of our best thinkers, Chuck Colson. Of course, in our own lives, in our own church, we remember the dearly loved lives of many of our members, folks who are very “notable” to us. 2012 has been a difficult year, and that’s not even including the prediction that the world was going to end right before Christmas! And while the world is busy reflecting on news and people and the violence in our world, we want to take this time at the end of year to briefly look back, but more importantly to look ahead. This morning is our time of covenant making. In the Methodist tradition, this time of year has become the time when we renew our covenant with God and re-declare for another year our intention to follow Jesus. We proclaim our desire to be more faithful next year than we have been in the past year, and to seek to be a better light in the world in the coming 365 days.

Traditions like that are important. They ground us. They root us. They remind us who we are. That was certainly true for the family Jesus was born into, and for Jesus himself, for that matter. In the Gospel passage we read this morning, Luke very quickly tells about three traditions Jesus’ family took part in shortly after his birth, and about a prophecy that came true some thirty years later and is still coming true today.

The first tradition was circumcision, arguably the most sacred ceremony of the Jewish people (Kalas, Christmas from the Back Side, pg. 66). In traditional Jewish families, circumcision was done eight days after the baby boy was born. It was at this point that the baby formally received his name, though we know Jesus had actually been named before his birth—Luke reminds us the angel gave Mary his name before his conception (2:21; cf. 1:31). Why is this ritual important? Because circumcision, back to the time of Abraham in Genesis, had been the “mark” or the sign that the child was part of a people. Even before the child was aware of his heritage or his identity or much of anything for that matter, this child was accepted by the community, welcomed into the people of God. For Christians, the mark of the covenant, the sign that we are welcomed, is not so evident, because the mark is baptism. Paul, in his letter to the Colossians (2:11-12), brings those two (circumcision and baptism) together, and essentially says that what circumcision was to the Old Testament people of God, baptism is to the New Testament people of God. Now, this is not a sermon on baptism and I know there are differing views out in the larger church, but for us, baptism is offered to a child, even an infant, because that’s when circumcision was offered. Neither sign meant a person was “saved.” It meant and means they are welcomed. Baptism and circumcision are not keys to an automatic salvation. They are conditional, always, on our acceptance of God’s welcome of us. Neither are any good if we choose to reject God’s welcome (Green, Baptism, pgs. 23-26). So the first tradition Mary and Joseph hold up is the sign of welcome.

Thirty-two days after the circumcision come two other rituals which Luke describes (cf. Card, Luke: The Gospel of Amazement, pg. 51). One is the purification of the mother. The book of Leviticus, in the Old Testament, prescribed an offering to be made for the cleansing of the mother after childbirth so that she could once again be considered “clean” for worship. It was a way of welcoming the mother back into the community after she had been, in some sense, cut off for a time (Kalas 66). The mother was to offer a lamb, but if the family was too poor to afford a lamb, they could offer two doves or two young pigeons (Liefeld, “Luke,” Expositor’s Bible Commentary, Vol. 8, pg. 848). Luke tells us it is the latter, two birds, that Joseph and Mary bring for this offering, which tells us pretty quickly that Jesus was born into a very poor family. Now, that’s understandable when we remember Joseph’s occupation as a tekton, a humble woodworker or possibly a stonemason (Hamilton, The Journey, pg. 42). Most likely, he picked up work where he could and may have lived in Bethlehem because of the work provided by all of Herod’s building projects in Jerusalem. Mary was from Nazareth, a little bitty town that was where those who couldn’t afford to live in the nearby “big city” of Sepphoris would live. It was the “affordable housing” area; many people in Nazareth of that day lived in caves. Comfortable, but not luxurious. Mary’s family wasn’t prosperous, either. And so when Jesus came, when God became “Emmanuel” (God with us), he came into an ordinary, common family, a poor family. He didn’t come among the wealthy. He came to a family that would allow him to relate to the poor, to those most in need. This is one way Luke constantly paints the picture of Jesus: he came to the least, the last and the lost, he came to those no one else cared about, because he had been one of those. And even at the end of his life, Jesus only owned the clothes he was wearing. So when Jesus said, “Blessed are you who are poor” (Luke 6:20), the people knew he wasn’t just saying that. He knew what it was like to be one of the poor.

Then, the other ritual that takes place at the same time is the dedication of the firstborn. Luke reminds his readers that in Exodus, the people were told that every firstborn male was to be consecrated to the Lord, and had to be “bought back” with an offering. This was a reminder of their history, that in order to escape slavery in Egypt, the firstborn of every family in that nation had died except for the Hebrews. The firstborn, from that moment on, belonged to God, and so the dedication of the firstborn was a way they acknowledged that, a way they would give thanks to God for the gift of the child (Kalas 66).

So why does Luke tell us all of this? What does it matter to us? Well, two reasons, I believe. First of all, he wants us to understand that Jesus’ parents were very observant. They did what they were expected to do. They were firmly rooted in orthodox, practicing Jewish faith. Luke says they did “everything required” for their faith (2:39). They were faithful people, and that was the context Jesus was raised in. In fact, the only picture we have from his childhood is when they take him to the Temple in Jerusalem at age 12 for the celebration of Passover, another vitally important act of faith for the Jewish people. And Jesus continued to observe those traditions, those rituals, throughout his life. He attended Passover in his adult years. He himself stayed rooted in the faith. If anyone could have “gone it alone,” wouldn’t we think it would have been the Son of God? You see, we live in a world in which people increasingly like to claim they are “spiritual, but not religious.” It’s become an industry and a popular practice to beat up on the church. People will say they don’t like “organized religion.” Apparently, they prefer disorganized religion! And yes, the church has made mistakes. We don’t always get it right. Sometimes we would better off to keep quiet. Sometimes we do one thing when we should do another. And we’ve not always been as welcoming as we should be. But here’s the thing: the church, the community of faith, is what Jesus chose to carry on his mission. There is no Plan B. The Bible knows nothing of solitary faith, and neither does Jesus. Jesus chose not to go it alone. Despite the failures of so-called organized religion, then and now, Jesus still brought himself under the discipline of meeting weekly with the people of God. We’re told he went to the synagogue as was his custom (Luke 4:16; Kalas 67-68). We are imperfect. We mess up. But that doesn’t mean the church is bad through and through. Jesus chose to regularly be with the people of God, to practice the traditions of faith, and he learned that, at least in part, from Mary and Joseph, from the very beginning.

But Luke also tells us about this time because he’s aware and wants us to understand that a transition is taking place. You see, in the Old Testament, having faith meant waiting—waiting on God’s promises to come true. That’s what we’ve been experiencing throughout this Advent season—anticipating. Waiting. Listening to the prophets promise great things—and waiting some more. Faith meant waiting, and doing what God said to do until the promises came true. That’s why, in that great 11th chapter of the book of Hebrews, the author talks about the great heroes of the Old Testament and the ways they lived out their faith in this way: “These were all commended for their faith,” he writes, “yet none of them received what had been promised” (11:39). “Faith,” he says, “is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. That is what the ancients were commended for” (11:1). And so these rituals, these traditions, were about waiting, about doing what had been commanded until the promises come true. But a change takes place in this passage. Faith, in the New Testament, is about following—following a person, Jesus. The old world was passing into a new world at that very moment (Card 51), and we see that clearly through the eyes of two old people who are in the Temple that day.

Actually, we’re not told how old Simeon is. We assume he was well advanced in years because of the promise he had received from God that he would not die until he had seen the Lord’s savior, the Messiah. Now, you talk about a God-moment. The Temple complex in this day contained about thirty-five acres (larger than Crossroads) and was usually crowded with people going to and from worship, not to mention all the noise that would have accompanied the daily activity. It was a busy place, every day! And yet, “devout and righteous” (2:25) Simeon was sensitive enough to the Spirit of God that he went when he was told, and as he enters the courts of the Temple, he sees this little family headed toward the place of sacrifice. And something in his spirit tells him, “This is the one. This is the child. This baby is the fulfillment of everything you’ve been hoping for, Simeon.”

I wonder what Mary thought as this unknown old man approaches and takes her child. Luke doesn’t say he asks. Luke just says Simeon takes the child in his arms and begins to sing. There have been several songs so far in Luke’s Gospel. Mary sings. The angels sing. Zechariah sings. And now, Simeon sings. This is the last song in Luke’s Gospel, because it’s an ending song—the end of the old era. Simeon sings that now he can die in peace. He has seen what he longed to see: God’s salvation, a salvation that will be available to all, Jew and Gentile alike (2:29-32). Hope for all, light for all, salvation for all. This is Simeon’s last song and greatest hope.

But he’s not done. After he hands the child back to Mary and Joseph, they are amazed (as so many people in Luke’s Gospel are) at what is said about their son. But Simeon has a further word, a prophecy for them. First he offers a blessing, and then, like a prophet of old, he gives them this word: “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. And a sword will pierce your own soul too” (2:34-35). This child has a purpose, but it’s not a “fields of green” sort of purpose. He will cause, Simeon says, the falling and rising of many. His life will bring people to a point of moral decision, and some will fall and some will rise. Some will reject this child, and they will be left to their own devices in life. They will continue down the path that leads to destruction (cf. Matthew 7:13). Others, however, will welcome this child into their lives. They will choose to follow him, and the word Simeon uses here describes almost a “resurrection,” a new life they will find. He will cause the falling and rising of many, including all the way down the halls of history to us. When we come to the baby in the manger, we have to make a choice. It’s not just a nice story. A new world has broken in with that birth, and this baby will cause either our falling or our rising. Perhaps that’s why Paul chose to describe Jesus as a “stumbling block” (1 Corinthians 1:23). We have to make our choice. Which way will we turn? Will we fall or rise?

But this will cost Jesus, Simeon says. Jesus will be spoken against. He will be rejected. And, as we know from reading the “rest of the story,” he will be killed. Simeon hints at that when he tells Mary, “A sword will pierce your own soul, too” (2:39). Not literally, of course, but Simeon is hinting at the pain she will feel some thirty years later as she watches her son be beaten and ultimately die on a cross. Those among us who have buried children know that deep pain, and that a sword piercing your soul is an apt description. Simeon’s word to Mary reminds her and us that our sin costs something. It costs Jesus, and it costs Mary and others. Simeon’s word is not easy, and Luke doesn’t tell us how Mary reacts except that they go home and continue to live faithfully toward the God they loved.

There is one other person Luke tells us they meet at the Temple. Her name is Anna, and she is described, interestingly, as a prophet. Luke has an affinity for widows, and he spends a lot of time telling us about Anna. She’s “very old,” she’s been a widow for a long, long time. She hangs out at the Temple all the time. Luke isn’t really clear whether she lives in one of the small rooms surrounding the Temple area or if she’s one of those persons who is just at the Temple every time the door is open (Liefeld 850). She spends her days fasting and praying, night and day she worships. Luke tells us all of that, but he doesn’t bother telling us what she said to Mary and Joseph (Card 52)! Still, what we do see in Anna is that, at the very beginning of Jesus’ story, there is a wonderful inclusiveness being portrayed. Anna is a prophet, a job in the Old Testament largely reserved for men. She’s involved in worship at the Temple, again something that was largely understood to be for men. Even today, at the Wailing Wall, the area reserved for men to pray is twice as large as the area set aside for women. My daughter couldn’t understand why there even were separate areas for prayer. Anna is another sign that the old world is ending and a wonderful, beautiful new world is breaking in. Anna and Simeon together, in this well-told story from Luke’s Gospel, indicate the transition from old to new, from faith as waiting to faith as following.

We, too, are in that transition time from old to new. In just two days, we’ll welcome 2013, a brand new year. And yes, it’s just a date on the calendar, and for some of us, it will pass with little significance. Think how many people were there in the Temple courts that day who didn’t realize what was really happening. As people of faith, we shouldn’t let these opportunities pass without spending some time in reflection. We’ve had 366 days this year. How have we used them? Are we more faithful in following Jesus today than we were a year ago? Are we, like Simeon, better at listening to God today than we were a year ago? Or, the underlying question for all of those: are you satisfied with where you are spiritually? At the risk of taking criticism for saying so, I’ll admit that I’m not. Thank God, I’m farther along in my walk with Jesus than I was a year ago, but I’m not where I want to be. I’m not as faithful in prayer or in serving as I long to be. And so, while I don’t believe in making “resolutions,” I do believe in setting goals for the coming year. I want to suggest some spiritual goals for the new year and invite you to perhaps choose one of these or another one so that, this time next year, you can look back and say, “By the grace of God, I am farther along than I was a year ago.”

So where do we start? We’ve been talking for the last year about the Christian faith being a “journey,” and we’ve even developed a series of classes that can help us either begin or continue our journey. In fact, it’s our desire that everyone who is new to Portage First start with the Journey classes. Everyone is welcome, not just newcomers. If you want to renew your faith, or if you’ve got questions about this thing called faith, I invite you set a goal of beginning the Journey, which starts with the Alpha Course. The next Alpha Course will kick off on Wednesday evening. Let’s take a moment and listen to what Alpha has meant to someone who went through it very recently.

VIDEO: “Alpha Video Montage”

So perhaps you’ll want to set that goal: to begin the Journey or Alpha or with the 6-week “Knowing God” study that begins next week. “Knowing God” is a follow-up to Alpha, but it’s also open to those who feel you’ve already got a grasp on the basics and want to move ahead. “Knowing God” focuses on learning to study the Bible and reminds us that spiritual growth doesn’t happen by accident; it happens as we set goals to read, study, pray and worship. So either of those studies, or you might want to get involved with or start your own small group. Or, perhaps a goal for you might be to be in worship more regularly, to be present every week unless you’re sick or out of town. Worship feeds our soul. Worship inspires our hearts. And worship connects us to the community. Jesus made time for worship. Simeon and Anna spent untold numbers of hours in worship. Where will worship fit in with your goal-setting for the coming year?

Or perhaps you want to set a goal of getting involved in a ministry somewhere. We’re called to service, and Anna reminds us that there is no age limit. There’s not a “retirement plan” in the kingdom of God. Anna, Luke says, was 84 years old, still serving, still praying, still finding her place at the Temple. So perhaps you’re seeking a place to serve, and your goal for the coming year might be to do what Jesus did: serve others. Now, I could stand here all day and list places where you could serve, but I’m not going to do that. I want to just mention a few places, and if none of these strike you as matching your gifts, then come talk to Pastor Deb or I. We would love to match your interests and passions with the ministries that take place here or need to take place here. But coming up this year, as I shared a few weeks ago, is a revamp of our caregiving ministries, and we hope to include many more people as we reach out to those who are hurting, those who are lonely, those in the hospitals and nursing homes. Do you feel a tug in your heart to be a part of something great like that? Perhaps God is calling you to become of our Christian caregivers.

We also, as I’ve shared on numerous occasions, have a need for folks to extend radical hospitality. Whether that’s at the coffee bar, or the Connection Center, or at the doors—we need you to be a smiling face, a warm presence, and someone who can help people find what they’re looking for. You really don’t need any pre-qualifications to welcome others. And even if you don’t take one of those spots officially, we’re all ambassadors of hospitality here in the sanctuary. I know some of you aren’t extroverted by nature; neither am I. But it doesn’t take someone with extraordinary conversational skills to reach out and say, “Hello. Welcome to our church.”

Do you like to sing? Do you play an instrument? Do you have administrative skills? What are you good at? Would you like to learn what all those buttons and knobs are back in the sound booth? Do you like to plan campfires and cookouts? Do you love spending time with youth? Here’s the point: the Christian faith is not a spectator sport. We’ve been given the greatest mission ever in the history of the world, to share the good news about Jesus and to invite people to follow him, to have faith. And to do that, it’s going to take all of us serving where we’re needed. You know what my goal is this coming year as your pastor? To move from a model where we have a few people doing most everything to where the vast majority of this congregation is engaged in mission and ministry somewhere. I long to see a whole lot of Simeons and Annas studying, worshipping and serving throughout this church and this community. Can you imagine what a difference we might make for the sake of God’s kingdom? Remember what our mission statement is? To become a community where all people encounter Jesus Christ. To help “all people” encounter Jesus, and more importantly, to bring them to the point of decision that Simeon described, to help them be one of the “rising,” is going to take all of us. Not just me. Not just Pastor Deb. Not just Wanda, Susie, Matt, Jeff, Pat, Vicki, Kate or Ed—our staff. All of us being Simeon and Anna.

So what’s your spiritual goal for the coming year? And what’s your plan for carrying that out? In 365 or so days, will you be able to sit here and say, “Yes, Lord, by your grace, I’m not done yet, but I have done what you called me to do this year and I have grown closer to you because of it”?

It was August, 1755 when John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist movement, became concerned that people were falling into a routine belief, a superficial practice of their faith. And so Wesley began to explore with the Methodist congregation in London what it would mean to practice, as he called it, “serious religion.” After talking about it for about a week, Wesley gathered the people together and read to them a covenant. The words he read were not originally his; they came from a mentor of his, Richard Alleine. Wesley prayed that the people would make a “promise unto the Lord our God and keep it,” and then invited those present, about 1800 people, to stand up and share in a covenant prayer. Reflecting on that day, Wesley wrote, “Such a night I scarce ever knew before. Surely the fruit of it shall remain for ever” (Jackson, ed., Wesley’s Works, Vol. XIII, pg. 337). Though originally the covenant prayer was used at various times, very shortly it became the tradition of the people called Methodist to use the New Year’s as a time for reminding ourselves who we are, and for making promises to God. And so, this morning, as our time of prayer, I’m going to invite you to share in renewing your covenant, your relationship with God for 2013. As the old passes into the new, let’s once again commit to being “rising” people, those who are seeking to follow Jesus faithfully. These are not “light” words we share. They are not easy words. So let’s take some time, first, to consider what it is we are promising to God as we begin this new year.