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Luke 2:22-40
So, for many of us, Christmas brings forth a plethora of traditions: cooking special foods, decorating a tree, lighting advent candles, and more. My mother always made a billion kinds of cookies and snacks—from gallons of chex mix to wedding cookies to seven layer bars and about a half-dozen varieties of Norwegian cookies that had different shapes but pretty much sugar, butter, flour in common, along with similar shades of yellowish white—a color popular in most Scandinavian food!
Another ritual I was quite fond was established by my stepfather and me. On Christmas Eve day, we would go to the drugstore and eat cheeseburgers, fries and cokes. After a couple of years, the tradition grew to include the whole family, the table growing to include babies and in-laws and friends of my nephews--whoever was around.
As an adult, I have attempted to carry on some of these traditions. This year I made KrumKake (think Norwegian canolli shells) and I received a lefse griddle and all of the accoutrements so I could make lefse, (think Norwegian burritos made out of potatoes that you slather with butter and brown sugar). Lefse tastes just like Christmas—when I eat it, I can taste the parties at my aunt’s houses, of course, my mother’s kitchen. There is an art to making lefse—they are supposed to perfectly round and browned to perfection—taking about 50 years to perfect, according to mom. I am a little late in the game, but I had such a good time making it, until the electrical element on the griddle burned out. My fridge is now full of unused lefse dough.
On Christmas Eve day, I picked Liz up from work, so we could do the cheeseburger/fries traditional meal. The first two places we stopped at were closed. The third was only serving breakfast all day. After that, we gave up. Traffic was crazy that day, and we were tired of the stop and go. So we went home and foraged in the fridge and cupboards.
Sometimes, when we engage in traditions passed on to us, they don’t always turn out the way we expect. Or hope.
Our gospel text today is about keeping tradition. It is the tradition of the church that on the first Sunday of Christmas we celebrate Jesus’ dedication in the temple. The dedication would actually have occurred when Jesus was 40 days old, since that would have been the first time Mary, considered unclean after giving birth, would have been allowed in the temple. It was Jewish tradition for the first born son to be dedicated in the temple by their parents. …Which is to say, that, Simeon and Anna didn’t have to worry about whether or not the Messiah would show up in the temple, they only had to worry about when. Tradition dictated that the parents would bring them there. And so they waited, and depended on the traditions of their lifetime. (Listing Straight, RGBP, http://revgalblogpals.blogspot.com/2008/12/tuesday-lectionary-leanings-tradition.html)
Imagine Simeon. Good and devout and spirit-filled. Waiting for years to meet the Messiah. I wonder how many babies he dedicated in those many years, each time wondering if he was holding the promise of God. How many young men did he watched over as they studied in the temple together thinking that maybe one of them were the Messiah? How many prayers did he utter, how many festivals did he celebrate, always, always hoping that maybe this time he might meet the One whom God would send as savior? As he got older and more frail, but still faithful to the traditions and rituals of his faith, would he be disappointed that he hadn’t yet seen the Messiah? Did the mystery of the yearly festivals dim at times? I imagine so. Even for some of us, Christmas isn’t full of wonder and joy every year—sometimes, it even seems tired-out. But still, we celebrate year after year. As did Simeon.
And then there is dear old faithful Anna, the widow, quite possibly close to homelessness, practically living in the temple. One writer imagines that Anna, once she moved into the temple, decided to take on the ministry of being present for young families, who brought their first-born sons to be dedicated. She would be especially concerned for poor families, who would be intimidated by the power and wealth of the temple, scared of being cheated by the money changers, who considered ripping off people an art form. (Ralph Milton, Rumors: Preaching Helps for Preachers with a Sense of Humour, http://ralphmiltonsrumors.blogspot.com/2008/12/preaching-materials-for-december-28th.html)
What was it like that day, the day Mary and Joseph and Jesus showed up for Jesus’ dedication? Did Anna meet them, to help them find their way around? When Simeon held the infant in his arms, what was it like to hold God? How did they know? Was there something different about the baby—or did something different happen inside of them? What about this tiny bundle made an old man to break into song, and be able to say he “could die happy”, while a wizened old woman broke into praises to God while wildly sharing with startled temple goers that she had touched the Chosen One? It is as if, in their waiting, in their daily practice, in their faith in the tradition opened them up to be surprised by the promise of God, could actually see God in a six week old baby of poor peasants from Galilee, of all places.
This is the beauty of tradition—practiced with heart and intention. When practiced with an open heart and intention. Tradition is a means of passing knowledge; of handing something precious over to the next generation…it anchors us in the past, deepens the present, and offers hope for the future.
My family’s traditions are precious to me, because they bind me to my sisters and parents, in spite of the distance and differences we might have, at times. At first, when the lefse making got foiled, and Liz and I couldn’t find a place to eat, I thought spending all that time wasn’t worth it, because it wasn’t the same as it was when I was growing up. But that isn’t the point, is it? What was passed on to me wasn’t about an end product, but a love of heritage, a love for family (in spite of…) and a way of finding meaning in the holy-day at hand—even if things don’t turn out the way I expect.
But, there is more.
Because Anna and Simeon’s faithful practice, and years of experience of living in a time and place where life was really difficult, they understood how separated from God the world had become, how broken and alone people felt, and they gave thanks for the child who would bring about our reconciliation, our healing, our salvation. (Songbird, Reflectionary, http://revsongbird.typepad.com/songbird_365/2008/12/with-open-arms.html)
And it is no different today, is it? We don’t have to go beyond the front page to know that our world is broken. Look at the past few days, when the holiday is supposed to be merry and bright, we have had air strikes in Gaza, a man in a Santa suit attacking his ex-wife’s family—not to mention what in between the lines—the family that can’t make the mortgage payments, because one parent has been laid off, or the teenager in so much pain and desolation but doesn’t know who to talk to, or the family living in their car because there is no room for them…at the shelter or the inn. (paragraph shaped from Songbird)
When Simeon held the baby in his arm, he sang to God, “My eyes have seen your salvation, a light of revelation to the world”, and spoke to Mary that her baby would “ 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.” (Luke 2:34b-35)
Simeon knew what Mary would learn—that this child would grow to be something completely different than what most would expect. Tradition expected one thing, but Jesus would surprise us all—because his love knew no limits.
And as followers of his way, our souls will be pierced, as well. We will be pushed and stretched and challenged to meet a broken world as Jesus did—with heart and intention and limitless love.
This is why we keep coming back to the stable every year, isn’t it? As people of faith, we come to make sure that Christ is still born, that hope still lives, and that God is truly with us. Our traditions anchor our memories, and make the present at least, more bearable, and give hope for the future. We come back to make sure that God does break into a broken world, and it gives us the courage to do the same. We sing our carols in candlelight, we light purple candles, we read the story, we re-tell the story, we act out the story, we look into the faces of children, we embrace each other with peace, because it helps us to see God…especially the times when it doesn’t seem possible. We live in Christmas tradition for 12 days, at least, because as we celebrate the God’s love in the world, and we might even, at least once in awhile, find ourselves holding God in our arms. Being blessed in the holding, and being restored in our hope for what is next.
Like Simeon, when that happens, we will know, that all is will be well with the world, and with us.
Amen.
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