The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany

The Light and the Salt
Isaiah 58:1-9a
Matthew 5:13-20

The readings appointed for today from Isaiah and the Gospel touch upon some similar things. And in both readings, what God says to the people is very clear and certainly relevant to us. But what God does not say is also very interesting and relevant to us as well.

The context for the reading from Isaiah is the exile. The people who know themselves as God’s people have been driven into exile in Babylon and the temple in Jerusalem has been destroyed. The people feel abandoned by God. In this reading they are trying to get God’s attention, rather like a toddler who is not getting enough attention from a parent. The toddler tugs at a shirt sleeve or pant leg, interrupts a conversation. Or the child who has discovered the one way that will always draw a parents’ attention—usually by acting up in some way. They are fasting. That is what they think is a fail-safe way to get God’s attention. Look, God, they say. Look at us. We are fasting.

Ultimately, as Isaiah tells it, God does respond, but he doesn’t say what they wanted to hear. God does not offer an apology for neglecting them. God doesn’t swoop them up in his arms to comfort and coddle them. God does not act to give them everything they want. That’s what God does not say and what God does not do.

What God does say is pretty clear. “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast day.” “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free… Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them?” Fight injustice. Feed the hungry. Shelter the homeless. Clothe the naked. God’s words are pretty clear.

I do squirm a little bit at this reading. Not at the forceful clarity of God’s directives to the people, but at the lines that follow. There appears to be an “if-then” causality set up. If you do these things, God says through Isaiah, “Then your light shall break forth like the dawn… Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer.” Like many Christians I am leery of works-righteousness, the supposition that we can earn God’s favor if we only do the right things. That is contrary to the overall message of the New Testament that God’s favor is given freely to us through God’s grace. (I would add, though, that if you are seeking an awareness of God’s presence with you, your chances are better if you’re doing God’s work.) It’s not that your actions will summon God’s presence, but that your awareness of God’s presence might be higher.)

Turning to Matthew. One thing Jesus says is, “Listen to the prophets” (like Isaiah). I have not come to abolish the prophets, but to fulfill their words. But more to my point today, Jesus says to his followers, “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.”

Again, though, it’s very interesting to think about what Jesus does not say. As I often am, I’m indebted here to Lutheran preacher and teacher David Lose.

Notice, for instance, that Jesus doesn’t give the disciples instructions on how to become salt and light. Rather, he just plain tells them that that’s what they are. “You are the salt of the earth. You are the light of the world.” Goodness, he doesn’t even say that they’re “little lights” that they should let shine. Rather, he says they are the light of the world -- sheer promise and declaration.

You are the salt. You are the light. Period. Jesus does not offer them a survey that will help them asses their individual spiritual gifts so that they can determine which sort of light will be the most rewarding for them. He does not offer to help with time management so that they can make a place in their schedules to occasionally shine. He does not take them on a ministry empowerment retreat or a faith enrichment retreat. He does not reassure them their insecurities or uncertainties so that—no matter what—they feel good about themselves. You are the salt. You are the light. Period.

 It’s also worth nothing that neither salt nor light exists for themselves. They only fulfill their purpose when they are used, poured out. Light is about justice. Salt is about sustenance.

Maybe you have heard people say, You don’t have to be a Christian to be a “good” person? To do good or act morally? That’s certainly true, but totally irrelevant to us. You don’t have to be a Christian to do good, but if you are a Christian, you have to do good. You don’t have a choice. You have to help others. We are the salt. We are the light. We fight injustice. We shelter the homeless. We clothe the naked. We feed the hungry. That’s what Christians do.

This is about more than being nice at work, although that, too, is part of our Christian vocation. This is about more than caring for an aging or ill family member, although that, too, is part of our Christian vocation. This is about being the salt and light in communities in which we live. To work for justice. To help the hungry and the homeless. Many of you do this work now. God bless you. Bless those of you who do. And the rest of us? God challenges us through these readings. If you are not feeding the hungry, Why not? If you are not clothing the naked now, What are you waiting for? If you are not sheltering the homeless, you have no excuse.

You are the light. You are the salt. Fight injustice. Feed the hungry. Shelter the homeless. Clothe the naked.

The Presentation of Our Lord

The Nunc:  Simeon's Now is Our Now
Luke 2:22-40

In addition to being Super Bowl Sunday and Groundhog day, today, February 2, is significant on the church calendar. February is the feast day called The Presentation of our Lord Jesus Christ in the Temple. It is not one of the great seven principal feasts of the church year, but it is a feast of our Lord, and when it falls on a Sunday, we observe it in our worship together. It is always February 2, 40 days after Christmas, and it is rooted in an historical event in Jesus’ life.

We heard the event described in this morning’s Gospel from Luke. Two things are going on that pertain to “the” law governing Jewish life. From Exodus 13:2:

The Lord said to 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.

As the first-born son, Jesus is presented to the Lord in the temple.

Second. This feast day is also sometimes called the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary. From Leviticus 12:2-8:

If a woman conceives and bears a male child, she shall be ceremonially unclean for seven days… On the eighth day the flesh of his foreskin shall be circumcised. Her time of blood purification shall be thirty-three days; she shall not touch any holy thing, or come into the sanctuary, until the days of her purification are completed…. When the days of her purification are completed, 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 turtle-dove for a sin-offering. He shall offer it before the Lord, and make atonement on her behalf; then she shall be clean. If she cannot afford a sheep, she shall take two turtle-doves 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.

The issue of being ritually unclean is very foreign to our religious life, although up through the 1928 prayer book, there was a service for the “Churching of Women after Childbirth.” Although it had come to have a focus more of thanksgiving than purification.

So historically, that’s what’s going on. The Presentation of Jesus and the Purification of Mary.

But this story is really about Simeon and Anna. The story is about Simeon and Anna. That’s when it comes alive and gets interesting. Simeon is described in considerable detail. And, especially for a woman in Scripture, Anna, too, seems a real figure of flesh and blood. And it is Simeon and Anna who make this an Epiphany story for us. A story of the manifestation of God’s glory in Jesus. Simeon and Anna saw that glory; they experienced epiphanies.

For this perspective on this event, I’m deeply indebted to a sermon by John Stendahl which was published in Christian Century in 2002. (You can read his sermon here.) Luke tells us that Simeon held Jesus. Simeon took the baby Jesus in his arms. We can only imagine what that experience was life. And I’ll betcha Anna asked to hold the baby, too!

When Simeon, that old and faithful Jew, held Jesus he saw something that led him to say: “Lord, I have seen your salvation.” Stendahl continues:

But what has he seen, really? It’s just a little child in his arms, a powerless, speechless newcomer to the world. Whatever salvation this baby might work is still only a promise and a hope; whatever teaching he might offer will remain hidden for many years. Nothing has happened yet. Herod still sits on his throne and Caesar governs from afar. The world looks as it did before. By the time a mature Jesus comes onto the stage of history, Simeon and Anna will be long dead. 

What Simeon (and Anna) have seen and held is a promise. JUST a promise. And all they will ever know in their earthly lives is that promise.  Stendahl:

Though some might take this aspect of the stories as no more than an accidental effect of nativity prologues for the Gospels, it seems to me to offer us both connection and encouragement. We too are people who have seen something but not its full unfolding. Paradoxically, Simeon and Anna do not so much belong to the gospel’s prehistory as they are paradigmatic for our own experience of that gospel.

We are like Simeon and Anna. We have been prepared for the promise by the Scriptures and the stories. Like them, we live in a world that externally appears little changed by the presence of Jesus. Where God’s promise is certainly not yet fully realized. That promise, for us, of course, has been strengthened and given new shape by the adult teaching of Jesus and by his death and resurrection. But we live in a world where God’s promise has yet to be fulfilled. A world that externally appears little changed by the presence of Jesus. We, too, have JUST a promise. But that promise is no small thing. As he holds the baby, Simeon sees clearly and knows with certainty God promise of redemption. He literally holds God’s promise in his hands.

And his response is to offer a prayer of praise… a great hymn of praise. The Song of Simeon. Church nerds call it “The Nunc.” N – U – N – C. The Nunc. Or the Nunc Dimittis, the first two words of the hymn in Latin.

It’s interesting that the title by which we know this hymn of praise is in Latin. It means that it has come to us, not directly from the Scriptures, where Luke wrote it in Greek, but from the Scriptures via centuries of worship in the church. Generation upon generation… century upon centuries of Christians have sung Simeon’s song of praise. For many of those centuries in Latin. It has been a part of Christian worship throughout the recorded history of Christian worship.

And I know it best, not in Luke’s version, but as it appears in our Book of Common Prayer.

Lord, you now have set your servant free
to go in peace as you have promised;
For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
whom you have prepared for all the world to see;
a light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people Israel. 

In our Prayer Book, the Nunc, the Song of Simeon, is part of Compline, and more familiarly, Evening Prayer. But, evidently, in some branches of Christendom it is said after Communion. Think about what we hold in our hands and raise to our lips when we share Communion. Simeon held, and probably kissed the cheek of the living baby Jesus. Think about what we hold in our hands and raise to our lips when we participate in Communion. We hold what he held. We kiss what he kissed. His experience is our experience.

Nunc means “now” in Latin. “Now” I am free to go in peace. Simeon’s “now” is our “now.”

It is just a promise that Simeon held. It is just a promise that we hold. But what a promise. And, although the promise has not yet been fulfilled, the promise—just the promise—blesses us “now.” Most likely, like Simeon and Anna, we will not see the complete fulfillment of that promise in our lifetimes. But as we see and hold the promise in our hands and take it into our souls, like Simeon, we may say, “Now.” Now we are set free. Now we have seen the Savior. Now we are free to go in peace.