Sermon for the Light of Candlemas

Sermon. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford. 3 February 2019

Candlemas/The Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple

Luke 2.22-40

I’ve been in prison* since last we met. And I have to go back, or there’ll come looking for me. (How else could I begin?)

I’d struggle to sum up prison life. I don’t think that’s just because I am new to it. I think it will always be hard to sum up prisons. They are places of suffering, isolation, violence, drug abuse, helplessness - and also of making the best of it, of learning, courtesy, humour and hope. Places rich in sin. And rich in holiness. Being immersed in that life as I now am – for the hours are not short and the tasks are not few – I find I see lots of things in a new light.

Now, let’s be clear: I have wanted to be with you for this Feast, for months. It’s been long planned. The timing is not accidental. I wanted to make sure you got to keep Candlemas, or the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. And Feast it surely is. Let us feast (whether on cake or toast)!

But being in prison I find I see lots of things in a new light. People have long seen that today’s Feast is a bittersweet one. (In truth, most Christian festivals are, but go with me on this.) For me, this is to the fore in a new way. Yes, today is about rejoicing, about praise, about the promise of glory, about the assurance that here, with this child, Gd’s word has been fulfilled. And today is about the awareness that what is to be said about this same child is painful and difficult. It is about conflict; it is about grief. The way that the Church puts it is this: Candlemas marks the moment when the joys of the birth of Jesus - the joys of Christmas - come to their own fulfilment, and we begin to think (already) of the sombre truths of the Passion (for Lent is at hand).

Bittersweet. Let us hear again the words that are less easy from today’s encounter. Simeon to Mary: “This child is destined for the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to 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.”

More literally, he says: “So that they may be revealed - out of many hearts [the] reasonings.” [hopos an apokaluphthosin ek pollon kardion dialogismoi] I know that’s nonsense in English; in Greek it does work. It’s what makes me think we might translate: “So that how people reason in the privacy of their own hearts will be seen, will be ‘out there’.” And let’s not kid ourselves: here we are not talking about our good thoughts (those we just speak out); nor are we talking about our neutral thoughts (they need no privacy); we are talking about thoughts which are dark, and have greed or hatreds or fears.  

Being in prison, I find I see lots of things in a new way. Most of us surely receive these words as a threat or a warning. “So that how you reason in the privacy of your own heart, will be seen, will be ‘out there’.” It’s like that nightmare when you find yourself naked in the middle of town, isn’t it? But what if? What if… it weren’t a threat, but a promise.

“So that how you reason in the privacy of your own heart will finally be seen. So that you won’t have to hide anymore.”

*

Whether prisons work is a big, big question, and is for another place. But if prisons did work, they could surely be a place where these words are heard as a good thing. Wouldn’t it be great if prisons were safe spaces for fairly convicted prisoners in this way: safe spaces for them to fully examine their motivation; the excuses that they have made; the fears, the compulsions, or the coldness of heart that led them to act as they did.

“So that how you reason in the privacy of your own heart will be seen - seen by Gd.” 

In truth, how you reason in the privacy of your own heart has always been seen by Gd. You cannot hide things from Gd. You cannot hide from Gd.

And Simeon today is telling us (whether we are in prison or outside), that the very presence of Christ enables each of us, over time, to let the ways we reason in the privacy of our own hearts to be seen, understood, forgiven, transfigured, and healed.

You cannot hide from Gd, and you really don’t need to. You cannot bamboozle Gd, give excuses to Gd, manipulate Gd, play the tricks with Gd that you play with those around you. And this is a good thing. You can drop all that effort, and just rest in the fact that you are already seen by Gd who loves you as you are.

Here are two short ways of making the point. First (you’ll have heard this before, but it bears repetition):

there is nothing you can do, to make Gd love you more;

there is nothing you can do, to make Gd love you less.

And then, my rather lose rendering of how Rowan Williams once summed up what he found in the writings of Dostoevsky (trust me, just saying that intimidates me as much as it may intimidate you, but, again, go with me):

Gd is Light, pure Light, 
and the Light is shining on you, 
on you, in particular. 
You are in the focus, under the spotlight, in the Light. 
And the Light that is shining upon you is
brighter and more piercing, more exposing, 

     than you’d imagine in your deepest fears, and 
that Light is more warming, more welcoming and more loving 

     than you’d dare to hope in your wildest dreams.

The Light of Candlemas be with you. Amen.  

*as chaplain, as the congregation knew.