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.

Candlemas... and Holocaust Memorial

Sermon. 28 January 2018. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford.

The Presentation of Christ in the Temple (Candlemas) [transferred]. 

Sunday nearest Holocaust Memorial Day

• Hebrews 2.14-18
• Luke 2.22-40  

From the Letter to the Hebrews: “Since the children share flesh and blood, Jesus himself likewise shared the same things, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death”. 

And yesterday was Holocaust Memorial Day. 

Either yesterday or a day or so before, we as a nation, in hundreds of different ways, marked - what? - the 

• industrial-scale, 
• technologically innovative, 
• bureaucratically managed 

genocide (mass murder) of six million Jewish human beings, and 5 million other human beings, by the Nazi regime, in the Second World War;

and…

we also marked later genocides in 

• Cambodia, 
• Rwanda, 
• Bosnia 
• and Darfur -

because the slogan “never again” has been just that - a slogan. 

And this list is far from exhaustive; many of us may want to stand with Armenians, who mark their own genocide, still not acknowledged, let alone marked, by the descendants of the perpetrators. 

But this is just a list, albeit a painful one. We cannot truly imagine the deaths - the murder - of millions. So here instead is an image. A true one; it’s on film. It’s 1938. The Kindertransport programme is going ahead. Some Jewish children from Germany and neighbouring countries are allowed to travel to Britain unhindered. It is not a blanket right; the UK government waives some but not all immigration requirements; then, as now, they didn’t want “too many refugees” (even if that means that others die).  

A family scene. Father and mother help their children onto the train with their small suitcases. The parents step away from the train… from their children. They fear - and they know the fear is rational - that if they stay, they they will be killed. The youngest child is just a toddler. The mother hands that one over to an older child. Then, no, she cannot do it. She must care for her tiny one - a mother’s instinct. She takes that one back. But that brings her no comfort, because now the infant is once again at the mercy of the killing regime. So… ... at the last minute, she hands even that one over to the children, abandons even her tiniest, that they might live.

“Since the children share flesh and blood, Jesus himself likewise shared the same things, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death”. 

And Holocaust Memorial is in the air. 

Clearly, one response to this is to abandon faith. To say that the one who has the power of death is as strong as ever, and robust, energetic, and using that power, time and time and time again. I’m serious: this has to be a real, lively option for us. You know, people seldom lose their faith through abstract arguments about “the existence of Gd” (or “the divinity of Christ” for that matter). Usually people lose their faith because there is a “disconnect” (as we now say) - just no point of contact between what they know to be true about the world in all its mess and violence, and what they hear in their places of worship. 

“Since the children share flesh and blood, Jesus himself likewise shared the same things, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death”. Can we connect? 

It might take a little work. Today is after all the Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple (Candlemas). It marks the time when according to Luke, Mary and Joseph and Jesus do what they do in the Temple. (It is not at all clear what is going on, truth to tell, but that is another sermon.) It is the 40th day since his birth. So, indeed, we have a delightful chance to revisit Christmas and the joy of the Christ-child. A time of rejoicing. Not an easy time to think about whether faith makes any sense at all… or whether the world is not thoroughly Gd-forsaken. 

But still we can so think. Simeon blesses the child and mother. And as he is an Israelite, like Jacob/Israel himself, the blessing is not one of unalloyed happiness, but tells it as it is. Most poignantly, of Mary: “a sword will pierce your own soul too”. This is the “promise” of danger and opposition and even death (untimely death) ahead. 

And so too, in the Letter to the Hebrews. What counts is that Jesus shares “our flesh and blood”. And to be flesh and blood is to be mortal, is to be vulnerable.  Again, what counts is that it is through Jesus’ death, that he destroys the one who has the power of death. It is not that death - or the human ability to kill - are taken away. That idea has never had any plausibility in the world. People die; people kill. But death is not what it was before. 

The difference Jesus brings is to “free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death”. Death is no longer something that need provoke an all-encompassing, all-inhibiting fear. 

Is that the reassurance we need, or just so much religious jargon, from the preacher? 

It’s a not by job to tell you. You must decide for yourself. My task is to invite you to consider it. 
Just please don’t misunderstand: 

what it does not mean is that death has become trivial, because after this life, you get a second one, which is better. No, anything but that. 

It means this: 
that we have - if we make use of it - all that we need to live courageously, in this life, 
whatever life - whatever death - throws at us. 
Because (so the claim goes) we have, in Jesus, 
one sent by Gd 
to live with us, 
teach and heal us, 
pray for us, 
die with us, 
be raised for us, 
to pray again in heaven for us. 
So we have all the solidarity from Gd we might need. 

So live courageously, even in this - Holocaust-embracing — world. 

It is hard. It may be excruciating. But the message here is it can be done.

We can do it

• with the love and wonder of the Christ child,
• with the patience and confidence and prayerfulness of Simeon and Anna, 
• with the courage of Mary. 

I wish us all a blessed Feast. Amen.