Anna and Simeon

December 31, 2017

Cate Thorn

Christmas 1     Philippians 2:5-13     Luke 2:15-21

Video available on YouTube, Facebook

Today’s gospel is of Jesus being presented in the Temple, a feast day to be celebrated in about a month. This first Sunday of the Christmas season we continue the story that affirms the identity of this new born child. This child, uniquely significant to, prophesied and promised within the very particular tradition of Judaism. As Christians we now have a tradition we follow that witnesses the following of that tradition. As we listen to the gospel we hear repeated that by this ritual Joseph and Mary, acted “according to the Law of Moses, as it is written in the Law, according to what is stated in the Law of the Lord, they did what was customary under the Law.” We also hear the Holy Spirit rested on Simeon, the Holy Spirit revealed, guided and promised to Simeon. This meant Simeon had expectations – he looked forward to Israel’s consolation and to seeing the Lord’s Messiah before dying.

Each character in today’s gospel, Joseph, Mary, Simeon and Anna chooses to make themselves subject to the Law and to the traditions associated with that Law. These promises of divine revelation are made, the active presence of the Holy Spirit that directs and companions is known to those who keep the Law, who choose to reside within the boundaries of tradition, who consider and interpret the world as place where God acts. Does the tradition permission those within it to see divine imprint, does it provide a structure that releases the potential for those within to act in accord with divine call? Not to suggest God is limited to the boundaries set by tradition or only acts within them, simply that those within the tradition look for God and expect that which God promises to be made real.

Tradition thus understood is a positive thing, it permissions, provides useful structure, releases potential. I’d suggest it more common these days for tradition to be regarded less favourably, especially when it comes to Christianity. The idea of being obedient, faithful to tradition considered outmoded and suspect. Tradition seen to entrap, prevent, even stymy innovation. Tradition is from back then and is out of touch with the demands of now. Traditional church practice, ritual, language, music is seen as formulaic and stilted, enervating rather than energising. All of this makes traditional church inaccessible, almost incomprehensible to the uninitiated.

Now I’m making assumption that many of us are here because there’s something about the tradition in the guise it’s found here that’s of value, while also acknowledging that tradition needs significant translation for it to be relevant – and that’s inside the walls. How does it get translated from inside the walls to the majority of people who are outside, so the stories of this religious lineage we consider to have significance and be of worth continue to be told, to echo in the world? We could spend time debating theory, seeking that elusive authentic expression to lend us certainty to name it as true tradition. But to what end and for whom? Experience of what makes for effective communication would suggest rather that translation’s best done by example, revealed through the way we act and are. As we interpret the world is place of God presence, expecting encounter and to make it real in word and act, to be people who align our living with ways that bring and nurture life. I realise, however, it’s hard to translate, just as it is hard to teach, if we’re not too sure how much we know, in fact we realise we’re not very well educated in the why of tradition. If we don’t really understand why things are done the way they are, then it’s hard to translate the tradition into the practice and language of our every day, hard to live differently. If we haven’t quite figured out how to make this religious tradition stuff make sense in our world as we interact in today’s world it’ll be a struggle for our faith practice to be purposefully alive.

An example might help to explain. I was once asked to explore the idea of providing a space for people to spend time reflecting on Easter’s significance in which would be placed a series of floral displays themed around the Stations of the Cross. Now it was a tradition I knew of but wasn’t overly familiar with, I struggled to identify meaningfully with the tradition and flowers are lovely but I couldn’t quite make the connection. I thought of the people I met and walked with in the local community who faced many social challenges. What would it mean to them? Is this tradition just for people of privilege? Not according to the way we tell the story. So I thought of asking some of the young people, who share their artistic ability through graffiti, to create art works on the ‘stations of the cross’ to backdrop the floral displays. It was immediately apparent that significant translation would be required, religious rhetoric wouldn’t work.

Consider the first station, Jesus is condemned. However we imagine this, it tends to be over there, back then. As people of faith who declare the uniqueness of Jesus we likely see this drama as uniquely significant – the Pilate condemning scene a one off historical event over there, back then. Yet consider what happens within the scene – crowd behaviour, fear, misinformation, prejudice, power and the innocent condemned to death. Think for a moment of our world full of ethnic/religious/sectarian conflict, where innocent people are slaughtered from accusations requiring no proof. Or scenes where people of certain religions, ethnicities or races are the first to be accosted and accused, its apparent that prejudice distorts just process and innocence isn’t assumed. For some of these young street artists this would be a familiar scenario. If we consider the first station this way, we realise the challenges to faithful living are as real and alive now as they ever were. Given such example, how well do we indwell our faith and the tradition that expresses so we’re guided, our thinking and acting informed, our practice of daily living intentioned, such that we are its translation?

When you embarked on your journey of faith, acquired a tradition perhaps, where did you expect it to take you? It seems to me we’ve expectations, or should, of our faith – that we’ll be changed, that we’ll go somewhere on this faith journey. Those starting out, may be quite happy to discover the stories of the tradition like the Christmas stories of this special Jesus baby birth, also need an idea there’s somewhere to go and there’s a means by which to go – a map of the territory with landmarks, places and points of recognition.

Remember those dot to dot, join the dots puzzles? What happens when you join the dots? What happens when you join the dots incorrectly? Put in perspective of religion, at least a religion that’s had some continuity over time, there are dots that when joined provide us with a bigger picture map of faith journeying – a map that’s emerged from those who’ve journeyed before us. Such wisdom, lived experience of God journeying in life, affirmed across time, forms our Tradition and traditions. I see traditions not so much as rigid forms from which we stray at our peril but as pointers, dots, borders and boundaries on a map. I think we need the guidance of such maps. It requires a certain discipline, a decision to be faithful, to be obedient, like Mary, Joseph, Simeon and Anna, to make ourselves subject to tradition’s guidance. Uncomfortable though it may be, discipline tends to be beneficial for growth and maturity, it may be more palatable if we learn about, so come to understand, the why of the landmarks on the map. C.S. Lewis puts it this way, writing of theology I think his imagery applies also to tradition.

“In a way I can quite understand why some people are put off theology. I remember once when I’d been giving a talk to the R.A.F., and old, hard-bitten officer got up and said, “I’ve no use for all that stuff. But, mind you, I’m a religious man too. I know there is a God. I’ve felt [God]: out alone in the desert at night: the tremendous mystery. And that’s just why I don’t believe all your neat little dogmas and formula’s about [God]. To anyone who’s met the real thing they all seem so petty and pedantic and unreal!”

Now in a sense I quite agreed with that man. I think he’d probably had a real experience of God in the desert. And when he turned from that experience to the Christian creeds, I think he was really turning from something quite real to something less real. In the same way, if a [person] has once looked at the Atlantic from the beach, and then goes and looks at a map of the Atlantic, [they] also will be turning from something more real to something less real: turning from real waves to a bit of coloured paper. But here comes the point. The map is only coloured paper, but there are two things you have to remember about it. In the first place, it is based in what hundreds and thousands of people have found out by sailing the real Atlantic. In that way it has behind it masses of experience just as real as the one you could have had from the beach; only, while yours would be a single isolated glimpse, the map fits all those different experiences together. In the second place, if you want to go anywhere, the map is absolutely necessary. As long as you’re content with walks on the beach, your own glimpses are far more fun than looking at a map. But the map’s going to be more use than walks on the beach if you want to get to America.

Doctrines aren’t God: they’re only a kind of map. But that map’s based on the experience of hundreds of people who really were in touch with God – experiences compared with which any thrills or pious feelings you or I are likely to get on our own are very elementary and very confused. And secondly, if you want to get any further you must use the map. You see, what happened to the man in the desert may have been real … but nothing comes of it. It leads nowhere. There’s nothing to do about it. [You won’t] get anywhere by looking at maps without going to sea. And you won’t be very safe if you go to sea without a map.”

Tradition as a map to companion and guide us in life – it rather asserts there’s a territory to explore, not just of divine presence dwelling but also that in each moment we choose as to what we see as possible, as to how we understand and interpret what is taking place, as to what we do in response. What is more we discover we’re not alone. We’ve companions walking with us who know this journey to.