Candlemas - Year A

Malachi 3.1-5; Luke 2.22-40

Today is the feast of Candlemas, when we remember how Jesus was brought to the Temple by Mary and Joseph in an act of thanksgiving and dedication. We remember how they are greeted there by Simeon and Anna, who have waited long for this moment. And we remember how Simeon acclaims Jesus as the Light of the world, a moment of seeing that allows Simeon to end his days in peace.

The Feast of Candlemas brings to an end the season of Christmas and Epiphany, during which we have remembered and celebrated a series of revelations: the birth of Christ, of course; and his acclamation by travelling magi; his baptism by John in the Jordan, when the voice of God is heard to proclaim, “You are my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased.” And we have remembered the calling of the first disciples by Jesus to ‘follow me.’ After which they leave everything and immediately join his company.

Remembering is always a central part of what we gather to do here on a Sunday morning. Above all in our communion, we remember the events of the Last Supper, and how Jesus shared bread and wine as his body and blood. But that remembering, like the remembering of the events in the Temple, is not an historical exercise, a simple recounting of things that happened long ago. Nor is it an exercise in nostalgia, a remembering that longs to be back there, that imagines the past to be far more exiting and meaningful than the present. And nor is it an exercise in escapism: a remembering that enables us to blot out our present troubles while we escape into a some fantasy of the past.

In Christian understanding, to remember is to participate. We remember to bring into the present, for the sake of our future, the saving events of the past. To remember is to participate once again in that which saves us: ‘Lord, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation,’ says Simeon. And we, today, stand with him and acclaim that salvation; we will light our candles to greet the light of the world, the light that saves us.

What we actively remember today, and therefore what we participate in, is the shape and reach of God’s salvation; it is the work of God that in our remembering, our participation, shapes us. Simeon invites us today, like him, to recognize that salvation in Christ; to recognize that salvation in the tenderness of taking a wee child up in his arms and blessing him; and to recognize it also in all that this child will endure and demand. As Simeon goes on to say to Mary: ‘This child is destined for the falling and the 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.’

The salvation of God remembered, recognised and celebrated today encompasses, asks for, shapes us in both tenderness and toughness.

That shape of salvation is what Cora and Nina will shortly be baptised into. Any parent knows that combination of tenderness and toughness. The tenderness and love that Nina and Cora have kindled, that they demand and need. But toughness too, in the challenges ahead, in the unknown future. Toughness and tenderness, and the wisdom to move between the two. Bring those who are baptised in this water, with Christ through the waters of death, to be one with him in his resurrection, we will say. That is the shape of salvation, in all its tenderness and toughness: death and new life; dying and rising; letting go and finding abundance given back. That is the salvation that our remembering helps us participate in, be shaped by.

It is why parents and godparents will shortly be asked, ‘Will you continue in the Apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?’ That question echoes the earliest statement of what Christian life looked like, in the book of Acts shortly after Pentecost. This is the shape of salvation: teaching, fellowship, breaking bread, praying. Acts of remembering and participating that shape us and reveal God at work among us.

And so, like Simeon, we will shortly, tenderly, take a baby in our arms today and bless them. We will celebrate that salvation that is God’s gift and calling; the salvation that will shape them and us in tenderness and toughness.

And later, at the end of our service, we will light our candles from the Easter candle, the candle of new life, as we celebrate the light of the world. Our candles will witness to God’s vital, life giving power and are yet they are fragile, easily snuffed out. In the weeks to come we will follow Christ, the light of the world as he turns towards, travels into, the world’s darkest place, to be snuffed out, and then rise again. In toughness and tenderness, we will remember and so participate in God’s salvation, in that unconquerable hope that redeems our world from all its violence and hate. Amen.