Wednesday, February 2, 2022 (today’s lectionary)
Feast of the Presentation of the Lord
Bring your children unto me
My brother John and his wife Karen asked Margaret and I to be godparents for Matthew Shane, their second baby. We stood beside them in Lincoln, Illinois’ Trinity Episcopal Church at the baptismal font. No one wore a mask back then (seems like a million years ago). We promised to pray for their kids, and help them carry the spiritual burden of being parents. It brought us together. I think John and Karen felt less alone in their parental responsibilities. It takes a village.
Lo, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me. And suddenly there will come into the temple the Lord whom you seek and the messenger of the covenant whom you desire. Yes, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts.
What a fine thing, to present our children to the Lord.
John and Karen followed in the footsteps of Joseph and Mary. They had no idea how their children would turn out, and neither did Jesus’ parents. Mary had a clue, sure. Jesus brought out the worship of shepherds and the homage of magi, but we can only imagine how it went for his parents as he grew up. They did not worship him. They did not sing the psalms of praise and worship, no, not yet:
Who is this king of glory? It is the Lord!
Reach up, you ancient portals, that the king of glory may come in!
Who is this king of glory? It is the Lord!
When he was 12, they chided him for not telling him where he was going and forgetting his responsibilities toward the family. Our grandson Jack is 12 (until February 24). He forgets to communicate sometimes; he regularly dwells deeply in the recesses of his mind. His parents are mostly patient with him, except sometimes. Sounds like Mary and Joseph.
It is a good thing to consider the ways that Jack and Jesus were alike at that young age.
Since the children share in blood and flesh, Jesus likewise shared in them that through death he might free those who through fear of death had been subject to slavery all their life. He had to become like his brothers and sisters in every way.
Mary heard Simeon speak daggers into her heart, as he spoke of the future. John and Karen’s kids grew into husbands and wives, parents, successful teachers, farmers, medical helpers. Now their own children and coming into their own. Jesus? What about Jesus?
Behold this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted – and you yourself a sword will pierce – so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.
O my Father God, Mary cried. What will happen to my son? How can I prepare myself, and prepare him, for the fulfillment of this prophecy?
I imagine God was silent when she prayed, and so she “pondered all these things in her heart.” But perhaps God was not silent. Perhaps her Father comforted her, and touched her brow and replaced her anxious fears with his love. Yes, that is what I imagine that he did. And said something like, Mary, I love you and I always will. Do not be afraid.
The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.
And the Lord speaks again, into Mary’s heart, into the hearts of John and Karen, Chris and Melissa, and David and Margaret.
Bring your children unto me. What is there to be afraid of? There is nothing. Let the little children come.
(Painting: “Simeon’s Song of Praise,” 1631 by Rembrandt van Rijn)
(Malachi 3, Psalm 24, Hebrews 2, Luke 2)
(posted at www.davesandel.net)
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