Sally A. Brown, Professor Emerita, Princeton Theological Seminary
Luke 2:21-40 opens with a brief narration of four rites that Mary and Joseph undertake after Jesus’ birth, as required by Jewish law. Jesus is circumcised on the eighth day, and he is publicly named “Jesus” (as Gabriel had instructed Mary). After forty days, Mary undergoes post-partum purification. Finally, Mary and Joseph present their firstborn son at the Temple. The law stipulated that “every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord” (Ex 13:2). A sacrifice was required to “redeem” the child from lifelong divine service. For those who, like Mary and Joseph, were too poor to offer a lamb, two turtledoves sufficed. These rituals would have been commonplace, unremarkable. Yet, their sheer ordinariness sets in bold relief the astonishing outburst of joy that greets the infant in the Temple.
First, elderly Simeon, devout and eagerly anticipating Israel’s “consolation,” takes Mary’s baby into his arms and breaks into jubilant praise. This is the third prophetic song recorded, so far, by Luke. (Compare Mary’s song, 1:46-55, and Zechariah’s, 1:68-79.) For years, Simeon, on whom “the Holy Spirit rested” (v 25), has lived in eager anticipation of a day when he would meet the anointed Agent of God’s salvation. Finding God’s anointed in the arms of a mother young and poor, his father a common laborer in a backwater town, does not seem to give Simeon a moment’s pause. Simeon’s Spirit-enlightened sight recognizes Jesus instantly for who he is. He celebrates this child as God’s “salvation” not only for Israel’s glory, but as a “light for revelation” to all nations. A second voice joins Simeon’s. Anna, a prophet, aged eighty-four, who worships night and day at the Temple, also breaks into praise, celebrating Jesus as the promised one who will inaugurate Israel’s deliverance.
Here as in chapter 1, we find Luke pairing male and female figures who testify to the unprecedented divine intervention in history that Jesus represents. Simeon and Anna’s jubilant celebration of an infant, poor and born into obscurity, as God’s agent of salvation already signals a startling reversal—the raising up of the lowly of which Mary sang. Jesus’ humble beginnings hint that, contrary to widely held popular expectations, God’s Messiah may not conquer as a David-like warrior-king.
Simeon’s song of praise still ringing in the air, he blesses Jesus’ parents, but then directs to Mary a message full of foreboding. Her child is destined to provoke “the falling and rising of many in Israel”—deep social unrest. This parallels Mary’s own announcement of social and economic reversal. But there is more: Mary’s son will be a target (“sign”) of opposition and public slander. Ultimately, pain will pierce Mary’s own soul (v 35). After this, it is time for Mary and Joseph to go home to Nazareth in Galilee. Did they talk on the way, or were they silent? Did they treasure the details of Gabriel’s visit, Elizabeth’s blessing, Anna’s proclamation? Or did they ponder Simeon’s disturbing words? Would Mary now be inclined—more than most mothers—to protect her son?
On this Sunday after Christmas, we too must “go home” to a world lacking in angelic visits and triumphant prophecies. Jesus is still controversial, his name hijacked to “baptize” power-grabbing schemes, religious and political. To follow Jesus truly is costly. The difference now is that we know what Mary, rocking the cradle, can’t yet know: on the other side of searing loss and pain awaits the most astonishing reversal of all. Jesus the Crucified shall become Lord of all. Hope of all nations, our Salvation shall carry no weapon, use no violence, but shall reign forever in perfect justice and love.