According to custom, Jesus would have been 40 days old, not even 6 weeks, when Mary and Joseph came with him to the Temple. I think it’s fair to say that Mary has seen some things, at this point. A miraculous pregnancy, an arduous journey on foot, or perhaps a donkey, to Bethlehem. Giving birth in a stable, angels and shepherds interrupting the whole process to sing their praises to the child, and probably a very bewildered and grumpy postnatal Mary. A brief recovery period, still likely living amongst strangers in who knows what accommodations, and finally it is time to present Jesus in the Temple in Jerusalem. The Holy Family has come to fulfill their duty, sleep deprived, no doubt, bringing along with them the two turtledoves. Still bewildered and sleep deprived, they encounter the aged Simeon who initially grants them with a beautiful prayer that we still say daily at Evening Prayer, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace…”, and he blesses the family.
I bet Mary and Joseph think they’re done now. As wonderful and beautiful the experience has been, I bet they are ready to go make their home together and finally settle into life, even if they suspect that life will be eventful, raising the holy child of God together. But Simeon is not done with Mary yet. At first, what he says is no news to Mary. “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel.” She had been told as much by the Angel Gabriel. To answer the question of the popular Christmas song, Mary did you know? Mary knew. But then, Simeon throws in at the end of his spiel, almost as an afterthought it seems, one of the most poignant lines in all of Scripture in my opinion. “And a sword will pierce your own soul, too.” Just heart-breaking. But also, as just about any mother or parent out there can tell you, painfully true.
Now, on this point, I do wonder if she knew. I don’t think most new parents understand the depth of the truth of these words. A sword pierces my soul every time one of my children is hurt, either physically or emotionally, and it hurts to love another human being that much. Which is why I find these words of Simeon so gut-wrenching, and Mary’s quiet acceptance of these words so poignant. Mary’s soul, like all the mothers before and after her who have had to watch their children suffer, would indeed be pierced. As terrible as it may sound, I also believe that this is one of the gifts of parenthood. Having your soul pierced, I mean. It’s not strictly limited to parents, so if you are not a parent, fear not – your soul can still be pierced if you’ll allow it to be. It’s just easy for me to see the truth of Simeon’s words through the eyes of a mother.
There is nothing as tender as holding a 5 week old baby as they sleep. I honestly don’t think it matters if this is your own child or not. It’s even more poignant when it’s not. Just hold a sleeping newborn sometime if their parent will allow it, much like Simeon did. Feel their little fingers grasping yours, their soft breaths as they fall into a deep milk-drunken slumber to dream their infant dreams. The trust and love that you have been given freely by that child, that you have done absolutely nothing to earn, pierces you and makes you understand that God’s grace is truly freely bestowed on all people, regardless of our merits. It also pierces my soul to know that God’s love for me is exactly the same. Abundant, beautiful, and totally unconditional.
And we need those moments of the piercing realization of God’s love to get us through the moments when our souls are pierced not by love, but by sorrow. The sorrow at the loss of a child or a loved one, especially for the mothers like Mary who have seen their own children murdered at the hands of the state. Sorrow when we see children starving because of the harrowing deprivations of war. Sorrow in times of serious illness, when it is easy to fall into despair. Moments that cut us through to our very souls. Yet it is also out of those cut to the heart moments of abject grief and hurt that I often recognize how closely God abides with me always. How God transforms these moments into something holy by entering in through the hole in my heart.
My spiritual director once passed on some advice to me that was given to her by late Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold. Whenever her sorrow became too great, often for the sake of one of her children, or for some other reason, Bishop Griswold would say, “Take it to Mary. She knows.” And it’s so true, isn’t it? Whatever sword is piercing your own hearts, whether it’s tonight, or some future time, you might try taking it to Mary. Mary knows that not even a sword through the heart can separate us from the love of God. She knows that sometimes you have to allow your soul to be pierced, even when it is painful, in order for God’s love to truly enter in. And she knows that her son is always near those who need him most.
And so beloved, I ask you to allow your souls to be pierced by Simeon’s words, too, so that the light of Christ can also enter in. Tonight, on the night when we blessed the candles to be used throughout our church year, remember that those lights will keep shining through the darkest of moments. Whether you come to church rejoicing or mourning, they will keep shining brightly to remind us all that the light of Christ, seen so brightly by those at the Temple during his Presentation, is with us through moments of joy and moments when our own souls feel as though a sword has been thrust through them. May we feel the nearness of his love throughout the year. And if all else fails, take it to Mary. She knows.