Luke 3:25-35

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

Advent is a strange time in the liturgical year.  The four weeks before Christmas, Advent is a time of waiting, and we celebrate it as such.  But unlike most things we are waiting for in our lives - the taxi to fill up with passengers, the checkpoint to be open, the rain to stop long enough so we can run home - we know the end of the story already.  We know what we're waiting for, and how things will happen: the birth of Christ, the word made flesh, God in our midst.

It reminds me of a story of when I was a child.  My parents had given me a toy for Christmas, wrapped up in special paper.  We were not allowed to open our presents before Christmas morning.  But curiosity got the better of me, and I snuck into the room a few days early  and opened the present just a crack, enough to see what was waiting inside, being careful to put the tape back in its place so no one would know. Christmas morning came, and I opened the same present, but now I had to pretend I was surprised.  I had to act joyful instead of be joyful.  For us, Advent is like that small child.  We already know what is coming.

To really understand Advent in all of its waiting, we need to see it through the eyes of those who lived at the time of Christ's birth.  The Old Testament is full of prophesies promising the coming of a Messiah.  The streets would have been filled with people reciting these stories, crying out that the Messiah was coming.  The world was waiting, really waiting, for the promises to come true.

Simeon was one who walked those ancient streets, who waited for the Messiah.  He was, we are told in St. Luke's gospel, a "devout and righteous" man, one whose faith was clear and true both inside and out.  He was an ordinary person, one who loved God, not like the Pharisees who perfectly followed Moses' law but had no faith at the heart of their practice.  Simeon was waiting for the Messiah and had been promised that he would see him before he dies.  Led by the Holy Spirit to the Temple, he meets Mary and Joseph and the infant Jesus.  He takes the child in his arms, proclaiming to God, "Nunc Dimittis" - "Now dismiss" me.  He can now die.  He has seen the promise fulfilled and is ready to part in peace.

Simeon, holding the baby Jesus in his arms, looking into the eyes of Christ, knows that the promise has been fulfilled.  He doesn't have to wait anymore.  His joy is real, his happiness is true.  But what is interesting about Simeon is what he doesn't see.  He doesn't see the rest of the story - the horrible crucifixion, the glorious resurrection, the miraculous birth of the church, the spread of God's word to all corners of the world.  For him, it is enough to see this small child.  This is the evidence of his faith, that to see one part of the story is enough for him.  The rest of it is in God's hands - and to know this is to have real faith, to know that God is at work, that Christ is in the midst of it all.
 
Simeon's lesson is one that Christians can always learn.  Even the early Christians would have done well to know his story and to follow his example.  St. Peter, drawing his sword in the garden, wanted the story to end differently.  He wanted Jesus as an earthly Messiah, to drive out the hated Roman Occupiers, to restore the kingdom of David.  But Christ's crown was to be one of thorns, not gold.  St. Paul, writing to the church at Thessalonica, has to encourage their faith.  They had become afraid because some have died before the expected return of Christ, which they had thought would happen very soon.  But Christ is an eternal king, not bound by our expectations.

And here we stand, 2000 years later, still waiting.  We see the world around us, especially right around us, and know there is no justice.  We know that war is more popular than peace.  We see that Christ's teachings are trampled under foot like pearls thrown to swine.  We, like St. Peter in the garden, are ready to draw our swords.  We, like the church in Thessalonica, are anxious for Christ's return, the reign of the Prince of Peace, the perfection of the world into the kingdom of God.  Perhaps the lesson for us today, though, is the lesson of Simeon.  The old man stands at the temple, the Savior of the world in his aging hands,  the Word incarnate gazing into his eyes, and he is at peace.  May the Holy Spirit guide us this day to that place of peace, to see the miracle of redemption for which we are waiting, to take it in our hands, and to know that Christ is in our midst.

Amen.