Just Ask for Help

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple
February 2, 2020
The Rev. John Taliaferro Thomas
 
Last Sunday was big.  It was big because Steve Bragaw brought us the Word from the pulpit, big because it was the annual meeting and we were able to report some pretty good news, and big because we had two hundred pieces of chicken they were either devoured or sent home in baggies to make for the second best meal of the week.  Last Sunday was really big because we welcomed John Savage home again from an extended set of surgeries and recovery that kept him from his beloved role as verger.  In talking about his recovery, John said that he loved being at Emmanuel Church so much, that things did not seem really right until he could get back here – his spiritual home.  I treasured John’s love for us and for the Church.  I treasured his advice and encouragement.  When we faced a challenge or need, John always said: “Just ask for help.  We are here for you.”
 
With all the talk of shrinking mainline congregations and the erosion of Sunday morning as a sacrosanct time slot in busy lives, it is important to remember the particularity of the gift we have in being here – in belonging here.  All week, Emmanuel did the work of the Church at its best in palpable prayers, and an outpouring of love and support.  People checked on Doris, on one another, and, even, on me as we began to internalize the rough news of John’s passing.  “Just ask for help.  We are here for you.”  I could not get that out of my mind, even, as the long tentacles of connection reached back from former clergy, diocesan leaders, and other friends from far away.
 
I am not sure how people handle the big challenges in life without church.  It is not that church provides all the answers, just that we have the capacity and inclination to sit with each other in challenging times.  As my first clinical chaplaincy mentor said “don’t just do something, stand there.”  Sometimes we are bound together through scriptures, and in the sacraments, and other times we do it with coffee and casseroles.  An old Lutheran pastor friend calls Campbell’s cream of chicken soup the pastoral glue of Church.  When things get tough, belonging to this rag tag assembly of good folks is pure healing balm.
 
Perhaps it is not coincidental that the gospel for today is about Jesus’ family showing up at the Temple: their Church.  It was the Jewish custom that 40 days after birth, the mother and child turned up for ritual prayers: the presentation of the child, and the mother’s rejoining of the faith community, having been at home with her newborn for that set period.  For all kinds of reasons, that made sense for them.  Mother and child were stronger and more healthy, ready to show off the child to the wider community, and give thanks for a safe delivery. 
 
Sometimes we forget that Jesus belonged to his own version of church – the local synagogue.  There, he engaged in rites of passage, celebrated holy days, and went to Torah school to learn of God and God’s story with his people.  That was his first community.  He did not conjure images of a loving, Creator God out of nothing.  He came from a lived tradition of faith.  And this passage is the pretty much all we hear of Jesus until he is fully adult, about 30 years old.  Somewhere in there he came to know his saving role in being one with God.  What we do know is that right out of the chute, he was recognized as one set apart: fully human and fully God all in one.
 
When Jesus was presented, old man Simeon was hanging around the Temple with a particular eye toward the full union of God and humanity.  The long-held belief that the Messiah, the Savior God, would come was lodged deep in Simeon’s heart.  Likewise, 84 year-old Anna was there too, perhaps she was the original church lady, never leaving the temple, but praying constantly for God to come to her people.  We do not know what they saw or what God revealed in the child, but they were convinced immediately that this Jesus was the One for whom they waited, and change was coming for sure.
 
Luke tells this story because he knows that it is prudent to listen to the wise and faith-filled elders, because they have enough history and closeness to God to call things like they see them.  Mary and Joseph knew Jesus’ identity in God.  The Wise men saw it too.  Now, Simeon and Anna join the list.  Their realization is enough mystical and spontaneous and intuitive to have the ring of a holy happening.
 
We come to Church to discover and rediscover that the ancients saw and knew: that God is near and never stagnant.  God’s love affair with the world is always unfolding.  The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus was not a one and done event in a faraway place.  The dynamic continues as Jesus life infuses ours.   The tragedy of his death is played out as we subvert anything that is good and of God, and the resurrection, that is an ongoing thing too, as God redeems what is broken, and gives us loving companionship and help in finding our home base.
 
Sometimes it is not easy to see God at work, or make sense of what befalls us in this life.  Other times we receive a holy happening, an “aha,” an epiphany, where loose ends connect and, like Simeon and Anna, we get it, even if only in a brief moment of clarity.
 
At the moment Simeon saw Jesus for the first time, Luke records his song.
 
            Lord, you now have set your servant free
            to go in peace as you have promised;
            For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
            whom you have prepared for all the world to see:
            A Light to enlighten the nations,
            and the glory of your people Israel.
 
It is a song that has been set to music.  It is a prayer we use in Evening Prayer and Compline services.  It is sourced in deep faith and hopeful revelation, comforting to us who can weary of the chances and changes of this life, helping us see over the horizon of now and into the eternal life of God.
 
You all knew John.  You know, without a doubt, that he loves us and loves the Church, even now.  Can’t you see him joining the communion of saints, singing Simeon’s song as he goes to the light, only looking back to remind us: “Just ask for help.  We are here for you.”   Amen.