Bit-Part Characters
Sermon
We watched a re-run of "Oliver" on television recently. I think the film was originally made about thirty odd years ago, so it was fascinating to look particularly at the children and see whether we could recognise those who had made it to the big time. Sadly, we failed to spot any! In fact, apart from Ron Moody and Oliver Reed and Harry Secombe, all of whom were already famous when the film was made, there was nobody who had become really well known. And yet it was a good film. A blockbuster in its day, and still very good to watch, with some excellent singing and dancing and acting.
I suppose, like the cast of Oliver, most of us are destined to remain life's bit-part characters for the whole of our lives. Perhaps having one or two glorious moments, but maybe never making it to the big time in any profession or field. It's therefore with delight that I read today's gospel passage. For the Feast of Candlemas (when the baby Jesus was presented at the temple), is strong on bit-part characters.
According to the law of Moses, the OT law, (Leviticus 12:2-8), a woman who gave birth to a boy was unable for forty days to touch anything sacred or to enter the temple area because of her legal impurity. At the end of this period she was required to offer a year-old lamb as a burnt offering and a turtledove or young pigeon as an expiation of sin. Anyone who couldn't afford a lamb offered instead two turtledoves or two young pigeons, as Mary does here.
At the same time, Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord: as the firstborn son (Luke 2:7). To give thanks to God for his safe arrival, and to ask God's blessing on his future life. Jesus was consecrated to the Lord as the law required (Exodus 13:2,12), although in fact, this needn't have been done at the temple. The concept of a presentation at the temple probably relates back to the OT book of Samuel (1Samuel 1:24-28), where Hannah offered her son Samuel as a thanksgiving to God, and for service in the temple.
So the idea of giving thanks to God for your first-born and presenting him to the Lord, has an honourable and ancient precedent. I think perhaps children are loaned to us by God. Our job, like that of Mary and Joseph, is to nurture our children to the best of our ability. To offer them such a safe and secure and loving background, that they're able to grow up as fully rounded human beings. So that they're able to become themselves, whatever that self might be. And if we can offer them that, then God is likely to be able both to reach them and to use them throughout their lives. And their destiny will be fulfilled.
But all through life there are bit-part characters. People who pop up from time to time, who don't seem to have much of a part to play, but who, in the cosmic scheme of things, are enormously important. People like Simeon and Anna. Both Simeon and Anna are mentioned only the once in the Bible, and they both have only a walk-on part. But it's such an important part in the cosmic scheme of things that neither of them have ever been forgotten.
They were both elderly people. They were in the final years of their lives. We don't know quite how old Simeon was, but we're told Anna was eighty-four, and had been a widow for many years. They had something else in common, too. They were both very spiritual people. Both had grown very close to God over the years. Simeon was a priest, and a righteous and devout priest. He was someone who was able to listen to God, for he'd already heard from God that he wouldn't die before he'd seen the Messiah. Anna never left the temple. She worshipped with fasting and prayer night and day.
When Mary and Joseph came into the temple with their son, both Simeon and Anna instantly knew this baby was the long awaited Messiah. How did they know that? There must have been hundreds of little families every year, coming to offer their two turtledoves or two young pigeons, as they presented their sons before God. Why did both Simeon and Anna single out this family as being different? To the majority of people in the temple that day, there was apparently no difference at all. For out of all the many priests and people there must have been milling around, only this one priest, Simeon and this one lay person, Anna recognised that which was holy amongst the ordinary. How were they able to do that? I think because they'd both spent a lifetime waiting upon God. Being silent before him, praising him, praying to him, listening to him, reading his word in the Scriptures. Their whole lives for many years had been immersed in God. So that when the moment came, they recognised it.
The value of prayer isn't necessarily that God will do wonderful things for us immediately we ask him, although sometimes prayer is answered in that way. But the real value of prayer isn't as a sort of emergency service to cling to in dire straits, it's more a lifeline to God. It keeps us connected to God. And through that lifeline God is able to nourish us, so that gradually, those who have been closely connected to God can begin to recognise the holy in the ordinary.
Perhaps if I'm looking for God like Anna and Simeon were looking for God, I'll find him. If I'm not looking for God, or if I've given up looking for God, I may stumble over God a thousand times a day and never be aware of his presence. But I don't have to do anything to become aware of God's presence. It's something which gradually happens through a life of prayer.
And, we may never know how important our walk-on bit-parts are to other people in their own journey. I don't suppose Simeon or Anna ever knew what their recognition of the Saviour in a tiny baby meant to Mary and Joseph, or even to Jesus himself. I may never know what my recognition of God does for someone else in their journey. I may never know how my chance remark helps to shape another person's life. But the point is, through their lifetimes of prayer, Simeon and Anna were ready. And because they were ready, their walk-on bit-parts became transformed into a moment of glory for them, and a very important moment of recognition for those young parents, Mary and Joseph, and for their child.
If I want to be ready, if I too want to begin to recognise the holy in the ordinary, the holy in the everyday, then all I need to do is spend regular time alone with God. And gradually, imperceptibly, as he draws me closer, I too shall begin to spot God amongst the everyday.
I suppose, like the cast of Oliver, most of us are destined to remain life's bit-part characters for the whole of our lives. Perhaps having one or two glorious moments, but maybe never making it to the big time in any profession or field. It's therefore with delight that I read today's gospel passage. For the Feast of Candlemas (when the baby Jesus was presented at the temple), is strong on bit-part characters.
According to the law of Moses, the OT law, (Leviticus 12:2-8), a woman who gave birth to a boy was unable for forty days to touch anything sacred or to enter the temple area because of her legal impurity. At the end of this period she was required to offer a year-old lamb as a burnt offering and a turtledove or young pigeon as an expiation of sin. Anyone who couldn't afford a lamb offered instead two turtledoves or two young pigeons, as Mary does here.
At the same time, Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord: as the firstborn son (Luke 2:7). To give thanks to God for his safe arrival, and to ask God's blessing on his future life. Jesus was consecrated to the Lord as the law required (Exodus 13:2,12), although in fact, this needn't have been done at the temple. The concept of a presentation at the temple probably relates back to the OT book of Samuel (1Samuel 1:24-28), where Hannah offered her son Samuel as a thanksgiving to God, and for service in the temple.
So the idea of giving thanks to God for your first-born and presenting him to the Lord, has an honourable and ancient precedent. I think perhaps children are loaned to us by God. Our job, like that of Mary and Joseph, is to nurture our children to the best of our ability. To offer them such a safe and secure and loving background, that they're able to grow up as fully rounded human beings. So that they're able to become themselves, whatever that self might be. And if we can offer them that, then God is likely to be able both to reach them and to use them throughout their lives. And their destiny will be fulfilled.
But all through life there are bit-part characters. People who pop up from time to time, who don't seem to have much of a part to play, but who, in the cosmic scheme of things, are enormously important. People like Simeon and Anna. Both Simeon and Anna are mentioned only the once in the Bible, and they both have only a walk-on part. But it's such an important part in the cosmic scheme of things that neither of them have ever been forgotten.
They were both elderly people. They were in the final years of their lives. We don't know quite how old Simeon was, but we're told Anna was eighty-four, and had been a widow for many years. They had something else in common, too. They were both very spiritual people. Both had grown very close to God over the years. Simeon was a priest, and a righteous and devout priest. He was someone who was able to listen to God, for he'd already heard from God that he wouldn't die before he'd seen the Messiah. Anna never left the temple. She worshipped with fasting and prayer night and day.
When Mary and Joseph came into the temple with their son, both Simeon and Anna instantly knew this baby was the long awaited Messiah. How did they know that? There must have been hundreds of little families every year, coming to offer their two turtledoves or two young pigeons, as they presented their sons before God. Why did both Simeon and Anna single out this family as being different? To the majority of people in the temple that day, there was apparently no difference at all. For out of all the many priests and people there must have been milling around, only this one priest, Simeon and this one lay person, Anna recognised that which was holy amongst the ordinary. How were they able to do that? I think because they'd both spent a lifetime waiting upon God. Being silent before him, praising him, praying to him, listening to him, reading his word in the Scriptures. Their whole lives for many years had been immersed in God. So that when the moment came, they recognised it.
The value of prayer isn't necessarily that God will do wonderful things for us immediately we ask him, although sometimes prayer is answered in that way. But the real value of prayer isn't as a sort of emergency service to cling to in dire straits, it's more a lifeline to God. It keeps us connected to God. And through that lifeline God is able to nourish us, so that gradually, those who have been closely connected to God can begin to recognise the holy in the ordinary.
Perhaps if I'm looking for God like Anna and Simeon were looking for God, I'll find him. If I'm not looking for God, or if I've given up looking for God, I may stumble over God a thousand times a day and never be aware of his presence. But I don't have to do anything to become aware of God's presence. It's something which gradually happens through a life of prayer.
And, we may never know how important our walk-on bit-parts are to other people in their own journey. I don't suppose Simeon or Anna ever knew what their recognition of the Saviour in a tiny baby meant to Mary and Joseph, or even to Jesus himself. I may never know what my recognition of God does for someone else in their journey. I may never know how my chance remark helps to shape another person's life. But the point is, through their lifetimes of prayer, Simeon and Anna were ready. And because they were ready, their walk-on bit-parts became transformed into a moment of glory for them, and a very important moment of recognition for those young parents, Mary and Joseph, and for their child.
If I want to be ready, if I too want to begin to recognise the holy in the ordinary, the holy in the everyday, then all I need to do is spend regular time alone with God. And gradually, imperceptibly, as he draws me closer, I too shall begin to spot God amongst the everyday.
