Presentation of Christ in the Temple – evening
Sunday 28th January 2018
The Presentation of Christ in the Temple (Candlemas)
Haggai 2. 1-9
John 2. 18-22
Revd Preb Maureen Hobbs
It is appropriate that as the church year bids farewell to the Christmas Season and begins to anticipate the long days of Lent and the glory of Easter, we are reminded tonight of Jesus’ true significance. Not just that he is God incarnate, but also that he alone was able to defeat death and share with us his new reality of resurrection.
Jesus’ life was of course intimately bound up with the Temple in Jerusalem. This morning we remembered how he was brought their by his parents ‘to do what was required of them under the Law’…. which basically meant to offer him as a thank offering to God, but also to sacrifice two doves or pigeons in place of the beloved child.
Growing up, Jesus obviously grew to love the Temple – he even ran away from his parents in order to spend longer there, talking with the scribes and priests when he was 12 years old if you recall?
And as his life was drawing to its climax, he grew angry at what he saw as the injustice and exploitation being carried out by those who had charge of the Temple, and who should have known better. At his death, we are told that the curtain of the Temple, the Veil that concealed the most Holy part of the innermost court of the Temple was torn in two from top to bottom. Symbolically demonstrating that God was not going to remain walled up in the Temple and separated from his People ever again. God had revealed himself once and for all and had been hung on a cross for his pains.
And so in this passage from John’s Gospel we have Jesus metaphorically claiming the place of the Temple for himself. He is the focus of God’s power and mercy and justice. And even if humanity should seek to destroy him – as it surely will – God will rebuild his new Temple in just three days. The resurrection is coming, and there is nothing that the religious authorities can do to prevent it!
The story of God’s people is full of instances when the Temple is built up, is glorified and beautified, and is then cast down and destroyed. But each time, God sees that it is rebuilt, that it rises from the ashes, and is even more splendid than previously, but it may be in a form that surprises and is unexpected…
‘The latter splendour of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts.’
So in what ways has God revealed himself in your lives?
When were the times when all your hopes and dreams seemed to have turned to dust and ashes, only to discover, as you looked back, that God has woven from our disappointments, the gold of our best moments, the treasures of our lives?
I know that when I look back, I can choose. I can choose to focus on the times of darkness. The times when everything went wrong, when I felt betrayed by those closest to me. When ambitions I might have held failed to materialise. When I felt pain – both emotional and physical.
Or I can turn to the light. I can focus instead on the times of God’s blessing. Times when, in spite of my short comings, things fell into place. When I received unexpected – maybe underserved, praise and success. When friends proved their worth. When I felt loved and supported.
In the darkest and most miserable months of the year, God sends the snowdrop to remind us of his light and love – Candlemas lilies. Rightly called, A flame that cannot be put out.
In the dark days:
under rain-heavy clouds,
among broken branches,
on sodden earth,
the snowdrops light their candles.
A flame that cannot be put out
by darkness or gales or doubt.
In the salt wind,
rooks buckle like broken umbrellas;
as the bare trees heave a great sight,
the snowdrops tremble.
But their flame cannot be put out
by darkness, or gales or doubt.
Perfect, as though carved
in green-veined marble,
life pulsing through tissue
delicate as the eyelids
of a sleeping child,
curved like small fingers,
holding on.
Their flame is steadfast;
it is full of hope and new beginnings,
Darkness or gales or doubt
cannot put it out.
Jan Sutch Pickard