Waiting and Watching | Luke 2:22-40

One of my favorite pictures hangs in my basement.  It is an etching by Larry Martin titled, “Keepers of the MOne of my favorite pictures hangs in my basement. It is an etching by Larry Martin titled, “Keepers of the Mill.” At first glance, it is a simple picture of an old man sitting in front of a fire. He is sitting is an old cane-bottom chair, simply looking at something in the distance. As one looks closer, one sees what could easily be missed. The rough hands of the man holds a little kitten, and on his face, there is a smile that is etched into his wrinkled face.

In one simple etching, Larry Martin captures two important aspects of life: the past and future. The age of the man and his surroundings is obvious. The lines on the old man’s face indicate a long, if not hard, life. His hard life has not hardened him, however. On his chiseled face is a hopeful smile that welcomes the future that is present.

Martin’s etching is a picture of hope. It reminds me that God does not assault from the past or fall from above, or even rise up from beneath. He is always out ahead of us. He breaks in from the future and beckons us to move with him in the wonders of the “not-yet-but-can-be.” God is not a static reality who simply appeared to some notable characters like Simeon and Anna. He is a dynamic Power that continues to move us toward the great not yet, this land of ongoing-ness.

We know from experience that life is never better than when we have something to look forward to. The expectation is what gets us up in the morning and keeps us flowing and alive when there is some prospect out there ahead that excites us and draws us. The expectation is a gift that must be handled carefully. It is present in us all, but it does not come fully developed. To develop it, we must be alert to those things that stifle and kill this ability.

Simeon and Anna obviously knew how to expect. It is generally agreed that they both were part of a group called the anawim, the poor ones. They were completely dependent on God to supply their needs. They were the lowly, the poor, the sick and downtrodden, widows and orphans. They were those who hoped for the Messiah to come and rescue them from oppression. It is Simeon and Anna, two elderly, poor people who represent Israel’s longing. Simeon greets the baby Jesus as a completion of his hope. Anna speaks of him to others who were also waiting for the Messiah. They are the ones who first recognized who Jesus is and what he represented for humanity.

Hope is an interesting commodity to me. It does not have to be realized for it to be effective. It seems that hope is at its best in hopelessness. Simply having hope that something better is on the way is enough. Simeon, Anna, and probably Joseph, as well as many of the first participants in the Christmas story would be dead when Jesus would make his mark 30 years later, yet for Simeon, at least, simply knowing that God was up to something new was enough for him to die in peace. Anna was so hopeful about Jesus that she told all who were waiting for God to set Jerusalem free.

Where are the Simeons and the Annas when we need them? Are there people like them in our world today? Is there any need for hopeful ones today? How can we recover the hope that our world so desperately needs?

To begin with, we need to remember that God does his best work in the routines of our life. God was born into a world of oppressive governments, heavy taxes, crowds, noise, and hurry. Into a world of desperation and destitution, with a host of undesirable characters, there was a baby born to save the world. It was in every day, comings, and goings of the temple that Simeon and Anna recognized God in their midst. There were other babies, other families, and other poor ones milling around the Temple. There was nothing out of the ordinary the day Simeon and Anna saw what they saw - the Promise.

It is for our benefit that the universe has some regularity to it. Day follows night. Spring follows Winter. Childhood follows infancy and adulthood in childhood. God knows that we cannot handle total novelty, so he gives us routinely. However, this aspect of life can lull us to sleep and obscure the fact that the unusual comes out of the usual. Our routines are the wheels that move things forward as they toward. It was in this routine, usual world that God entered into, and the Hopeful ones recognized it.

To overlook this fact of life is to cut oneself off from vitality. The Preacher in Ecclesiastes states: All things are full of weariness - what has been being what will be, and what has been done is what will be done, and there is nothing new under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:8-9). This is not the way it is. If we let the “everydayness of every day” hypnotize us, the new does become impossible for us. Who hasn’t suffered the fatalism born of weariness and boredom? It is a plague of our time.

Novelty always occurs in the midst of regularity - the astonishing come as a babe in swaddling clothes or a bush burning in the desert -and only those who are open to the possibility of the new have eyes to see.

We also need to remember that Hope survives the pessimism of others. During World War II, Harry Emerson Fosdick preached a sermon on a popular song, “You’ve got to be taught to hate and to kill, you’ve got to be carefully taught.” I think the same is true with a sense of expectancy. We have to be taught not to expect, not to wonder. Obviously, Simeon and Anna knew how to expect. It could have been easy for them to participate in the pessimism of those around them, yet they hoped for the Messiah to appear.

Andrea Gide had such an experience that he writes about in his autobiography. When he was small, one day he was taking an arithmetic test when he happened to see on the windowsill and was amazed at what was occurring. At that very moment, a caterpillar was emerging from its cocoon as a beautiful, multi-colored butterfly. He could not contain his exuberance but interrupted the teacher by shouting loudly, “Look, look a miracle. The resurrection of Lazarus right before our eyes! The wonder of wonders!” But to his dismay, the teacher sniffed dryly, “What are you excited about? Didn’t you know that all butterflies come from cocoon-like that? What is so special about that? It is perfectly natural.”

Gide reports that something of wonder and expectancy was doused for him that day. He said it was years before he was able to value a spontaneous reaction to something special. Somehow Simeon was able to escape the pessimism of others from dousing his expectation of God doing something new in his world.

Another thing to remember is not to narrow expectations so much that it leads to disappointment. Simeon to Anna was open enough to let the promise take the shape it would. Numbers of people have missed the Messiah because of their narrow focus. Instead of letting God be God, they began to define what kind of Messiah God would send. They were oppressed by the Roman Empire, and they could not imagine a Messiah that would not lead them to overthrow the Romans. When the Messiah came as a suffering servant rather than a Davidic Conqueror, they simply missed it.

I have always been impressed with the story of the humble parish priest who gave young Martin Luther his catechism instruction. He always took off his hat as he came before the group of coal miners’ kids, and when someone asked him why, he said, “You never know who might be among these children. One of them may someday change the world.” And so, one did.

So, here we are some two millennia later, what we have is little more than Simeon and Anna had. We have a scripture which schools us in hope and expectation. We have stories and promises and signs. We have moments when the tender compassion of God has come close enough to see and feel. We have seen fleeting glimpses of the light of the world in a dark. However, I don’t see too many people standing on their tiptoes, looking for God’s promises to come true. I don’t see anyone taking off one’s hat to the presence of the Almighty in one’s arms.

Maybe we are jaded by the past or bored by the present. Even so, let us stand on tiptoe, waiting on God to do something new. Who knows what he has in mind next?