Candlemas

"St. Phil of Punxsutawney"

(Candlemas—the Feast of the Presentation)
2 February 2012  

7 p.m. Sung Mass with Candle-lit Procession

& Blessings of Candles and Sacred Vessels

Homily Delivered at Trinity Episcopal Church

Ashland, Oregon

Malachi 3:1-4; Psalm 84; Hebrews 2:14-28; Luke 2:22-40

God, take away our hearts of stone, and give us hearts of flesh.  Amen

A friend of mine who sang in my Church choir in Beijing took his family last week on a vacation to Myanmar, to get out of Beijing during the crush of the Chinese Lunar New Year festivities.  Upon returning home, he posted on Facebook the following on January 30, “Operation Christmas Decorations Down By Groundhog Day. Phase I: Contemplation.”

Though just an expression of frustration at tardiness and the inertia that seems to let holiday decorations stay up forever, his posting actually was based in pretty good theology.  For there are Christian roots to celebrating February 2, and in today’s homily, I intend to put Christ back into Groundhog’s Day. 

Today, February 2, is 40 days from December 25.   In strict Jewish Law, a woman goes into semi-seclusion for 40 days after giving birth to a son.  It is thus today that we celebrate the coming of Mary and Joseph with the baby Jesus to offer sacrifice at the Temple at Jerusalem.   There, the elderly Simeon and the prophet Anna welcome them and express joy at Jesus’ coming.  They have been “awaiting the Consolation of Israel,” the moment God would act to set all things right.  They recognize in this baby the great light, the fire of the Day of the Lord that would burn away all that was wrong with the world.  Simeon bursts out into a song of gratitude: “Thank God, now I can die in peace!”  It is the Nunc Dimittis that we regularly say or sing during our evening prayers: 

Lord God, you now have set your servant free, 

to go in peace according to your word.

Mine eyes have seen the Savior, Christ the Lord 

prepared by you for all the world to see; 

a light for nations lost in darkest night, 

the glory of your people, and their light. 

This image of light in the Gospel reading was once reflected in the Hebrew Scriptures reading for this festival, the prophet Zephaniah’s grim description of how hard it will be for the complacent to escape the Coming Day of the Lord: 

“At that time I will search Jerusalem with lamps to punish the complacent,
   who linger like the dregs of wine in a cup,
thinking, ‘The LORD can do nothing,
   either good or bad.’” (Zephaniah 1:12)

Because of the line, "I will search Jerusalem with lamps," the day was marked with a candle-lit procession, the blessing of the candles to be used in Church in the coming year, and was called Candlemas.  Included in the candles to be blessed was the year’s Pascal Candle, to be lit at the Great Vigil of Easter and then used in all baptisms.  

The popular superstition about Punxsutwany Phil or, for you Canadians, Shubenacadie Sam, and groundhogs in general on February 2, stems from earlier superstitions that, 

If Candlemas be fair and bright
Winter will have another fight.
If Candlemas brings cloud and rain,
Winter then won't come again.

 

Regardless of fickle local weather patterns, here in the Northern Hemisphere, the days have already clearly started to get longer:  when I begin Morning Prayer here in the Church at 7:15, it is already light outside—but it was pitch dark when I did so even two weeks ago.  

The fact is, we are just a few weeks shy of the Spring equinox, midway between December 21, the winter solstice with its longest night, and June 21, the summer solstice with its longest day.   The light is gradually growing brighter and brighter, the days longer and longer.  With each day we see several additional minutes of daylight. 

There is a terrible irony is this.  Even as spring and the renewal of the natural life about us gets closer, we ourselves as individuals are closer to our own deaths than ever before.  That’s just the nature of our lives.  We all die, and any passage of time brings us all inevitably closer to our common end. 

Soon after Candlemas (in some years, as soon as two or three days later) we thus will prepare for Easter through self-denial and fasting during the season called Lent, which gets its name in English from the verb “lengthen.”

Just as the astronomical days grow longer we will be reminded soon in stark terms that our anatomical days grow shorter. Just as the buds begin to swell and the first hints of green plants appear, our brows will be smudged with ashes, the remnants of dead plants from last year.  We will be told the truth that we would like to forget, “Remember you are but dust, and unto dust you shall return.”   Remember that there is darkness about, even in midst of the return of the natural light. 

Anglican priest and hymn writer Charles Wesley wrote the following reflection about Light: 

Christ, whose glory fills the skies,
Christ the true and only light,
Sun of righteousness, arise,
Triumph o'er the shades of night.
Dayspring from on high, be near,
Daystar, in my heart appear.
Dark and cheerless is the morn
Unaccompanied by thee,
Joyless is the day's return,
Till thy mercy's beams I see,
Till they inward light impart,
Glad my eyes, and warm my heart.
Visit then, this soul of mine.
Pierce the gloom of sin and grief;
Fill me, radiancy divine,
Scatter all my unbelief;
More and more thyself display,
Shining to the perfect day

Sisters and brothers, Trinity family, with the very ancient ritual of light we have celebrated today, where we try to chase away the dark and cold of winter, we are reminded of the Light of Christ, and joy of coming Easter.  We are told to prepare for the lengthening days around us even as our own allotted time here shortens by seeking the One True Light. 

May we be like Anna and Simeon, who persevered in hope, and recognized God when God acted.  They did not despair and give up on the light.  They did not focus on the blindness and darkness around them, but saw God’s love and action in this newborn baby.  They did not hope for a day of vengeance, of wrath, of burning, or of settling of scores through military might, but rather recognized God’s consolation and welcome, through the simple and everyday presence of this particular baby, brought to God’s Temple by this particular Mother.   They saw in this Child their hopes for a setting of things aright fulfilled, through the love and sacrifice his presence embodied.  May we also so await God’s consolation, and rejoice in the dawning of God’s Light.   

In the name of Christ,  Amen.