"Now you let your servant go in peace."
Simeon knew.
He was certain.
On this fifth day of Christmas, we continue to reflect on
Fr. Alfred Delp’s question, what difference it makes in our lives that Christ
is born.
Yesterday at breakfast, two of our adult children (in their
40’s) were sharing about their visits to church on Christmas. Both enter church as outsiders, grateful for
the way we raised them but not “practicing Catholics”. That we could have a conversation about their
experience was a gift to us. They
noticed things, about the way the priest said and did things. These ways of expressing the priest’s own
faith evokes a sense of the holy in themselves.
They mentioned, too, their sense of freedom to enter, to observe, and
not be bound or forced. And finally they
shared that it was interesting to hear the congregation mumble together the
Creed. While the celebrant’s pace and
tone and inflection at the Consecration made it apparent that this was a very
holy moment, the droning of the Creed seemed to bring into question the reality
of their belief. It seemed merely words.
They agreed with my invitation that they
consider the tonal character of Buddhist chants that they have both experienced.
The point was clear.
The reciting of the Creed was hardly convincing. And that is why Simeon’s certainty meant so
much to me. “Listen” to these words of
his as he sees Jesus in the temple where he has served for many years:
Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon. This man was righteous and devout, awaiting
the consolation of Israel,* and the Holy Spirit was upon him.
It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he
should not see death before he had seen the Messiah of the Lord.
He came in the Spirit into the temple; and when the parents
brought in the child Jesus to perform the custom of the law in regard to him,
He took him into his arms and blessed God, saying:
“Now, Master, you may let your servant go
in peace, according to your word,
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you prepared in sight of all the peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles,
and glory for your people Israel.”
The child’s father and mother were amazed at what was said
about him;
and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother,
“Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to
be a sign that will be contradicted
(and you yourself a sword will pierce)* so that the thoughts
of many hearts may be revealed.”
Simeon's certainty brings him peace. I often suffer indecision which I believe is
based on self-doubt. Fr. Ron Rolheiser wrote
of John the Baptist that as he was asked, “Who are you?” he could answer
clearly; he knew who he was because he
knew who Jesus was.
Like John, Simeon spoke clearly and decisively; one might say
prophetically. I consider again my children’s
observations while “visiting” Mass. The
words of the priest were to them more like Simeon, proclamations of their
truth. Prophetic. Perhaps my own indecisiveness and self-doubt
are more like the droning of the congregation reciting the Creed. More pathetic than prophetic.
What difference does it mean to me that Jesus was born? I want to be more like Simeon. I want, in
believing in Jesus, to allow myself to be loved (as the Pope pleaded in his
Christmas homily), and to believe in myself.
I want to know with Simeon’s certainty who I am because I know who Jesus
is. And that means that my self-knowledge
is inextricably intertwined in my coming to know Jesus.
FreeLemonadeStand by John J. Daniels is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
