"...But Like A Refugee"--January 5, 2024

"...But Like A Refugee"--January 5, 2024

"And the child's father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, 'This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed--and a sword will pierce your own soul too'." [Luke 2:33-35]

It's like the Leonard Cohen lyric: "Every heart, every heart, to love will come... but like a refugee." To have our lives brought into the presence of Jesus immerses us in blessing, but also cuts us to the quick.  Like Bonhoeffer said so beautifully, the life of following Jesus "is costly, because it will cost us our lives, but it is grace because it gives us the only true life there is."

We often miss this final word from Simeon when we remember and retell the story of Jesus' presentation in the Temple.  It doesn't work as a second verse to Simeon's Nunc Dimittis praises after "Lord now you let your servant go in peace," especially as the old man alerts Mary of the suffering that will come as the price of loving her son.  "A sword will pierce your own soul, too," isn't really a threat, nor even a warning so that Mary could change her course of action and avoid having her heartbroken.  In a sense, all mothers and all fathers sign up for heartache over their children--that is part of the price of admission for loving our sons and daughters.  To love anybody in this life is to willingly choose to suffer: sometimes with those we love, sometimes for them, sometimes over them.  That much would have been true for Mary even if her baby were not the long-awaited Messiah.

But you get the sense that Simeon means something more specific, something particular to being in the presence of Jesus himself, and not simply a general rule of parenting.  Mary's heart will be pierced as though with a sword, not simply because she is a mother and will have to bear with tears every time her boy skinned his knee or got sick, but also because of who her son is.  Because Jesus' story will inevitably lead to a confrontation with the powers of the day, Mary will have to endure watching her child be put to death by the state.  Because Jesus' mission will involve conflict with the Gatekeepers of Respectable Religion, Mary will have to bear seeing her son called a blasphemer and in league with the devil, cursed by God on the cross.  Because Jesus' choice will be to suffer with all who suffer, Mary will have to watch her boy suffering as well, and she will have to take her place alongside the suffering ones, as well, just to be in his presence.  That much is not necessarily true of all mothers' sons.

The mothers of Caesar Augustus and King Herod might have had to deal with some tears or sadness that are common to all parents, but not those unique to Jesus.  The emperor can choose to avoid dealing with other people's pain.  The king, even a puppet king, can be relatively sure he won't get strung up on a cross.  And so their mothers never had to worry about Mary's particular set of heartaches.  Because the one whom she loves is Jesus, she will be pulled into a unique kind of grief, because she will be drawn into Jesus' own kind of suffering love for all people.

Maybe that's it: all parents will bear heartache when their own children hurt, and all who love in general will bear heartache for when their particular beloved ones hurt.  But to love Jesus will mean bearing heartache for anyone's suffering, because Jesus chooses to bear the suffering of all of us as his own.  To love Jesus will cost us, after all; it will cost us the insulation of being able to turn away from the needs of others. To be in Jesus' presence will mean being in the presence of all who hurt, because that is where Jesus chooses to place himself.  Simeon may not know the particulars, but he knows that there is a particular cost for loving Jesus, precisely because of who Jesus is.

For us who are just finishing the pleasant celebrations of the cute baby in the manger and putting away the last of our newly opened presents, this is an important reminder. The story doesn't end with the last of the angels disappearing into the sky or the return of the Magi back home--it continues with the child in Simeon's arms growing up and choosing the life that leads him into open conflict with Rome, Herod, and the Respectable Religious People, and into the sufferings of the stepped-on, the empty-handed, and the brokenhearted.  To be in Jesus' presence ourselves will mean to follow him there.  We should know it, as a fair warning, that the words offered to Mary are for us, too: to love Jesus and to be loved by Jesus will cost us the comfort of indifference and apathy.  Every heart, including our own, to love will come... but like a refugee.

Lord Jesus, let us be where you are, no matter the pain of it, as we are pulled by your love to share the sufferings of others.