“…they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord…” (NRSV, Luke 2:22b)
It was much the same as any other morning in Jerusalem. A man and a woman, carrying in her arms her Infant Son, made their way across the great outer courtyard of the Temple to where the sacrificial offerings were on sale.
The man in charge of the stall, seeing the baby, knew at once what they wanted. This would be her first-born son who, like all first-born sons, belonged to God. And she had come, as the Jewish Law required, to present him to God and to offer a lamb, and a pigeon or turtle dove; or, if the parents were poor, as these parents obviously were, they were allowed to offer a second pigeon or dove instead of the lamb.
So, carrying the wicker cage containing a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons, the man and the woman mount the flight of steps leading up to the Temple buildings. As they enter the first of the inner courts, an old man with a sudden light of recognition in his face, comes forward to greet them, takes the infant into his arms, offers a short thanksgiving to God, and blesses the parents.
And that is all: a seemingly ordinary occurrence, yet, in reality, it was unique for that Child was none other than God the Son who was that very morning fulfilling the ancient prophecy of Malachi, “…the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple” (NRSV, Malachi 3:1).
That simple ceremony, by which Our Lord’s holy Mother, in obedience to the Jewish Law, offered him to God, symbolised the beginning of his own life of self-offering in unfaltering and willing obedience to his Father’s will.
It revealed itself at every turn. As a boy of 12, when he stayed behind in the Temple in Jerusalem, he saw plainly that his duty to God came before his duty to his Mother and his guardian, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (NRSV, Luke 2:49).
So later he gave up the security and comparative comfort of his home in Nazareth for a life which he described by saying, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (NRSV, Matthew 8:20).
And he went on giving himself to God right to the end: and the Presentation in the Temple in his infancy reached its completion and crown upon the Cross of Calvary when he gave himself utterly and unreservedly as the perfect offering for the sins of humankind, for your sins and mine.
On that Good Friday he transformed the timber of the Cross into an altar on which he sacrificed himself for us.
And as he hung there for those three terrible hours, he did not offer himself alone: he also offered us, the members of his Church which is his Body and for which he gave himself. For on that Good Friday he looked beyond the crowd in front of him, beyond the towers and minarets of Jerusalem, down the ages to us, and he offered us also with himself to his Father.
And that two-fold offering of himself and of ourselves, he continues now in Heaven and in the Eucharist: upon his Throne of Glory and in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar. For in the Eucharist there is present, under the outward forms of bread and wine, Our Blessed Lord himself, and it is there that we join with him in offering him to God, and with that perfect Offering we also make our offering of ourselves, what we do and what we are.
And that means that our whole waking life is affected. There are some who complain that the Christian religion is irrelevant. On the contrary, the Eucharist makes it most uncomfortably relevant.
If there is something in our life which is unfit to be offered to God, then its place must be taken by a sincere act of penitence for it. That at least shows a willingness to make our offering in some sense worthy.
Unhappily, real penitence is rare, for many people are so attached to their sins that they have no wish to give them up. Consider, for example, vindictive, malicious, unforgiving thoughts; or the pleasure of reading about human wickedness. How few there are who loathe such things, compared with the many who persist in them, come what may.
And there are professing Christians, too, who have in the garden of their souls a corner reserved for themselves alone, walled off from the flowers and blossoms that bloom elsewhere. They allow God to keep them company in the rest of the garden, but from that secluded corner they keep him out and leave him on the farther side of the wall. For in that private corner are no lovely plants but ugly weeds that overrun the ground – sins of thought and word which are allowed to flourish unchecked.
If you are in that unhappy state, break down that wall today, give God the freedom of all your soul, and ask him to go with you and make that corner sweet and fair.
“…they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord…” (NRSV, Luke 2:22b) It was much the same as any other morning in Jerusalem. A man and a woman, carrying in her arms her Infant Son, made their way across the great outer courtyard of the Temple to where the sacrificial offerings were on sale.
The man in charge of the stall, seeing the baby, knew at once what they wanted. This would be her first-born son who, like all first-born sons, belonged to God. And she had come, as the Jewish Law required, to present him to God and to offer a lamb, and a pigeon or turtle dove; or, if the parents were poor, as these parents obviously were, they were allowed to offer a second pigeon or dove instead of the lamb.
So, carrying the wicker cage containing a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons, the man and the woman mount the flight of steps leading up to the Temple buildings. As they enter the first of the inner courts, an old man with a sudden light of recognition in his face, comes forward to greet them, takes the infant into his arms, offers a short thanksgiving to God, and blesses the parents.
And that is all: a seemingly ordinary occurrence, yet, in reality, it was unique for that Child was none other than God the Son who was that very morning fulfilling the ancient prophecy of Malachi, “…the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple” (NRSV, Malachi 3:1).
That simple ceremony, by which Our Lord’s holy Mother, in obedience to the Jewish Law, offered him to God, symbolised the beginning of his own life of self-offering in unfaltering and willing obedience to his Father’s will.
It revealed itself at every turn. As a boy of 12, when he stayed behind in the Temple in Jerusalem, he saw plainly that his duty to God came before his duty to his Mother and his guardian, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (NRSV, Luke 2:49).
So later he gave up the security and comparative comfort of his home in Nazareth for a life which he described by saying, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (NRSV, Matthew 8:20).
And he went on giving himself to God right to the end: and the Presentation in the Temple in his infancy reached its completion and crown upon the Cross of Calvary when he gave himself utterly and unreservedly as the perfect offering for the sins of humankind, for your sins and mine.
On that Good Friday he transformed the timber of the Cross into an altar on which he sacrificed himself for us.
And as he hung there for those three terrible hours, he did not offer himself alone: he also offered us, the members of his Church which is his Body and for which he gave himself. For on that Good Friday he looked beyond the crowd in front of him, beyond the towers and minarets of Jerusalem, down the ages to us, and he offered us also with himself to his Father.
And that two-fold offering of himself and of ourselves, he continues now in Heaven and in the Eucharist: upon his Throne of Glory and in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar. For in the Eucharist there is present, under the outward forms of bread and wine, Our Blessed Lord himself, and it is there that we join with him in offering him to God, and with that perfect Offering we also make our offering of ourselves, what we do and what we are.
And that means that our whole waking life is affected. There are some who complain that the Christian religion is irrelevant. On the contrary, the Eucharist makes it most uncomfortably relevant.
If there is something in our life which is unfit to be offered to God, then its place must be taken by a sincere act of penitence for it. That at least show a willingness to make our offering in some sense worthy.
Unhappily, real penitence is rare, for many people are so attached to their sins that they have no wish to give them up. Consider, for example, vindictive, malicious, unforgiving thoughts; or the pleasure of reading about human wickedness. How few there are who loathe such things, compared with the many who persist in them, come what may.
And there are professing Christians, too, who have in the garden of their souls a corner reserved for themselves alone, walled off from the flowers and blossoms that bloom elsewhere. They allow God to keep them company in the rest of the garden, but from that secluded corner they keep him out and leave him on the farther side of the wall. For in that private corner are no lovely plants but ugly weeds that overrun the ground – sins of thought and word which are allowed to flourish unchecked.
If you are in that unhappy state, break down that wall today, give God the freedom of all your soul, and ask him to go with you and make that corner sweet and fair.