Simeon’s Story

Copyright 2018 by Thomas A. Robinson. All Rights Reserved. Reprinted with permission from Questions of Faith: Encountering Christ at the Point of Doubt and Confusion, by Thomas A. Robinson [p. 159-62; Mazarin Press, Raleigh, NC].

Then Simeon blessed them and said to Mary, his mother: “This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be spoken against, so that the thoughts of many hearts will be revealed. And a sword will pierce your own soul too” [Luke 2:34-35, portion of the Gospel lesson, First Sunday After Christmas, RCL, Year B].

My close friend — and theological sparring partner — Jim Sutherland, retired a few years ago after almost four decades of OB/GYN medical practice. I suspect that Jim long ago lost count of the number of babies that he delivered. The number has to be significant since, in additional to having an active, vibrant, private medical practice for many years, Jim also spent five years or so in a frenetic, indigent medicine hospital setting in Atlanta. During that period of time, Jim’s workweek often consisted of 90 to 100 hours, delivering babies for mothers who had no resources, who typically had no husband — mothers who had often enjoyed little, if any, medical care during their pregnancies. Many nights, Jim slept — to the extent that he could steal a few quiet hours — in what amounted to a small, hostel area near the public hospital’s maternity ward.

Suffice it to say that Jim has held a lot of babies. He’s greeted robust, healthy newborns that have had the advantage of excellent prenatal care. He’s also carefully cradled others, some weighing just over a pound, who arrived far too early into this all-too-scary world. Despite Jim’s confidence — I think one has to be confident to be a great obstetrician like Jim — he confesses that he never lost his sense of awe at seeing a “new” human being take his or her first breath, utter the first sound, and either accept or protest the change of circumstances from Mother’s sheltering womb to the demanding landscape of life.

On many “birthing” occasions, particularly during those years in which Jim was delivering the offspring of indigent mothers, he’d quietly sing “Amazing Grace,” as he tended to both mother and newborn. Jim can’t carry a tune in a bucket, but that didn’t matter. Considering the circumstances, he just thought it was the appropriate thing to do.

He and I have often talked about the powerful and particular perspective that he had as an obstetrician. Jim allows that none of us asks to come into this world and very few of us ever later ask to leave it. He has added that no matter what the circumstances of birth, in a true sense a newborn is a blank slate. He or she is perfect potential. What will be remains to be seen. Will the child live a long, healthy, productive life? Will it instead see mostly sadness and/or tragedy? Will it be surrounded by a loving, nurturing family or will it suffer from neglect or abuse?

I once asked Jim if he’d like to be able to look into the face of the newborn and see what lay ahead for the child? Jim quickly retorted, “No; just as I am happy not to know my own future, I’m the same with newborns. It’s just better not to know.”

In Luke’s Gospel, we see the story of a man — an old man, actually — who looked into the face of an infant and did see what lay ahead. As much as we might like to link the Christ movement — the Christian faith — only to the positive, the uplifting, the beautiful and peaceful, we must also face the inescapable: when the light of Christ is illumined, it also casts shadows. Indeed, as one of America’s greatest preachers has allowed regarding the presentation of Christ at the Temple to Simeon, Luke has woven a “dark thread into what has been a bright tapestry of hopes, inspired songs, and prophesy” (Fred B. Craddock, Luke: Interpretation, A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching, John Knox Press, 1990, p. 39).

As many of us remember, Simeon, “righteous and devout” (Luke 2:25b), had prayed for years for the consolation of Israel. Scripture teaches that the Holy Spirit descended upon him and revealed to him that he would not see death until he had seen the Lord’s Messiah.

Shortly after the birth of Jesus, guided by the Holy Spirit, Simeon visited the Temple in Jerusalem. When Mary and Joseph brought the infant into the Temple, as was the Jewish custom, one supposes that he said to Mary, “May I hold the baby?” Luke indicates that Simeon took the infant up into his arms and said:

Sovereign Lord, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel (Luke 2:29-32).

Just getting used the fact that they were parents, Mary and Joseph were amazed at what the old man had said about their son. If what this old man had said was true, then the angel who had visited each of them before the birth of Jesus must be right. Indeed, this child — their child — must be the Anointed One. What marvelous news!

Alas, as Mary had earlier indicated in her Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55), the coming of the Messiah is not “good news” for everyone. The powerful will be brought down from their thrones. The proud are scattered; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away hungry.

Simeon looks into the eyes of the child and sees the future, sees even the Cross, and says to 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).

The story ends there. I suppose that Simeon handed the baby back to his mother with not a little portion of uneasiness. As he departed the Temple, I wonder if he did so with less peace in his heart than he had anticipated.