Today’s feast stands at a meeting point.

Christmas is behind us.
Lent is not yet in sight.
And the Church pauses to show us who this child really is.

Mary and Joseph bring Jesus to the Temple
to do what the Law requires.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing public.

Just obedience.

And yet, Malachi tells us:
“Suddenly the Lord whom you seek will come to his Temple.”

Not with thunder.
Not with armies.
But carried in the arms of His mother.

God comes to His Temple
as a child who must be presented,
offered,
and redeemed like any other firstborn son.

And Simeon sees what others do not.

“This child is destined for the fall and rising of many…
and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Simeon understands:
this child is not only light —
He will also be a sign of contradiction.

Light reveals things.
And when light comes,
some welcome it
and some resist it.

That is why we bless candles today.

Not just because they look nice.
But because Christ is the Light
who enters the darkness of the world.

And Hebrews tells us what that light does.

“He had to become like us in every way.”

Not pretend to be human.
Not appear human.

He shares our flesh.
He shares our weakness.
He shares our fear of suffering and death.

Why?

“To destroy the one who has the power of death.”

Jesus does not save us from a distance.
He saves us by stepping into what frightens us most.

Pain.
Fragility.
Death itself.

That is why today fits so naturally with
the blessing of throats for Saint Blaise.

St Blaise was a bishop and martyr
who healed a child choking on a bone.
And the Church remembers him
whenever we pray for protection of the throat.

The throat is where breath passes.
Where voice comes from.
Where life and speech meet.

It is a small part of the body —
but vital.

And it reminds us of something deeper:

We need Christ not only for our souls
but for our bodies too.

Hebrews says He became like us in every way
so that He could help us in every way.

Not only with sin.
But with suffering.
Not only with guilt.
But with weakness.

So when we come forward today for the blessing of throats,
we are not performing a superstition.

We are saying:
Lord, You took flesh.
Lord, You shared our weakness.
Lord, protect our lives and our voices
so that we may serve You.

Simeon also calls Jesus:
“a light for revelation to the Gentiles.”

Light is not meant to be admired only.
It is meant to be followed.

And the Gospel ends with a quiet but powerful line:

“The child grew and became strong,
filled with wisdom,
and the favour of God was upon him.”

God’s saving work does not explode into history.
It grows.

From womb.
To arms.
To Temple.
To Cross.
To Resurrection.

And today, it touches us
through a candle
and a blessing.

We carry the light.
We receive the prayer.
And then we go back into ordinary life.

But something has been declared:

This child is not just born —
He is offered.

Not only welcomed —
He is given.

And one day, He will be given completely on the Cross.

So today, as we hold candles
and receive the blessing of throats,
we are standing with Simeon and Anna:

seeing in a child
the salvation of the world,
seeing in weakness
the power of God,
seeing in light
the promise of life.

And we pray:

May Christ be the light in our darkness.
May He be the strength in our weakness.
May He guard our bodies and our souls.
And may our voices be used
not only to breathe,
but to bless.

“Now, Lord, you may let your servant go in peace…
for my eyes have seen your salvation.”