The Presentation of the Lord — Meeting the Light

This feast brings Christmas to its quiet conclusion.

Forty days after the Nativity, the child who was laid in a manger
is carried into the Temple.

Not to be admired. Not to be explained. But to be offered.

Mary and Joseph come in obedience. They do what the Law requires.

They bring no wealth. They bring no spectacle.

They bring a child and the offering of the poor.

And yet, in this simple act, something world-changing takes place.

The Gospel tells us that Simeon was waiting.

He was not waiting for success. He was not waiting for comfort.

He was waiting for God’s promise to be fulfilled.

“The Holy Spirit had revealed to him that he would not see death
before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.”

When Mary and Joseph arrive, nothing outward distinguishes them.

There is no sign. No announcement.

Only the Spirit reveals the truth.

Simeon takes the child in his arms and blesses God.

“Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace.”

This is not resignation. It is fulfilment. Simeon has seen the Light.

And notice how he describes the child:

“A light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.”

Light does not belong to itself. It reveals. It shows what is there.
It exposes truth.

This child will reveal God — not only to Israel, but to the nations.

But Simeon’s joy is not naïve.

He turns to Mary and speaks words that are heavy with meaning.

“This child is destined for the fall and rising of many in Israel,
and to be a sign that is opposed.”

Light always divides. Not because it is cruel, but because it cannot be ignored.

Those who welcome it are changed. Those who resist it are exposed.

The child presented in the Temple
will grow to be the man
who speaks the truth in love,
who heals,
who forgives,
and who is rejected.

Mary hears also that a sword will pierce her own soul.

From the beginning, the cross is already in view.

The Presentation is not simply a gentle moment of devotion.

It is the first public offering of Christ.

This offering continues in the Temple today.

The Letter to the Hebrews tells us that Jesus shares fully in our humanity
so that He might free us from fear and death.

He is not distant. He is not symbolic.

He enters our condition to redeem it from within.

That is why this feast matters so deeply for us, gathered on a Sunday evening.

We too have come to the Temple.

We come carrying our weeks — their burdens, their joys, their uncertainties.

We come not because we are impressive, but because we need God.

And God meets us here.

We bless candles today not as decoration, but as confession.

We say with Simeon: Christ is our light.

But light asks something of us.

If Christ is light, then we are invited to live in truth.

To let go of pretence. To stop hiding.

To allow God to show us
what needs healing,
what needs forgiveness,
what needs conversion.

This is why Simeon speaks of opposition.

Light challenges complacency. It does not allow us to remain unchanged.

Yet this feast is full of hope.

Simeon can die in peace not because his life was easy,
but because it was fulfilled.

He waited.
He trusted.
He recognised God’s work even when it came quietly.

So too with Anna. Elderly. Faithful. Often overlooked.

She sees the child and gives thanks.

She speaks of him
to all who were waiting.

The Presentation shows us
what a faithful life looks like.

Not dramatic.
But attentive.

Not loud.
But open to the Spirit.

This evening,
as we celebrate this feast,
we are invited to do three simple things.

First, to recognise Christ.

To ask ourselves:
Do I really see Him —
or have I grown accustomed to His presence?

Second, to receive the light.

Not selectively.
Not comfortably.

But fully.

And third, to carry that light.

Simeon did not keep the child to himself.
Anna spoke of him to others.

Light is always given to be shared.

As we prepare shortly
to offer the Blessing of Throats
under the care of St Blaise,
we are reminded that God’s light
touches body and soul.

The same Christ who is light for the nations
is close to us in our fragility.

Tonight, let us ask for the grace
to meet the Lord as Simeon did —
with open hands,
patient hearts,
and lives ready to be shaped by the light.

For now, Master,
you may let your servant go in peace —
for my eyes have seen your salvation.