But having said that, you would think that for us as Christians, the let down wouldn’t be as great. The birth of Jesus is a pivotal, defining moment for us, it speaks volumes about what our God is like and what our God wants for us and for the world. The miracle of Bethlehem is supposed to be a gift that keeps on giving every day of our lives, not just on Christmas. But if you’re feeling a lull today, a little melancholy that another year of Christmas joy has come and is now departing, there are some understandable reasons why.
One of them, of course, is no doubt related to our culture. Religious or not, everyone is affected by Christmas. Remaining shopping days are counted down, the population plans and figures and schedules so that everything that needs to get done gets done in time, there are parties at work and with friends and holiday shows and seasonal music everywhere. The buildup to the 25th reaches a fever pitch. Then darkness falls, the Eve arrives, and the Day dawns; the experience is experienced, and then is gone. How can anyone who’s paying the least attention not be a little let down?
But another reason that these days after Christmas can be less that satisfying has more to do with our faith: in a way, the Christmas season is an easier time to believe. We anticipate and sometimes even feel joy; we say “peace on earth” and mean it a little more than usual. Home and family and friends matter a little more, we’re a little more generous, we’re a little more grateful. And somehow all those traditions associated with Christmas at church—Lessons and Carols, the Warm Hearts tree, the pageant, delivering poinsettias—they all reinforce our belief that Jesus arriving in the world does make a difference, and there is real reason to hope that the world can be a better place.
In the days after Christmas, all that is still true, but, returning to normal does take the shine off—a little. Faith in a loving God seems less a wild idea on Christmas than it does three days later. And in the transition from that day to this day lies the challenge of Christian discipleship: keeping the faith when the days are ordinary instead of extraordinary.
That’s not an easy thing to do. I saw a replay of an old interview with the late William F. Buckley by Ted Koppel. And the last question Koppel asked was this: as Buckley looks at the world his grandchildren will inherit, what one thing frightens him the most? And of all the answers a seasoned man like William F. Buckley could have given, he said his greatest concern is the dwindling belief in transcendence, of trust in a great power, which he said for him, is a Christian God. He said, “There’s a lot of hopelessness out there already, and if we don’t look beyond ourselves to a transcendent power, it’s simply going to get worse.”
As Buckley suggests, for too many of our neighbors the answer is clear: God isn’t relevant. And while you and I know in our hearts there is something more to life than just what we can create and amass, that there is a power greater than ourselves, it isn’t easy to keep the faith when our needs are so great, when God can seem so elusive, and when much of the world seems to say and behave as if we don’t really need God anyway.
The challenge presented by the odd-feeling days after Christmas is really the challenge of being faithful every day of the year. Which brings us to Simeon and Anna, who appear each year at this time to show us how to keep the faith. Mary and Joseph bring the baby Jesus to Jerusalem and there in the temple they encounter first Simeon, and then Anna, two old and faithful people. Luke tells us that Simeon “was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel [which means the arrival of the Messiah], and the Holy Spirit rested on him.” And of Anna we are told “she never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day.”
Now it’s clear Luke tells this story in part to record how Jesus, even as an infant, is recognized as the Messiah. But the story is also a lesson in the kind of faith that endures and sustains through years of ordinary days, the kind of faith we need on the Sunday after Christmas.
There are two simple but essential qualities Simeon and Anna show us in this story. The first comes from their focus on God’s promise of a Messiah. They both know the Hebrew Scriptures, they know the stories of God’s dealings with the people of Israel, and they have faith that God will keep the promise. They see Jesus, recognize him for who he is, and realize, with joy, that their faith has been fulfilled.
Simeon and Anna had faith in the God not of their own creation or desires, but the God revealed to them in Scripture. They weren’t waiting on something they had dreamed up themselves, but on something God had given the divine word on. That’s a critical difference.
Sometimes it seems we want God to fit our own ideas about what a loving, powerful parent should do. It’s human nature for us to project onto God our own wants and desires. In one sense God becomes for many not unlike Santa Claus, who keeps a list of who’s naughty and nice, and gives or withholds accordingly. We get impatient or angry with God when God doesn’t deliver what we think we deserve, or when God “allows” something bad to happen. I think a lot of people who dismiss religion altogether do so because God doesn’t act the way they want; and I think, for those of us who do believe, that’s why living by faith can be so frustrating at times.
If our faith in God is based on what we want, we will be disappointed much of the time. But if our faith in God is based on what God has actually promised to provide, we won’t be—just as Simeon and Anna discovered. Jesus revealed a God who provides love and forgiveness and guidance. Jesus said nothing about God offering life without trouble, or success if we’re good—but part of us still wants it to be that way.
More than all of Sunday School, my early faith was formed through a simple poem my grandmother gave me, and if you remember me telling you about this poem, it’s because for me it encapsulates everything I need to know to keep believing when God isn’t behaving the way I want. “God hath not promised skies always blue, Flower-strewn pathways, all our lives through; God hath not promised sun without rain, joy without sorrow, peace without pain. But God hath promised strength for the day, rest for the labor, light for the way; Grace for the trials, help from above, unfailing sympathy, undying love.”
Old Simeon and Anna believed in the God of their Scriptures, who promised to send the Messiah, and they were not disappointed. You and I are called to believe in the God of our scriptures, the God revealed by Jesus who promises love, sympathy and compassion—and not riches or fair weather or everything on the wish-list. Simeon and Anna show us, first, that keeping the faith on ordinary days is all about expecting the right things—those which God has promised to provide.
And the second lesson this pair provides in keeping the faith on all the ordinary days is just as basic: faith requires patience, one quality we seem to be becoming less and less able to nurture. Simeon and Anna are quite old, and they have been waiting for this moment in the temple for most of their lives. And though the Messiah had not come before that moment, they had not abandoned their faith, they waited. You and I don’t wait very well—we live fast-paced lives, we can travel the world, communicate instantaneously, get most of what we want in a hurry. But just as God doesn’t provide only what we want, God does not provide only when we want.
It is hard when the answers to the questions that consume us, the comfort for the wounds that afflict us, the inspiration for the problems we must solve don’t always show up when we want. Those things do come, but only in God’s own time. That’s a frustrating reality, but we can’t let it tempt us to give up hope. The minister who led my Pilgrim Fellowship youth group once said he was convinced that the spiritual journey is one that is navigated largely in retrospect; that you can’t see ahead, but only by looking back in time can you see where you’ve been, and see where and how God has led you. Perhaps when God is operating on a timetable not of our liking, we should remember to look back and see the sure and steady hand that has been leading us; perhaps that will allow us to be patient in the present for what will come eventually.
The poet Rilke once advised a young writer, “Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart. Do not seek the answers that cannot be given you, because if you knew them, you would not be able to live them and the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Then perhaps, gradually, without noticing it, you will live along some distant day into the answers.”
Friends, the promise of Christmas is not given for just a single day. There’s a long winter and lots of ordinary days ahead. But the same faith we felt so deeply on Wednesday night and Thursday can still be ours is we’ll follow the lead of this old couple at the temple. Expect, hope for that which God has promised, though it is tempting to hope more for what we want. And be patient, knowing God’s time is not our own, but all God’s promises to you and to me will be kept.