Blessing and sorrow
Scripture Readings:
Malachi 3:1-4
Psalm 24
Hebrews 2:14-18
Luke 2:22-40
It is forty days after Christmas. The joy of the nativity is still fresh, yet something new is stirring. Today, the Christ child is brought into the temple, carried in His mother's arms. It is a simple act, according to the law of Moses, yet it carries the weight of eternity.
Mary and Joseph enter quietly, unnoticed by the priests and unrecognized by the powerful. And yet, two figures—Simeon and Anna—see what others cannot. Their aged eyes, sharpened by years of prayer and waiting, recognize that the Light of the World has come. Candlemas or the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord in the Temple is a feast of paradoxes. It is a feast of light, yet Simeon speaks of a piercing sword. It is a feast of fulfillment, yet it also foreshadows suffering. It is a feast of hope, yet it calls for surrender.
Today, we step into the temple with Mary and Joseph. We take our place beside Simeon and Anna. And we listen as the Light of Christ is revealed, purified, and sent forth. The prophet Malachi speaks of the coming of the Lord with these words: "Who can endure the day of His coming? And who can stand when He appears? For He is like a refiner’s fire and like fullers’ soap." (Malachi 3:2). Not the soft glow of candlelight, but a refining fire—a fire that melts metal, burns away impurity, and leaves nothing behind but pure gold. Jesus, the infant in the temple, is that fire. His coming is not simply to bring peace, but to transform, to purify, to burn away what is false and leave behind only what is true. Many people seek the warmth of Christ's light, but few are prepared for the purification that comes with it. It is a painful process. When silver is refined, it must be placed in the fire over and over, heated until the impurities rise to the surface and are removed. Only when the refiner can see his reflection in the silver does he know that it is pure.
God desires to see His image in us. But for that to happen, we must allow Him to refine us. We must allow Him to burn away our selfishness, our pride, our fear, and our hidden sins. Simeon sees this truth in the child he holds. He knows that Jesus will purify Israel—not by force, but by love. Not by condemnation, but by sacrifice. Not by destroying sinners, but by calling them to repentance. What in us still needs refining? What do we hold on to that the fire of Christ must burn away? Are we willing to endure the flames so that we may shine with His light? Light does not only purify—it reveals. It exposes what was hidden in darkness. Simeon’s next words are a prophecy of revelation: "This child is destined for the fall and rising of many in Israel… and a sword will pierce your soul too." (Luke 2:34-35). A sword is not what we expect to hear when we think of Jesus, the Light of the World. And yet, the light of Christ does not simply comfort—it challenges. It does not only guide—it pierces. When we turn on a light in a dark room, we see everything as it truly is. The beauty, yes, but also the dust, the disorder, the things we had preferred to keep hidden. The same is true with Christ. His light reveals what we may not want to see. For the Pharisees, this light was unbearable. They preferred their righteousness. For the rich young ruler, this light was too costly—he wanted salvation without surrender. For Pilate, this light was inconvenient—truth required a response he was unwilling to give.
And
for Mary, the Mother of God, this light was both a blessing and a
sorrow. Simeon tells her, "A sword will pierce your soul too." This is a
foreshadowing of the cross. Mary's journey with Jesus will not always
be one of joy. She will watch her son be rejected. She will hear the
crowds cry out for His crucifixion. She will stand at the foot of the
cross and witness the world trying to extinguish the very light it
needs. Yet she does not resist the sword. She does not run from the
pain. She allows herself to be pierced, just as her Son allows Himself
to be pierced. The light of Christ reveals our hearts. Are we willing to
see what He shows us? Are we ready to let His truth change us, even
when it pierces like a sword?
Candlemas is also a
day of procession, a day when we take up candles and walk in the light
of Christ. But what is a candle? It is a paradox. A thing that exists to
be consumed. A candle gives light only by burning. Its wax melts, its
wick shortens, yet its flame endures. This is the life of a disciple.
Simeon and Anna show us what it means to live as bearers of the light.
They have spent decades waiting, watching, praying. They have not grown
weary. And when the light finally comes, they recognize it instantly.
They do not keep the light to themselves. Simeon proclaims it to all.
Anna runs to tell everyone who is waiting for redemption. They cannot
contain their joy. We, too, are called to be bearers of Christ’s light.
But a candle hidden under a basket does no good. The world is filled
with darkness—hatred, despair, sin, suffering. And yet, one light, no
matter how small, changes everything.
When we live in a world of indifference, we bear the light of Christ.
When we forgive in a world of revenge, we bear the light of Christ.
When we speak truth in a world of deception, we bear the light of Christ.
When we comfort the suffering, welcome the stranger, and stand with the broken, we bear the light of Christ.
But this light comes at a cost. A candle burns itself out to give light. A disciple gives of themselves to bring Christ to the world. Are we willing to be spent for the sake of the Gospel? Are we willing to carry the light of Christ, even when the world resists it?
Candlemas
is not just a remembrance of past events. It is an invitation to step
into the temple, to see the light of Christ, and to respond. The child
brought to the temple is the same Christ who calls us today. The fire
that refines is the same Spirit who longs to work within us. The sword
that pierced Mary's soul is the same truth that challenges us to
surrender. We stand now at the threshold: will we let Christ’s light
fill our hearts and transform us? Will we carry that light into the
world, even at the cost of being consumed?
Let us
not fear the fire. Let us not flee the sword. Instead, let us take up
our candles and walk boldly into the night, knowing that no darkness can
overcome the light of Christ. Amen.

