February 2, 2020

Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

“How Bright Your Light?”

Msgr. Thomas Gervasio

Mary and Joseph with the Infant Jesus go to the Temple to fulfill the precepts of the Law. Poor and simple, entering the temple precincts, they would have blended easily into the crowd. They would have passed through the multitude unnoticed. It seemed an ordinary day in the temple, but something extraordinary was taking place.

Who understood this?—only the elderly Simeon and Anna. Inspired by the Holy Spirit, they understood who this child was and what was taking place. This was the great meeting of the Messiah and his people in the Temple, the center of Jewish faith and culture, the privileged place of encounter with God. The Eastern Church in fact calls today’s feast the Feast of “Encounter” or “Meeting.”

On Christmas, light shone out in the darkness of night to the shepherds. On Epiphany, the Magi followed the light of the star. At the Presentation, Simeon proclaims Jesus as the light of revelation to the Gentiles and the glory of Israel. Overcome for having seen the Messiah for whom he had long awaited, Simeon proclaimed, “Now Lord, you may dismiss your servant in peace.” In effect, “Lord, you can let me die serenely, my life is fulfilled. His canticle of joy, which we call the Nunc Dimittis, is prayed every night in the Church’s Liturgy of the Hours.

Every Mass is an encounter with the Lord. Here we meet Him in word, in sacrament and in the Christian assembly. When we receive Communion, we are not unlike Simeon who held Jesus in his arms. We receive him into our bodies, our hearts, and our souls.

The Church Fathers tell us that we receive Jesus in the Eucharist so that he may bring his light into even the most hidden recesses of our lives...that he may dispel whatever darkness lies hidden there—and it is a light that must be shared with others. But today we should ask, “How bright is this light?”

In a culture that has become ever more secular, even atheistic, “dark” if you will, it is no wonder that so many people no longer attend Mass. I hear so often the disappointment and sorrow of parents when they see that their children no longer practice their faith and decide not to baptize their own children.

We have allowed the culture to convince us that our faith is wholly a private affair, something to be relegated to the periphery of life, not the center of life; that, in fact, it should have no place in the public forum. Our culture has convinced us that we can just create a self-styled faith without the Church. Yet we are called to be God’s light in the world.

The day we were presented in the temple, we were not baptized as “lone rangers” but as members of a community, the Church, the Mystical Body of Christ. We were presented a candle and told that this light was to be kept burning brightly.

This means we are called to shed light on the dark errors of our culture, to shine a light that will illumine the path of our future. Pope Francis says that the light of faith is “capable of illuminating every aspect of human existence.” “Faith,” he says, “does not dwell in shadow and gloom; it is a light for our darkness.” Our Lord admonished us not to hide our light under a bushel basket but to place it on a lampstand for all to see.

People ask, “What can I do for my son, daughter, my grandchild, my sister, my neighbor who no longer sees a need for the sacraments?” I can tell them what not to do. We need not become preachy or harangue them. Thrusting a bible or a catechism into their hands will not be the first step, even if they contain the light of faith. Relatives and friends should see how our practice of the faith brings us joy, influences our decisions, moves us to love, to go the extra mile. They should see the joy we experience in sacramental confession. St. Francis of Assisi expressed this idea so well when he told his brothers, “Preach the Gospel at all times. Use words when necessary.” Our catechists are sometimes reminded that “Faith is more caught than taught.”

How deeply does our weekly communion affect us? Am I any different or do I merely continue my usual routine and relate with others in the same way? Does our encounter with Christ transform us at all? “This light is entrusted to you to be kept burning brightly.” How bright is it?