Happy New Year!  Judging from the reduced numbers this morning, I can only assume that many in our church family were out celebrating last night.  New Year’s Eve is arguably the biggest party night of the year, as people stay up with anticipation to welcome in the New Year.  Oddly, today -- New Year’s Day – is often anti-climactic.  For most people -- not for us, of course, but for most people -- today is a day for sleeping in, lounging around in pajamas, watching football, and perhaps nursing a headache, or worse.

 

But today is a day brimming with hope and promise.  This morning, we turn the page to a blank calendar; we have clean slate, another chance to begin anew.  And this sense of a new beginning inspires many of us to make resolutions to improve ourselves. 

 

As I was surfing the web a few days ago, I found a list of the top 10 New Year’s resolutions:[1]

 

1)      Lose weight

2)      Exercise more

3)      Quit smoking

4)      Quit drinking

5)      Be a better person

6)      Spend more time with family

7)      Spend less time on the internet

8)      Be more organized

9)      Get out of debt

10) Be more spiritual

 

Essential to the making of a resolution is the hope that we are going to be able to improve ourselves over the coming year; it is a promise to ourselves that we are going to make changes for the better.  But today, New Year’s Day, nothing has happened yet.  It’s still just a hope and a promise.

 

Hope and promise – that’s what Mary and Joseph’s baby held for those who recognized him as the Messiah.  And we meet one of those people in today’s gospel lesson.  Luke tells us that the Christ Child has already been circumcised, and it’s now time for the dedication of the firstborn son to God.  And so Mary, Joseph, and the baby make their way to the temple in Jerusalem, to promise before God to bring up the child in the faith.

 

Guided by the Spirit, the elderly Simeon also comes into the temple.  Luke points out to us that Simeon “was righteous and devout,” and “it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah.”  When Simeon sees the Christ Child, he takes him in his arms.  Every child is a vessel of God’s hope and promise.  But this child Simeon so lovingly cradles is the answer to his faithful prayers, for he knows he is embracing the long-awaited Messiah.  What a vision of hope the baby Jesus is for the old man, the fulfillment of God’s promise.  We can imagine Simeon gazing in wonder at the bundle in his arms, perhaps tears of joy streaming down his face. 

 

And he prayerfully proclaims:  “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word: for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for the revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”  Simeon says that’s all he needs; having seen the Messiah, he can now die in peace.

 

In our faith tradition, the “Song of Simeon” is part of our funeral liturgy which I say at the gravesite.  Many faith traditions know it as the “Nunc Dimittis,” and these words have been sung by Christian communities since the 4th Century.  We usually think of the Song of Simeon as words of resignation from an old man ready to die.  “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace.”  But rather than being a solemn prayer at life’s end, Simeon’s words overflow with joy and hope.

 

He proclaims that his eyes have seen God’s salvation.  But what has Simeon seen, really?  He has simply held a little child in his arms – “a powerless, speechless newcomer to the world.”[2]  Whatever salvation this baby might work in the lives of faithful individuals and the world is still only a hope and a promise.  Whatever teaching he might offer will not be revealed for three decades.  By that time, Simeon will be long dead, Joseph as well, perhaps too the shepherds and magi, who came to see him as a newborn in a manger. 

 

That dedication day at the temple is like New Year’s Day, nothing has happened yet.  Herod still sits on his throne and Caesar governs from afar.  But Simeon knows that, as he cradles the Christ Child, he holds the future in his hands, and the canticle he prays has become for much of the Church a song which follows the communion meal.  Through the bread and the cup, we hold the Christ child.  We feel his sustaining presence; we are fed by his life-giving meal; we see and taste the promised and hoped-for future.  Here at this table, we come into right relationship with God through Christ, who is a vessel of hope and promise for all of us. 

 

I pray that you, too, know – with Simeon’s conviction -- that God’s promise is meant for you, and that this child, hope of the world, has been born for you.  I can think of no better New Year's resolution, for any believer, than to accept our Lord's invitation and come to his table.  And once we have seen and tasted and felt Christ’s presence, we can go in peace, into the hope and promise of the New Year.  Amen.