“What ever happened to the phrase “to be continued”? It used to happen on a regular basis. You would be watching something on television and expecting a conclusion. Suddenly the frustrating words appear right on the screen announcing that the resolution of the drama would be delayed at least a week. “To be continued.” What happened to that phrase? Television people don’t seem to use it much anymore. But weekly shows are no less tied together, maybe even more so. Dramas pick up themes and events from one episode to another as past video clips run and the voice over says “Previously on Grey’s Anatomy”. Or how about that program “24" that literally moves from one hour to the next in fictional time as the real time goes from week to week. And there are still those shows that draw you in and convince you to wait all the way until the beginning of the next season. Yet those words no longer seem to be in fashion. I’m not sure my kids could give an example of the phrase coming at the end of a program they watch. It just doesn’t appear much anymore. “To be continued.” Maybe it’s just implied for the close watcher, the devotee, the followers of one television show or another. Expected. Assumed. Left unsaid. Said another way.
            That’s what Simeon said to Mary and Joseph that day in the temple. “To be continued” He didn’t use those words. He said it another way. But it was something of what he said right before Joseph and Mary took the Child Jesus and headed out to face the world. Something of what he said just as Mary and Joseph had finished everything required by the law of the Lord and before they returned to Galilee to their own town of Nazareth. Simeon said it before all of that. Before the bible sums up the childhood of Jesus with this verse: “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.” Right before all of that, Simeon looked at Mary and Joseph and said “to be continued.”
            The child, having been circumcised on the eighth day, was taken by his parents to the temple for the ritual of purification. According to Jewish law, it would be the child’s fortieth day. Simeon, a righteous and devout man, was longing to see the promised Messiah before he died. With a bit of literary repetition, Luke wants to make sure you don’t miss the role of the Holy Spirit here. Luke writes that the Holy Spirit rested on Simeon, and it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would see the Messiah, and that guided by the Spirit he came to the temple that day. Spirit. Spirit. Spirit. Don’t miss the Spirit.
            So Simeon was waiting when Joseph and Mary arrived with the child still swaddled and cradled in their arms. The old man takes the child in his arms and praises God and says, “Lord, 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 revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel.” Peace. Word. Salvation. Revelation. Glory. It still sounds like Christmas. Now 40 days later, Simeon offers an echo of the Christmas refrain. The angels are still singing. The star is still shining. The light is still breaking. The child’s parents still marvel at what was being said about their child.
            But the old man Simeon has more to say. The righteous and devout man isn’t finished yet. He blesses them and he turns to Mary and says “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed– and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”  The old man looked at Mary and said “to be continued.”
            Luke doesn’t tell us what the child’s parents thought next. No description of Mary pondering these things in her heart. No comment about the parents again marveling at what was said.  Instead of pondering, her heart must have been pounding. Instead of marveling, their minds must have been racing. “A sword will pierce your own soul, too”. There in the temple, Mary was told about Calvary. With Bethlehem still fresh in her mind, Mary was told about Golgotha. With the words of the shepherds still ringing in their ears, Mary was told about Gethsemane. The Magi hadn’t been gone very long, and Mary was told about Pilate. No wonder Luke doesn’t tell us anything about her heart, about her mind. She took the child back from the gnarled and worn hands of Simeon. She took the child back and held him close to her breast, having been told about his death.  
            I experienced the Christmas Pageant at 4:00 on Christmas Eve from back in the narthex. I don’t get to sit back there very often. I was so helpful that one of the ushers presented with me an honorary usher badge for the hour. When it came time for the benediction at the close of the pageant, the chancel was still full of children who had come up to see the Baby Jesus, and parents who were chasing them, and of course, the costumed characters. From my spot back beyond the glass, I couldn’t see who it was that offered the last word of charge and blessing. I couldn’t see amid the crowd. But thanks to those microphones, I could hear it. It seemed right. Voices of blessing radiating from all those who have the chance to linger at the manger for a while longer, those who don’t really want to leave, the press of flesh who would choose to hang with the baby just for time, those who would wish to take the child in their arms and sing a song of praise. Voices of blessing that arise from a manger gathering, a gathering around the Christ Child.
            Some, I guess would just as soon settle for a drive by when it comes to the Nativity of Jesus. But don’t miss the Spirit. Spirit. Spirit. Spirit. God’s Spirit  is at work in you that you would see more, that you find yourself among the lingerers, that you might find yourself there with Simeon even forty days later. Close watchers of this Christ Child, this Sign Opposed. Implied. Expected. There’s more to say. More to see. More to tell. More to come. For the Child who was born to save, the Child who is the newborn king, the Child about whom the angles sang, the child who stilled the word....he is the one who healed the sick, cast out demons, calmed the storm, walked on the water, raised the dead, supped with outcasts, lunched with tax collectors, embraced harlots, called ordinary men and women, touched lepers, preached about turning the other cheek and loving your enemies, challenged religious people, wept at the death of friend, scoffed at the might of the powerful, showed anger at a few who turn God’s house in a means of making money, cried over the sins of a city, welcomed little children, told stories that captivated, confronted, and transformed those who listened, broke bread with those who loved him, ask forgiveness on behalf of those who hurt him, and willingly gave of himself even unto death, in a way that must of ripped at his mother’s pondering, pounding heart.
            In the power of the Holy Spirit, Simeon holds this child in his arms and has the eyes to see from his birth to his death, and everything in between. Simeon holds this child in his arms, this child destined for the rise and fall of many, this sign opposed and he turns to Mary and Joseph, and he turns to the audience of Luke’s gospel, he turns to the church, he turns to the world, he turns to you, and after a word of blessing he says, “to be continued”.
            One of the advantages of having a church key is that you sometimes find yourself in this building by yourself. It was in one of those moments of solitude not so long ago that I found myself spending some time at the Great Wall. If you haven’t seen it, you should stop this morning and look at Holly Hardaway’s art work. It’s the Nativity of Christ crafted out of newspapers. Everything is made out of newspaper; not just the background, but Joseph, Mary, and the babe, the manger, a cross shaped as a star, some animals. Everything out of newspaper. Mary’s robe is the front page of the New York Times, Sunday, Nov 26. Joseph’s clothes come from the front page of the Trenton Times, Nov 28th. You will see stories about Iraq, Washington politics, a fallen minister in Colorado, debates about gay marriage. As you could imagine there are ads for everything. Mary’s flowing head covering includes an advertisement for a facial product that helps eliminate or control worry-lines. Seems appropriate.
            The Nativity of Christ takes shape in the news of the day. To say much more almost takes away from the beauty and meaning and the subtlety of the art and its message about Incarnation. But there is something divinely persistent about this message of Good News that breaks into the complexity of our world day after day after day. There is something about the ever-present push of this Child Jesus and his gospel that can’t be avoided, even when the news of the day and the business of life tries to cover it up. There is something about the irresistable grace of God that despite everything our world has to say, such an abundance of words, that grace still peaks through, takes shape, calls, pesters, drives a person toward an encounter with this Child. The one destined for the falling and the rising of many. The sign opposed. The one set to reveal the inner thoughts of many. The hearts of many revealed in divinely persistent way. Spirit. Spirit. Spirit.
            The Nativity of Christ given shape in the world where justice and compassion and righteousness rise up? Or the Nativity of Christ given shape in the hearts of those who find themselves transformed by an encounter with God in and through this Child Jesus, salvation prepared in the presence of all peoples? For us close watchers, those of us who linger, the answer is yes. 
            Later on Christmas Eve, at the 7:00 service, the sanctuary was all but full. I was in my more comfortable seat rather than working the narthex. The prelude was now finished. The call to worship from Isaiah had been given “For unto us a Child is born, a Son is given.” We stood to sing “O Come All Ye Faithful.” And I watched as a whole family there on the left side near the back headed out the aisle, back to the narthex, through the doors, out into the night. They left. Now I realize someone could have been sick, maybe they were shopping and just stopped into rest, maybe they just like cello music. It was only cello, Isaiah, and “O come All Ye Faithful” so I don’t think we offended them. Who knows. But I had this urge to run and catch them. “Wait, there’s more!” No, not for the sake of a crowded room, or an offering plate, or some powerful music, or a sermon, or even the story itself, the story of the birth of Jesus. There’s more, you know! Won’t you stay for awhile? Come, linger with us here at the manger? A few hours, forty days, a lifetime, generation after generation after generation. There’s more to more to say, more to see, more to come. For every year among the lingerers, the close watchers, the Child, in the power of the Spirit, transforms a heart or two, in a divinely persistent way! 

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