When America’s housewife, the famous columnist Erma Bombeck, contemplated life beyond death, she said that she wanted to appear before God’s throne displaying all her wounds and scars, hobble up to the Lord and turn her empty pockets inside-out to show that she didn’t hold anything back, that she used everything that was entrusted to her, and gave away all she had. That’s how she wanted to present herself.
The ecclesial feast of the Presentation in the Temple occurs forty days after Christmas on February 2—forty is symbolic of journey in sacred scripture. According to ancient Jewish law, it was also the time-period of purification for a mother after birthing her first son. In addition, our Christian celebration focuses on Jesus being presented as light to dispel the darkness of our world. Each time we come to our temple or parish church we, too, ought to consider how we might wish to present ourselves to God and His people.
In America, the church feast gets overshadowed by Groundhog’s Day, the time we determine whether the weather will continue with winter’s cruel course or give us an early spring. For that crucial prediction, we turn to Punxsutawney Phil who, since 1887, emerges from his burrow before sunrise on 02-02 to inform us of our winter-to-spring fate. The famous Groundhog Day movie, starring Bill Murray as Phil, a selfish and arrogant reporter who gets stuck in a time loop while moving him from dreary hopelessness to redemptive grace on the day placed halfway through winter, is an allegory. He moves from cynicism, loneliness, and depression to compassion, sincerity, and love by using the repetitious day for good, for growth, and for betterment by presenting himself differently than was customary for him. Whether slowly or immediately, we will also progress to brighter and warmer times. It can happen in miraculous ways for us, too, if we present ourselves differently from the ways we are accustomed–if we are accustomed to dwelling in darkness and in shadows rather seeking light and goodness.
Jay Leno recently went to assist firefighters in Los Angeles. A cable news show picked up the story and interviewed him, asking who he thought ought to be blamed for the out-of-control wildfires. He said that placing or discussing blame wasn’t his job; his job was to merely present himself, show up, support the workers, provide a meal, tell jokes, share some laughs, use his talents, and encourage them to use theirs in the tough task they’ve been given. The interviewer agreed, suggesting that we can all present ourselves in ways that improve situations and make the world a little better place.
That’s what I think the Feast of the Presentation is about on both a human and spiritual level. There are lots of things that we contend with, things which the Bible with its emphasis on justice suggests we engage in, and like those which Jesus and most others in the stories of salvation history did: things from showing compassion to undocumented friends, challenging unjust laws, dealing with repeat criminal offenders, battling poverty and racism, and carrying out the corporal works of mercy. How we present ourselves is important. That we present ourselves in the temple regularly to God is also important. Presenting ourselves to help out in difficult situations is equally significant. All of it gets us ready for the day that we will present ourselves before the throne of God. It is a joyful mystery that we can readily embrace.
