"Can I get a witness?"

“Can I get a witness?”

Luke 2:36-38

Last week, we pondered a few things.  We considered the ways in which Mary and Joseph were just fulfilling the law—the law of Rome and the religious laws—and yet, each time they did, something greater happened:  their son was born in Bethlehem; they fulfilled God’s calling and named their son, “Jesus;” they heard the truth that Simeon had to tell them.  We also considered the fact that sometimes, like Simeon, we hold onto hope and get surprised because when that hope is fulfilled it is nothing like what we were waiting for: it’s so much better!  In the end, Simeon left us thinking that if we believe that any person might just be full of the presence of God then every person would matter so much, which is remarkably close to how Jesus seemed to walk in this world—searching for the overlooked and the ignored on the margins of whatever else was going on who were God’s beloved children.

That’s where I want to pick up.  You see, last week, we spent time with our text but we didn’t hear the whole story.  Joseph and Mary bring their child to the temple.  This old man, Simeon comes and practically grabs the child out of Mary’s arms.  He announces to anyone within earshot that this is the Christ, the one who will redeem Israel, and that now, having seen him, he can die in peace. Then, he turns to Mary and tells a story of conflict, the conflict which this child will cause within people who don’t know what to make of him and in the world on the part of people who fear him.  Finally, he leans into Mary and tells her that this child she loves so much will break her heart. End of story, right?

Well…no, actually it is not.  This morning, we hear the rest of the story.  There is another person who is there in the temple who recognizes the child as the Messiah, the Christ.  Her name in Anna, the daughter of Phanuel of the tribe of Asher.  She is a widow and a prophetess.  Of course, we hear all of this and think, “Oh dear, I really don’t understand any of that but I’m sure that’s nice.”  This is only confirmed when we learn that as soon as she saw the child, she began proclaiming who he was to everyone.  “That’s nice…but didn’t  Simeon already say that?  What’s the point, Luke?”

Let’s unpack what we don’t understand.  First of all, the simple fact this there is a woman who is referred to by name and is designated as a prophetess is extraordinary.  There are almost no women who are assigned that prophetic office in the whole Bible.  It is almost equally rare for a woman to not only be named but to have her be a pointedly faithful woman.  Here, we should consider what we already know:  the faithful women will be the ones who follow Jesus all the way to the cross and then discover the empty tomb.  It is a powerful moment of framing on Luke’s part to have one of the first people who recognizes Jesus be a faithful woman.  As a prophetess, she doesn’t predict the future.  She simply speaks God’s truth which is such a powerful thing in a world in which women were mostly expected not to speak in public at all.

Let’s push a step further.  The Hebrew equivalent of the name “Anna” would be the name “Hannah.”  Both mean “grace.”  Hannah, in the Old Testament, was the mother of Samuel, the man who was both a prophet and a judge over Israel.  Samuel was a key figure in the anointment of kings.  When Samuel was a child, his mother, Hannah, took him to the temple.  While he was there, he was blessed by Eli.  When Simeon blesses the baby, Jesus, the moment invokes that memory and suggests that Jesus might be the new Samuel.  Who better than Anna, Hannah’s namesake, to recognize the power of Simeon’s blessing?

We are also told that Anna is the daughter of Phanuel who was a descendant of the tribe of Asher, all of which means next to nothing until we dig a little bit.  Phanuel, himself, was an unknown figure.  However, things get interesting when we learn that the Greek name, “Phanuel” is the cognate of the Hebrew name, “Peniel.”  You would have really had to be paying attention to my sermon a few months ago to remember this but Peniel is not a person’s name.  Rather, Peniel is a place.  When Jacob wrestled with an angel through a long night at the end of that wrestling match, Jacob was renamed, “Israel” meaning “one who wrestles with God,” and the place where the wrestling took place was named “Peniel,” which meant “the face of God.” Anna’s father’s name, mentioned here by Luke, invokes the very moment of the origin of Israel.  The one who is to redeem Israel is recognized by the daughter whose family roots invoke the beginning of the nation, itself.

What about the tribe of Asher?  Asher was one of the lost tribes of Israel.  The nation of Israel split into a northern and southern kingdom, both of which had more than their fair share of terrible kings.  The nation to the north was conquered.  For the most part, those tribes were never seen again.  Asher was one of those tribes.  It was a rich and fertile land that made the tribe a prosperous people.  The tribe of Asher was known for two things:  for the joy of its people and the for the rich flavorful olive oil that they shared with the rest of the tribes. This tribe was dearly missed.  The fact that Anna would have been a descendant of these people would have made her people the survivors of terrible hardships to get to that point.  Simply mentioning the tribe of Answer would have produced the very bittersweet feelings that Simeon had just forecast for Mary.

So, we have the struggle of Jacob with the angel and Peniel and we have the struggle of Anna’s descendants simply to survive.   Luke also tells us is something of Anna’s struggle, too.  She was married young, like all the girls, probably around 14.  After 7 years, her husband died.  When we meet Anna, she is 84.  She is likely to have been a widow for 63 years.  Luke tells us that she never left the temple.  Unlike Simeon who was a faithful man himself but who came and went from the temple, Anna just prayed and fasted and fasted and prayed, day-in and day-out.  

Now, we might hear this story and think, “Wow!  That’s one faithful woman!” This is no doubt true.  However, what we should also know is that she had almost no other choice.  If her late husband had a brother who was single, he would have married Anna.  That was the rule and the rule would have at least meant that she would have been cared for.  However, I’m going to ask the married women listening today to consider something.  Don’t react outwardly at all but ask yourself, deep down, would you really be interested in marrying your brother-in-law?  I don’t think so.  Besides, the whole thing smacks of a property exchange, right?

Given that Anna didn’t marry her brother-in-law we can assume that she was on her own.  Here’s the thing: she had no real way to make a living.  She could sell herself or become a slave. She couldn’t own property.  She couldn’t testify in court.  She wasn’t allowed out in public without an escort.  She wasn’t allowed to talk to strangers.  Widows were out of luck.

If you pay attention to Jesus’ ministry, you will notice that he had a lot to say about caring for widows and a lot to say about divorce which almost always put women into an equally vulnerable position.  You will also find him caring for the women who were accused of being prostitutes, talking to the women in town, and generally treating women with the kind of great respect that made him a suspect.  When the woman gave her last coin to the temple, he was offended by a system that asked her to do that.  In the same sense, I think he would have loved Anna’s devotion to her faith but questioned a world in which a widow was left with no other option than to live non-stop at the temple.  Jesus, himself, didn’t spend much time at the temple and seemed to be convinced that most of what was worthwhile took place “out there” in the world.

So, after a lifetime of praying and fasting—pretty solitary activities—Anna recognizes Jesus for who he is and she gets busy, essentially as the first female pastor.  That’s right!  She proclaims the good news to whoever is in earshot, which really ought to be the ultimate rebuke to anyone who would want to dismiss the power of women as pastors.  (I remember the hate mail that Tracy received before she was ordained, 1985 years later, from folks who were just sure that women should never play such a role! If only those folks would read their Bibles!) Before Christ’s ministry began, before there was a church or a hierarchy or an understanding that only men could be leaders, there were people like Anna who stepped up in real time and led.  She’s just the first in a long line of faithful women.

It’s that long line that I want you to consider last.  So, in this very early moment in Jesus’ life there is a man and a woman, Simeon and Anna, both of whom see that this baby is the one through whom Israel will be redeemed.  This is the Messiah.  This is the Christ.  They recognize him in an instant.  Now…do you remember how this Gospel ends?  At the very end of the Gospel of Luke, there is the story of the two travelers on the road to Emmaus.  They had been in Jerusalem for the Passover festival but what really took them there was the chance to see Jesus of Nazareth for themselves.  (They were fulfilling an obligation—to observe Passover—but looking for the something that mattered more.  Sound familiar?)  They had hoped, like Simeon and Anna, that this man would be the one who would redeem Israel.  However, he had been arrested and tried and crucified.  Their hopes died on that cross.  Now, they are walking home.

As they are walking along and talking about all that had happened—everything that had seen and heard— a stranger approaches, whom Luke tells us is the risen Jesus, but they are kept from recognizing him.  Instead, they invite him to walk with them and fold him into the discussion.  After getting quite a Scripture lesson from this stranger, they draw close to their home.  Since it is growing dark, they invite the stranger to eat with them.  They literally see a stranger and welcome him.  They see someone who is hungry and feed him.  And when Jesus blesses and breaks the bread, they immediately recognize him which is how sacramental moments work—we stand for a brief moment in the presence of God.  Then, their hearts burn just like our hearts burn when we catch a glimpse of God’s kingdom among us.  They run to tell the disciples because, well, when you’ve had a moment like that you have to tell someone.

Here’s the thing I want you to ponder in your heart:  Luke never says that the travelers on the road were two men.  He names only one of them—Cleopas, a man’s name.  The other is never named.  I, for one, think that the fact that this other is not named suggests that this person was likely a woman, perhaps even Cleopas’s wife.  (I’m not the only one that thinks this…)  Why would this matter?  Luke’s world required that there be two witnesses to prove a truth.  In the beginning, a common man and a woman—faithful strangers—recognized the face of Christ in the child.  In the end, a man and a woman—faithful strangers—recognized Christ once again.  Two men who would have been overlooked and two women who never would have been allowed to be witnesses of law testify to God’s truth:  “This is the Christ, the Messiah, come to redeem us all.”