In his book, Preaching to the Hungers of the Heart, James Wallace writes:

There is no one way of falling in love with the word of God, but I cannot imagine it happening unless proximity is involved. Unless you draw near to the "object of affection," approaching the text as a "thou," you are likely to relate to it as an object, treating it only as a carrier of meaning from the past, which is found most quickly by consulting biblical commentaries. The problem with going to commentaries right away is that you short-circuit your own encounter with the text (p182).

But what does it mean to encounter a text? How do we discover the life that is in the scripture- the Spirit of God in the words of these stories? Today is the Feast of the Presentation. We have three texts appointed for this day. A reading from the Book of the prophet Malachi, a portion of the Letter to the Hebrews, and Luke's account of Jesus' presentation at the Temple.

I have read these texts several times. I've prayed with them. I have consulted commentaries, but I have also let the texts wash over and through the events of the week. Then I looked for the light that shines at the conjunction of the words on the page and the times of our lives.

There is, as Wallace says, no one way of falling in love with the word of God. But perhaps the story of my encounter with these texts will illuminate a way in for you.

My encounter of the Presentation began in black text on white paper, but included a light in the window; a sign on the door; and a child in the temple.

Joseph and Mary, in accordance with the law, took the baby Jesus to the temple. It was time to present him to God and to mark him as a faithful Jew. It was time to draw Jesus into the heritage of his people, to claim him as one of God's chosen. Since the days of Moses, male Jewish children have been circumcised in early infancy as a sign of that belonging.

At one level this was a familiar ceremony, a basic obligation under religious law and no different from the experience of thousands. It was true that there was no lamb offered as a sacrifice when Jesus was presented. Instead the alternative permitted to those of modest means was offered - two doves.

But there were deeper levels than these outward and visible signs. Jane Williams. an English theologian, alluded to these depths when she wrote: "almost every sentence of this powerful narrative is charged with overlapping layers of human and divine meaning and activity. Mary and Joseph go to the Temple to fulfil the Law of the Lord, little realizing that the Law's fulfillment rests in their arms, in the form of a human child."

Simeon experiences a flash of recognition. His looks at the baby in Mary's arms and sees the fulfillment of God's promise present in the flesh. Simeon sees the promised Messiah. Simeon knows that bright light shows the true shape of things in high relief. He knows that opposition is the inevitable companion of truth, and that struggle and conflict will surround those who would shine light in the darkness. "A sword will pierce your own soul too," Simeon says to Mary. God is present. God's promise is true, but still there will be challenge and pain.

But the power of death - the slavery that is created by the fear of death - will be vanquished as we are reminded in the letter to the Hebrews. God chose to send his Son to share our flesh and blood, to become like us and to journey through the worst making a way forward for us. Jesus is the high priest who can make a pure offering on our behalf. We are accounted a righteous, seen as right with God, because Jesus has stood his ground in our place, had been struck down and then risen on our behalf.

Malachi told of a time when a messenger would come who would herald purification and righteousness, he would prepare the way for the presentation of a full perfect and sufficient sacrifice. Can we not see the water of baptism and the presence of John carried in the current of these words? Can we not see crucifixion, resurrection and Eucharist foreshadowed in this light?

I walked from my office to the church in the rain mid-morning yesterday. The lights were off in the church. But the stained glass windows glowed and presented their stories in the dim and silent interior. There is the Presentation. Behold the child and the two doves. Now look up. Behold the lamb that was in fact sacrificed for us.

How many baptisms has this church seen in 250 years, how many funerals? These are among our familiar rites and observances. God is present in them. The light pours down upon us. Do we really recognize what we do in this place, and who is with us? Behold the lamb, behold the light of the world. Be opened to the words of Scripture and the light of Christ.

For several long still minutes Mary, Joseph, Simeon, Anna and I stood transfixed standing perfectly still in a moment of recognition. When the moment faded, I walked back to the parish hall. A simple hand lettered sign on the galls door proclaimed "Loss and Grief in the parish library". The sign was meant to direct people to a workshop but it told the gospel truth. There was loss and grief in the library. Swords still pierce souls. But the power of death and the grip of its enslaving fear need not hold us. Tears will come. We are human beings with hearts that can be bruised or broken. Light does not obviate struggle or conflict, it simply makes the landscape more clear. But those hearts who are set upon the pilgrims' way know that God aches for us when we are in grief or loss. In fact God cared so much for us and our condition that he was willing to live with us, die for us and rise again that we might know that nothing can ultimately separate us from God's love and light.

How can we remind each other that this is true? By breaking bread and by encountering the texts of Holy Scripture, in fellowship and prayer. These outward and visible signs tell us the gospel truth. Pain and death are real. But resurrection and new life are a higher reality that transcends them. There is the window of Christ's presentation in the temple. Here is the altar where Christ offers himself to us. Stand in light of word and sacrament then take, eat, and do this in remembrance of him.