Dearly beloved,

Today we celebrate the mystery of Our Lady’s Purification and Our Lord’s Presentation. It was decreed by the Law of Moses that when a woman had given birth to a son, she was to come to the Temple forty days after the birth to offer sacrifice. It was also the case that all firstborn sons were to be consecrated to the Lord by presentation in the Temple and the offering of sacrifices in their place; the human child was redeemed by the offering of an animal. In today’s feast, these two coincide: Mary comes to the Temple in order to be purified according to Mosaic Law even though she had no need of purification, since the child was born miraculously and she was immaculate. Jesus is consecrated to God though he is God, and his humanity is united to the divinity in the closest possible manner in the hypostatic union. And, rather than being redeemed by an animal by proxy, he is to offer himself on the Cross in order to definitively redeem all of mankind.

In the Roman rite, this feast has not only the historical setting, but also the added feature of the blessing of candles and procession in honor of Christ, the light to the nations. This is a very ancient custom of the Roman church, dating from at least 600, most likely earlier. What Simeon and Anna waited for in the Temple, now shines brightly throughout the world. As the days grow longer and the light increases, we are reminded of what it was before the Lord came among us—how dark it must have been, how hopeless. But today, despite the fact that many reject him, still the light shines in the darkness and the darkness will never overcome it. The ceremony of the lighted candles reminds us of this eternal triumph of Christ.

One significant way in which the light of Christ reaches the nations and stays bright within the Church itself is in religious life. On this day, at St. Peter’s in Rome, men and women religious—monks, canons, nuns, sisters—are special guests of the Pope at the papal liturgy. This is in acknowledgement of the proto-religious life which Simeon and Anna lived in the Temple, waiting for the Lord to come. Luke tells us that Anna had lived in the Temple for several decades, fasting and praying. Since she was married only seven years before her husband died, she likely began her solitude when she was in her 20s, the age at which many young women join convents.

We know less about Simeon, but Luke tells us he a just and God-fearing man, who was awaiting the consolation of Israel. Whereas Anna lived in the Temple night and day, Simeon came and went, for the Gospel says that he came into the Temple prompted by the Holy Spirit. Thus we even have the beginnings of the cloister of nuns and semi-cloister of canons. These two souls prefigure religious life, a life of prayer and sacrifice, a radical response to the God who saves us.

Religious life has a primacy in our religion. If God has truly come among us, there must be a proper response to him; if he lives in our churches, there ought to be someone who lives there with him, honoring and glorifying him. Simeon and Anna lived in the Temple when it was merely the ark of the covenant and the cloud hovering over it, but we have God himself with us, the Son of God who becomes present on our altars and stays with us in the Blessed Sacrament, his very person veiled under the appearances of bread and wine. God-with-us, Emmanuel, wishes to have many dwell with him, to love the beauty of not only his house, but his face.

Religious life also gives testimony that our religion is true. Since God has become man and taught us that our end is heaven, it makes sense that there would be some Catholics—better still, many Catholics—who gave witness to these truths by living a life devoid of worldly pursuits and desires. Since there is another life in which we are rewarded for the sacrifices made for Christ in this life, there should be many who gladly offer their earthly lives for heavenly reward. What is the loss of father, mother, brothers, sisters, wife and children if I am promised a hundredfold even in this life, and eternal life over and above? Why do we cling so tightly to earthly goods unless our faith as an earthly Church is weak, exceedingly weak? If Christ the Light is truly as bright and warm as we say He is, the only true light, brightness of the Father, warmth incarnate, why do not more fly to him, like moths to a flame?

Some time ago we Canons read a book at table on John Senior, the great teacher and philosopher who died in 1999. In the 1970s, together with two other professors, he founded the Pearson program at Kansas University, which introduced students to the great writers and poets of human civilization. Although it was not the aim of the program, the nature of it was such that after completing their studies, many alumni entered monastic life, and some of them were the founders of Clear Creek Abbey. Those students had seen that whatever light was contained in such great authors was personified in Christ. And if one sees that, then monastic life is the most complete response one can make, for it is a life dedicated and consecrated to that Light, the true light which enlightens every man who comes into this world.

Senior himself said, “The greatest need in the Church today is the contemplative life of monks and nuns. There is the active life, but Mary chose the better part and everything that Martha does depends on her.” Thus true reform and profound change depend upon the health of religious life: the more there are praying and doing penance for the rest of us, the more meaningful and powerful will be our attempts to revive the Church and human culture. We need Simeon and Anna; we need Mary.

John Senior said that the best agenda for the Church was to “encourage young men and women…to do as Our Lord said, ‘Be perfect’…to put God’s choice first and consider the possibility of a call to the contemplative life.” These words should be a call to examine our consciences: as individuals, as families, as the local church. If the religious life is the life, the center, the foundation of the Church, we should speak about it often; we should encourage those who are free to consider it; and those who are free should open their hearts to consider it, to ask for such a grace.

And if we want the work of priests to be effective, we must believe that it is the prayer of monks and nuns which makes their ministry powerful. When St. Dominic decided to devote himself to converting the Cathar heretics, he first founded a convent in 1206, and it was only nine years later that he founded the Order of Preachers. Most dioceses spend their energies promoting only priestly vocations. But the priest depends upon religious life. He needs Simeons and Annas celebrating the full liturgy in choir, praying for him and his people.

St. Augustine says that today the newborn Christ came to Simeon the old man, to represent the newness of grace coming to visit a world grown old. The power of Christ, the divine breaking into our world, is always new, alive, and vibrant because it is divine power, never growing old. Simeon became a child again through his contact with the divine infant, as St. Paul says, ‘though our outward man is corrupted, yet the inward man is renewed day by day.’

For us to tap into that divine youthfulness, as Simeon did so many ages ago, we can begin by teaching others to wait on the light as he did, even to the point of dedicating their lives entirely to waiting in prayer for Christ’s return to this earth. He says to us, ‘Behold, I am coming soon…let him who is thirsty come, let him who desires take the water of life without price.’ Come, Lord Jesus, come. Come to a world that is dark and cold, shine on us and warm us with Thy rays and usher us into Thy eternal kingdom, the New Jerusalem.