The other day, a small group from my church joined others from our neighborhood in a march on Chicago's north side. As we swarmed the streets, temporarily shutting down traffic, I noticed a woman in a car. Some motorists were exasperated, trying to turn around or just glowering at us. Others were supportive, honking their horns to the rhythm of "Siyahamba" as we sang. But this woman did nothing but sit there, parked in the middle of the procession, and wipe tears from her eyes. With visible emotion, she registered shock at this small but mighty band of the faithful marching with a processional cross at our head, proclaiming that black lives matter.
While the crowd's emotion was jubilant and righteous, I couldn't help but feel sad. Broken. Young as I am, I felt like the world had rooted all the idealism out of me. And in the midst of Advent, with Christmas carols on people's lips and culturally enforced good cheer on every street corner, the disconnect was too much. Buy a television, ignore the pain. The Senate torture report is out, but pay no heed: here's another Facebook post with a cat dressed like Santa. It's two years since the Newtown shootings, and our church is having to have careful discussions about the message we send to the community by posting—or not posting—an ugly but state-mandated sign declaring the church a weapon-free zone, as if the promise that God will beat our swords into plowshares were not enough.
According to Luke's account, Simeon and Anna have had a similarly brutal Advent. They have lived long under Roman oppression. Perhaps he has been forced to carry a burden a mile for a Roman soldier. Maybe she's witnessed the insult of an idol placed near the Temple. Both have certainly watched helplessly as the Herodians, with the full support of Roman authority, round up those who are insufficiently deferential to pack them into jails or worse. Simeon has been told that before he dies, a child will appear before him as the Messiah. Anna is praying for redemption night and day. Both are getting on in years, and perhaps both are wondering if they will go to their graves without seeing the promised one.
