The Feast of the Presentation (Fr. Guiliano)

We celebrate today our patronal festival and mark our dedication as a church, so I should probably say, “Happy Birthday, Emmanuel!” Other churches are dedicated to particular saints like John or Paul, and they take on the characteristics of that person at times through their focus on them. Here at Emmanuel, we are simply dedicated to Jesus, and so we mark the consecration of this church by that feast when he himself was dedicated to his Father and presented in the Temple.

I’d like you to cast your mind back over the decades and imagine this parish in years past. It has been here for a long time by local standards. 

It’s possible to get on the City of Champaign’s website, and look up the early color maps of the city. The earliest is from 1887. The distinctive shape of downtown Champaign is recognizable, with the railroad cutting through South by Southwest. Near the rails you can find lumberyards, grain mills, animal feed and supply, along with some passenger facilities. Further out, there are municipal buildings, transportation buildings like Coffin & Gardiner’s stables, and the usual combination of general stores, dining rooms, and places to buy liquor. Everything the body needs could be found within a few blocks – well, almost everything. 

There were also churches. And on the West Side of the city, at the corner of University and State Streets, was Emmanuel. By 1887, it had occupied this site already for five years. There were Episcopalians in the area even earlier, and itinerant Episcopal missionaries passing through by rail and horseback to preach the Word of God and celebrate the Sacraments. But from 1882, a handsome wooden church was built here, and the following year it was consecrated by Bishop George Seymour of Springfield, in the presence of Emmanuel’s Missionary Priest Walter Moore, the Wardens and Congregation, and various City Officials. Some 35 years later, a stone building would be erected and similarly consecrated, to house a larger congregation and to replace that wooden church partially destroyed by fire. It, too, was consecrated for “the worship and service of Almighty God.” And so it has been ever since. 

To echo our first hymn, this “the Lord’s own temple,” consecrated for his use. Here “faithful prayer has sounded” for decades, for over a century. Here men and women have seen and known Jesus “the child of grace,” the hope of the nations. 

People have come to Champaign for many reasons since its founding: for commerce and industry, for study -- or just to have a good night out. We’ve always like our entertainment. But this has also been a place where God is known and proclaimed. Missionaries spread the message, faithful people built up the life of the church, and so the Lord has been present in his Body. 

We rejoice in these truths today. We gratefully acknowledge the inheritance we have among the saints. It is a spiritual heritage, shared with every person who has come to know the Light of the World in Jesus Christ. It is a way of life, a tradition of worship and service, known in the Episcopal Church.

It is also a physical and tangible inheritance – our forebears’ faith, and their hope, and their love made manifest in brick and mortar, in stone flooring, in wooden handiwork and stained glass, in keyboard and organ pipes, in cloths and silks of the altar, in the crosses, chalices, and patens that bear to us our Lord’s presence, in pew and pulpit dedicated to his service, in the rood screen that proclaims to us each day we see it, “Behold, the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world.” 

We have set these things aside for God’s glory. In doing so, we share in the pattern of consecration and dedication that our Lord Jesus experienced himself when his parents brought him into the Temple in Jerusalem, where they offered to God the sacrifice of the poor, “a pair of turtle doves.” This child was the Lord God, the Almighty, come in person to his own Temple. Yet even he was consecrated for a life of service like the firstborn sons of many generations of Israelites.

Simeon, the priest and prophet, took him in his arms, acknowledged him as the light of the world, the Lord’s Messiah, and also proclaimed his great and holy calling. “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed ….”

Christ’s destiny, his person, his mission to save would reveal the thoughts of many. He stood like a banner to which some would rally and some would be opposed. His life and teaching were like a mirror, revealing to his hearers the state of their souls. And he was consecrated, like the cornerstone of a building. Like a stone, some would stumble over him, some would fall, while others would rise, being built upon his strong foundation. 

In his work and life, Christ was the Lord “come suddenly” to his people. He was “the messenger of the covenant” foretold by Malachi. He drew near for judgment; he drew near for purification.
 
“He is like a refiner's fire and like fullers’ soap,” says the prophet.

He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the descendants of Levi and refine them like gold and silver, until they present offerings to the Lord in righteousness. Then the offering … will be pleasing to the Lord as in the days of old and as in former years.

In the ancient world, the smelter would heat an alloy to blazing hot temperatures, 960 to 1000 degrees, that the noble metal might separate from its baser cousins. Lead, copper, and zinc might become slag, while the silver settled in the middle of the container – a precious and beautiful offering.

And we are told that the Lord Jesus is such a fire. He is kindling a flame. He is purifying the offering of our lives, until we present ourselves in righteousness. 

There is dross in every life and in every society. The Word of God comes to burn it out. I am sure we have a sense of it from our readings, which speak of how the Lord is “against the sorcerers [and] the adulterers” –

against those who swear falsely, against those who oppress the hired workers in their wages, the widow, and the orphan, against those who thrust aside the alien, and do not fear me…

God shows his fiery visage to us. He reveals himself as the defender of the poor and the vulnerable, as the upholder of family life, as one who rejoices only in the truth, as one who bears no manipulation, as one who has no tolerance for violence against the foreigner, the immigrant. 

God help us if we forget that! To continue with a theme important to focus on in the present moment: All are made in God’s image, the Scripture says. To attack a fellow human being is to attack that image of God (Genesis 9:5-6), whether they are native or foreign. These are not enemies; most of them are fellow Christians. They are, as St Paul puts it, “the temple of God…if anyone destroys God’s temple, God shall destroy him” (1 Cor 3:16-17). 

Fiery words! I’m sure they have been repeated here many times, perhaps as many times as this Feast of the Presentation has been celebrated here in Champaign, that is, 126 years in which the voice of the prophet Malachi has resounded, and the Lord’s coming to his Temple has been celebrated, and he has been acclaimed as Light and Fire, as Judge and Maker, as “a refiner and purifier of silver.” He has come to us in mercy and judgment, lo, these many years.

Hear me well, and remind yourself of the mercy of God. Part of that refining, that cleansing, that purification, was the offering the Son of God made in his own flesh. His Word judges us, his standard makes us aware of how often we oppose him, but he accomplishes the mystery of salvation so sweetly as well, so gently and mercifully, receiving in his own person the pains of the cross on which he made atonement for all our sins. There is grace and help offered to us – not simply a harsh voice. The Lord comes to persuade and turn us. We may respond to him. He says, “return to me” and we may say, “How shall we return?” We will find him then, not as a fire only, a voice of judgment, but as that kind Savior who gave himself for our sake long before we ever had a thought of giving ourselves to him.

So come to him. He calls you. He sees you, “broken, waiting, lost, or hopeless.” He bears your wounds; he makes you whole. Come. 

Come and be washed in baptism. Come to the altar and receive him who gives himself in bread and wine. Come and see his light, hear his beauty, know his grace. Come and be dedicated anew to him. He purifies you, not to your harm, but that you may shine with his glory, that you may bear his light to the world. “Dare to grasp the hope Christ offers; take new courage for your fight.”

Come and join the generations who have been dedicated here in this parish, who have helped make this city. Come and by God’s grace, shape its future.