Simeon's Story (the extended version)

This story originally appeared in one of my multi-sensory books. Since then, it has grown a little bit, given extra colour by my visit to Jerusalem.

I've waited.for many many years,. Waiting is hard.
Waiting for something when you don't even know when its coming is even harder. And waiting for a promise that some people think is ridiculous; when people stare at you strangely or laugh in your face, is the hardest thing of all. Yet still I wait, and hold onto the promise that I was given.

It all began such a long time ago. My name is Simeon, and one night, when I was young, something incredible happened, somehow, in a way I cannot really explain, God touched me. It was like suddenly having the lights switched on in your life, after an eternity of groping around in the darkness. It was like the coming of the dawn. It was like suddenly falling in love. And that night God gave me a promise.

The promise was that I would not die before I saw the Messiah, the Christ himself, in the flesh. Which meant, of course, that it must be soon. That our liberation was coming soon. Each morning after that I awoke and sprang out of bed full of excitement, wondering if this was the day;

But since then it has been hard. I soon gave up springing out of bed, as each evening came, filled with disappointment and impatience. Now I have lived a whole lifetime longing to see the promise come true. All my friends have gone, and I am alone in my waiting. When I climb up the many stairs to the temple, with my knees shouting and complaining, I scan every face, to look for the One I long to see, but somehow I sense I will probably know where to look before I even turn my head.

And so we come to this morning. Today I have an inexplicable longing to visit the temple. And I do wonder if today really is the day, I am getting so old now that soon I won't be able to make it up the stairs at all. They will have to carry me there!

I arrive at the temple. Vast, colonnades and open space, columns and columns and far too many stairs. And in the fresh morning air and dappled sunshine there are many families queueing for the sacrifices. Lots of young boys being dedicated to God . But then as I glance at a couple standing at the front of the line with a young baby, something happens to me. I cannot stop staring at them, and I feel almost as if, at that moment, time has stopped. The rest of the world almost doesn't exist. I quickly move over to them, with more of a hobble than a run, and I ask if I can hold the child in my arms. His mother is so young, but she smiles at me proudly and gives me her baby. I pull the blankets away from his face and stare down. And I know. Deep down, in the core of my being. I know that this IS the Christ, and my wait is over.

I hold the child, and he gurgles and dribbles on my clothes helplessly. Yet in that gesture I sense some incredible mystery. Something like the power of God is in him, but he is helpless because he chooses to be. I lift him high into the air, throw back my head and laugh, and in my laughter a prayer comes out.

"Now you can let me, your servant, go home in peace,
Just like you promised me so long ago.
For my very own eyes have seen your marvellous scheme.
Salvation itself,
Held in the tiny fingers of a baby's hand.
The plans you have made in public
For the whole world to see.
A light that will shine
Before the strangers in far off lands.
And give fame and honour to your precious people Israel."

I see his mother's eyes grow wide with wonder and her husband smile proudly and hold her close. And, as I give the baby back, I turn and bless them, but warn the mother that she has heartbreak ahead. For that child will strip away the secrecy from many people's hearts and they will not like being exposed. They will cut him to the heart with a lance and as they cut his flesh his mothers heart will bleed as well. Yet this is many years away, and the boy must growup first. I offer the sacrifice for him , to buy him back from God, two small birds, and yet as they are offered I have this strange sense that I am not buying him back at all. He is buying me back, or will do so before so long.

Finally I say my goodbyes and I watch them walk away until they are small dots down at the bottom of the staircase, and as they disappear and merge with the crowds below, I know that I can finally rest. The Christ has come. The Christ has disappeared into the crowd, but he has come to live with us and now I can let go, knowing the promise has come true, and soon all the other promises will soon come true as well.