The Feast Days of Anna and Simeon

Today we celebrate the lives of Simeon and Anna. Yesterday was the feast day that celebrates the presentation of Jesus at the temple 40 days after his birth. Simeon was the priest at the temple that day. God had promised Simeon that he would not die without seeing the Messiah, and at the end of Simeon's life, God fulfills the promise.

When he held Jesus, he said the words that many of us still use as part of our liturgies: "Lord, now you are letting your servant depart in peace, according to your word; 30 for my eyes have seen your salvation that you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to your people Israel."

On this day, we also celebrate Anna the Prophetess, who was also there for the presentation. Like Simeon, she's at the end of her life, and she's spent much of her life in the temple, doing the support work that keeps religious work running smoothly. It's interesting that I assume she did the support work--the text says she spent her days worshiping God and fasting and praying. My brain filled in the rest: that she did the sweeping and the care of the candles/lamps and the feeding of everyone.

We have the song of Simeon; I wonder if Anna sang a song? I wonder what it would be?

I am fairly new to this pair of feast days; in fact, I only realized a few years ago that Anna and Simeon share the same feast day. I love feast days that celebrate humans at the end of life, humans who haven't done anything particularly remarkable--although staying faithful for a lifetime is fairly remarkable.

The churches of my childhood didn't spend much time on the old people in any story. The lectionary readings focus on Jesus and the disciples, who are often presented as men in the youthful prime of their lives.

I'm forever grateful to feminist scholars who have returned to these texts and given them a new spin as they imagined what would happen if we moved women to the center of the narratives--or, if not the center, at least out of the marginal shadows.

I feel a need to do something similar with the stories of the old folks. Elizabeth, Simeon, and Anna are great places to start.

Today, let us remember that God makes us a similar promise to the one that Simeon receives. We need but open our eyes to see the presence of the Divine. And if we're faithful to the best of our abilities, we may find out we've been holding the Divine in our hands all along.

Halfway Point of Winter

We are at the halfway point of winter--halfway between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. Today is Candlemas, where Christians celebrate the presentation of Jesus at the Temple, and pagans long ago celebrated the goddess Brigid (and the feast day of St. Brigid was yesterday), and some Wiccans today will be celebrating at Imbolc, or a variation of any number of pagan holidays. It's also Groundhog's Day. It's one of those times when we can almost perceive the shifting of the seasons. It's not spring yet, but it will be soon.

Candlemas is the feast day that speaks to me. Candlemas celebrates the presentation of Jesus at the temple. It's the last feast holiday that references Christmas. We could see it as the final festival of Christmas, even though most of us have had the decorations packed away since even before Epiphany.

This morning I'm thinking of Simeon, who held onto the promise of the Messiah throughout his very long life before he saw it fulfilled. He waits and he waits and he waits. But finally, at the end of his life, he does hold the Messiah, the light of the world, in his hands.

Simeon holds the baby Jesus. Imagine it: to hold the light of the world in your hands. In so many ways we still do. We carry the light of the world inside us. How can your body deliver light to the world?

Some churches and monasteries will bless the year's supply of candles. I love this tradition, although it's never been mine. Today would be a good day to light a candle and to think about our own lights. Are we dimly burning wicks? Take heart--the Bible promises that we can still be useful. Does our light burn pure and true? Take care to protect that flame.

The holidays of early February (Groundhog Day, Candlemas, St. Brigid's Day, Imbolc and Oimelc ) remind us that the light hasn't really left us. Spring will be here soon.

A Poem for the Feast Day of Saint Brigid

Today is the feast day of St. Brigid, one of the patron saints of Ireland.  She is one of the early Christians, living from roughly 451-525 (AD/CE) who stood at the intersection of Christianity, Druidism, and the other pagan religions of Ireland.  This time period was also a time of societal collapse--the Roman empire was in slow (albeit sometimes spectacular) decline/collapse, and if I'm remembering my history correctly, Ireland and England were attacked by various tribes from the northern parts of Europe.  It would have been a difficult time.

Brigid is one of those extraordinary women who did amazing things, despite the patriarchal culture in which she lived.  She founded founded some of the first Christian monasteries in Ireland, most famously the legendary one in Kildare.  She also founded a school of art that focuses on metal working and illumination.  The illustrated manuscript, the Book of Kildare, was created under her auspices.  Unfortunately, it's been lost since the Reformation, so we know it by its reputation only.

Monastic, administrator, artist--it's no wonder that her story calls to me from across the centuries.

I didn't really know much about Brigid until about 2011 or 2012, when I read several blog posts about her.  In 2013, I drove all the way to Mepkin Abbey on her feast day.  I thought about her life as I drove across cold landscapes.  I finally wrote a draft of the poem that appears below.

Years ago, I wrote this:  "I will try to imagine Saint Brigid through a more realistic lens.  I will write a poem where she tells me that she accomplished all sorts of things along the way, while all the time struggling to create her great illuminated work.  I will imagine something that she did that we know nothing of.  I will imagine that she will feel sad when she realizes that modern people don't even know of her great work, but instead of her institutions at Kildare and beyond.

I will think about a woman at midlife 1500 years from now, a woman who reads about my life.  What will amaze her?  How will she see the ways that I did, indeed, live an authentic life, even as I lost sight of that fact in the daily minutiae?  If she blogged about me, what would seem important enough to include?  How would she finish this sentence:  In the last half of her life, Berkey-Abbott accomplished ______________  ?"

I have yet to write about Brigid's lost work, but I did write the poem that imagines Brigid through a more realistic lens.  It was published in Adanna, and I'm happy to repost it here.  If you want additional background on Brigid, see this blog post.


The True Miracle of Saint Brigid


You know about the baskets
of butter, the buckets of beer,
the milk that flowed
to fill a lake.

You don’t know about the weeks
we prayed for the miracle
of multiplication but instead received
the discipline of division.

I managed the finances to keep us all fed.
By day, I rationed the food.
At night, I dreamed of a sculpture
manufactured of metal.

I didn’t have the metal
or the time, but in the minutes
had, I illuminated
any scrap of paper I could find.

Lost to the ashes:
The Book of Kildare, but also
my budget ledgers, flowers
and birds drawn around the numbers.

Making Valentines as Support for Social Justice

Over on Facebook, I've been watching an event take shape, something that we can do to support people showing up to demand social justice in Minneapolis:  make Valentines!

On the face of it, it may seem pointless.  Surely we should send money.  Or perhaps our troubled time demands more:  going to Minneapolis to be part of the protests.

But for all sorts of reasons, many of us can't do that.  But we can make Valentines.  

Here are the details:

Love Casts Out Fear

Pocket Valentines for Our Neighbors

This Valentine’s season, we’re reclaiming love as an act of courage.

Saint Valentine is often remembered for hearts and romance—but at the heart of his story is something deeper. Valentine was a Christian martyr, a witness to love that refused fear, even when it cost him his life.

In that same spirit, we’re inviting people of all ages and all beliefs to create small, simple Valentines that will be shared with immigrants, protestors, and neighbors in the Minneapolis area as a reminder:

 Love casts out fear.
 Love overcomes hate.
 You are not alone.

Bethlehem Lutheran Church and Nokomis Heights Lutheran Church both in Minneapolis have generously agreed to serve as a collection points for these Valentines. Nokomis Heights is a bilingual congregation and you are welcome to send message in English and Spanish.

You do not have to be Christian to participate.
You do not have to quote the Bible.
You just have to believe that love still matters.

⸻

 What to Make

Please keep Valentines:
• Small (index-card size or smaller)
• Lightweight
• Easy to pass out
• Easy to slip into a pocket, coat, or backpack

Think simple, durable, and human.

Great ideas:
• Cardstock or heavy paper
• Handwritten notes
• Simple drawings or hearts
• Short messages of love, courage, dignity, and belonging in English or Spanish

Please avoid:
• Glitter, bulky items, or anything fragile
• Candy or food
• Political party slogans

The goal is connection—not clutter.

⸻

 What to Write (Kid-Friendly & Open to All)

These Valentines may be received in moments of stress or uncertainty. Keep messages short, gentle, and easy to read—something that feels like a hand on the shoulder, not a lecture.

Simple messages like:
• “You are loved.”
• “You belong.”
• “Love is stronger than fear.”
• “You are not alone.”
• “We’re glad you’re here.”
• “You matter.”

These are perfect for kids, classrooms, families, and groups.

⸻

 Optional Bible Verses About Love & Neighbor

If you’d like to include Scripture, short verses or paraphrases are welcome. Please keep them brief and compassionate.

Great options:
• “Love casts out fear.” — 1 John 4:18
• “God is love.” — 1 John 4:8
• “Love your neighbor as yourself.” — Mark 12:31
• “Let all that you do be done in love.” — 1 Corinthians 16:14
• “Nothing can separate us from love.” — Romans 8:38–39 (paraphrase encouraged)
• “Do justice. Love kindness.” — Micah 6:8 (excerpt)

Paraphrasing Scripture into everyday language is encouraged—especially for kids.
⸻

 Send to:

Love Cast Out Hate
C/O Bethlehem Lutheran Church
4100 Lyndale Ave S
Minneapolis, MN 55409

OR

Nokomis Heights Lutheran Church
5300 10th Ave S
Minneapolis, MN 55417
⸻
Love that can fit in a pocket can still change someone’s day.
⸻

 Why This Matters

In a time when fear is loud and cruelty is normalized, small acts of love become radical. These Valentines won’t fix everything—but they will remind someone that love still shows up, still walks the streets, still believes people are worth protecting.

Sometimes resistance looks like a protest.
Sometimes it looks like a pocket-sized heart.

⸻

 How You Can Help
• Make a few Valentines
• Invite friends, kids, classrooms, or congregations to join
• Share this event widely
• Hold the recipients in love and prayer

Love is not naïve.
Love is brave.
Love still shows up.

New Bishops, New Weather Reports

 Once again, I am looking at weather reports.  But I'm also looking at pictures of the installation service (right term?) for Sarah Mullally, the new Archbishop of Canterbury, the head of the Anglican church worldwide.  These pictures were posted widely on Facebook, so I'm hoping it's O.K. to post them here.  

Posted at the St. Paul's Cathedral Facebook Site

In this context, I mean Anglican as in the Church of England, not the group that broke away because the Church of England is too radical.  Ordaining women would be seen as evidence of that radicalism, not to mention choosing a woman to lead the whole church.

Posted at the St. Paul's Cathedral Facebook site

I'm struck by how young she is in terms of her career as a pastor.  She had a career as a cancer nurse before her ordination in 2002; she was in her first bishop position in 2015.  She was born in 1962, so some folks (me) might see her as young, while others might sigh and wish for even younger leadership.

Posted on the Canterbury Cathedral Facebook page

The above picture first grabbed my attention.  What must it be like to be the stonecarver, engraving her name into the wall?  Does one have to work up to that position?

And what must it be like to be the one to see their name on the wall?

It's a tough time to come to leadership, but one thing my Church History class taught me is that it's always a tough time to be a bishop or an Archbishop or even a pastor.  I'm hoping for easy weather for her, for all of us.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

  The readings for Sunday, February 1, 2026:

First Reading: Micah 6:1-8

Psalm: Psalm 15

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 1:18-31

Gospel: Matthew 5:1-12

Here we are again, at one of the touchstones of our faith, the Sermon on the Mount (alternately called The Beatitudes). Those of us who have been going to church for many years have likely heard it so often that we zone out at the reading of it. We might say to ourselves, "Yeah, yeah, blessed, blessed, got it."

Now is a good time to revisit this text. Now is a good time to use that old technique from the ancient practice of lectio divina: sit with this text, reading it several times, and take note of what jumps out at you. That might be God talking to you through the text.

You could also use a similar technique from literary analysis. In my literature classes, I often ask, "Which character speaks to you?" Here I would ask, which verse speaks to you?

Are you that person who mourns? Are you hungering for righteousness? Are you making peace?

Maybe you have a darker glimmer:  maybe you've forgotten to notice your hunger for righteousness.  Maybe you need to do more to make peace.  Maybe it's time to repent, in the way that John the Baptist calls people to repent, to turn away from our ways to the ways of God. 

The text reminds us of how to act when we're turning to the ways of God.  We are to treat ourselves and others with mercy, with compassion, with comfort. The text reminds us that just because we follow Jesus, our path will not be easy. On the contrary, we will likely face persecution. But Jesus doesn't let us off the hook. This text tells us how we are to act and what we are to value.

Again and again, Jesus reminds us that God's way is not the world's way. Read this text one night as you watch T.V. and marvel at the difference in values. The world worships wealth and power. The world worships beauty and power. The world worships those who boss the rest of us around. The world worships those who ship our jobs away, those who buy low and sell high, those who ignore the rules and succeed.  The world exalts those who trample on others to get what they want.

Our Gospel this week reminds us of God's rules, the way that we succeed in God's eyes. Our Gospel this week gives us God's promise that we will be comforted, that even though we may be meek in the eyes of the world, we will be filled with good things.

Snow Days and School Days and Anxiety

This morning, I'm feeling oddly anxious.  I have much less reason to feel anxious this week than last.  The ice storm wasn't as bad as we feared it might be.  I had been worried that the seminary class that I'm taking starts Thursday, and I haven't gotten a Zoom link or seen a course shell uploaded in Canvas--this morning, it's there.  We have power, internet, and water, and I have another remote learning day today, so I don't have to worry about the roads.  My spouse had jury duty today--also cancelled.

So why the anxiety?

I've been trying to get to the bottom of my anxiety, trying to understand.  I'm sure part of my anxiety stems from my schedule ramping back up again--so, even though this week includes some extra time at home, most weeks won't be like this.  I've also been feeling anxiety about taking another seminary class with worries about all that could go wrong trying to take root in my brain.  What if the Zoom link doesn't work?  What if the class requires too much of me?  What if this class is the one that breaks me?

I do have to laugh at myself.  I've been taking online classes for 5 years, and I've never run into problems I couldn't solve.  I explored the course shell, and the assignments look manageable.  I have the textbooks.  And then there's the larger situation:  I'm not a 25 year old, just starting out on my life's journey.  I have a full-time job that doesn't depend on this seminary class.

My anxiety might also be sadness masquerading as anxiety.  Why am I sad?  Well, I've enjoyed these snow days, even as I felt anxious about all the ice that might fall.  I'm sad to see this snow vacation come to an end, sad even as I have at least one more day to enjoy.

Let me make a list of some moments that I don't want to slip away:

--I've enjoyed the cooking we've done,  from the seafood stew on Saturday to last night's homemade pizza made in cast iron pans.  I've baked bread, both an oatmeal bread on Saturday and a pumpkin bread this morning.

--We watched Sinners on Saturday--what an amazing movie!  If it hadn't gotten so much Oscar buzz, I might have skipped it, thinking it would be too gory a horror movie.  Thankfully, the gory parts weren't too gross, and the horror bits weren't haunting.

--I've done a lot of sewing and sorting of fabric.  I decided that I was ready for a change from the Christmas fabrics that I had been using, so yesterday I made the shift back to the same type of project, sewing log cabin patchwork out of scraps, but using a wider variety of fabrics.

--Yesterday I took an unintended nap.  I had laid down in the late morning to watch the glitter snow that developed in the morning but was only visible when seen through sunshine.  The trees gleamed through their ice glaze.  Next thing I knew, I was waking up from a deep kind of nap.