Candlemas: Light in the Night

40 days after the birth of Jesus Christ, the Church celebrates an oft-overlooked holiday that goes by many names. For Protestants, it is the Presentation of Our Lord. Catholics call it the Purification of the Blessed Virgin. For the Orthodox, it is simply Hypapante, “the Meeting.” Yet I confess my own preference for the Anglican name: Candlemas.

We find the story of Candlemas in the second chapter of Luke’s Gospel, concluding that early section of canticles we sometimes call Luke: The Musical. 40 days after childbirth complete Mary’s period of ritual cleansing according to the Law of Moses. She may now travel to the Temple in Jerusalem in order to redeem Jesus as her firstborn Son. This harkens back to the tale of the Exodus, when God claimed the firstborn of Israel as His own, be they man or beast—“the males that first open the womb.”

The number 40 always carries symbolic importance in the Scriptures; ancient peoples knew that it takes roughly 40 weeks for a pregnant woman to come to term. Thus 40 (be it days, weeks, years, or what have you) always represents a period of difficulty and growth, even pain, which nonetheless results in new life and new birth.

When the Holy Family arrives at the Temple, they are met by a pair of prophets, Simeon and Anna. Both are aged. Simeon has received a promise through the Holy Spirit that he will not die before he has laid eyes on the long-awaited Messiah. When he sees the Christchild in Mary’s arms, he holds him aloft and bursts into song:

"Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, / according to thy word; / for mine eyes have seen thy salvation / which thou hast prepared in the presence of all peoples, / a light for revelation to the Gentiles, / and for glory to thy people Israel.” This, of course, is Simeon’s swansong. Now that the prophecy has been fulfilled, he may die at peace.

Christians the world over still sing the Nunc Dimittis, or Song of Simeon, every night at Compline, which is prayer before bed. You’ll likely find it in your parish hymnal.

Simeon then addresses Joseph and Mary directly: “Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, / and for a sign that is spoken against / (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), / that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.” This is all the more significant given that the Spirit of prophecy was held to have departed from Israel in the time between Malachi and John the Baptist.

We see, then, whence the many names of this festival originate. It is indeed the Purification of Mary, the Presentation of Jesus, and the Meeting of the Holy Family with the prophets in the Temple, all rolled into one. “Candlemas,” meanwhile, stems from Simeon’s famous verse: “A Light to reveal You to the nations, and the glory of Your people Israel”—the Light here being, of course, Jesus Christ.

This recalls the much older prophecy of Isaiah concerning the Messiah: “It is too small a thing for you to be my servant to restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back those of Israel I have kept. I will also make you a light for the Gentiles, that you may bring my salvation to the ends of the earth” (Isaiah 49:6). Here in Luke is this Scripture fulfilled.

It is an ancient tradition in the Church that candles be blessed on 2 February, the Candle Mass, for use both in liturgical worship and personal devotion throughout the year. People bring candles from home, which are then lit, blessed, and taken back to our domiciles as we bear the Light of Christ out into the world. It is a lovely tradition in the dark of winter.

I myself once officiated at a candlelight wedding one Candlemas night, with nearly 150 lit tapers strewn throughout the sanctuary. We all look better candlelit, I suppose. Besides being gorgeous, it’s a minor miracle that we didn’t burn the entire place down. Candlemas is often paired with St Brigid’s the night before and St Blaise’ the night after into what we call the Winter Triduum. But theirs is a tale for another day.

Of course, there remains one Candlemas tradition still front and center in the popular imagination, albeit an odd one. An old European folktale purported that on Candlemas wolves and bears would peek out from their dens to see if winter soon would abate. Immigrants to the New World brought this legend with them, though for reasons frankly beyond my ken they transferred their superstition from wolves and bears—which we certainly have in North America—to the humble groundhog.

Thus we have our final name for this holiday, and the one most familiar to contemporary culture: Groundhog Day. It’s funny how history plays out sometimes.

In Jesus. Amen.

-Eminent Grand Prelate Sir Knight Ryan Stout