Presentation Sunday, Year C | Luke 2:22-40
St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church
February 6, 2022
the Rev. Jonathan Hanneman
To watch the full service, please visit this page.
Shannon and I have wanted another dog for quite some time. Back in Seattle, our building allowed only two pets, so adding a third wasn’t an option. But that didn’t necessarily keep us from looking. Over the past few years you could have occasionally found one of us scanning the doggie personals on the local shelter sites. We’d talk and laugh and imagine, but with the building limit—and our bigger dog Neela’s fear-reaction/aggression—we knew it was never going to happen.
But once we moved to Las Cruces last fall, we realized that adding another pack member might be an option. Living space and condo regulations are no longer an issue: we have our own house and a big, fenced backyard. Neela’s anxiety remains a concern, so we weren’t looking too seriously. However, a few months ago we both noticed a dog named Ariel on the website for the Animal Services Center of the Mesilla Valley.[1] Shannon and I have a soft spot for pitbull-looking dogs, and Ariel’s expressive eyes and brindle face immediately caught both our attention. We kept going back to her picture and seriously discussed adopting her over Christmas. However, we never quite got around to it and decided we might start looking for real once Shannon’s school year ended.
Then came last Saturday.
We were wandering the Farmers’ Market when we stumbled upon the shelter’s booth at the north end of the street. A familiar face and color caught my eye as we approached. I asked Shannon, “Is that who I think it is?” And it was—Ariel, who we knew solely from her one online photo, was there in person. It was really her! We, of course, had to meet our little private celebrity. While I got to know the dog, Shannon struck up a conversation with her handler and gathered as much information as she could. We circled back a few times to observe Ariel’s behavior and reintroduce our scents. Later that day, despite my brain constantly telling me it was a bad idea, I called the shelter and set up a time for all the dogs to meet.
We were excited about Ariel but knew to keep our expectations low. We both figured it would take about 30 seconds to prove she and Neela simply wouldn’t work—Neela wasn’t going to work with any other dog. But the introduction went remarkably well: the worst we had was a single low growl. Once inside the greeting area, all three dogs pretty much ignored each other, which was an unexpected and surprisingly good response. The shelter, of course, wanted us to take Ariel home right then, but I asked for a few more opportunities for the two bigger dogs to become more familiar with one other. Our subsequent get-together went equally well, so late Friday afternoon, we brought Ariel home.
Introducing a new animal to established pack territory is always a challenge, even without a reactive dog, so we’re taking the transition slowly. Ariel’s currently set up in one of our empty bedrooms until we can establish her as a genuine part of the pack. Right now, everyone is getting familiar with each other’s scents, but she and Neela only interact by walking around our neighborhood a short distance from one another. Once they’re able to walk together comfortably, we’ll move on to more opportunities for everyone to see each other without directly interacting. Eventually the plan is to continue building layers of trust by sharing space in the yard and helping everyone become comfortable eating in the same room. This kind of introduction is a whole new world for us, and we know it’s going to take time, patience, and some luck before everything works out.
Today we’re celebrating the Feast of the Presentation, when Mary and Joseph brought the 40-day-old Jesus to the Temple in Jerusalem for his dedication to the Lord. Mystical birth announcements and angel choirs aside, sleepless nights and the constant responsibilities of rearing an infant would have been wearing on them. How long exactly would it take before God would give this only begotten son the throne of David? Mired in the struggles of real life, the dream of deliverance may have no longer felt worth the effort. So God sends them a little boost of encouragement.
Even though his song features in both our Morning and Evening Prayer services, I’ve never paid a whole lot of attention to Simeon. But after spending time with him this week, I’m really starting to like him. He’s that rare personality that both reaffirms your dreams and keeps you grounded in reality. He sees this baby being carried through the Temple complex, and something just clicks for him: this is the hope he’s been waiting for. Not some grand figure sweeping across the courtyard or a warrior with enough skill and charisma to kick the Romans out of Israel—just a baby, one of dozens likely being presented on the same day. After shocking Mary and Joseph with his outburst of praise, he gets all quiet and serious. He sees both sides of the present and both sides of the future, and he doesn’t shy away from the reality. Tending this new life can be joyful but requires a substantial amount of work. The challenges are real, and sometimes life is overwhelming. The promises and hopes of a new world always involve pain and loss on the way there, even when God is on your side.
Dreams and reality rarely match up. And for some reason, the challenges that accompany our expectations never seem quite as real as our hopes until we actually face them. It doesn’t matter if you’re delivering Israel from occupation or raising a child or reopening a congregation in the (hopefully) late stages of a pandemic or even just trying to integrate a new dog into the pack, the setbacks are going to be real. Sometimes it’s going to seem like they’re the only reality, that the pain and struggle are too much, that the hope you’re working toward isn’t worth the effort along the way. But even when it’s overwhelmed by the challenges of the moment, the joy is real, too. The hope, the excitement, the dream—they hold just as much substance as the difficulties that grow alongside them.
Adding a third dog to our pack is something Shannon and I have thought about and even longed for for years. We both suspected Ariel was our dog simply from seeing her photo, but meeting her in person confirmed that feeling in a way neither of us expected—it just clicked. Now we’re dreaming of the day the whole pack can play together, when Neela and Ariel will be able to chase and wrestle and thoroughly wear each other out. This beginning time is exciting and fun, but the reality of our new dog isn’t yet the dream we’d like it to be. We have a long way to go before everyone can spend time together safely, and it’s going to be a lot of work to get there.
Reaching any goal takes time. Building God’s kingdom takes time. And it’s certain to include setbacks and failure along the way. Shannon and I already love Ariel; we’re committed to her safety and wellbeing. But we also recognize that despite all the work we’ll be putting in, in the long run, she and Neela may never really work together. But that’s a risk we’re willing to take, because in our minds we can see the benefits and joys of success. The same holds true for us as a congregation. We’re going to be trying a lot of new things in the coming months and years as we reboot from COVID. Some may work, and a lot won’t. But the important thing will be to accept the failures as steps on the road to success, to recognize both the good and the bad as they come. Reality is rarely the dream we’d like it to be, but through faithfulness, hard work, and God’s help, together, we can build a better one.
[1] http://www.ascmv.org