An intriguing figure in today’s gospel (Luke 2:22-40) is Anna the prophetess. Scripture scholar Barbara Reid believes that she, Mary and Elizabeth continue the long line of Israel’s powerful prophets. After her, women speak in pain or are corrected or disbelieved. But she, overhearing Simeon tell a bewildered young mother she’d be pierced by a sword, redirects the conversation back to where it belongs: to thanking God.
Luke has the key characters in this little drama enter off stage, not the razzle-dazzle of the main altar or the chief priest, but a side aisle. Artfully he transposes from vastness into human scale. The tableau that really matters is composed of two couples, one old, one younger, centered on an infant. In her quiet way, Anna becomes the threshold to the next quiet chapter of Jesus’ life, when “he grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.” (Lk. 2:40) Anna signals the spectacular power that coiled beneath the apparently unimpressive surface. Had she spoken in twenty-first-century jargon, she might’ve winked conspiratorially and said, “Stay tuned…”
On 12/28/14, Pope Francis linked Anna and Simeon to grandparents. grandparents know how precious children are. Call them dotty, but they’ve been sidelined to the really important work: cradling. Soothing. Rocking. Humming. Inventing songs and games. It’s a “hidden way” of life; its immense fulfillment not publicized. What gives it depth and resonance is the echo back to that temple in Jerusalem where two old people waited.
Anna is the patron saint of those whose language speaks through care, the grandparents who sing off-key lullabyes, hunched over a precious lump in crib or arms, the backstage crew, the meticulous researchers who painstakingly prepare the way for the breakthrough discovery, but receive no credit themselves. She also could model for those who wait—sometimes interminably long—but don’t lose hope.
Kathy Coffey 