I am old and ready to die. To be truthful, I have been ready to die for years, but right now, I feel ready as I have never been before. You see, earlier today, in the temple in Jerusalem, I met a young couple who had come with their young son for the ritual of purification, and I knew when I saw them that a promise that God had made to me had been fulfilled. Now I am ready to die.

I suppose I should explain. Perhaps you know me; perhaps you don't. My name is Simeon. I am a rabbi, a member of the Sanhedrin, one of the seventy men charged with the oversight of Jewish faith throughout the world. We are responsible for the purity of our religion. We are the ones to whom the people look for guidance concerning true and false teachers; we are the ones ordained by God to keep the faith in the face of a hostile and unbelieving world. It is a grave task, but one which every one of us is pleased and honored to undertake.

Although there are some differences in theology among us, all Jews share one thing in common: a hope for a deliverer ... the Messiah. Every member of the Sanhedrin, every Jewish man and woman in Jerusalem, everyone who fears God anywhere in the world is looking for the coming of the one whom the holy one will use to unite God's people under one banner. But so saying, we have differences among ourselves about the Messiah.

There are some who are looking for a military leader, one who will break the rod of our oppressors. To be sure, we have been oppressed. To be clear about it, we have had many in the past on whom we looked as Messiah. The name simply means "anointed one," and the kings of our history fell into that category — they were anointed when they ascended the throne. The greatest of all of them was our father, David. It was he who united us as a nation to stand against our ancient enemies and led us to victory after victory in battles against them. Ever since David, we have looked for others who could do what he did.

As time went along, we were blessed with other good and successful kings, although none quite measured up in comparison to David. Our dream never came true.

Most assuredly, there are some — the Zealots — who still hold on to that dream in spite of the fact that no one has sat on David's throne for centuries. They say that a leader will one day rise up, overthrow all the foreign powers within our borders, and be a new David. They say it is just a matter of time.

But there are some of us who have come to the conclusion that God's plan for his people no longer involves military might and conquest. We have begun to look for a different kind of Messiah, one who will deliver us, not just in this life, but through all the ages of eternity. Some of my brethren might be disappointed at such a Messiah — they would rather have a commander of armies. But I am becoming more and more convinced that this will not be the case.

Actually, I should say I have become convinced and that is why this day has been so special to me. I have met that new Messiah, and indeed I have held him in my arms.

I had come into the temple courts to pray. As I walked through the court of women on my way into the court of Israel, my eye was struck by a couple, a young woman and man, evidently her husband, walking together. A child, an infant really, was in the mother's arms. Something impelled me to walk over to them, I'm not sure what, but I did. They told me that they were from Nazareth in Galilee but they had come down to Jerusalem for the ritual purification as required by the Torah. I smiled at the baby, a most handsome child — jet black hair, deep brown eyes. All babies are beautiful. As I stood there admiring him, his parents went on to tell me that they had named him Jesus, a not uncommon name in our day. The name means "salvation" and many a proud parent had chosen the name for their firstborn in hopes that he might be the one chosen to deliver the nation. But as I stood there listening to them, a voice inside of me said, "This is he."

With my eyes and hands, I let the mother know that I would like to take the child in my arms. She smiled at me and handed him to me. I looked down into those brown eyes and felt his little arms as they waved back and forth. Suddenly, I remembered why I had come to the temple in the first place ... to pray. And I felt like praying ... right there. I lifted up my eyes to heaven and prayed the most joyful prayer I ever had. "Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel" (Luke 2:29-30). And then I stood there for a moment, my eyes still fixed on heaven. It was as if I as a bond-slave had just been told by my owner that I was to be a free man from henceforth. I was ready to be freed. Indeed, I was ready to die and meet my God face-to-face.

Then I looked back down toward the child and finally to his parents. They were staring at me, not knowing quite what to make of what I had said. I smiled gently at them. I wanted to let them know that I was not just some senile old man with no idea of what he was saying. I tried to reassure them with a blessing upon them and their son. Then I handed the baby back to his mother.

As she took him from me, I felt compelled to say something further. I would have loved to have let my conversation end with the blessing, but that strange something inside me led me to share my feelings. There was joy, to be sure, but mixed with a sense of disquiet. I looked at the young woman and said, "This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel" (Luke 2:34b). Even though God had not specifically revealed it to me, I knew that this child would be a different kind of Messiah than many were expecting. He would lead gently, not with any army; he would teach rather than demand; he would heal rather than destroy. There would be many of our countrymen who would not be able to abide that. Though his aim might be to bring peace, he would actually bring a sword. I knew, too, that that young mother would someday be hurt more deeply than anyone can imagine ... not by her son, but by what others would do to her son. Please understand me: I am not making myself out to be a soothsayer or a fortuneteller; I could not possibly know the details of this young family's future life. But somehow, I know that their path will not be strewn with roses. I felt led to warn them.

I am not sure if they understood, because right at that moment, the prophetess Anna came up to us, the same Anna who has been living and worshiping in the temple for lo these many years since the death of her husband. Suddenly, she, too, began saying the same things I had about this child being the salvation of Israel. If the boy's parents had had any doubts about the truth of what I had said before, Anna most certainly removed them. As the Torah says, two witnesses are needed to confirm a report, and now two witnesses had spoken.

Within a moment, the young family had made its way out of the temple precincts and I was left alone again to gather my thoughts. They surely did need gathering. I had wanted to say more to them, but it's probably just as well that there was no opportunity — I don't know what I would have said. So I made my way into the inner court and began my prayers ... prayers of thanksgiving like none had ever been given before.

I am ready to die. I have lived a long and full life. I am most certainly at peace with my God. How could I be otherwise when he has honored me the way he has? I am ready.