A number of years ago, a book came out that made a big splash among counselors, psychologists, and priests alike. It was called *Quiet* by Susan Cain—a psychological and sociological study that highlighted the value of introverts in a predominantly extroverted society.
For so many years, she argued, it had been difficult—almost impossible—for quiet people to thrive in a loud world. Introverts often struggled to see themselves as valuable in a society that prized extroverts: the action-takers, the doers who get things done. As a result, many introverts learned to survive by pretending to be extroverts, even though they were quiet by nature.
Her central argument, which sparked an important movement in our society, was that we need introverts. We need quiet people to teach us valuable lessons. I thought of this book when I read the Gospel for the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord.
Simeon and Anna, the two individuals who encounter the Holy Family on that momentous day, belonged to a group among the Jewish people known as the “quiet ones.” Many Jews were awaiting the Messiah, but they had different ideas about what that meant. For some, waiting involved action: seeking a leader, an over-thrower, a figure who would liberate them from bondage and restore their former glory.
But this wasn’t the vision of the quiet ones. They believed that activity wasn’t what was needed when awaiting the Messiah. Instead, they embraced a quiet, humble way of life rooted in prayer and faithfulness to God’s law. You could call them the contemplatives of their time.
They held that prayer was more powerful than action, and humility more important than strength of character or pride. It is these two—Simeon and Anna—who are presented to us as the ones able to recognize the Messiah when He arrived.
That’s because they sought Him not in the powerful expressions of the world, but in the humble, quiet ways to which they were accustomed. Where did they find Him? In a humble, poor family, as a child brought to the temple to be dedicated to the Lord.
Simeon offers a prophecy, an exaltation, and beautiful encouragement to Mary and Joseph because, in this quiet, silent, humble child, he sees what most cannot. Then Anna, the prophetess—a widow considered of little value in her society—recognizes the Messiah in her quiet way and announces Him to others.
To me, this calls for practical application, as I always seek with Scripture. We could limit ourselves to what it meant for the people of that day, but in our Anglican tradition, we practice practical theology: How does it apply to us? If Scripture is the Word of God, then this Gospel is God speaking to you and me. What is He saying?
When we look at these quiet people—deemed unhelpful by their society’s standards—the Gospel elevates them as the only ones who matter in this moment of Jesus’ life. They are the ones who recognize who is truly important.
In our own time, as we try to solve the world’s problems, the Church’s problems, and our individual ones, I sense from this Scripture that a contemplative approach is as important—or even more so—than activity. We don’t know what to do until God reveals it, granting us conviction, clarity, and vision.
Choosing to be among the quiet ones allows us to seek God’s wisdom and discern what to do next. There are countless things to fix in this world, but ultimately, God shows us the way.
We don’t lead by fixing our lives or the world on our own. We present ourselves to the Lord, to His Word, and in quiet seeking, await God’s wisdom. Just as nothing could be fixed until the Messiah came—despite many attempts—it wasn’t until God acted first, and was recognized by those with eyes to see.
This is the first principle: to live with a quiet openness to God’s wisdom, not the world’s. I could input problems into ChatGPT—how to fix a broken marriage, a broken country, a broken Church—and get solid ideas. But I could also approach God’s Word and ask, “Lord, what would You have me do? How can I participate in Your work with my life, my family, my Church, my country—rather than inviting You into mine?”
Do you see the difference? God leads. Our life as Christians, as followers of Jesus, is one of witnessing what God is doing, not initiating and fitting God in. I am not the initiator of great things; I am a witness to God’s great works—what He has done and continues to do.
As witnesses, we are quiet followers, always discerning God’s will for us. That’s why it’s vital to remain a community of prayer, connected to a life of faith, prayer, and Church fellowship. It allows us, through prayer and ritual, to adopt this posture of quiet listening and attention to what God is doing and where He is leading.
The tradition of the Presentation of the Lord involves lighting and blessing candles, declaring God as the true light—the One with the best ideas, who leads and illuminates the dark places in our lives, hearts, and minds.
God leads. As we remember this ritual of blessing candles as a sign of God illuminating our darkness—when we don’t know the next steps, how to change, or how to move forward—what do we do? First, nothing except seek the Lord. Wait quietly for the One who reveals the path. How can I participate in God’s activity rather than create my own?
That is my prayer for myself, this community, and my life: that we recognize the importance of this quiet attitude, acknowledging God as the leader, while we follow and witness His great work.
Amen. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.