The Story of Anna

Luke 2

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshiped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. (Luke 2)

Who do you think were the most vulnerable in our first century society? Who were the most dependent on the generosity of others? The most to be pitied? The ones most likely to live a life of mourning?

Yes, you are correct: it was the widows. Widows were not despised like gentiles, nor were they separated from us like lepers. They lived among us, accepted, but only as burdens on society. The views of the Apostle Paul were typical of our day:

“Let a widow be put on the list if she is not less than sixty years old and has been married only once; she must be well attested for her good works, as one who has brought up children, shown hospitality, washed the saints’ feet, helped the afflicted, and devoted herself to doing good in every way. But refuse to put younger widows on the list, for when their sensual desires alienate them from Christ, they want to marry, and so they incur condemnation for having violated their first pledge. Besides that, they learn to be idle, gadding about from house to house, and they are not merely idle but also gossips and busybodies, saying what they should not say. So I would have younger widows marry, bear children, and manage their households, so as to give the adversary no occasion to revile us. For some have already turned away to follow Satan. If any believing woman has relatives who are widows, let her assist them; let the church not be burdened, so that it can assist those who are real widows.” (1Timothy 5)

Despite Paul’s less-than-generous attitude, God’s law did offer some protection to widows:

“You shall not abuse any widow or orphan. If you do abuse them, when they cry out to me, I will surely heed their cry;” (Exodus 22)

The widow was to be allowed to glean the leftover grain in a field, as Ruth did, helping to support herself and Naomi. And she was to marry the brother of her deceased husband, raising up children to him. She had legal recourse if the brother chose not to marry her:

“But if the man has no desire to marry his brother’s widow, then his brother’s widow shall go up to the elders at the gate and say, ‘My husband’s brother refuses to perpetuate his brother’s name in Israel; he will not perform the duty of a husband’s brother to me.’” (Deuteronomy 25)

Anna was a widow. A childless widow. I knew about her. As the evangelist Luke writes, she was old, having been widowed at a very young age.

Actually, I knew her quite well, as her neighbor in Jerusalem. She was one of those people who seem like they must have always been old. I never knew her except as a wrinkled, bent, poor woman, always dressed in the black of mourning. She was the same age as my grandmother.

But I looked up to her, respecting her wisdom. As Luke has written, she was considered to be a “prophet” among our population.

Prophets, called “nevi’im” in our culture, were considered to be spokesmen (and women) for God. They might speak in words, both oral and written, but they might alternatively speak in actions. Anna was that kind of prophet.

And what were her actions of prophecy? There were many, beginning with her piety, as Luke writes, fasting and prayer in the temple. Another was her patience and longsuffering. Waiting on our Yahweh God for so many years of widowhood, never complaining that she remained alone and poor, never succumbing to the temptation to gossip; those were examples of her prophecy to me.

And there was one more, one that had a great impact on me, but which was lost on the larger population of Jerusalem. And what was that?

It was her dress. Yes, her dress and overall, her appearance.

You see, for most of her widowhood, she looked the same every day: covered up, all in black, battered sandals, no jewelry, and a dark scarf covering her stringy hair.

Some would say that was how a widow should look. After all, a well-dressed widow, covered in jewelry, exhibiting long, luxuriant hair, would hardly win the sympathy that widows needed to survive. Their appearance was actually a uniform of sorts, and you could spot the widows in a village or town simply by how they dressed.

And for years, that was Anna. But then, late in her life, something changed. It was about a year before she died, perhaps her eighty-third year of life. And what changed was her appearance.

You must know that it wasn’t a small change; it was nothing less than a complete transformation!

I was bringing her some eggs from our chickens, something I did on a weekly basis. And, as I approached Anna’s house, a small, crudely built two-room abode, she stepped outside to greet me (something that she’d never before done). She seemed to be on her way, going somewhere.

It was shocking. I hardly recognized Anna, she looked so different. First of all, the black was gone, absent in her wardrobe for the first time in over sixty years. Her outer dress, which you will see as a robe, was of a lighter color, almost a radiant gold, that shimmered in the bright sunlight. It stretched down, all the way to her feet, which were attired in sandals that appeared to have never before been worn. And her inner dress, visible within the folds of her robe, was white, an angelic color.

Presentation at the Temple

Giotto, Chapel of Scrovegni

She did wear a scarf on her head, which was the custom of our day. Its color matched her robe. And under it, I could see her hair, admittedly still gray with age, but now, combed and with a jeweled clip keeping it held under the scarf.

I had never before seen her bracelets, which appeared as true gold, nor the chain around her neck, also gold.

For a long moment, we stood, looking at one another. I almost dropped the eggs!

It wasn’t as if I didn’t know her, I did. But I have to say that the transformation was so stunning, and it included her demeanor as well. I mean, her smile was as radiant as her attire, and as pleasing as her warm words of greeting:

“Rachel, I am so happy to see you. And so grateful for the eggs you have brought me. You know how much I appreciate you.”

I have to say that I was speechless. All that came out of my mouth was a childish, “Anna, you look changed!”

“Yes, Rachel,” she replied, “something special is about to happen, and I want to be ready to celebrate it.”

“Your clothes,” I stumbled, “where did you get them?”

“I thought you’d be surprised,” she replied. “You see,” she went on, “I have saved these clothes for a very long time. For a while after my husband died, I thought that I’d never wear them again. You know how long I have been a widow, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” I responded. “Do these clothes date back to the years of your marriage?”

“Yes, they do,” she answered. “Our Lord has kept me a widow for all these years. As you know, I haven’t complained. And over time, I began to hear the voice of the Lord telling me that I would be blessed in some way. I never knew how this blessing would come, or when. But I had faith in our Yahweh God that he always keeps his promises. So, I saved these clothes for the day his promise would be fulfilled. And now, finally, that day has come.”

This was all sounding very mysterious to me. I wanted an explanation, but got none.

“Anna, why are you dressed this way?” I asked.

“Well,” she replied, “if you must know, I am going to meet someone. Someone very special.”

Of course, I assumed she was planning to meet a suitor! I mean, why else would Anna dress herself as she did? I have to say that I was a bit amused to think that, at her age, and after so many years as a widow, some man from our community was interested in her. And I was equally amused that she would consider a relationship after living alone for so long.

I tried to press her about what I assumed was a rendezvous with an older gentleman from our community.

“I can’t say, dear,” she replied, and then, “I must be on my way. I mustn’t be late, for I have waited for this day for the longest time. It just wouldn’t do to miss what God has ordained for me, after all these years.”

And she was off, brushing aside any further questions from me. My mind swirled with them, all unanswered:

Whom was she going to meet? How did she know that this was the day, as she said, the day that God had “ordained” for her? What would happen in this mysterious meeting?

But then, a thought came to me. Isn’t this how our Yahweh God always works? I mean, showing us only what we need to know in the moment, and calling us to trust his goodness for all of the unanswered questions?

And then, as if God was speaking directly to me, a scripture came to mind as I watched Anna walk away (Isaiah 61):

“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
    my whole being shall exult in my God,
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation;
    he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland
    and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.”

Truly, Anna was wearing the robe of righteousness. And she was greatly rejoicing in the Lord, her whole being exulting in her God. More evidence of her life as a prophet.

You know how this story ends, don’t you? She wasn’t hurrying off to meet a suitor, after all. No, she was going to meet someone far better: the baby Jesus. And she had faith that this baby Jesus was so much more than an ordinary baby. Somehow, she knew that he was the Son of God.

So now, in the final chapter of her life, Anna could fulfill her part of the wonderful promise God had made to her so many years ago. You see, in this act of prophecy, her final one in this life, she was teaching me, and really, all of us, that God is good, and that God can be trusted.