Anna’s Hands
There was also a prophet, Anna, the daughter of Penuel, of the tribe of Asher.
She was very old; she had lived with her husband seven years after her marriage,
and then as a widow until she was eighty-four.
She never left the temple but worshiped night and day, fasting and praying.
Coming up to them at that very moment, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child
to all who were looking toward the redemption of Jerusalem.
—Luke 2:36-38
Anna’s Hands
Anna’s hands were waiting hands,
empty and stiffened by the long ache of years—
full of memory and loss, forever cupped
in the shape of her lover’s face.
Her finger tips touched in supplication,
the hollowness between holy palms
evidence of the widening chasm
between prophecy and fulfillment.
Anna’s hands were wrinkled hands,
smelling faintly of anointing oil—
brown skin mottled with age, kept
young in their eternal reaching
for the promised One in the face
of every baby boy brought before God
for forty years—humility its own wilderness—
until the fullness of time had come.
Then Anna’s hands were priestly hands
brimming with promises kept, bones
unbending from begging to blessing,
pointing to the one truth she was born to speak:
“For this child I have waited—the son of God”
See how she takes him in her trembling arms,
offers him back up to God in thankful surrender
of a prophecy no longer painful, but proclaimed.
And Anna’s hands were prophet’s hands
as the Ageless One, newly born
with flailing limbs grasped
her wonderstruck face, tiny fingernails
grazing her tear-soft skin, finding
herself held by the Promise Keeper
who also had waited an eternity to meet her,
to curl his hand around her finger.
During this season of Advent, I have been drawn to Anna the prophet in Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth for several reasons. First, the fact that the Bible—written by men over a few highly patriarchal centuries in history—mentions a woman by name and gives her the powerful spiritual title of Prophet tells me that God sees, honors, and values women. Second, though what Luke does say about her is brief, there is a world of richness and depth within Anna’s two verses—and I noticed it for the first time this year. I believe we are told about Anna’s father (Penuel) and her tribe (Asher) for a significant reason that has nearly nothing to do with patriarchal identity and almost everything to do with Anna’s identity as a beloved, strong minister of God.
The Tribe of Asher
When Moses spoke his final blessing over the twelve tribes of Israel before they entered the Promised Land, he proclaimed this over the tribe of Asher:
“Most blessed of sons is Asher;
let him be favored by his brothers,
and let him bathe his feet in oil.
The bolts of your gates will be iron and bronze,
and your strength will equal your days.”(Deuteronomy 33:22-24)
If there is anyone from the tribe of Asher whose strength equaled her days, it was Anna. Imagine the courage, faith, and hope it took for an elderly widow to wait for decades in the temple of God—praying, fasting, and looking for the Promised One she longed to see with her own eyes. I wonder if Anna was ever ridiculed in her stubborn refusal to do anything else but worship God for the blessing and fulfilment of Jesus, long before he was born. Anna’s story tells me that it takes more strength to wait upon God’s timing than it does to take matters into our own hands, forcing things into existence before their proper time.
Penuel
But it is not just her tribe’s identity that tells us about Anna’s character. Her father’s name, Penuel, gives us a clue as well. Penuel is a variant of the name Peniel, which means “face of God.” Peniel is the name given by Jacob for the place he wrestled with God unto blessing:
So Jacob called the place Peniel, saying, “It is because I saw God face to face, and yet my life was spared.”
(Genesis 32:30)
Anna, daughter of “The Face of God,” waited her whole life for the blessing of seeing God’s face. But it gets even better: Anna’s name means “He has favored me.” In revealing himself to Anna as a newborn baby, God’s favor rested upon Anna as she looked into his infant face and knew exactly who he was: the One she had been waiting for. The One who would redeem all things—even death. She spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem (Luke 2:38). It was the favor of God that let Anna behold the face of God.
Her Story Is Ours
So why does an elderly widow-prophet’s story matter to us now? Her story matters because like Anna, we are still waiting. We have not seen God face to face, though we live for the day when Christ will return to make all things new. Until then, may our strength equal our days. May we have the courage to wait, even when waiting seems foolish. And may we behold glimmers of the Image in every face we meet, proclaiming the favor of God to all who wait for the redemption of the world.
Amen.