Enter the Songs ~ Simeon’s Song: Let God’s Light Shine!

At the Temple, two faithful elders tell the gathered community who Jesus is and what is happening. Luke gives us the Song of Simeon, the Nunc Dimittis (Latin) – the last of five prayers that dot the first two chapters of this gospel and the final “advent” song in our series.

There have been amazing instances of faithfulness so far in Luke – Mary’s faithfulness and Zechariah’s faithfulness are two of the most significant.

Simeon’s faithfulness is no less profound. At least the others had visits from angels to rely on – yet without so much as a nod from a passing seraph, Simeon looks at this tiny scrap of baby and sees the salvation of the world. And Luke’s account of Simeon’s Song is haunted by the specter of death. Alongside the other Christmas carols we sing this one may sound odd, even dissonant.

It is now forty days after Jesus’ birth. His parents are performing their duty by returning to the Temple to offer a sacrifice and to consecrate their child to the Lord.

They must have been in a solemn mood that day – full of reverence and expectancy – the way parents are when their child is baptized. Imagine their reaction as an old man comes forward out of the shadows to scoop up their child into his arms and prophesy about him. Startled at first – perhaps even a bit frightened by the old man’s ecstatic face – Mary and Joseph yield to him because they sense the Lord’s Spirit upon him. Hearing Simeon’s prophecy, they are reminded of the angels and shepherds foretelling the greatness of their child.

Simeon sings: God, you can now release me in peace as you promised. With my own eyes I've seen your salvation – out in the open for everyone to witness: a light to the world – a light of glory for your people Israel.

The saviour of the world is born in a stable, while another supposed ‘saviour’ – Caesar – sits on a throne in Roman splendour. In striking contrast, Jesus’ parents bring the offering designated for the poor: two turtledoves. It is this child, born in poverty, who is the true saviour. He is the sign of God’s consolation and redemption. We are left in anticipation to watch as the child grows strong, filled with wisdom and blessed with the favour of God.

Simeon’s Song has been taken up by Christian liturgies through the ages. Those guided by the Book of Common Prayer find this hymn near the end of compline – evening prayer – it is commonly spoken at funerals and has been set to music by more than one composer.

Lord, now let your servant go in peace. Beautiful words, but also troubling. When Simeon asks that he be allowed to go, it seems he is asking to die.

Why does Luke record this strange scene and song? Why would he move from the beauty and light and joy of the nativity straight to Simeon’s request for death?

What’s all this talk about death doing right in the middle of all the light and life of Christmas? Shouldn’t Luke – shouldn’t we – leave death outside our doors, just this once – to deal with later, like just another of our holiday expenses and shopping bills? Shouldn’t we – can’t we – ignore or deny it, what with travel and the family coming and the festive lights and the special meals to prepare?

But there it is. Death doesn’t take a vacation. And this is never more apparent than during the holidays – when our hopes are regularly joined to our fears – our expectations too often tinged by regrets – our reunions sometimes overshadowed by unspoken disappointments or hurts.

The prophet Isaiah, speaking in our reading today about the promised sign of Immanuel, is a poet who has many songs within scripture. I am thinking of a song from chapter 40 – one he sings to the broken, hopeless people of his own time… it begins, “Comfort, comfort my people.”

In that song Isaiah offers God’s words of encouragement to the people – strength to resist despair. God reminds us that nobody and nothing lasts forever – not even our sadness. We are like grass that withers – like flowers that droop and shrivel. God endures… God will not leave or forsake us. Isaiah’s song of comfort reminds us of God who is present and full of compassion.

Songs are powerful influences and triggers. Many of us can be reminded of those we have loved and lost by a stanza from a hymn – a favorite ornament on the tree – some fleeting but vivid memory of Christmas past. Simeon is no different. He’s an old man – he has been around the block more than a few times – he has likely tasted love and loss, joy and despair, hope and fear – just like you, just like me. Perhaps he sings of death because he can’t help it – because he – like us – lives with it every day.

However, Luke is clear that Simeon is able to speak of death so honestly only in the light of the coming of the promised Messiah – only by the confidence that in this helpless child, God has come to redeem Israel and save our broken world.

“Lord,” Simeon sings, “now you can let your servant go in peace; for your word has been fulfilled.” Simeon perceives that in the Christ-child God keeps divine promises – that in this babe, set for the rise and fall of many, God acts once and for all to address the question and specter of death with the promise of life.

It is not so much that Simeon asks for death, but that he accepts it – courageously and confidently – in the light of God’s promised salvation. He does so upon seeing and holding God’s promise in his arms – after touching and feeling the promise of life which God grants through Christ – to Simeon and to us.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have the eyes and faith that Simeon had – eyes and faith to recognize God’s redemption in unlikely bodies? Wouldn’t it be something to have the eyes to see God’s redeeming work in the world around – and the faith to proclaim it?

What can we do to cultivate the eyes and faith of Simeon?

Today we sing Simeon’s Song – and we, like Simeon, not only hear, but see, touch, and feel the promise of life God makes to us. We too are propelled to confident and courageous lives even in a world much marked by death and loss.

We sing Simeon’s Song. As darkness overtakes the world – the darkness of evening – today the longest night – the darkness of death – we commend ourselves, our lives and the lives of our loved ones, to the God made known through the manger and the cross – the God who promises life eternal. We are forever anchored by this promise.

We continue singing Simeon’s Song because it tells of God’s great love for us – a love that even death cannot destroy. Through Simeon’s Song we are led to celebrate God’s love for the world and to let God’s light shine through us. Like Simeon we also need God’s promise – the promise that God will be with us, and for us, always – the promise announced in the birth of Jesus – Emmanuel.

May you enjoy a blesséd Christmas – a Christmas so infused by God’s promise of presence and peace that you can go into the world with confidence – neither denying the harsh realities of this life nor being deterred by them – but facing whatever comes your way in the coming week and year with courage. Let God’s light shine! Each of you is God’s beloved child, and it is for your sake that Christ is born! Thanks be to God!