Today’s hymn is one of many settings of Simeon’s short song (Nunc Dimittis). What perhaps sets this one apart form others is that the author (Mary Holtby) has departed from the original words in several places.
Instead of referring to Simeon’s ‘departure’ (meaning his imminent death) she has him asking to be ‘set free’ – which could be taken to mean ‘set free from this earthly life’, but is capable of wider application. We all have things that we need to be set free from.
She also drops the last line ‘the glory of your people Israel’, instead following ‘the hope of humankind’ with a parallel phrase ‘the glory of our race’. That worldwide message appears also in verse 2 with ‘on the nations lost in light I see his dawn arise’.
The Christ here is therefore understood as having a universal ministry from the start, rather than understanding Jesus having come first to the people of Israel. Simeon had been promised he would see the hope of his own people, and finds that he has been given a whole lot more, a universal vision of hope. Such is God’s way, offering blessings greater than we had hoped for.
A brief diversion today from my 2021 “Sing Praise” project. On most Saturdays I haven’t selected a hymn or song although that will change shortly when we get to Lent. But today I took part in an online ‘quiet day’ with a couple of devotional talks, group discussion and times for personal prayer, all focused around the themes of ‘lament’ and ‘praise’ found in Psalm 57, which is believed to have been written by David in a cave while being pursued by his rival Saul.
The idea of being stuck in a cave fearing what’s outside obviously resonates with the Covid-19 lockdown. After the first session on ‘lament’ we were encouraged to take the words and themes of the psalm and come up with something creative – words, music, art or craft. My meditation resulted in the following poem. It was inspired by the photo shown here on the handout for the day. The viewer is looking out from the narrow cave and there is a sheep looking in. Jesus is referred to as both the Shepherd and the Lamb of God, and that is the poem’s starting point…
Look up, look out from your death-dark cave And see me standing here. You are not alone when you mourn and moan, I have come to allay your fear.
Did you think I would stay in those pastures green On the other side of the dale? No, with sure-footed skill I have climbed your hill To hear your woeful tale.
The enemy shall not find you here, Nor lions enter your cave. For I suffice as the sacrifice, It is I who have come to save.
The Most High God comes down to earth As a gentle, listening lamb. I heard you bleat, and have come to meet You where you are. I Am.
Today’s
song, continuing the Candlemas theme, is “New light has dawned, the son of God
is here” by Paul Wigmore. In terms of Biblical stories of Jesus, the first
three verses cover the incarnation, the announcement to the shepherds (but surprisingly
not the magi), the presentation to Simeon (meriting its inclusion among hymns
for this season) and the later episode where the adolescent Jesus debates
theology with the Temple priests in Jerusalem. The common thread is that anyone
who encounters Jesus encounters light, whether through a prophetic word or an
apparition of angels.
The
qualities of the Christ-light are listed here: it is “a holy light no earthly
light outshines”, “the light that casts out fear”, “the light that evil dreads
and love defines”, “the light of glory”, and quoting Simeon “the light to
lighten gentile eyes”. The fourth verse is our response to Christ as we acclaim
him “the light who came to us on earth”.
But what does the “light of Christ” mean to us ordinary believers who haven’t met an angel or had an extraordinary gift of prophecy? It’s hard to put into words but here’s the best way I can express it: when Christ is present in my life, there is an optimism to life, a sense that whatever ups and down I experience in physical health or the stresses of work, something or someone is ‘shining down on me’. When I experience this, even if I shut my eyes so that I see no natural light, it is as if I’m still in a well lit room, not a dark one. Does that tally with Wigmore’s description? Fairly well – it certainly casts out fear, or at least anxiety, it can be glorious, and lightens the eyes of this particular gentile. But what about “the light that evil dreads and love defines”?
This light is
not something I experience all the time. Most Christians will agree that love for
God is like love for your partner in that after the first few years of
excitement, the relationship can easily be taken for granted and the spark of love
goes out – not that you dislike your partner or Lord or want to disown them, just
that the light of love has gone dim. That’s why the last lines of the hymn ask
Christ to “renew the faith you gave at our new birth, destroy the dark, and let
your light come in”.
I’m
attending a ‘quiet day’ tomorrow, usually held in a retreat centre but this
time with the devotional talks on Zoom and time away from the computer to
reflect at home in between them. I pray
Christ will enlighten me again, and pray that for you too.
The song
from “Sing Praise” for today, still on the theme of Candlemas, is a very short
one, one of John Bell’s brief motets to be sung several times, slowly and
meditatively, and ideally with different voices in harmony. The text is short enough to quote in full: “Kindle
a flame to lighten the dark and take all fear away”.
I wrote at length yesterday about Candlemas, so like the song I will keep it brief today. Following on from where the last blog post finished, Candlemas is a time to remember that “do not fear” is one of the most common phrases in the Bible, and it is the light of eternal life kindled in Jesus that enables fears of all kinds to be taken away.
Whatever
your fear is, sing (or say) this text to yourself several times, slowly, and
ask Jesus to take the fear away and replace it with His light. “Kindle a flame
to lighten the dark and take all fear away”.
The hymn I’ve chosen for today is “Lord, now let your servant go his way in peace”. The title is from Luke 2:29 and part of the chapter of Luke’s gospel that tells the story of Jesus from his birth to adolescence and is nearly all we know about his early life. The text is very familiar to anyone who enjoys Evensong in the Church of England. It is one of the Church’s shortest canticles (Bible passages that are usually sung rather than spoken) known by its Latin title “nunc dimittis” and is a setting of the song of Simeon, an elderly Jewish priest. The hymn is James Seddon’s four-part setting of the canticle to a regular metrical tune.
(c) Andrey Mironov CC BY-SA 4.0
The occasion
of Simeon’s song was the ‘presentation’ of Jesus in the Temple, an old Jewish
ritual that allowed a woman to be proclaimed ritually clean forty days after giving
birth to her son (for a girl it was twice as long -eighty days, see Leviticus
chapter 12). With the birth of Jesus arbitrarily celebrated on 25 December,
that makes 2 February the occasion to remember this ceremony, known as Candlemas
because candles are lit as a sign of revelation (enlightenment).
Simeon’s revelation
from God at some time in his life was that before he died he would see the “hope
of Israel” (that is the promised saviour, also known as the Messiah or Christ)
although this hymn doesn’t actually use that phrase. By the same revelation from God, he recognised
in the infant Jesus someone who in later life would be this hope, the one who
would rescue the Jewish people.
But rescue
them from what? It’s generally assumed
that people in his day were hoping for a military or diplomatic leader who
would save them from subjugation as part of the Roman empire and give them the
independence under God that they longed for. But it turned out that Jesus understood his
mission much more in terms of saving them from the twin evils of secularism
(ignoring God altogether) and legalism (trying to follow the letter of the religious
law while ignoring the basic principles of fairness, justice and mercy, the
fault of the Pharisees). He was sent to ‘redeem’ (literally ‘buy back’ God’s
people for God. Later Christian thought has
added further layers of understanding to this concept of redemption, but now isn’t
the time to go into those.
But there’s
more to the story than that. Simeon saw more than the hope of Israel in this
baby. He hailed him also as the “light of
revelation to the Gentiles shown and light of Israel’s glory to the world made
known” in the words of the hymn – other translations are available. Jesus is God’s gift not just to the Jewish
people but to the whole world. Mary had
known that ever since the annunciation, the shepherds at Bethlehem knew
it. But when Simeon proclaimed it in the
Temple, the secret was out. The people
of Jerusalem may have forgotten this incident thirty years later, until the Messiah
returned to fulfil his destiny.
For us, Candlemas
is a time to recognise the light that Jesus brings to our lives. That might be a
recognition of having forgotten God’s call and living life without reference to
his standards, or living by obsolete rituals that are holding us back from
living life as God intended (like the Pharisees), or offering a way out of some
kind of darkness in our life (perhaps depression, addiction, or being controlled
by someone else). Or it might be a time to remember a promise
that God once made that we have not yet seen fulfilled, or failed to grasp
fully, and ask him to fulfil it now. Go
your way in peace, God’s word has been fulfilled.
My song for today, the feast of Candlemas, is “It’s rounded like an orange”. That might be a puzzling title, if you’re not accustomed to the custom of Christingle. The name literally means ‘Christ fire’ – the old English word for fire is still seen in words such as inglenook and inglebeam, or the mountain Ingleborough.
A Christingle. Image (c) Kolforn CC-by-SA 4.0
The contemporary meaning of Christingle is a decorated orange with candles, celebrating the Christian symbolism of the 40-day season from Christmas to Candlemas, as made by children (and sometimes adults) in many European churches. The tradition is said to originate from the Moravian Church in Germany in 1747 but only became popular in England in the later 20th century. See the illustration, and the words of the hymn (originally a poem) which can be found in full here.
In Sing Praise,
the final stanza of the poem is used as a chorus to be sung after each
verse. The words of the other stanzas give
an idea of the symbolism – the orange for the earth, a candle for the light of Christ,
a red ribbon for his blood shed for us (although the hymn shies away from
referring to this directly, instead referring only to Jesus ‘giving his life
for the lost’), and dried fruit on four sticks for the four seasons of the
agricultural year. The completed article may be displayed lit on a windowsill
to demonstrate that this is a Christian home, or just as a sign of hope at a
dark time of year.
I could have put this song about Christingle at the back end of the year because some churches have their Christingle service in Advent. Others have it on Christmas Eve (the setting of this hymn to the tune of the popular carol ‘The Holly and the Ivy’ suggests this is intended) or around Epiphany, but still others on Candlemas itself. There were plenty of other hymns to fill the Advent/Christmas season, though, so that’s why I put it here, with a setting of Nunc Dimittis – the canticle most closely associated with Candlemas – for tomorrow.
So may
Christ the light of the world be the fire in your heart today.
As we approach Candlemas tomorrow, I’ve picked as today’s hymn “Bless the Lord, the God of Israel”. The reasoning is that at Candlemas we sing the priest Simeon’s song on seeing the baby Jesus (Lord, now let your servant depart in peace, Luke 2:29-32). There is a direct parallel in Zechariah’s song (Luke 1:68-79) at the circumcision of his son Jehohanan (known to us as John the Baptist). Zechariah, had received an angelic message that he would be the father of a prophet but was struck dumb until the day of the boy’s naming and circumcision ceremony, after his wife had without prompting confirmed the boy’s name. His very personal song starts with praise to God but is partly addressed to his son – “and you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High, for you will go before the Lord to prepare his way”. The hymn version of it puts that into the third person – “this child will be a herald making ready all God’s ways”.
Zechariah’s song
looks back as well as forwards – back to God’s promise to Abraham that his
descendants would be as numerous as the stars in the sky, and would always be
free to worship God. The rest of the
story of the Bible after that is a series of repeated fallings and risings, as Abraham’s
people forgot God’s commandments or deliberately broke them, and had to be
brought back through either the exhortation of prophets or being broken by wars
and plagues.
John’s role
as the forerunner of Jesus Christ was as a prophet, certainly, like all those
before who had called on people to turn round (repent) and come back to
God. But Jesus called John “more than a
prophet” (Luke 7:26), explaining “This is the one about whom it is written, ‘See,
I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way before you.’
I tell you, among those born of women no one is greater than John; yet the
least in the kingdom of God is greater than he.”
The ‘light’
theme of Candlemas appears in verse 3 – “So may all who dwell in darkness see
the shadows disappear, while he guides our feet in pathways where his peace is
ever near”. At a time when the ‘darkness’
falls all around the world in households stricken by Covid-19 (including, now,
our own) and in countries oppressed by violence and persecution, the light and
peace of Christ that John the Baptist heralded is never more needed.
