Once again we note that Luke is the only Gospel writer who includes what we’ve come to refer to as “the four nativity songs” or “canticles:” those of Mary (1:46-55), Zechariah (1:68-79), the angels (2:14), and Simeon (2:29-32). These have each come to be known by the opening Latin words in the 5th century Vulgate: Mary’s “Magnificat,” Zechariah’s “Benedictus,” the angels’ “Gloria,” and Simeon’s “Nunc Dimittis.” How wonderful to note that the same Jesus who is hailed in song in heaven right now (as we read in Revelation 5:12: “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and power and honor and glory and blessing”) was hailed in song as His coming into the world in His incarnation.
This fourth of Luke’s “Nativity Hymns” is known by the opening words in Latin, “Nunc Dimittis,” which means “now depart.” That was the essence of the prayer offered by Simeon when he was privileged to see the infant Messiah. Though the Bible does not say that he sang this prayer, it is entirely possible to describe it as a song since, like Zechariah’s “Benedictus” and Mary’s “Magnificat,” all three bear the unmistakable characteristics of a Hebrew psalm with the poetic style of the lyrics.
There are many places in Scripture where we would like to have been given more details. What did Moses look like when he came down from Mr. Sinai? How big was the stone in David’s sling? What did the angel’s voice sound like in Isaiah’s ears? Was Daniel able to “pet” the lions in the den? How many angels appeared in the sky to the shepherds of Bethlehem? What did it look like to see the loaves and fishes multiplying as they were distributed? Such curiosity can lead (and has led) some to miss the important central truth in each incident. If we needed to know these things, God would have revealed them to us.
Here in Luke 2, we would like to know more about Simeon. Where did he come from? Did he have a family? How old was he? How long had he been going to the temple like this? Was he a priest? What was his career work? How long did he live after this? Did he ever meet Jesus or see Him or hear Him in person in later years? How did Luke learn about this? That one we can guess can be answered by assuming that Luke’s interview of Mary would have resulted in her telling him about this, something that she would not have forgotten. That’s especially so because of Simeon’s prophecy about a sword piercing her own soul.
Luke’s account in chapter 2 points to three things. First there is the description Simeon’s heart. He tells us that Simeon was “righteous and devout,” a wonderful way of saying that a man is pious and godly, one who, like Abraham could be labeled as a friend of God (James 2:23), or like David who was said to be a man after God’s own heart (Acts 13:22). We might sometimes assume that there were hardly any people like this in first century Judaism. But we must not forget that the Bible tells us that God will never leave Himself without a remnant, however small. We know that both Mary and Joseph were similarly devout and godly. In obedience to the Law of Moses (Luke 2:22), they had come to Jerusalem that day for the ritual purification. The fact that the Holy Spirit led Luke to record this about Simeon does suggest that he might have been extraordinarily so, above his peers.
We also discover from Luke’s Gospel that Simeon was “waiting for the consolation of Jerusalem.” This indicates that he had a well-informed mind about the messianic promises of the Old Testament, also like Mary, as well as Zechariah. What a wonderful way to have spoken about the promised redeemer as “the consolation of Jerusalem.” This brings to mind Isaiah’s prophecy in chapter 40 where God’s command was to speak comfort to His people. Certainly Jesus has brought comfort to all who have suffered under the burden of their sin and its oppressive bondage over the hearts. Luke tells us that Simeon (among others?) was waiting for this, apparently being regularly (daily?) in the temple, expecting to see the promised Messiah.
Added to that is the statement that the Holy Spirit was “upon him,” having revealed to him “that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ.” Unlike others who had received information by angelic messenger, we are only told of Simeon that the Holy Spirit had placed this assurance into his heart. We know from Scripture that God makes His will known to people in many different ways. For us, this comes from Scripture itself, inspired by that same Holy Spirit. We do not see such individualistic special revelation as normative today. Bu that should not slow us from believing that God chose to do so miraculously in this instance. Most importantly, Simeon believed what God had told him, as should we.
Second, after the description of Simeon’s heart comes the content of Simeon’s Song, his “Nunc Dimittis.” Basically, he was saying that he was ready to die, to depart this earthly life “in peace,” because having seen the messianic child, there was nothing he could ever see, however long he lived, which could equal the joy this sight had brought him! What a testimony that gives us as to the greatness of Jesus, even as an infant.
He spoke of the baby Jesus as God’s salvation, all “according to Your word.” This was the salvation that God had prepared from long ago, even before the proto-evangelion in Genesis 3:15 (the seed of the serpent and the seed of the woman), all the way back into eternity, before the foundation of the earth. Simeon was recognizing that this salvation was not a recent invention or discovery, but something so stupendous as to dwarf anything else in all of human history!
And unlike so many of his contemporaries who thought the Messiah would only be for the Jews, Simeon realized from Scripture that this salvation was to be “in the presence of all peoples,” “a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to Your people Israel.” God had often made it clear in the Old Testament that His plan was to redeem a people from every nation, not just Israel. It’s interesting to remember that Luke made this especially prominent in his Gospel, and also in Acts (“Part Two”) as he recorded Paul’s ministry to take the gospel to the Jew first and also to the Greek, tracing Paul’s missionary journeys through modern-day Turkey and Greece before heading on to Spain and finally Rome.
The third thing we find in Luke’s account is Simeon’s blessing, spoken to Mary and Joseph when they brought their newborn infant to the temple in Jerusalem for the required purification ritual prescribed in the law of Moses. This also shows the genuinely devout spirit of Mary and Joseph that in the midst of their being away from home in Nazareth, so soon after the birth in Bethlehem, they had remained near Jerusalem in order to see that this act of worship was done in obedience to God’s Word. This reminds us, too, that the wise men had not yet arrived, since the young family had not yet been forced to flee to Egypt to escape Herod’s jealous wrath.
Simeon’s words conveyed anything but a normal blessing. His words, inspired by the Holy Spirit, were filled with hope and joy and peace, but also with sadness and sorrow and suffering. Such would be the character of Jesus’ messianic role. Simeon spoke of a child who “is appointed for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is opposed(and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), so that thoughts from many hearts may be revealed.”
At Christmas time, it’s common to hear greetings and cards, and even sermons, that focus on peace, usually in the sense of peace between ourselves and those around us. Sometimes that’s extended to hope for peace among nations, especially with the horrors of war that continue to this day. All of that is certainly legitimate, since Jesus is the wonderful promised “Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6-7). But the biblical promise is of a greater peace, one that is more desperately needed. It is peace between God and man, the reconciliation that could only be accomplished by the shedding of blood of the perfect Lamb of God.
In Simeon’s benediction, he referred to this Child who would be the cause of many rising in Israel. That continues today for us who are the Israel of God (Galatians 6:16), as we rise in the presence of God to adore Him and to receive His blessing, and as we rise up to take that gospel to those around the world who have yet to come to faith in the Lord Jesus. But this Child would also be the cause of the falling of many. An additional phrase referred to “a sign that is opposed.” At Christmas, we see that from those who have no interest in the historical message of the Bible and a Savior who gives eternal life, but prefer instead the mythological message of a red-suited, impressively bearded overweight man who gives toys and clothes and games. How sad!
Is it actually true that this sign of God’s love would be spoken against? We find it even among those who speak kind words about an imaginary Jesus who is just nice, and never condemns anyone or anything. But shift the narrative to a Savior who bears the sin of His people, who goes to the cross to endure the wrath of God in their place, who experienced the curse of hell as a substitutionary sacrifice, and we will find hard opposition. That message is not popular. But it is the only message that will save us. There is no neutrality here. It’s a message that does indeed reveal what’s in the hearts of many. As one preacher recently said in his Christmas sermon, Jesus didn’t come into the world to decorate it; He came to save it! Not everyone wants that.
The final part of Simeon’s blessing to Mary doesn’t sound like a blessing at all. “A sword will pierce through your own soul also.” Mary probably never forgot those words. When the Roman soldier’s sword pierced Jesus’ side at Calvary, a sword pierced Mary’s soul as she stood there, watching. Decades ago, Luci Shaw (b. 1928) published a remarkable and deeply moving poem with the title “Mary’s Song.”
Blue homespun and the bend of my breast
keep warm this small hot naked star
fallen to my arms. (Rest…
you who have had so far
to come.) Now nearness satisfies
the body of God sweetly. Quiet he lies
whose vigor hurled
a universe. He sleeps
whose eyelids have not closed before.His breath (so slight it seems
no breath at all) once ruffled the dark deeps
to sprout a world.
Charmed by dove’s voices, the whisper of straw,
he dreams,
hearing no music from his other spheres.
Breath, mouth, ears, eyes
he is curtailed
who overflowed all skies,
all years.Older than eternity, now he
© Luci Shaw
is new. Now native to earth as I am, nailed
to my poor planet, caught that I might be free,
blind in my womb to know my darkness ended,
brought to this birth
for me to be new-born,
and for him to see me mended
I must see him torn.
Albert Schweitzer’s name is known to many as a humanitarian and as an organist, a Bach specialist. Some think of him also as a German theologian of some importance, but without realizing that he was the epitomé of late nineteenth century anti-supernatural liberalism. His most enduring theological contribution was his 1906 book, “The Quest of the Historical Jesus.” This has continued to be a theme among skeptics, some (like the infamous “Jesus Seminar”) even questioning whether or not there was ever the actual person named Jesus of the New Testament records. These, like Schweitzer, sought to peel away the layers of supernatural myths about Jesus to get to the “real” historical Jesus. They wind up with a merely human morality preacher.
Schweitzer concluded that Jesus was a well-intentioned teacher who hoped to move history toward the wonderful goal of inaugurating the kingdom of God on earth, a kingdom characterized by the themes of the social gospel movement promoted by men like Walter Rauschenbusch, Washington Gladden, and Henry Van Dyke. Schweitzer described Jesus leaning against the wheel of history to make it move forward, only to find that it rolled back on Himself, crushing Him at the crucifixion.
The point for this study is to see that Jesus’ death was not a tragic, unforeseen accident. No, it was God’s plan from the beginning. That’s clear in the typology of the Old Testament cultic rituals of substitutionary sacrifices in the temple that pointed to the Lamb of God. We see it with unmistakable clarity in the Suffering Servant passage in Isaiah 52-53. And here it is again in Simeon’s pronouncement about a sword that lay in the future for this Babe of Bethlehem. It would be a sword that would not only pierce the heart of His mother, Mary. It would also pierce His side on the cross, doing so as part of the cost of our redemption.
Simeon’s “Nunc Dimittis” carries the joint themes of sadness and joy. As noted earlier in this study, what Simeon was saying was, in effect, “Lord, now I’m ready to die, to depart this earth. I’m ready for You to dismiss me from my temporal life here in this era. If I were to live another hundred years, I could never see anything more wonderful than this Babe, ‘for my eyes have seen Your salvation.’”
Some may remember the 2007 movie, “The Bucket List.” In that fictional Hollywood production, two men who have been diagnosed with terminal cancer (played by Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson) decide to leave the cancer ward of their hospital and experience things on their “bucket list,” things they had always dreamed of doing before they “kicked the bucket.” The story follows them as they go skydiving, drive a Mustang, fly over the North Pole, visit the Taj Mahal, motorcycle on the Great Wall of China, visit Mount Everest, and go on a lion safari in Tanzania. For Simeon, there was only one thing on his bucket list, and that was to see with his own eyes the promised Messiah. That day his bucket list wish was granted. “My eyes have seen your salvation.”
We ought to ask ourselves if seeing Jesus is on our bucket list. Are we living in anticipation of that day when our dream will come to pass, when we pass from this life into the next, and get to see the most wonderful sight any human being can ever view … the Lord Jesus Christ in all His unveiled glory? That’s how Simeon’s prayer should be a model for ours.
As with the other three nativity songs, many composers have set the texts to metrical and/or musical compositions. One that is almost one hundred years old but seldom found in use today is the two-stanza hymn “Song of Simeon,” written in 1931 by Dewey D. Westra (1899-1979). It is found in the recently published “Trinity Psalter Hymnal” as no. 295. Born in Holland, Michigan, Westra was a dedicated educator, writer, and musician who faithfully served the Christian Reformed Church. He attended Calvin College, Grand Rapids, Michigan, and Wayne State University in Detroit. In the 1920s and 30s he was a Christian school principal in Byron Center and Detroit, Michigan, having founded Christian Schools in those cities. During the 1940s he was involved in various ventures, including becoming a diesel instructor for the Ford Motor Company. After 1947 he became a principal again, serving at Christian schools in Sioux Center, Iowa; Randolph, Wisconsin; and Walker, Michigan. Westra wrote poetry in English, Dutch, and Frisian, and translated poetry into English from Dutch and Frisian.
He arranged many songs and composed songs for children’s choirs. He also versified all one hundred and fifty psalms and the Lord’s Prayer, as well as the songs of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon, in meters that fit the corresponding Genevan psalm tunes. His manuscripts are housed in the library of Calvin College. Seventeen of his psalm versifications and his paraphrases of the Lucan canticles were included in the 1934 and in the 1959 editions of the “Psalter Hymnal.” Much of the credit for keeping the Genevan psalms alive in the Christian Reformed Church goes to Westra. He was not concerned about receiving recognition for his work, but merely wanted the Psalms to become as dear to English speaking audiences as they had been to Dutch singers. One of his former pastors said of him, “In this man there was only humility, a humility that caused some to assess him to be less than he was.” He died in Grand Rapids. His wife, Nellie Koetje, preceded him in death. He left three sons, a brother, and five sisters.
While the metrical psalms remained central to Genevan worship, over time Calvin and the church in Geneva added several canticles, also versified in metrical forms. First on the list of those canticles is the Song of Simeon. As early as 1542, only about one year after Calvin returned to Geneva, the Genevan church published “The Form of Prayers and Ecclesiastical Songs.” This little booklet contained thirty-five metrical psalms followed by the Song of Simeon, the Lord’s Prayer, the Apostles’ Creed, and the Ten Commandments, also composed in metrical forms. The Song of Simeon is in the collection because it is one of the four songs recorded in the gospel of Luke, and thus as a biblical worship text, Calvin argued that it has authority equal to the psalms. Subsequent publications of the Genevan Psalter published in Calvin’s lifetime contain different selections of canticles, but the Song of Simeon is almost always in those editions. Calvin may have even versified the Song of Simeon for the 1542 edition of the psalter.
It took the Genevan Psalter about two decades to finally have all 150 psalms versified. In 1562, the church in Geneva published the complete metrical psalms in “Les Pseaumes mis en rime François” (in English, “The Psalms Set in French Rhyme”).The psalter was the result of the works of Theodore Beza (1519–1605) and Clement Marot (1496–1544). It included two canticles: the Ten Commandments and the Song of Simeon. Marot was the poet who versified the Song of Simeon for this edition. Louis Bourgeois (ca. 1510–61) is believed to be the composer of the tune in this edition. The harmonization of this canticle, as for the entire psalter, was the work of Claude Goudimel (ca. 1505–74). The 1542 version of the canticle has four stanzas, whereas the one from 1562 has only two. The earlier version expands on the theme of God’s grace to humanity beyond what is written in Luke 2:29–32. That elaboration is captured in the second and third stanzas. The later version is more concise, following the Lukan passages closely.
During the Reformation, the church in Strasbourg under the leadership of Martin Bucer (1491–1551) used the Song of Simeon as the closing hymn on Sundays when the church celebrated the Lord’s Supper. The singing of this canticle came right after the prayer of thanksgiving at the conclusion of the sacrament. Singing this canticle at that point in the liturgy is fitting, considering that in the thanksgiving prayer the minister would reemphasize not just the people’s gratitude for the salvation that God has granted through Jesus Christ, but also the call for the people to exalt God’s glory and to edify each other in faith. Sending the people home with the Song of Simeon on their lips served as a way for the church to remind people to glorify God and become witnesses to their neighbors, just as Simeon in the second chapter of Luke declares that Jesus has become the light to the Gentiles and the glory of God’s people.
Stanza 1 directs our attention to that special moment in the temple when the Holy Spirit revealed to Simeon that this child was the one he had been waiting for during those may years of hoping and praying. As he took the baby Jesus from Mary, holding Him in his arms, these were the words that he prayed (sang?). This was indeed his “Nunc Dimittis.” He was ready to die!
Now may your servant, Lord, according to Your Word,
Depart in exaltation, My peace shall be serene,
For now my eyes have seen Your wonderful salvation.
Stanza 2 is a metrical setting of the rest of his prayer of thankfulness. In it, we can imagine Luke’s joy in writing the theme which is so prominent in his Gospel, that of the universal salvation intended “for people ev’rywhere.” There is also the imagery so prominent in John’s Gospel, that of Jesus as the Light of the World.
O Lord, You did prepare for people ev’rywhere
A Light for revelation, and radiant glory shall
The gloom of death dispel for Israel, Your nation.
The melody of NUNC DIMITTIS comes from Louis Bourgeois in 1551. He was born in Paris about 1510 and died back there in 1561. In both his early and later years Bourgeois wrote French songs to entertain the rich, but in the history of church music he is known especially for his contribution to the Genevan Psalter. Apparently moving to Geneva in 1541, the same year John Calvin returned to Geneva from Strasbourg, Bourgeois served as cantor and master of the choristers at both St. Pierre and St. Gervais, which is to say he was music director there under the pastoral leadership of Calvin. Bourgeois used the choristers to teach the new psalm tunes to the congregation.
The extent of Bourgeois’s involvement in the Genevan Psalter is a matter of scholarly debate. Calvin had published several partial psalters, including one in Strasbourg in 1539 and another in Geneva in 1542, with melodies by unknown composers. In 1551 another French psalter appeared in Geneva, eighty-three Psalms of David, with texts by Marot and de Beze, and with most of the melodies by Bourgeois, who supplied thirty four original tunes and thirty-six revisions of older tunes. This edition was republished repeatedly, and later Bourgeois’s tunes were incorporated into the complete 1562 Genevan Psalter. In addition to his contribution to the 1551 Psalter, Bourgeois produced a four-part harmonization of fifty psalms, published in Lyons (1547, enlarged 1554), and wrote a textbook on singing and sight-reading, “La Droit Chemin de Musique” (1550). He left Geneva in 1552 and lived in Lyons and Paris for the remainder of his life.
The complete harmonized version of NUNC DIMITTIS comes from Claude Goudimel in 1564. Born in France about 1505 he died back in France in Lyons in 1672. His music was first published in Paris, and by 1551 he was composing harmonizations for some Genevan psalm tunes, initially for use by both Roman Catholics and Protestants. He became a Calvinist in 1557 while living in the Huguenot community in Metz. When the complete Genevan Psalter with its unison melodies was published in 1562, Goudimel began to compose various polyphonic settings of all the Genevan tunes. He actually composed three complete harmonizations of the Genevan Psalter, usually with the tune in the tenor part: simple hymn-style settings (1564), slightly more complicated harmonizations (1565), and quite elaborate, motet-like settings (1565-1566). The various Goudimel settings became popular throughout Calvinist Europe, both for domestic singing and later for use as organ harmonizations in church. Sadly, Goudimel was one of the victims of the St. Bartholomew’s Day massacre of Huguenots, which occurred throughout France.
Here is a link to the music and words, though with a different set of lyrics for stanza 2.