December 4: Consolation of Israel & Revelation to Gentiles
♫ Music:
Wednesday, December 4
Title: CONSOLATION OF ISRAEL & REVELATION TO GENTILES
Scripture: Luke 2: 25-32
And there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; and this man was righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel; and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. And he came in the Spirit into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to carry out for Him the custom of the Law, then he took Him into his arms, and blessed God, and said, “Now Lord, You are releasing Your bond-servant to depart in peace, according to Your word; for my eyes have seen Your salvation, which You have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a Light of revelation to the Gentiles, And the glory of Your people Israel.”
Poetry:
A Song for Simeon
by T.S. Eliot
Lord, the Roman hyacinths are blooming in bowls and
The winter sun creeps by the snow hills;
The stubborn season has made stand.
My life is light, waiting for the death wind,
Like a feather on the back of my hand.
Dust in sunlight and memory in corners
Wait for the wind that chills towards the dead land.
Grant us thy peace.
I have walked many years in this city,
Kept faith and fast, provided for the poor,
Have taken and given houour and ease.
There went never any rejected from my door.
Who shall remember my house, where shall live my children's children.
When the time of sorrow is come?
They will take to the goat's path, and the fox's home,
Fleeing from the foreign faces and the foreign swords.
Before the time of cords and scourges and lamentation
Grant us thy peace.
Before the stations of the mountain of desolation,
Before the certain hour of maternal sorrow,
Now at this birth season of decease,
Let the Infant, the still unspeaking and unspoken Word,
Grant Israel's consolation
To one who has eighty years and no t-morrow.
According to thy word,
They shall praise Thee and suffer in every generation
With glory and derision,
Light upon light, mounting the saints' stair.
Not for me the martydom, the ecstasy of thought and prayer,
Not for me the ultimate vision.
Grant me thy peace.
(And a sword shall pierce thy heart,
Thine also).
I am tired with my own life and the lives of those after me,
I am dying in my own death and the deaths of those after me,
Let thy servant depart.
Having seen thy salvation.
VISION AND PEACE
Today’s artwork, a painting by Philippe de Champaigne’s, presents a crowded, colorful spectacle. The scene nearly bursts with dazzled onlookers attired with radiant fabric. Simeon holds the Christ child and dominates the focus of the painting not merely in the center of the canvas, but in commanding the attention of the throng bustling around him. Each face and gesture express different emotions—excitement, curiosity, or surprise. At the edge of the painting another mother stands beneath the archway, puzzled (and perhaps a bit irritated) that the newly arrived baby has so clearly supplanted interest in her own.
Yet the most remarkable expression by far belongs to Simeon himself, whose gaze has lifted from the regard of his Lord up and away from the scene he occupies. He has the look of someone in the midst of dawning epiphany. His mouth opens slightly, perhaps less to speak than to gasp as realization overtakes him. His left hand, too, like his gaze and breath, seems arrested mid-motion as Jesus kicks gently against his open palm. A man in greater possession of his senses could hardly resist clasping the tiny feet. As a father to young children, it’s an impulse I know very well.
Champaigne strikingly portrays the sublime sort of vision that overtakes Simeon in Luke’s account. Simeon is one of the few people who meet Christ and grasp the significance of his Incarnation. When he speaks, he sees not merely (or not only) the child who will become a man, but in that child the totality of God’s salvation—promises kept and prophecies fulfilled for the blessing of all nations. Perhaps oddly, this recognition is first articulated as a sense of relief at the prospect of his death. But the relief is by no means morbid; one can almost hear Simeon speak with a trembling sigh as we read “to depart in peace, according to your word.” Luke tells us that Simeon had composed his years with devotion, living with discipline and maintaining a steadfast faith in the seemingly remote possibility of Israel’s consolation.
It is amid this discipline that the Holy Spirit both rewards and further burdens Simeon with the promise that he would see Christ before he died. TS Eliot investigates this friction between faith and waiting in his poem. The opening line opens with an image symbolic of Simeon and his experience: “Roman hyacinths blooming in bowls.” Obedient to water and light, the flowers bloom despite the fact that they’re slowly dying; cut off from plant and roots. The hyacinth is held to symbolize prudence and peace of mind—the qualities necessary for sustaining Simeon’s righteousness. But Eliot also undercuts the flower’s symbolic connotations in naming it a Roman hyacinth. Simeon lives in a world subject to Roman rule and law; it pervades every aspect of his life and the life of his people. Not even a flower’s beauty escapes it.
The blooming, dying flower serves as a metaphorical lens through which to read the rest of the poem; Simeon weaves together a personal and national history where his life of faithfulness has left him more fatigued than fulfilled. He looks to the future with a resigned and apprehensive clarity; the good he has performed will not be enough to forestall the disasters of war and violence. Yet in the midst of these world-weary reflections, he returns to the prophetic and priestly refrain: “Grant us thy peace…Grant me thy peace.”
De Champaigne and Eliot together create a portrait of Simeon in which God rewards a quiet, enduring devotion with the gift of extraordinary wisdom crowned with absolute peace. As he looks upon Christ, Simeon’s faith becomes sight and he greets his imminent death neither with fear nor resignation, but with joy. That death and hope come so near each other might seem strange, but we shouldn’t be surprised. Simeon belongs to the pattern of faith; a history in which God constantly intervenes in the bleakest of circumstances to bring himself glory, redeem his people, and renew the beauty of his creation.
Advent offers us a season of both celebration as well as self-examination. As I contemplate Simeon, I recognize the narrowness of my own vision and the doubt in my heart. It’s a commonplace that the anticipation which precedes Christmas somehow seems more festive and enchanted than the day itself. I have remarked to my wife in years past that December seems to pass in a blur, and I resolved to do better next time at finding ways to “slow down,” “attend,” and “make room.” These are the phrases and words I most often encounter this time of year, gesturing toward new paradigms of abiding with the Holy Spirit. But to the extent that such phrases and their strategies adorn seasonal anticipation and devotion, they locate us with de Champaigne’s onlookers, variously looking at Jesus, at each other, and the scene around them. They do not see or comprehend, as we will not, the total revelation of Christ and his salvation permeating all time and circumstance.
Prayer:
Lord Jesus, place your hands on my eyes that I, with growing faith, may begin to catch sight of the things that are not seen more than the things that are seen. Unveil the vision of my heart that I may more perfectly contemplate You. I ask this through your name, to which belongs glory and power forever.
Amen.
Dr. Phillip Aijian
Adjunct Professor
Torrey Honors Institute
Biola University
For more information about the artwork, music, and poetry selected for this day, we have provided resources under the “About” tab located next to the “Devotional” tab.
About the Artwork:
Presentation of Jesus Christ at the Temple
(with detail of Simeon)
Philippe de Champaigne
c. 1628-1630
Oil on canvas
Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon
Dijon, France
Artist Philippe de Champaigne places the Gospel story of Simeon meeting Mary, Joseph, and the Christ Child on the steps of the Temple. According to the Biblical account, Simeon had been visited by the Holy Spirit and told that he would not die until he had seen the Lord's Christ. In this painting, the expression of Simeon’s face as he looks up to the heavens and holds the Christ Child testifies to the old man's joy at a Divine promise fulfilled.
About the Artist:
Philippe de Champaigne (1602-1674) was a Flemish-born Baroque painter. He is primarily noted as an exceptional painter and noted for his usage of brilliant colors in his paintings, the strength of his compositions, and his restrained portrait and religious paintings. Trained in Brussels, he was employed by the Baroque painter Nicolas Poussin in the decoration of the Luxembourg Palace in Belgium. His strongest works are the sensitive portraits he produced of eminent dignitaries and his contemporaries, including the entire French court and high members of the church, nobility, and the state.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philippe_de_Champaigne
About the Music:
“Now Let Thy Servant Depart in Peace” from the album Feodor Chaliapin
The Nunc Dimittis, also known as the Song of Simeon or the Canticle of Simeon, is a canticle taken from the second chapter of the Gospel of Luke. It is known by its Latin name, which is taken from the opening words of the Vulgate translation of the passage, meaning "Now you dismiss.” Since the 4th century, it has been used in services of evening worship such as Compline, Vespers, and Evensong.
Lyrics:
Nyne otpushchayeshi raba Tvoego, Vladyko, po glagolu Tvoyemu s mirom: yako videsta ochi moi spaseniye Tvoye, ezhe esi ugotoval pred litsem vsekh lyudei, svet vo otkrovenie yazykov, i slavu lyudei Tvoikh Izrailya.
Translation:
Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy Word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared before the face of all people. A light to lighten the Gentiles and the glory of thy people, Israel
About the Composer:
Mikhail Porfirievich Strokin (1832-1887) was a composer during the fifty-year period of Russian sacred music known as the St. Petersburg Period. This musical period in Russian church music (especially in the Imperial Chapel) was characterized by “Western-sounding” four-part harmony that dominated over the more traditional Russian chant. Strokin and other composers of this era were heavily influenced by German composers such as Mendelssohn and Schumann. However, while the sounds of the era were predominantly Western, the simplified melodies and harmonies began to pave the way for a return to more traditional Russian chant in worship services.
About the Performer:
Feodor Chaliapin (1873–1938) was a Russian opera singer. Possessing a deep and expressive bass voice, he enjoyed an international career at major opera houses and is often credited with establishing the tradition of naturalistic acting. Chaliapin is best remembered for the power of his personality, the acuteness of his musical interpretations, and the vividness of his performances. Chaliapin appeared at the major opera houses in Milan (1901,1904), New York City (1907), and London (1913). After leaving the Soviet Union, Chaliapin performed frequently with the New York Metropolitan Opera, the Chicago Opera, and the Covent Garden Opera in London.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Feodor_Chaliapin
About the Poet:
T. S. Eliot (1888–1965), one of the twentieth century's major poets, was also an essayist, publisher, playwright, and literary critic. Born in Missouri to a prominent family, he moved to England in 1914 where he settled, worked, and became a British subject. It was poet Ezra Pound, in his role as a friend and editor, who helped establish Eliot as a preeminent figure in the modernist poetic movement, particularly through his editorial assistance of The Waste Land (1922). With its collage of voices, its violent disjunctions in tone and wealth of cultural allusion, Eliot’s The Waste Land resonated as a depiction of the ruins of post-war European civilization. The 1920s also saw Eliot become increasingly conservative in his outlook, particularly following his conversion to the Anglican Church. His religious conversion would have a far-reaching impact on the rest of his career, culminating in the Christian meditations found in Four Quartets (1943), which garnered him the 1948 Nobel Prize for Literature. He was also known for his seven plays, particularly Murder in the Cathedral (1935) and The Cocktail Party (1949).
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/t-s-eliot
About the Devotion Writer:
Dr. Phillip Aijian
Adjunct Professor
Torrey Honors Institute
Biola University
Phillip Aijian holds a PhD in Renaissance drama and theology from UC Irvine. He teaches literature and religious studies and has published in journals like ZYZZYVA, Heron Tree, Poor Yorick, and Zocalo Public Square.