The Presentation: Luke’s Sacred Opera - Candlemas

St Luke the Evangelist, writer of the third gospel, has many names. He was a disciple of St Paul, most likely a Gentile convert. Paul, in the epistle to the Colossians (4:14) describes him as “the physician.” Luke was a self-confessed historian, as we read in the opening verses of the gospel (1:3-4): “I … decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus.” Over the centuries he became patron saint of artists, physicians, bachelors, surgeons, students, and even butchers.

Reflecting on Luke’s account of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple, Episcopal priest and author Suzanne Guthrie adds another title: musician. She writes:

To me, [St Luke] is also a musician because of the perfect balance of the four complementing and contrasting emotional voices in this story. If I were staging the Presentation as a short sacred opera, I would show the couple in a busy outer courtyard buying the two doves before entering the temple, maybe someplace in the concert hall itself. The market-like courtyard fades as Mary and Joseph ascend the steps to the stage. They enter the dark, echoing temple of beautifully proportioned pillars and arches, a template so many Renaisaissaince artists rendered for the Presentation. Mary and Joseph enter alone into this vast space, with the infant and a flimsy temporary cage for the turtledoves.

From an unseen place in the darkness you hear Simeon (baritone), singing of his longing for the consolation of Israel. Simeon, old, weary, reminds God of the promise that he “should not see death before he had seen the Lord's Christ.” A low light gradually illumines him as he sings of the exertion it took to come to the temple that day - the uneven, cobbled streets, the confusion of the marketplace, the impossible stairs, his failing faculties. And now, he waits in utter darkness, like the Gentiles, in the holy but silent space, ready to die but not yet fulfilled.

Then, from the opposite space in low-lit darkness, we hear Anna (contralto) sing her story of long widowhood and a life of ecstatic love for God, fasting and praying night and day in the temple. After her story, Simeon's voice blends with hers as they both summarize the states of their soul in this prescient moment.

Inspired by the Spirit, Simeon comes out of the darkness to watch the younger couple. Joseph, (tenor) wary, protective … at the threshold of the holy place. We were brought together for this child, but what does it mean? asks Joseph. Mary (soprano) … remembers the day they were brought together in the Temple, and the tender times of learning to accept one another. Their voices also blend into a duet as they acknowledge the mystery of their lives together.

Simeon approaches, tears streaming down his withered face. “May I hold him?” asks the ancient man. After a pause, both Mary and Joseph assent and Simeon takes the child in his arms and sings another aria: Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for the revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to thy people Israel.

Anna comes out of the shadows to join them. The four voices merge in praising God - lines from the psalms [and] prophets blend to create the text ….  Now Simeon, overcome by the Spirit, prophecies: “Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against, … that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.” And he sings to Mary, “And a sword will pierce through your own soul also ... that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.”

Anna joins the prophecy: “... that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.” Joseph joins, and Mary, standing apart from the others, her voice the steady, pulsing, foundational note that pulls all the voices together as she ponders all of this in her heart.

A composition for our musical director perhaps.

The truth of St Luke’s imagining of our Lord’s presentation in the temple literally sings out from the page of the gospel. It is a song of poverty, of displaced people, of refugees, of the oppressed; and it is also a song of hope and divine provenance; a song of praise and profound joy; a song of call and ministry. It is our song.

We may come to this reading with heavy hearts. The world is a harsh place, even our church life can be challenging. But as we break bread together in the Eucharist, as we reach out our hands, like Simeon, hold no less than divinity itself, the fulfilment of humanity in the Christ child. And with Anna, praise rises in our hearts, joy overflows; it is true, irrepressible, life-giving. It is indeed the light of revelation.

Today we commission lay leaders, an ordinand and a priest who have heard this song, who have responded to this light, who have stepped forward to offer leadership in our church. As they are commissioned, may we all reflect on the ways we are too called to respond to the light of Christ. The Lord be with you!

 SOURCE: Suzanne Guthrie, “Soulwork Toward Sunday” http://www.edgeofenclosure.org/christmas1bpresentation.html