Lift up ye heads, O ye gates,
and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors,
and the King of Glory shall come in.
Who is this King of Glory?
The Lord strong and mighty,
the Lord mighty in battle.
That was from the psalm we sung this evening, Psalm 24. I wonder how many of you can hear those words, in the King James version, without the hearing the music that has made them as famous (in English, at least) as they are today? Handel completed his oratorio 'Messiah' in 1741, during a period of just over three weeks. Those of you who know it well will agree that the rich selection of biblical texts gives a pretty comprehensive overview of the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and his coming again in glory.
But, as any good biblical scholar knows, the way to Jesus is through the Old Testament - and Charles Jennens, who compiled these scriptures for Handel, certainly knew what he was doing there. The majority of Part 1 of Messiah - the first 35 minutes or so - is Old Testament, mainly Isaiah. Why? Well, because the reason why God needs to give us a Messiah (his anointed one; our Saviour) is provided in the Old Testament; and the only way in which we (or indeed anyone at the time) could recognise Jesus as this Messiah is through what the Old Testament says about him. The New Testament is, if you like, a confirmation of God's purpose as it is worked out in the incarnation - the actual coming of Jesus into the world. But the reason behind it all is there, first and foremost, in the Hebrew scriptures; the bible Jesus read - what we now call the Old Testament.
And this is what we celebrate at Candlemas. Tonight we remember the Presentation of Christ in the Temple - the presentation of the one whom God had promised to the world - and the recognition of him by Simeon, a man who, St Luke tells us, was 'righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel'. Simeon knew his Scriptures. He knew that, in time, God would intervene. Simeon had the gift of the Holy Spirit. Through the Spirit, God had revealed to Simeon that he would see the Messiah before he died. And he did. (It's all there in Luke chapter 2.)
But, you see, none of this would've made sense without the build-up; without the longing, the yearning, the crying out of a people whose story of homelessness and oppression lines the pages of the Old Testament - God's chosen people, the people of Israel. And that's why 'Messiah' - Handel's 'Messiah' - needs to start with them; not with the shepherds, the angels and the wise men, and certainly not with us.
Let's look at 'Messiah' from the beginning. 'Comfort ye, my people' ; 'Ev'ry valley shall be exalted' ; 'And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed' - those first three numbers are all from Isaiah chapter 40. Then we have a dramatic bass recitative from Haggai chapter 2: 'Thus saith the Lord, the Lord of hosts; yet once, a little while, and I will shake the heavens and the earth, the sea and the dry land; and the desire of all nations shall come.' God makes promises; promises to reveal his glory to the world - and that means us. He also promises to shake things up. And God, as we know, never breaks his promises. We can expect something big to happen.
And it does, of course - this is where our reading from Malachi 3, that we heard this evening, comes into play. This short passage warrants no less than the following consecutive three numbers in 'Messiah': we have a fiery bass recitative - 'The Lord, whom ye seek, shall suddenly come to his temple, even the messenger of the covenant, whom ye delight in: behold, he shall come, saith the Lord of hosts.' Then a question, sung by the alto - 'But who may abide the day of his coming? And who shall stand when he appeareth? For he is like a refiner's fire.' Chorus - 'And he shall purify the sons of Levi, that they may offer unto the Lord an offering in righteousness.'
There is such passion and drama in these texts, and Handel's music treats them accordingly. In these few short passages (from what we ironically call the 'minor' prophets) Haggai and Malachi are giving us stuff that makes us sit up and tremble. God is to be feared. He is full of majesty and awe. He is like a refiner's fire and fuller's soap. He's going to clean the place up, and there will be no escape! He will come as judge and bear witness against all those who do not fear him - sorcerers, adulterers, liars, those who oppress others. So who can stand when he appears? Who can stand when he suddenly comes to his temple? Can anybody?
Well, we might be able to answer that question by looking again at our reading from St Luke's gospel. Simeon. Simeon is there when the Lord suddenly comes to his temple. The Lord is none other than this baby Jesus, and Simeon not only stands, but takes him in his arms and responds with that song of praise we call the Nunc Dimittis. You see, this awesome God who made the heavens and the earth and everything in it, the one who made you and me, is here, in the temple. The God who promised to give his people a Messiah to save them from endless oppression and from their own relentless wickedness - he is here, in the temple. The God who is the judge of all mankind is here, in the temple. His name is Jesus, and Simeon recognised him. He recognised him because of what he knew about God in the Scriptures.
We, too, have recognised God in Jesus Christ. In him, we have seen the very face of the one who made us in his image. And even though we abandoned him - rejecting him and nailing him to a cross - he would not reject us. He loved us to the end, and he has purified us, as he promised, so that we too can stand before him.
I want to finish by introducing this song of Simeon, the Nunc Dimittis. Those of you who love choral evensong will be familiar with these words, together with Mary's song of praise, the Magnificat. Have you noticed how choral settings of the Magnificat are often loud, lively and full of energy? Sometimes, they are quieter and more reflective, of course. Settings of the Nunc Dimittis, though, are - I think - always quiet and reflective (at least at the beginning). It is a reflective and gentle text. It's a text about the nature and purpose of Jesus Christ, and it is, if you like, a kind of lens through which we read those dramatic prophecies of Haggai and Malachi.
Tonight we're going to hear a setting of the song of Simeon by George Dyson. As we listen, let's ponder the awe and majesty of God; and, with Simeon, recognise afresh his Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ.
Peter Edwards
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