Today is a national day of prayer.
Okay, not “officially.” Not sanctioned by any denomination or government decree. But there will still be more prayers hurtled heavenward today than on any other given Sunday.
Yes, it is Superbowl Sunday — and there are prayers going up for that favorite team by player, family members, coaches, investment brokers, and, of course, fans, all over this country. And, like the pizza-hawker “Papa John’s,” who promised a free pizza to anyone who correctly calls the “head or tails” coin toss that starts the game, half of the people will have their prayers “answered.” Half will not.
Sorry. Coin tosses and football games are not the testing grounds for our prayer life. “Hail Mary’s” aren’t the only way to connect with the divine. “Arrow prayers — “Dear God, please let me pass this math test,” “Dear Lord, Please keep the car on the road,” “Dear Jesus, please find me a job,” aren’t really “prayers” at all. They are heart- and soul-felt pleas.
Prayer is something different. Prayer is paying attention to the movement of the Spirit in our lives. Praying is an attitude that embraces amplitude. Prayer elevates us to the portals of eternity and opens us up to the presence of the divine. A prayer-conditioned life is a Spirit-filled life.
Even the most “newbie” pray-er knows when they are faced with a moment that demands a “nunc dimittis,” as Simeon declared it. “Nunc dimittis” is a moment when we are faced with a new reality so stark and inescapable that there is no other place to turn for guidance and help but to prayer. Simeon’s declaration, “Lord now you are dismissing your servant in peace” was the culmination of a life-long look-out for the Messiah he had been promised he would see.
The Anglican “Book of Common Prayer” presents the “Nunc Dimittis” in its definitive form:
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;
To be a light to lighten the Gentiles, and to be the glory of thy people Israel.
Our own “nunc dimittis” moments might erupt at any time in our lives. “Nunc dimittis” moments are those experiences that reveal to us God’s presence, prompting and providence in our lives, and how we must respond to that presence, prompting and providence.
There are moments that drive us to our knees in prayer. But Jesus teaches us that those “great moments” are not always perceived as “great” by the rest of the world. Here are some Nunc Dimittis moments in Jesus’ own life, moments which he seized to spend time with God.
1) The day before great decisions were made, Jesus prayed.
Those hours are not marked by the world, but they are notched in our souls. Before Jesus chose his twelve disciples, he prayed. Jesus had three years in which to save the world. How did he spend those three years? Writing a manuscript? Building a temple? Starting a new religion? No, he spent those three years investing everything he had in a team. This team he chose would be charged with continuing his ministry and carrying the gospel into and throughout the world.
But before he chose his team, what did he do? He spent the night in prayer (Luke 6:12-13). The greatest decision Jesus made for the sake of the gospel was made after he spent “the night in prayer to God.” (Luke 12:12) Only after that extended time in prayer did Jesus chose his disciples.
Before you make important decisions in your life, do you pray? I know you do all sorts of social and fiscal and psychological reconnaissance. We check out paper trails and personality quirks, credit checks, and long-term assets.
But do we pray? Do we ask for God’s guidance? Do we open ourselves up to a divine insight that might clash with a credit report, a job review, or a resume?
After a day and night of prayer, Jesus chose fishermen, day-workers, a tax collector, zealot, and generic nobodies to be his disciples. On the surface these were fringe, insignificant members of society, individuals with no good prospect of being building blocks for the kingdom of God. It was only through prayer that God revealed to Jesus the true possibilities and powers contained within these twelve disciples.
2) Before facing temptation and battling evil, Jesus prayed.
Jesus found enormous solace and solidarity in prayer before or in the midst of confrontations with evil or temptation. Before Jesus ventured into the wilderness — before he came face to face with the ravages of hunger and cold and loneliness and abandonment — he spent time in prayer (Matthew 4). Jesus prefaced his time in the wilderness with a voluntary time spent in prayer and fasting, sharpening his soul before it was tested.
Yet the greatest temptation of Christ did not come in the wilderness. It came in the Garden of Gethsemane. Surrounded by the sweetness of the garden, and the snoring sounds of his own disciples, Jesus prayed his way through the greatest temptation — the temptation to appease the authorities and withdraw from the final sacrifice. Jesus prayed his way through the night, and in his praying he shunned the easy way out and instead embraced the divine path of selfless love for all humanity.
3) When he had the least time to pray, Jesus prayed.
Jesus prayed the most when had the least time, energy, or freedom, to do so (Luke 5:15-16). Whenever Jesus became hemmed in, pressed down, and jostled most by the crowds, that is exactly when Jesus withdrew to take a breath. He escaped into the “wilderness” or the “mountains” or the “desert” to pray. When the scrabble and rabble of the crowds’ demands reached a certain decibel point, Jesus would withdraw. He did not abandon them. He did not reject them. But he did take the time to re-immerse himself in his connection with the Father.
How many times do we complain that we just don’t have the time to pray, given the demands and pressures of life. But Jesus teaches us that when we least have the time to pray is when we need most to “Take time to be holy, speak oft with thy Lord; Abide in Him always, and feed on His Word”
4) When facing his final nunc dimittis, Jesus prayed.
No one gets out of life alive. Each one of us will have to say our own version of the “nunc dimittis” Lord, lettest thou thy servant depart in peace.
The ultimate “nunc dimittis” happens at our greatest moments of sacred intercept. On one end of the human spectrum is the experience of birth. In Luke 2 focus is on the welcoming of the infant Jesus into the world. He is being celebrated as a great gift from God, the gift of the “first born,” the celebration of a new life that will in turn serve God and God’s desires for this world. Nunc Dimittis.
On the other end of life’s spectrum is Simeon’s final prayer, his prayer of committal as he submits his life to God’s care. Jesus too prayed his “nunc dimittis” on the cross: “Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit.”
Emile Cailliet’s (1894-1981) autobiography is called Journey into Light (1968). In this book Cailliet says the light broke for him, not in some flash or blinding illumination. Rather a series of events that brought him, step by step, to the throne of grace. Here is one such step:
We were still living in Switzerland and been invited to spend a week in a mountain cabin. Our little boy was suddenly taken ill and the only doctor within reach practiced in a distant village that could be reached only by goat-trail across the mountains. And so I started out at the crack of dawn, my little boy perched on my shoulder. Although it was a demanding journey, I finally made it. A small surgical procedure being indicated, I left the boy at the doctor’s until the following morning. As I walked aimlessly along the streets of the little village, wondering where I could find a place to eat and sleep, a villager asked me very simply whether he could be of any help.
Having heard my story, he opened the door of a house and introduced me to his wife. The children stopped their games and stood up to greet the guest with an obviously inbred respect. I was immediately taken upstairs to”my” room, which must have been the best in the house. Supper was announced. There was a long table and standing at the center, a patriarchal figure I had not seen before: the grandfather. There he was with long hair and white beard, and a family Bible in front of him. Next to him, on one side, stood the man who had invited me in. On the other side stood the man’s wife. The children were seated according to age. There was an empty place at the center, next to the patriarch – a place for me. The bearded grandfather then read from the Bible. There followed a prayer or rather the patriarch spoke to God, who was so near. Then here was a silence, from the depths of which emerged the singing of a psalm, according to the ancient Huguenot rhythm. There was discipline, and yet a free and cheerful conversation soon gave evidence of the genuine joy and happiness enjoyed by this Huguenot Christian family. I found the same scene re-enacted at breakfast. This time the patriarch rose at the end to pray for my boy, and to give thanks for my visit. I could not find it in myself to ask how much I owed. It would have been obviously out of place. They took me to the door. I made my way to the doctor’s house. He also was a Huguenot Christian and accepted only a nominal fee, because, he said, I was a stranger in need.
With the lad happily back on my shoulders, I started on my return journey across the mountains. Yet, I was no longer the same man . . .
That is what prayer does. Yes, prayer changes things. But more importantly, prayer changes us. A prayer-conditioned life conditions us to receive God’s presence and power, even and especially in life’s “nunc dimittis” moments.
COMMENTARY
One of the more popular online search sites is “Ancestry.com” – a genealogy site designed to enable people to research their family trees. With the ever-increasing stockpile of electronic information online, it is becoming easier and easier to find out more about our ancestors than just their names and dates of birth and death. Where they lived, what they did, whom they knew, is suddenly at our fingertips, giving a truer, more flesh-and-blood picture of our ancestral family.
While both Matthew and Luke offer lengthy genealogies for Jesus, only Luke’s gospel fleshes out the picture of Jesus’ family life with the personal details found in Luke 2 - you might call these details “leaves” to fill out Jesus’ family tree. Luke’s text describes a family journey to Jerusalem that was undertaken to accomplish two important tasks.
First, according to Levitical law, Mary was required to present herself at the Temple forty days after childbirth to offer a sacrifice for her purification (Leviticus 12:2-5). Luke’s description of this detail highlights the strict obedience of Mary and Joseph to keeping this law. The sacrifice they offered, however, also illustrates their own simple status, for only the poor were allowed to substitute inexpensive doves for the traditional sacrificial lamb (Leviticus 12:8).
The other ritual that needed to be completed was the presentation of their firstborn son to the Lord, as described in Exodus 13:2. But Luke’s text suggests that Mary and Joseph may have planned to do more with Jesus than simply ritually presenting him to the Temple: a more formal dedication of the infant as occurred with Samuel (2 Samuel 1-2) seems to be in the picture here. Luke uses the plural (“their purification”) to describe the reason for this journey, when according to Levitical law only Mary needed to observe the purification ritual. But if Jesus was being dedicated to the Lord’s service, even as Hannah had done with Samuel, such a ritual would have formally made the infant Jesus “holy to the Lord,” as Luke describes him in vs. 23.
Every individual in Luke 2:22-40 receives from Luke a detailed “ancestory.com” examination of their roots and the reasons for their actions. Into the “family moment” of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus there suddenly appears a new character — Simeon. Every detail Luke provides offers a spotless spiritual “resume” for this man Simeon. He is described as “righteous and devout.” Most importantly he is identified as one upon whom “the Holy Spirit had rested” (v.25). All of Simeon’s actions and insights are repeatedly attributed to the presence of this Holy Spirit.
Encouraged by a long-ago promise and guided by the Spirit, Simeon intercepts Joseph, Mary, and Jesus before they reach the inner courtyards of the Temple, where no woman might enter. Having already established Simeon’s spiritual pedigree, Luke now records a prophetic proclamation from this man. Simeon’s initial declaration, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,” is a phrase which has taken on an extended life in the Church as the “nunc dimittis” — a final prayer of praise and thanksgiving offered by a faithful follower. In Evensong and Compline in the Anlican and Catholic tradition, Simeon’s Song is sung as part of evening or night time services — an offering of praise for the Lord at the close, or the “death,” of each day.
Simeon’s Song, as found in Luke, is a prayer specifically praising God for the fulfillment of a divine promise. All of Simeon’s song repeats the language and predictions of Isaiah 42:6: 46:23; and 49:6 – the promise of redemption and salvation at the appearance of the Messiah, the “Savior,” for both Israel and for the “ethnon,” all the nations of the world. Yet while all are offered salvation, both Jew and Gentile, Simeon’s prayer in the Temple courtyard while holding the infant Jesus (“in Hebrew “Joshua,” or “Yahweh saves”) affirms the glory of Israel that is but a reflection of God’s presence.
As Simeon continues, his prayer turns into a personal blessing offered to Mary and Joseph. But it is a mixed blessing indeed. Simeon has declared their infant son to be the source of salvation for the world. But he now also prophesizes the discord and dissension that will accompany the present of this child’s presence. The “falling and rising” Simeon describes is from the image of the “stumbling block” found in Isaiah 8:14-15 — the stumbling block that becomes the corner stone for a new pathway to God (Luke 10:17-18). And finally Simeon makes his words very personal. Neither worldly salvation, nor the will of God, nor the presence of the Lord’s Messiah, is the focus of Simeon’s final words. Rather he addresses Mary and declares that even as the people of Israel will be divided, so will “sword piece your own soul too” (v.35). Division and dissension will devastate Jesus’ own family, even as it will be present within the world. This is what is behind the story in Luke 4 of Jesus’ return to his hometown, where his family not only refuses to support his ministry but does not protect him when Nazareth tries to do an honors killing.
As a final note of affirmation for this family centered scenario, Luke records the presence of Anna — yet another person of well-documented righteousness. Her genealogy is given and her pious behavior over decades is described. Her identity as a daughter of Phanuel (see Genesis 32:30) and her membership in good standing as one of Israel’s twelve tribes, the tribe of Asher, are only the tip of the iceberg of her “pedigree.” She has, remarkably, been a constant presence in prayer and penitence (prayer and fasting) for over sixty years within the temple compound. Exact words are not recorded. Luke simply states that Anna “began to praise God and speak about the child.” But Anna’s own family tree of service and obedience lends the weight of its roots to the infant Jesus’ new shoot of life. Here is the newest bloom of God.