Lord, Lettest Now thy Servant Depart in Peace

Dear Friends,

This Sunday, we celebrate the Feast of the Presentation, also known as Candlemas, a feast that, in time, became associated with light, as churches began blessing the candles to be used in the year ahead. In our Gospel reading, Mary and Joseph bring their infant son to the temple for the traditional Jewish purification rites. There, they encounter Simeon, an elderly man who has spent his life waiting for the Messiah. Upon seeing Jesus, he takes the child into his arms and sings the Nunc Dimittis, a song that has been prayed by candlelight in the church during evening liturgies for centuries:

"Lord, you now have set your servant free, to go in peace as you have promised; for these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see— a light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people Israel."

Many interpret this song as a final prayer, assuming that now, having seen the Messiah, Simeon is free to die. But perhaps his song is not about death at all. Perhaps, in holding the Christ child, he is, for the first time, free to truly live.

Simeon’s entire existence had been shaped by anticipation. Luke describes him as righteous and devout, living for the “consolation of Israel,” waiting for the fulfillment of God’s promise. And yet, in this moment, something shifts. He is no longer waiting. No longer striving toward a future possibility. He is simply present. At peace.

What if the gift God gave Simeon was not just the fulfillment of a promise but the release from the burden of living for what’s next?

So much of our longing for peace, joy, or purpose is tied to future conditions. We tell ourselves that when we get the job, when we find the right relationship, when life is less busy, when we feel healthier, or when the world is less divided—then we will be at peace. But Simeon’s moment of freedom does not come from the resolution of all things. Rome still occupies Israel. Oppression has not ceased. The world is still uncertain. And yet, his eyes have seen salvation. Not in a grand display of power, but in a baby held in his arms.

The artist Rembrandt painted Simeon’s face four times over his lifetime, and in his final version, partially completed near the end of his own life, he painted his own face onto Simeon’s. If you look closely at the painting, you’ll notice that Simeon holds the long-awaited child not with hands tightly clasped but with arms outstretched—hands open to receive whatever that child would bring. It is as if Rembrandt, too, had finally understood what it meant to be released—not to die, but to live—open-handed, in trust.

The invitation of this feast day is to step into that same freedom. Not to wait for perfect conditions but to receive the grace of God’s now. As I shared in my sermon last week, we are called not only to believe in the promise of God's presence but to live in it—to recognize that God's grace is not just something we hope for in the future but something unfolding right in front of us, here and now.

"Now, you have set your servant free, to go in peace as you have promised."

In Christ,

Amelie+