A Tekton, and a Love Supreme

In Jerusalem at the time, there was a man,
Simeon by name, a good man,
a man who lived in the prayerful expectancy of help for Israel.
And the Holy Spirit was on him.
The Holy Spirit had shown him
that he would see the Messiah of God before he died.
Led by the Spirit, he entered the Temple.
As the parents of the child Jesus
brought him in to carry out the rituals of the Law,
Simeon took him into his arms and blessed God:
God, you can now release your servant;
release me in peace as you promised.
With my own eyes I’ve seen your salvation;
it’s now out in the open for everyone to see:
A God-revealing light to the non-Jewish nations,
and of glory for your people Israel.

Luke 2:26-32 (The Message)

In music history, there are albums, tracks, and hits that seem to reappear to each new, younger generation. My eldest son thinks Pet Sounds is an undiscovered gem. I grinned when he told me that. My youngest son will be singing “Learning to Fly” by Tom Petty at the All-School Holiday Sing. You can’t bury the real hits. They keep coming back.

Nunc Dimittis is one of those songs. That’s what Simeon whisper-sang softly over the child presented to him. He was an old, crinkly, brittle man, his sunset close. Nunc Dimittis is the Latin: “Let me be dismissed,” or “let me now depart.” In common parlance: “I can die now.”

That’s what you say when a bucket-list item has been checked off. Nunc dimittis. When you ate a hunk of fresh bread and some soft cheese under the scale-defying Alps in a water gouged valley meadow, nunc dimittis. When the Finnish winter dumped a muting layer of snow, the northern lights swirled, and you jumped off the dock into bracing iced water and then sprinted to the sauna, nunc dimittis.

Simeon and his bucket-listed baby.

What do old guys know about bucket-lists? They invented them. They filled them up; made new ones. They were young when the bucket-lists included things like making partner, seeing a favorite band, walking in Paris with your own two feet, finding love—maybe a second one, getting the house—maybe a second one.

For all the fear of death, bucket-listing brought a little bit of life. Nunc dimittis, we said after some great bucket-listing adventure. But we didn’t want to die. Not really. There was more to see and do, until there was less to do and much less in it than what you wanted from it.

Dr. Luke tells us that Simeon was an old-timer who was waiting for the consolation of Israel. con·so·la·tion/ˌkänsəˈlāSH(ə)n/: comfort after loss or disappointment. Older people have had more time to run through the buckets— disappointment after disappointment. Like seeing more elections than anyone else. Is there any government without graft? Is there a leader or boss who relieves without new burdens? Can the possession of power ever produce someone not infected by it? Doesn’t every relationship eventually disappoint?

Simeon goes to the temple. He’s a good, old man. In walks a poor couple. It’s obvious. She is much too young, pale. His hands are hard, cracked, and calloused. His face doesn’t betray feeling. A mask. He’s a tekton—a day laborer. That’s how we’d probably translate carpenter, not the respectable Japanese craftsmanship of nail-less joints, but lower on the social hierarchy. Tektons can be found loitering around a Home Depot, ready to help. They didn’t own a plot of land—nothing rooted, nothing owned. Renters for crying out loud. Renters!

Jesus bar Joseph bar Jacob.  Jesus Jacobson. Son of a tekton. Jesus, a tekton for about 30 years—a tekton-turned-teacher for about 3. Grew up with a thick country twang. Where-he-came-from is a punch line to a popular enculturated inside joke: “Can anything good come from Nazareth?”  went the old joke. Everybody laughs. Every time. Like Mississippi, Victorville, or the oil fields of Bakersfield.

The poor tekton family walks into the temple. They’re just following religious custom: bring your first born and bring some turtledoves. Or pigeons. If you’re poor, there’s a sliding scale for sacrifices. If you can’t bring an animal, then you qualify for religious welfare. Pennies, really. Here’s the tekton family with penny birds and another mouth to feed.

They meet Simeon with his bucket list.

And Simeon takes the tekton’s baby:

And sings:

I can die now. Nunc dimittis.
I’ve seen your salvation.
It’s no longer a mystery.
Light for the nations
Attention to Israel (underdog of centuries)
I can die now. Nunc dimittis.

He hands the baby back to the tekton and his wide-eyed wife. (Day laborers with pigeon payment don’t usually get this attentive temple package.) But the old guy doesn’t stop. The good words don’t stop gushing. He blesses the family. Turns to the young woman:

Many nations will rise and fall.
Many leaders (even in Israel) will rise and fall.
This child will be the end of all rising and falling.
This child’s government will reveal the hearts of all men and women.

If you are a parent, this blessing would have stunned you. It’s more than a perfunctory blessing or a doljabi where the kid picks the gavel. Penny pigeons don’t buy you that kind of life. Nunc dimittis.

In 1964, the modern master, John Coltrane released an album, A Love Supreme. His liner notes for the album give an inward understanding of an event that changed the course of his life and the direction for his musical giftedness. An excerpt:

During the year 1957, I experienced, by the grace of God, a spiritual awakening which was to lead me to a richer, fuller, more productive life. At that time, in gratitude, I humbly asked to be given the means and privilege to make others happy through music. I feel this has been granted through His grace. ALL PRAISE TO GOD.
As time and events moved on, a period of irresolution did prevail. I entered into a phase which was contradictory to the pledge and away from the esteemed path; but thankfully, now and again through the unerring and merciful hand of God, I do perceive and have been duly re-informed of His OMNIPOTENCE, and of our need for, and dependence on Him. At this time I would like to tell you that NO MATTER WHAT ... IT IS WITH GOD. HE IS GRACIOUS AND MERCIFUL. HIS WAY IS IN LOVE, THROUGH WHICH WE ALL ARE. IT IS TRULY – A LOVE SUPREME – .

On one particular night, after performing A Love Supreme, the greatest tenor sax of all time experienced a rare sublimity—where all the parts seemed exquisite and technically masterful. Stunned even by his own exacting standards, he descended the stage and uttered “nunc dimittis” to a friend. He actually said the Latin, too.

A Love Supreme. Nunc dimittis.

Simeon, the old guy, got only the briefest glimpse of the consolation and it was enough. “I can die now” he sang. And the little baby he once held, grew. Simeon, most likely did not live another 33 years to witness it, but at the end, the tekton-turned-Teacher managed to say, “It is finished.”

And then he shouted something.

Matthew didn’t catch what he shouted, though, and he admits it:
Jesus shouted out something and died.
It was the same thing for Mark; were they not close enough? He admits that he didn’t hear it either:
And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last.
What was that cry?

Luke found a witness who had heard it. He caught what Matthew and Mark couldn’t quite make out:
This: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” 
Nunc dimittis, the dusty Latin goes. Let me be dismissed. I can die now.

A Love Supreme. Giver of Life, as we cram our buckets full of pseudo-life. It seems we cannot die now; that would be too inconvenient. The Jailbreaker—the one who broke into humanity, not out of it. The consolation— the comfort for all the disappointing buckets.

Right now: nunc dimittis. We can die now. But why?!
Because we do not have to bring to the life to ourselves. We don’t climb to Life.

He has come to us.

Nunc dimittis. You can’t bury the real hits; they keep coming back.