In hisfirst concertas music director of the San Francisco Symphony, in September 1995, Michael Tilson Thomas led the orchestra in a dynamic, revelatory performance of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. It was an unforgettable experience, one that established the pattern for the 25 years of musical adventure that followed.

Beethoven’s Ninth was on the agenda once again Thursday, Oct. 19, when Thomas, now the orchestra’s Music Director Laureate, returned for what seems all too likely to be his final appearance with the orchestra.

It was a rich and emotion-laden occasion, at once an encounter with a familiar musical masterpiece and an opportunity for music lovers in the Bay Area and elsewhere to pay tribute to the man who has given us so many of these over the years.

以往的情况显然是在脑海里y member of the audience that filled Davies Symphony Hall. In August 2021, during the COVID-19 shutdown thatdisrupted plansfor his final season as music director, Thomas was diagnosed withglioblastoma multiforme, an aggressive form of brain cancer.

He canceledseveral months’worth of musical engagements for surgery and recovery, then returned to performing. During the ensuing two years, with almost miraculous stamina, Thomas conducted to enthusiastic acclaim in New York, London, Miami and elsewhere. Most recently in San Francisco, he led a March performance ofMahler’s Sixth Symphonythat was suffused with tragic ferocity.

Thursday’s concert, though, was an acknowledgment that anyone wishing to witness Thomas in action one more time would be well advised to do so now. Retired orchestra members and notables of the classical music industry flocked to Davies like pilgrims to pay their respects, and the hall was as full as it’s been in months.

The standing ovation that greeted Thomas’ first appearance on stage was long and heartfelt. The one that followed the conclusion of the “Ode to Joy” finale some 80 minutes later was even more so. (“Shango Memory,” a 1995 work by the late Berkeley composerOlly Wilson, was originally scheduled to fill out the program, but was dropped to allow Thomas to focus on Beethoven.)

In the evening’s wittiest and most loving homage, members of the orchestra took their final bows in blue, round-rimmed glasses — a nod to the sartorial trademark that Thomas has made his own.

There was no mistaking the evidence of Thomas’ weakened state. He approached the podium haltingly, shepherded by his protégé Teddy Abrams, a Bay Area native who is now the music director of the Louisville Orchestra. He conducted without his familiar physical energy.

At one point, before the third movement, he seemed to have lost his bearings, waiting for principal violistJonathan Vinocourto orient him on the page of the score.

But as soon as the playing began, the old mastery reasserted itself. Making music is like breathing for Thomas; with the baton in his hand, he seemed to expand, both visibly and audibly, into his fullest and most fluent self.

That was true most gloriously in the symphony’s slow movement, which required less physical exertion and more expressive sensitivity. The movement’s lyrical melodies wove themselves in and out of the texture, as Thomas guided them with a light but effective touch. There were wondrous emphases in the phrasing — at times novel, at times poised to land just as expected — and a sumptuous quality to the movement’s overall shape.

The rest of the symphony offered a heartwarming display of collaboration between Thomas and his longtime musical partners in the orchestra. When Thomas led, the orchestra followed; when he could not, the players stepped up, as if to say, “Maestro, we’ve got your back.”

It made consummate emotional sense. Throughout his time here, Thomas has cultivated a musical ethos of enlightened individualism — the idea that although the conductor was there to serve as a focal point, every member of the orchestra was an autonomous artist with something to contribute. And now here he was, reaping the results of that approach.

For the finale, Thomas and the audience exulted in the contributions of four superb vocal soloists, as well as the Symphony Chorus, which sounded terrific as it celebrated its 50th anniversary along with newly appointed director Jenny Wong.

BaritoneDashon Burtonsummoned the proceedings to order with an authoritative cry of “O Freunde!” (“O friends!”) leading into the demand for a joyous strain of music. SopranoAngel Blueand tenorBen Blisseach faced down Beethoven’s vocal demands with solo turns of beauty and clarity, and mezzo-soprano塔玛拉·芒福德brought her velvety tone to the ensemble.

Beethoven conducted the premiere of his Ninth Symphony in Vienna in 1824, despite being completely deaf by then. According to some versions of the story, he was unaware of the tumultuous applause that had greeted his unorthodox masterpiece until the mezzo-soprano soloist, tears streaming down her cheeks, turned the old man to face the audience.

It was hard not to think of that incident as Mumford took Thomas by the arm and helped him down from the podium to facehisaudience. Like Beethoven, Thomas knew exactly what he had accomplished, and he knew — and knows — how deeply every Bay Area concertgoer loves and appreciates him.

Were there tears on this occasion as well? Of course there were.

Reach Joshua Kosman:jkosman@sfchronicle.com