Luke 1:5-23, The Angel appears to Zechariah Lk 1:18: Zechariah said to the angel, ‘How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.’ Luke 1:34: Mary said to the angel, ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’ (Lk 1:34) Luke 1:43: Elizabeth (said), “And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?” Luke 1:66: All who heard them pondered them and said, ‘What then will this child become?’ Dear Friends,
Once Luke’s gospel gets underway, it is focused like a laser beam on Jesus. Why then does it start with 50 or more verses telling the story, not of Jesus’ birth, but of John the Baptist’s birth, and how his parents experienced that? It seems odd to give so much air time to two characters who will exit stage right and never be heard from again. It feels like throat-clearing on the part of a speaker before he or she settles into the topic at hand—something I tell my preaching students to avoid! As I have pondered this, a few things strike me. First, by taking time to narrate the poignant lack and then joyful gift given to Zechariah and Elizabeth, Luke brings in a theme that will pervade his gospel—that it comes into our lives at our points of deepest need, where we are most discouragingly, sometimes desperately, aware of our emptiness and incapacity to bring about the futures we desire for ourselves. Second, the story is replete with Old Testament echoes, from Abraham and Sarah to Samson’s parents, to Elijah, the joyful promises of Isaiah, and to the exhortations of Malachi. This opening scene anchors Jesus’ story firmly in the stream of all of Scripture. But the story is also packed with drama, confusion, and joyful expectation, so it sets the stage so well for the birth of Jesus in the next chapter. I want tto consider the four questions we find here, but first, let’s look at Zechariah’s journey from doubt to joy. What a moment it was for him, even before the angel showed up! It’s estimated that there were around 20,000 priests in Zechariah’s time, and they served in the temple in twenty-four two-week stints. From those 830 or so, one was chosen by lot each day to offer incense. If your name was called, it was removed from contention, so this was truly a once-in-a-lifetime event, if even that. Imagine how excited, and perhaps frightened, Zechariah was. “Must. Not. Spill the incense!” Then, to have the angel Gabriel appear. He was terrified, so Gabriel spoke words of comfort to him. Then made wild promises, promises of joy and the fulfillment of his deepest longings. I love that it is in the course of serving others, interceding on their behalf, that God generously grants Zechariah’s prayer. In some ways, I would have liked Zechariah’s next words to be, “Blessed be God Most High!” But they aren’t. Instead, he gets a little demanding, a tad suspicious. “How will I know that this is so?” He wants proof, a sign, even though he has a sign—an angel right in front of him. But in other ways I’m glad he responded as he did; it’s just so human, so normal. It’s what we all might well have done. We can wish we’d bowed in wonder, but the reality is, we’d have doubted as well. I used to think that Gabriel punished Zechariah for this petulant outburst by hitting his mute button, but the text doesn’t say that. It simply states that muteness is a consequence of his disbelief. I believe there was a gift for Zechariah in this involuntary season of silence. He is invited to listen, to savor, and to hope, as he watches Elizabeth’s belly swell and perhaps overhears Mary sing. She sings a song that will inspire his own proclamation of God’s merciful salvation (Luke 1:68-79), when his voice is at last restored. Which questions are you asking in this Advent season? Are you in a bit of a cranky phase, like Zechariah? Perhaps the practice of silence, watching and waiting is the invitation for those of us who find ourselves there. Are you a bit overwhelmed and baffled as you ponder how your current situation will morph into a promised better one, like Mary was? Going to God with those honest “how on earth will this all work out?” questions served Mary well. Are you finding yourself in humble awe at the goodness of God toward you, like Elizabeth when she asked why she got to be in the presence of the mother of her future savior? Elizabeth was free with her blessing of Mary in that moment. Or are you more like the villagers, curious, expectant, hearing good news and now on the lookout for how it will take shape? These all seem to be postures of Advent that God desires, soft clay that God can work with. We find ourselves in all four of these stances in this Advent season. Like Elizabeth, we are so honored and grateful for God’s provision of a home, a church, and family nearby as we seek to care well for my mom. Like Zechariah, we get cranky and demanding at times, and like Mary, we’re not entirely clear how this will all work out, but we are also, like the villagers, happily expectant for the good work of God as it unfolds. What we’re up to these days:
Rich and Lisa Lamb
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