Saugatuck Congregational Church, UCC
©Rev. Alison J. B. Patton
November 28, 2015 – First Sunday of Advent
Scriptures: Jeremiah 33:14-16 and Luke 1:68-79
And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins.
Zechariah had waited a long time to say those words, to hold his tiny, newborn son in his arms, look him in the eyes and proclaim him a prophet, child of Hope, the very fulfilment of God’s covenant promise. He had waited so long, that he’d had time to set the words to music; so long that when he finally regained his voice, the words leapt from his throat like birds released from a cage, to soar through the air:
“Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
Who has looked favorably on God’s people…”
Nine months Zechariah had waited, unable to tell anyone about the angelic encounter that had rendered him speechless. If only he’d been able to tell the story right away, maybe it would have made the whole thing feel a bit more real. As it was, the truth was hard to grasp; had he imagined it all? Had the incense in the Lord’s sanctuary finally gone to his head, made him a bit muddled? Maybe he’d only dreamed that his dearest prayer had been answered. And yet the encounter remained so vivid in his mind’s eye:
“There was an angel, called himself Gabriel, standing right there behind that curtain, right by the altar – Dark, dazzling– so I had to shade my eyes. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ the angel said – as if I could so easily still my trembling knees or steady my pounding heart. I forgot all about the incense I was supposed to light – nearly set my robes on fire. Then this angel said the most impossible thing: that we would have a baby – at our age, after all these years – decades of longing. And I couldn’t help but ask for just a little clarification. The whole things sounded mad. Well, it seems this Gabriel fellow took my inquiry as evidence of insubordination – lack of faith, even, so he pulled rank and struck me mute. That’s how he left me: dazzled and dumbfounded.”
Zechariah couldn’t tell that story, not for months. Instead, he waited in silence. Waited, and listened to his beloved Elizabeth chatter on about miracles as she sewed together cloth for a cradle. Listened as she hummed to herself. Listened to her heartbeat as he held her close each night, and imagined the tiny twin heartbeat growing inside her.
Five months along, he listened as she greeted her young cousin Mary, who had come for a visit. Listened as they compared notes about morning sickness and odd cravings, and marveled at what he heard Mary say – about a familiar-sounding angel (Funny how they always lead with, ‘Don’t be afraid’. As if that will make them any less terrifying!) Mary told Elizabeth what the angel had said to her:
“You will bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High…”
Zechariah listened, and he pondered what he heard. Perhaps, after all, this angel Gabriel knew what he was doing when he made Zechariah mute. Maybe it was a gift, this hiatus from speech. If his voice had been intact, he may well have been too busy talking to have overheard this news, too busy at the temple to let the words of the angel sink in. Now, instead of debating with the other priests, or yawing with his buddies downtown, Zechariah spent his time silently taking in the world around him, star gazing and reading the ancient scrolls, searching through them for meaning, until pieces began to fall into place, and wonder took hold in his heart.
Could it really be, that the child for whom they waited had a holy role to play, might be a bearer of hope in a world so desperately in need? Could it be that God was again up to something beyond our imagining?
The birth of his son was all the “Yes!” that Zechariah required. Babies have a way of stirring the most recalcitrant heart, of unleashing hope in the face of despair. Hold an infant, touch her soft skin or bury your nose in the fuzz on his head, and you think, “This child will do remarkable things. Just wait and see: She might grow up to be president, or find a cure for the common cold; he might discover life in a distant universe or broker world peace. Anything is possible!” A child is Hope Incarnate. And this child, this one named John by the Angel Gabriel, he would bring hope not just to his parents Zechariah and Elizabeth, but to the whole world. He would prepare us for the coming of the Messiah.
Zechariah had worked it out, during those months of silent expectation – just what he was waiting for: God’s mercy poured out on everyone; enemies undone; fear banished forever; freedom to worship God. “By the tender mercy of our God, the dawn from on high will break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death. To guide our feet into the way of peace.”
That’s what Zechariah sang, when he got his voice back: a full-throated Benedictus in praise of the One who saves us from despair; a melodic proclamation that his own son John would pave the way for something grand: just wait and see! His neighbors must have thought him a bit batty. “Where is the evidence, Zechariah? Look around: we are an occupied people. The Romans are a powerful military force; they control our lives and they despise us. We worship God, of course. But not without fear. These are dangerous times; who can be trusted? Not the Roman tax collectors; not King Herod with his hunger for political power; not the strangers in our midst. Mozeltov on the birth of your son, Zechariah; now get your head out of the clouds!”
The thing is: once you’ve had a face-to-face encounter with an angel the likes of Gabriel; once you’ve conceived an impossible child and held him in your arms, it becomes easier to imagine other impossible possibilities. Over those nine months – indeed, over his lifetime – Zechariah had learned how to wait on God. So the naysayers did not phase him. He kept on singing just the same.
And we? What are we waiting for this Advent season? Do we dare to contemplate a future free from fear? Do we believe in a God big enough to transform our worry into wonder, a God with the capacity to fill our hearts with song? What would we hear if we joined Zechariah in listening to the heartbeat of the world around us? the lapping of water against an overcrowded boat; the slosh of bodies wading through dark water; the shouts of rescue workers; the anxious murmur of refugees fleeing unspeakable violence – multiplied millions of times? The voices of officials saying, “No. It’s not safe; Strangers cannot be trusted.” Or the voices of our neighbors saying, “Here, bring them here. We will make room…”
Would we hear the cry of a Palestinian man whose house has been bulldozed, whose son has been killed in a clash with Israeli soldiers, whose olive trees have been destroyed to make space for another occupying force? Would we hear the voices of those who say, “There is too much to fear. Strangers cannot be trusted.” Or the fervent prayers for peace by Israeli Jews, Christians and Muslims who all live where Zechariah and Elizabeth once welcomed their miracle child?
If we waited with Zechariah, might we hear the sound of truth-telling in our backyard, appeals for an end to gun violence that repeatedly shatters lives – in a health clinic, on a city street, in a school? Would we hear creative, courageous voices seeking an alternative to polarizing speech and action?
Could we entertain the possibility that Zechariah was right: that angels do blaze, and God does intervene and lives can be redeemed?
Here is where it begins, where the Dawn breaks from on high; where the light shines through: when we remain mute long enough to listen, deeply listen to the ones we would call strangers and enemies. In the words of the poet Mary Oliver, “This is the first, wildest, and wisest thing I know, that the soul exists and that it is built entirely out of attentiveness.”
Ah, the wisdom of poets and angels. This Advent season, May we pause long enough to attend to the world’s heartbeat. May we rediscover hope in the flash of a star, in the cry of a child, in the story of a stranger – and so inspired, may we compose our own song to the Maker of the Universe – a full-throated Benedictus to God in whom we can place all our trust. Then we will wait and see just what God will do!
Scriptures
Jeremiah 33:14-16 – New Revised Standard Version
14The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will fulfill the promise I made to the house of Israel and the house of Judah. 15In those days and at that time I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David; and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. 16In those days Judah will be saved and Jerusalem will live in safety. And this is the name by which it will be called: “The Lord is our righteousness.”
Luke 1:68-79 – New Revised Standard Version, adapted
68 “Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,
Who has looked favorably on God’s people and redeemed them.
69 God has raised up a mighty savior for us
in the house of God’s servant David,
70 as God spoke through the mouth of the holy prophets from of old,
71 that we would be saved from our enemies and from the hand of all who
hate us.
72 Thus God has shown the mercy promised to our ancestors,
and has remembered God’s holy covenant,
73 the oath that God swore to our ancestor Abraham,
to grant us 74 that we, being rescued from the hands of our enemies,
might serve God without fear, 75 in holiness and righteousness
before God all our days.
76 And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High;
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
77 to give knowledge of salvation to his people
by the forgiveness of their sins.
78 By the tender mercy of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
79 to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the way of peace.”