Luke 1:67-79
His father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied:
“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
because he has come to his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a horn[a] of salvation for us
in the house of his servant David
(as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),
salvation from our enemies
and from the hand of all who hate us—
to show mercy to our ancestors
and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,
and to enable us to serve him without fear
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
• Luke introduces this prayer of Zechariah as a “prophecy.” The Church has traditionally called it the “Canticle of Zechariah,” that is, a song. Furthermore, the Church has traditionally prayed these words of Zechariah as the conclusion to the liturgy of morning prayer in the office of daily prayer, where it is called the Benedictus.
• The song is Zechariah’s prayer of praise to God and expression of gratitude for his song John. It is, however, also a fitting prompt for our own prayer.
• Today, on Christmas Eve, find a moment to slow yourself from all the things that are tugging at you for your attention . . . the food, the family, the last-minute runs to the store . . . and give a few moments of dedicated space to these words. Read the passage two or three times slowly.
• Notice the lines that stir you. You might write them in your journal. Stay with the words or phrases that seem to have the most energy for you. Work with them. Let them speak to you about your life . . . about your hopes . . . about your dashed dreams . . . about your fears . . . about what you hold closest to your heart.
Showing posts with label Zechariah. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Zechariah. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 24, 2019
Monday, December 23, 2019
Fourth Monday of Advent - December 23, 2019
Luke 1:57-66
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”
They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”
Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote, “His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue set free, and he began to speak, praising God. All the neighbors were filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.
• The nativity of Jesus includes the story of the son born to Elizabeth and Zechariah. This miraculous birth – the one who would be known as John the Baptizer – gives much attention to the name of this newborn. His mother and father both independently confirm that his name will be “John.”
• Elizabeth and Zechariah lived in a day when names conferred an identity upon a child and shaped that little human’s destiny. Today, we are much more likely to take names from the world of entertainment or sports.
• How do you feel about the name given you at birth? Does your name fit you? Does it say something about your destiny? Have you researched the meaning of your given name to know its origins?
• I believe we each carry another deeper, more personal, God-given name within us. Part of our life’s spiritual journey is discovering the name God has given to us, for that name reflects our true inner being and say something about the spirit in which we were created to live life. Do you have any sense of what your name might be? What life-experiences confirm your hunch?
• I also believe we only learn this name across a lifetime, as the richness and fullness of who we are in connection with God becomes known to us. This is the work of the spiritual journey, a journey into becoming the people we were created to be.
• And it is helpful to recognize that not only do you have this inner “name,” but that every other person on the planet has a God-given name. How might you honor the God-given name of those around you? Those you meet today? Those you see in the run of life, but don’t know?
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”
They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”
Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote, “His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue set free, and he began to speak, praising God. All the neighbors were filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.
• The nativity of Jesus includes the story of the son born to Elizabeth and Zechariah. This miraculous birth – the one who would be known as John the Baptizer – gives much attention to the name of this newborn. His mother and father both independently confirm that his name will be “John.”
• Elizabeth and Zechariah lived in a day when names conferred an identity upon a child and shaped that little human’s destiny. Today, we are much more likely to take names from the world of entertainment or sports.
• How do you feel about the name given you at birth? Does your name fit you? Does it say something about your destiny? Have you researched the meaning of your given name to know its origins?
• I believe we each carry another deeper, more personal, God-given name within us. Part of our life’s spiritual journey is discovering the name God has given to us, for that name reflects our true inner being and say something about the spirit in which we were created to live life. Do you have any sense of what your name might be? What life-experiences confirm your hunch?
• I also believe we only learn this name across a lifetime, as the richness and fullness of who we are in connection with God becomes known to us. This is the work of the spiritual journey, a journey into becoming the people we were created to be.
• And it is helpful to recognize that not only do you have this inner “name,” but that every other person on the planet has a God-given name. How might you honor the God-given name of those around you? Those you meet today? Those you see in the run of life, but don’t know?
Monday, December 24, 2018
Christmas Eve - December 24, 2018
The Dawn from on High Breaks upon Us
Luke 1:67-79
The Advent journey is relatively short -- less than four weeks from the First Sunday of Advent to Christmas Day. But those of us who make the journey with intention notice the different ways we have been touched by waiting and looking for signs of the awaited Birth.
On Christmas Eve, many of us are "checking our lists twice," making sure we haven't overlooked anything. For me, it most always means at least one more trip to the grocery for some needed ingredient I have overlooked. For some of us, we check the list one more time to confirm travel plans, begin prep for meals, make sure the last-minute gifts are wrapped, and confirm the times of the Christmas Eve service we will attend. All of that is important.
But there are other considerations, as well. Can I find a bit of time and solitary space in the next 48 hours to ponder this Birth? How has the season of Advent shaped me?
Can I ask God for a genuine spirit of celebration, an authentic joy that is more than mouthing the words of a carol?
If I am sharing the day with others, how might I step into the day in a way that brings life to those with whom I celebrate Christmas?
What attitude or spirit would I pray for myself and others?
The Gospel reading today is the Canticle of Zechariah, known as the Benedictus. Zechariah is the father of John and has been voiceless throughout the birth story because he could not believe that he and Elizabeth could have a child at their age. When he is given back his voice, he sings a glorious song, not about himself and his perspective on God's work, but about his son. Zechariah's song announces that the time of waiting is almost over, that God ushers in a new day. His song is full of brilliant images and poignant metaphors. For centuries, this beautiful song has found its place in the Church as the closing to the daily morning office of prayer.
Blessed be the Lord,
The God of Israel;
He has come to His people and set them free.
He has raised up for us a mighty Saviour,
Born of the house of His servant David.
Through His holy prophets He promised of old
That He would save us from our enemies,
From the hands of all who hate us.
He promised to show mercy to our fathers
And to remember His holy Covenant.
This was the oath He swore to our father Abraham:
To set us free from the hands of our enemies,
Free to worship Him without fear,
Holy and righteous in His sight
All the days of our life.
You, My child shall be called
The prophet of the Most High,
For you will go before the Lord to prepare His way,
To give his people knowledge of salvation
By the forgiveness of their sins.
In the tender compassion of our Lord
The dawn from on high shall break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness
And the shadow of death,
And to guide our feet into the way of peace.
For Reflection:
** Choose a line, an image, or a phrase from the Benedictus for your prayer. Linger with it. Let it roll around in your heart for a few minutes. Don't be too anxious to analyze what it means so you have get some insight from it. Just let it live within you for a few minutes. Then, ask God to help you hear what invitation God might be extending to you?
** Again today, notice the verbs in the Benedictus. Write them down. Pray with them. As you look at your list, you'll see what Zechariah proclaims about God's work in the world. How much of that work do you see in your own world?
Luke 1:67-79
The Advent journey is relatively short -- less than four weeks from the First Sunday of Advent to Christmas Day. But those of us who make the journey with intention notice the different ways we have been touched by waiting and looking for signs of the awaited Birth.
On Christmas Eve, many of us are "checking our lists twice," making sure we haven't overlooked anything. For me, it most always means at least one more trip to the grocery for some needed ingredient I have overlooked. For some of us, we check the list one more time to confirm travel plans, begin prep for meals, make sure the last-minute gifts are wrapped, and confirm the times of the Christmas Eve service we will attend. All of that is important.
But there are other considerations, as well. Can I find a bit of time and solitary space in the next 48 hours to ponder this Birth? How has the season of Advent shaped me?
Can I ask God for a genuine spirit of celebration, an authentic joy that is more than mouthing the words of a carol?
If I am sharing the day with others, how might I step into the day in a way that brings life to those with whom I celebrate Christmas?
What attitude or spirit would I pray for myself and others?
The Gospel reading today is the Canticle of Zechariah, known as the Benedictus. Zechariah is the father of John and has been voiceless throughout the birth story because he could not believe that he and Elizabeth could have a child at their age. When he is given back his voice, he sings a glorious song, not about himself and his perspective on God's work, but about his son. Zechariah's song announces that the time of waiting is almost over, that God ushers in a new day. His song is full of brilliant images and poignant metaphors. For centuries, this beautiful song has found its place in the Church as the closing to the daily morning office of prayer.
Blessed be the Lord,
The God of Israel;
He has come to His people and set them free.
He has raised up for us a mighty Saviour,
Born of the house of His servant David.
Through His holy prophets He promised of old
That He would save us from our enemies,
From the hands of all who hate us.
He promised to show mercy to our fathers
And to remember His holy Covenant.
This was the oath He swore to our father Abraham:
To set us free from the hands of our enemies,
Free to worship Him without fear,
Holy and righteous in His sight
All the days of our life.
You, My child shall be called
The prophet of the Most High,
For you will go before the Lord to prepare His way,
To give his people knowledge of salvation
By the forgiveness of their sins.
In the tender compassion of our Lord
The dawn from on high shall break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness
And the shadow of death,
And to guide our feet into the way of peace.
For Reflection:
** Choose a line, an image, or a phrase from the Benedictus for your prayer. Linger with it. Let it roll around in your heart for a few minutes. Don't be too anxious to analyze what it means so you have get some insight from it. Just let it live within you for a few minutes. Then, ask God to help you hear what invitation God might be extending to you?
** Again today, notice the verbs in the Benedictus. Write them down. Pray with them. As you look at your list, you'll see what Zechariah proclaims about God's work in the world. How much of that work do you see in your own world?
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
Third Wednesday of Advent - December 19, 2018
Emptiness Breeds Hope
Judges 13:2-7, 24-25
Luke 1:5-25
Ancient peoples valued childbearing as a sign of fruitfulness and blessing. People devoted themselves to gods and goddesses of fertility to assure abundant crops, many children, and plentiful resources.
While the Hebrew people did not have deities who oversaw fertility, they were continually tempted to give homage to the fertility gods and goddesses of other nations. Infertility, in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the Christian Scriptures, was a state of dishonor.
In fact, the prevalent theological understanding in both testaments took an extreme view of childlessness. Having no children signaled God's curse and was seen as God's punishment for something the woman or a family member had done. To live a life of barrenness was a harsh sentence that meant ostracism and reduced standing in the community.
Yet, scripture also contains a rich history of women in Israel who were barren for long periods of time before God intervened to give them children (Sarah, Hannah, among others). In many instances, these children became important leaders in Israel.
Today's Old and New Testament readings tell two of these stories.
Judges 13 tells the story of Samson, born to Manoah and his wife who had been childless. "Barren" typically describes a woman like Mrs. Manoah in scripture. Her womb was empty, in other words. But God intervened and gave them Samson, a child they specially dedicated to God as a Nazirite. Samson would grow to become an Israelite hero.
Luke tells the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah, childless and advanced in years. Luke is careful to line out for his readers that both Elizabeth and Zechariah remained faithful to God despite their "empty" condition -- which their community likely viewed as God's curse -- even while they continued living in hope.
God's intervention in Elizabeth and Zechariah leads to the birth of John the Baptist, who we have met already this Advent.
The stories stand against the notion that childlessness is curse, and against a fated understanding of life's unfolding. God is in control of history . . . not just the world's history, but also the history of you and me. We are not subject to the whims of human initiative or efforts to control life by means that make sense to us.
The stories also suggest that God values emptiness, and the rest of scripture validates this truth. The one who is empty lives in hope, open to God's filling. About this hope that arises from emptiness, Thomas Merton said:
Supernatural hope is the virtue that strips us of all things in order to give us possession of all things. We do not hope for what we have. Therefore, to live in hope is to live in poverty, having nothing. And yet, if we abandon ourselves to the economy of Divine Providence, we have everything we hope for.
[Merton, No Man Is an Island, pp. 14-15]
For Reflection:
Reflect on some way you feel empty today. In what way are you "barren"? Perhaps you are barren of energy . . . empty of creativity . . . drained of love . . . peace is gone . . . missing the company of a person who is far away.
Today's meditation suggests that emptiness is the beginning of hope. Our poverty feeds hope in God and prepares us inwardly to receive the whatever-may-come of God without controlling what the whatever-may-come looks like.
Judges 13:2-7, 24-25
Luke 1:5-25
Ancient peoples valued childbearing as a sign of fruitfulness and blessing. People devoted themselves to gods and goddesses of fertility to assure abundant crops, many children, and plentiful resources.
While the Hebrew people did not have deities who oversaw fertility, they were continually tempted to give homage to the fertility gods and goddesses of other nations. Infertility, in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the Christian Scriptures, was a state of dishonor.
In fact, the prevalent theological understanding in both testaments took an extreme view of childlessness. Having no children signaled God's curse and was seen as God's punishment for something the woman or a family member had done. To live a life of barrenness was a harsh sentence that meant ostracism and reduced standing in the community.
Yet, scripture also contains a rich history of women in Israel who were barren for long periods of time before God intervened to give them children (Sarah, Hannah, among others). In many instances, these children became important leaders in Israel.
Today's Old and New Testament readings tell two of these stories.
Judges 13 tells the story of Samson, born to Manoah and his wife who had been childless. "Barren" typically describes a woman like Mrs. Manoah in scripture. Her womb was empty, in other words. But God intervened and gave them Samson, a child they specially dedicated to God as a Nazirite. Samson would grow to become an Israelite hero.
Luke tells the story of Elizabeth and Zechariah, childless and advanced in years. Luke is careful to line out for his readers that both Elizabeth and Zechariah remained faithful to God despite their "empty" condition -- which their community likely viewed as God's curse -- even while they continued living in hope.
God's intervention in Elizabeth and Zechariah leads to the birth of John the Baptist, who we have met already this Advent.
The stories stand against the notion that childlessness is curse, and against a fated understanding of life's unfolding. God is in control of history . . . not just the world's history, but also the history of you and me. We are not subject to the whims of human initiative or efforts to control life by means that make sense to us.
The stories also suggest that God values emptiness, and the rest of scripture validates this truth. The one who is empty lives in hope, open to God's filling. About this hope that arises from emptiness, Thomas Merton said:
Supernatural hope is the virtue that strips us of all things in order to give us possession of all things. We do not hope for what we have. Therefore, to live in hope is to live in poverty, having nothing. And yet, if we abandon ourselves to the economy of Divine Providence, we have everything we hope for.
[Merton, No Man Is an Island, pp. 14-15]
For Reflection:
Reflect on some way you feel empty today. In what way are you "barren"? Perhaps you are barren of energy . . . empty of creativity . . . drained of love . . . peace is gone . . . missing the company of a person who is far away.
Today's meditation suggests that emptiness is the beginning of hope. Our poverty feeds hope in God and prepares us inwardly to receive the whatever-may-come of God without controlling what the whatever-may-come looks like.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Christmas Eve -- December 24, 2011
Luke 1:67 - 79
His father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied:
“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
because he has come to his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a horn of salvation for us
in the house of his servant David
(as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),
salvation from our enemies
and from the hand of all who hate us—
to show mercy to our ancestors
and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,
and to enable us to serve him without fear
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
The Song of Zechariah, also known as the Benedictus, is prayed daily each morning in the Liturgy of the Hours. I have prayed it from prayer books and in monastic settings for years. Its words are ingrained in my consciousness. They have been life to me.
The Benedictus is also a wonderfully appropriate Advent prayer. The images fit perfectly with this season of watching for light and waiting in hope.
So for the last three years I've used this prayer as a centerpiece for the weekly Contemplative Worship experience of which I am a part. I personally find it to be a beautiful expression of Advent hope for myself and the world. Others have responded well to it, as well, and found life in its words.
Last weekend, a worshiper in that service noticed that we were still using the Benedictus in worship, especially the last two verses, once or twice in each service. This person noted that had used the same prayer last year in worship, also. She was simply making the observation about the Canticle's prominence in worship.
I responded to her comment by saying, "Yes, we've used it for three years now . . . and we're going to keep saying it until we get it right!"
We all laughed. Of course, I didn't mean, "Until we all say it the right way," or "Until we get the cadence right," or "Until the intonation suits me."
I meant, "We're going to say it until we really open ourselves to its truth."
That is, until we live in the truth that one has come to us to save us from enemies, both enemies in the outer world, but mostly enemies in our internal world . . .
. . . until we open ourselves to worship God without fear and intimation, but in mercy and loving-kindness . . .
. . . until we really get the mercy and compassion of God as it is extended toward us without condition, and then live in it more than talk about it . . .
. . . until we live in the light of God, no matter how dark our situations or our "shadows of death" seem.
. . . until our feet our guided onto the path of peace, so that we not only speak of peace, but actively live into the peace of God for all people.
The Church has been praying the Benedictus daily for centuries. We're still trying to "get it right." And we'll be praying it for a long time yet to come.
A Meditation
On this eve of the birth of Christ, try this for a meditation:
Read through the Canticle of Zechariah once more.
Pick out the line or phrase that seems to have your name written on it.
Pull that line out of the prayer, and then stay with it for a few moments.
Take several tries at putting it into your own words. Paraphrase it.
How is that line being lived out in your life?
Whisper the line quietly several times, until you sense the phrase sinking from your head down into your heart.
Then carry that line with you as a breath prayer through this Christmas Eve.
His father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and prophesied:
“Praise be to the Lord, the God of Israel,
because he has come to his people and redeemed them.
He has raised up a horn of salvation for us
in the house of his servant David
(as he said through his holy prophets of long ago),
salvation from our enemies
and from the hand of all who hate us—
to show mercy to our ancestors
and to remember his holy covenant,
the oath he swore to our father Abraham:
to rescue us from the hand of our enemies,
and to enable us to serve him without fear
in holiness and righteousness before him all our days.
And you, my child, will be called a prophet of the Most High;
for you will go on before the Lord to prepare the way for him,
to give his people the knowledge of salvation
through the forgiveness of their sins,
because of the tender mercy of our God,
by which the rising sun will come to us from heaven
to shine on those living in darkness
and in the shadow of death,
to guide our feet into the path of peace.”
The Song of Zechariah, also known as the Benedictus, is prayed daily each morning in the Liturgy of the Hours. I have prayed it from prayer books and in monastic settings for years. Its words are ingrained in my consciousness. They have been life to me.
The Benedictus is also a wonderfully appropriate Advent prayer. The images fit perfectly with this season of watching for light and waiting in hope.
So for the last three years I've used this prayer as a centerpiece for the weekly Contemplative Worship experience of which I am a part. I personally find it to be a beautiful expression of Advent hope for myself and the world. Others have responded well to it, as well, and found life in its words.
Last weekend, a worshiper in that service noticed that we were still using the Benedictus in worship, especially the last two verses, once or twice in each service. This person noted that had used the same prayer last year in worship, also. She was simply making the observation about the Canticle's prominence in worship.
I responded to her comment by saying, "Yes, we've used it for three years now . . . and we're going to keep saying it until we get it right!"
We all laughed. Of course, I didn't mean, "Until we all say it the right way," or "Until we get the cadence right," or "Until the intonation suits me."
I meant, "We're going to say it until we really open ourselves to its truth."
That is, until we live in the truth that one has come to us to save us from enemies, both enemies in the outer world, but mostly enemies in our internal world . . .
. . . until we open ourselves to worship God without fear and intimation, but in mercy and loving-kindness . . .
. . . until we really get the mercy and compassion of God as it is extended toward us without condition, and then live in it more than talk about it . . .
. . . until we live in the light of God, no matter how dark our situations or our "shadows of death" seem.
. . . until our feet our guided onto the path of peace, so that we not only speak of peace, but actively live into the peace of God for all people.
The Church has been praying the Benedictus daily for centuries. We're still trying to "get it right." And we'll be praying it for a long time yet to come.
A Meditation
On this eve of the birth of Christ, try this for a meditation:
Read through the Canticle of Zechariah once more.
Pick out the line or phrase that seems to have your name written on it.
Pull that line out of the prayer, and then stay with it for a few moments.
Take several tries at putting it into your own words. Paraphrase it.
How is that line being lived out in your life?
Whisper the line quietly several times, until you sense the phrase sinking from your head down into your heart.
Then carry that line with you as a breath prayer through this Christmas Eve.
Friday, December 23, 2011
The Fourth Friday of Advent -- December 23, 2011
Luke 1:57 - 66
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”
They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”
Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote, “His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue was loosed, and he began to speak, praising God. The neighbors were all filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.
I find Christmas joy rivaled by Christmas angst. The difficulties and challenges of relationships the other 364 days of the year are intensified under the spotlight of an expectation of "joy, peace and celebration."
It's hard to be in relationships in a healthy way. Each of us brings old patterns and assumptions into our interactions with others. Sometimes we lock others into old expectations and leave little room for the new or the fresh or the surprising to emerge.
Zechariah and Elizabeth birthed a son. The old pattern, adopted by friends, family members, and towns-people was that the parents would give the baby a family name, so that the family line would be passed on in that naming ritual.
God's invitation to Zechariah and Elizabeth, however, was toward another name, a name representing the new thing God would do with this boy . . . and ultimately with the one this boy would precede.
It takes courage to step out of old patterns, to walk against prevailing opinion, to swim upstream when all expectations run against you like a strong river-current. It is easier to adapt and go along, not breaking with tradition. But tradition alone is rarely the wineskin that contains the fullness and expansiveness of the Gospel.
This is one of the reasons friendships and family life are such challenges. Those closest to us are also those most likely to lock us into old patterns, old ways of naming and being named, old ways of relating. When God stirs a heart and a person begins to change inwardly, living into fresh patterns or new ways of being, all these old patterns are challenged. Other people get uncomfortable . . . threatened . . . confused . . . offended.
This story of Zechariah and Elizabeth naming John helps me to step into my own experience of Christmas with a bit more courage. More than being locked into the old patterns, it invites me to live into the fresh thing God is doing in me, in others, and in the world.
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son. Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy.
On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child, and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah, but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”
They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”
Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote, “His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue was loosed, and he began to speak, praising God. The neighbors were all filled with awe, and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking, “What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.
I find Christmas joy rivaled by Christmas angst. The difficulties and challenges of relationships the other 364 days of the year are intensified under the spotlight of an expectation of "joy, peace and celebration."
It's hard to be in relationships in a healthy way. Each of us brings old patterns and assumptions into our interactions with others. Sometimes we lock others into old expectations and leave little room for the new or the fresh or the surprising to emerge.
Zechariah and Elizabeth birthed a son. The old pattern, adopted by friends, family members, and towns-people was that the parents would give the baby a family name, so that the family line would be passed on in that naming ritual.
God's invitation to Zechariah and Elizabeth, however, was toward another name, a name representing the new thing God would do with this boy . . . and ultimately with the one this boy would precede.
It takes courage to step out of old patterns, to walk against prevailing opinion, to swim upstream when all expectations run against you like a strong river-current. It is easier to adapt and go along, not breaking with tradition. But tradition alone is rarely the wineskin that contains the fullness and expansiveness of the Gospel.
This is one of the reasons friendships and family life are such challenges. Those closest to us are also those most likely to lock us into old patterns, old ways of naming and being named, old ways of relating. When God stirs a heart and a person begins to change inwardly, living into fresh patterns or new ways of being, all these old patterns are challenged. Other people get uncomfortable . . . threatened . . . confused . . . offended.
This story of Zechariah and Elizabeth naming John helps me to step into my own experience of Christmas with a bit more courage. More than being locked into the old patterns, it invites me to live into the fresh thing God is doing in me, in others, and in the world.
Monday, December 19, 2011
The Fourth Monday of Advent -- December 19, 2011
Luke 1:5 - 25
In the time of Herod king of Judea there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah; his wife Elizabeth was also a descendant of Aaron. Both of them were righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord’s commands and decrees blamelessly. But they were childless because Elizabeth was not able to conceive, and they were both well advanced in years.
Once when Zechariah’s division was on duty and he was serving as priest before God, he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to go into the temple of the Lord and burn incense. And when the time for the burning of incense came, all the assembled worshipers were praying outside.
Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and was gripped with fear. But the angel said to him: “Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John. He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He is never to take wine or other fermented drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before he is born. Many of the people of Israel will he bring back to the Lord their God. And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”
Zechariah asked the angel, “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years.”
The angel said to him, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news. And now you will be silent and not able to speak until the day this happens, because you did not believe my words, which will come true at their appointed time.”
Meanwhile, the people were waiting for Zechariah and wondering why he stayed so long in the temple. When he came out, he could not speak to them. They realized he had seen a vision in the temple, for he kept making signs to them but remained unable to speak.
When his time of service was completed, he returned home. After this his wife Elizabeth became pregnant and for five months remained in seclusion. “The Lord has done this for me,” she said. “In these days he has shown his favor and taken away my disgrace among the people.”
The birth of John the Baptist to Zechariah and Elizabeth is no less improbable than the birth of Jesus to Mary and Joseph. Zechariah and Elizabeth were advanced in age and found the report that they would be parents to be completely ludicrous.
Zechariah responded to Gabriel's message with fear and hesitation. You and I might have responded the same way.
Zechariah's response to the angel's message was typical in the Bible. When angels showed up on the scene it signaled that some kind of change or alteration was coming. The persons involved in the angelic message would need to adjust their lives if they were to fully participate in what God was bringing to pass in the world.
Zechariah hears a message that his life is going to be turned upside down. God will do something amazing in his life, but it would require his participation and obedience. It scared him. It would be enough to scare any of us.
Most always, the God-invitation is to let go of old ways of being and doing. We are invited to let go of the things we hold onto for meaning and purpose.
Letting go is frightening. It threatens our sense of self. We are afraid that without the thing we are giving up, we won't know who we are.
"If I let go of this, what will be left of me?"
"Who will I be then?"
It is scary to move into a place where I have no idea what is going to happen . . . no control and no capacity to influence outcomes.
This is authentic faith . . . stepping forward, carrying our fears with us, but at the same time walking into the room that is not yet lit and trusting that somehow we will find God there.
I suspect this was Zechariah's fear, and that it became his faith, the source of his beautiful Benedictus (The Canticle of Zechariah in Luke 1:67 - 78).
And I know Zechariah's fear (and faith) is not that different from mine, and probably yours, too.
In the time of Herod king of Judea there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly division of Abijah; his wife Elizabeth was also a descendant of Aaron. Both of them were righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord’s commands and decrees blamelessly. But they were childless because Elizabeth was not able to conceive, and they were both well advanced in years.
Once when Zechariah’s division was on duty and he was serving as priest before God, he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to go into the temple of the Lord and burn incense. And when the time for the burning of incense came, all the assembled worshipers were praying outside.
Then an angel of the Lord appeared to him, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was startled and was gripped with fear. But the angel said to him: “Do not be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you are to call him John. He will be a joy and delight to you, and many will rejoice because of his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He is never to take wine or other fermented drink, and he will be filled with the Holy Spirit even before he is born. Many of the people of Israel will he bring back to the Lord their God. And he will go on before the Lord, in the spirit and power of Elijah, to turn the hearts of the parents to their children and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous—to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”
Zechariah asked the angel, “How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years.”
The angel said to him, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to tell you this good news. And now you will be silent and not able to speak until the day this happens, because you did not believe my words, which will come true at their appointed time.”
Meanwhile, the people were waiting for Zechariah and wondering why he stayed so long in the temple. When he came out, he could not speak to them. They realized he had seen a vision in the temple, for he kept making signs to them but remained unable to speak.
When his time of service was completed, he returned home. After this his wife Elizabeth became pregnant and for five months remained in seclusion. “The Lord has done this for me,” she said. “In these days he has shown his favor and taken away my disgrace among the people.”
The birth of John the Baptist to Zechariah and Elizabeth is no less improbable than the birth of Jesus to Mary and Joseph. Zechariah and Elizabeth were advanced in age and found the report that they would be parents to be completely ludicrous.
Zechariah responded to Gabriel's message with fear and hesitation. You and I might have responded the same way.
Zechariah's response to the angel's message was typical in the Bible. When angels showed up on the scene it signaled that some kind of change or alteration was coming. The persons involved in the angelic message would need to adjust their lives if they were to fully participate in what God was bringing to pass in the world.
Zechariah hears a message that his life is going to be turned upside down. God will do something amazing in his life, but it would require his participation and obedience. It scared him. It would be enough to scare any of us.
Most always, the God-invitation is to let go of old ways of being and doing. We are invited to let go of the things we hold onto for meaning and purpose.
Letting go is frightening. It threatens our sense of self. We are afraid that without the thing we are giving up, we won't know who we are.
"If I let go of this, what will be left of me?"
"Who will I be then?"
It is scary to move into a place where I have no idea what is going to happen . . . no control and no capacity to influence outcomes.
This is authentic faith . . . stepping forward, carrying our fears with us, but at the same time walking into the room that is not yet lit and trusting that somehow we will find God there.
I suspect this was Zechariah's fear, and that it became his faith, the source of his beautiful Benedictus (The Canticle of Zechariah in Luke 1:67 - 78).
And I know Zechariah's fear (and faith) is not that different from mine, and probably yours, too.
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