DUTY AND DELIGHT:
THE STORY OF ELIZABETH AND ZECHARIAH
Texts: I Samuel 1:12-20 and Luke 1:5-13, 18-25

We are reading through Luke. It begins with a story. And there are three questions we are keeping in mind as we read: Who am I? What is God calling me to do, to be? Who is my neighbor?

The story begins with Elizabeth and Zechariah: Zechariah, a countryside priest, and Elizabeth his wife, also from the priestly lineage of Aaron.

They were righteous. The text says, living blamelessly the commandments and ordinances of God. They were also childless and on in years. It was an old sorrow. Only occasionally did its sadness return to pierce them right through, without warning and always with a sharpness that took them by surprise.

This day was supposed to be one of the high points of Zechariah’s life: His day to enter into the holy sanctuary of the temple in Jerusalem and offer incense on behalf of all Israel’s people. Most countryside priests had this privilege only once in their lives.

Elizabeth beamed as she helped him on with his robes. He had rehearsed this moment as long as he could remember. He, going into the sanctuary, would offer this prayer: "May the God of all mercy enter into this sanctuary and accept with pleasure the sacrifice of the people."

Then he would scatter the bowl of incense on the coals. When finished he would return to the outer steps of the temple, where the people were waiting, and offer Aaron’s benediction: "The Lord bless you and keep you...." Then he and Elizabeth would go home and celebrate. Today he had been Israel’s priest! But that’s not quite what happened. As C. S. Lewis once said, "The signature of grace is surprise."

I

He entered the temple and holy sanctuary. He said his prayer and scattered the incense. Suddenly, startlingly, he spied a stranger next to him. No one was allowed in the sanctuary except him. The scripture says the figure was an angel - - angelos, which means "messenger," messenger from God.

Zechariah was terrified. His body begin to shake with a shaking he could not stop.

The angel said, "Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard." The angel went on: "Your wife will bear a son, and you will name him John. You will have great joy and gladness. He will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink." (That was the first hint he would be called John the Baptist!)

"He will, even while in the womb, be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of Israel toward their God. And he will turn the hearts of parents to their children." That’s an interesting phrase. It sounds like Christmas! But it says something more. Our eyes will be turned to the future, to what God will bring. (What if our nation, our world would adopt this ethic: To turn our hearts to our children and that their welfare would determine our decisions. How would this affect our health policy, our war policy, our environmental policy, our education policy?)

Zechariah was having trouble taking all this in. "I must have a sign. This cannot be. My wife is old, and I am a Romeo no more."

The angel said, "And I am Gabriel and I stand in the presence of God. I’ve been sent with this good news. But because you do not believe it you will not be able to speak until these things come to pass."

Sometimes God shuts our mouth. We are too quick with our belief, or our unbelief.

Tillich once said that when we misuse God’s name and speak too easily about him, God creates silence about himself. God stops speaking so that we can learn again to tell the difference between the sound of God’s voice and our own. Sometimes reverence begins in silence. "Let all mortal flesh keep silence / And with fear and trembling stand."

II

The people outside wondered what was going on. Why was Zechariah delayed? Had he been struck dead in the presence of God? Tradition says that when the High Priest went into the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur, they tied a rope around one leg so if he was struck dead in the Presence they could haul him out without having to go in themselves.

When Zechariah finally came out he could not speak, could not utter the priestly benediction. The text says that he "motioned" to them..

Did he mouth the benediction and lift his hands in the sign of benediction? Did he try to tell them what had happened? Did he wave his arms as angels’ wings? Did he rock a baby in his arms?

The text says simply that he went home to his wife and that in the next days she conceived. Did he wave his arms wildly to her? Rock an imaginary baby in his arms?

The joyful, unexpected nine-month journey to John’s birth had begun.

What kind of journey of hope would you begin this day? From death to life, from discouragement to action, from barrenness to fullness, from shame to joy?

You will read on in Luke about the visit of Elizabeth’s young cousin Mary, she herself miraculously pregnant. When Mary entered her house, the child in Elizabeth’s womb leaped. Do you remember the first time you felt the child in your womb move? The text says that it was then the Spirit entered her.

Every birth is a miraculous birth. And the Spirit enters every mother and child.

Mary and Elizabeth became close as they shared their child-bearing months together. One can hope that Zechariah and Joseph got together too: Zechariah needing someone he could talk with without having to talk, God’s cat having gotten his tongue. And Joseph needing a friend as well, his wife with child in a highly confounding way. He needed someone to tell that God’s ways are stranger than fiction and a lot more complicated than they tell you in church.

III

When John was born the neighbors and friends came to share the joy. Then came the eighth day, the day of his circumcision and naming.

The priest blessed the child and began to name him in the customary way: After Zechariah, the father. But Elizabeth said, "No, name him John!"

The people said, "John? There’s no one in the family tree named John. This is highly irregular!"

Zechariah probably rolled his eyes, as if to say: "Everything about this child has been highly irregular!"

Then the crowd began to make signs to Zechariah. Because he was mute, they assumed he was deaf! What do you the father have to say about the matter?

John took a tablet and wrote: "His name is John!"

Immediately Zechariah could speak! And what he spoke was a song of prophecy about both John and Jesus. The church has through the years sung it as the Benedictus: "Blessed be the Lord God of Israel." You will sing a paraphrase of this song in our last hymn today, "Blest Be the God of Israel."

The phrases poured out of his mouth in beauty and hope:

God has raised up a mighty savior for us
in the house of his servant David.
God has shown his mercy promised our ancestors
and remembered his holy covenant.
And you, child – he said as he looked at John –
You will be called the prophet of the Most High,
for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways,
to give knowledge of salvation
by the forgiveness of sins.
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.

To give knowledge of salvation, forgiveness of sins, to give light to those who walk in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace. So Jesus came and comes still.

IV

Now to the three questions that accompany us as we read through Luke each day:

Who am I?

What is God calling me to do, to be?

Who is my neighbor? The one I’m called to love as myself?

Who am I? Who I am in this text today? Childless Elizabeth, exhausted in unanswered prayers? The priest who can no longer speak?

The couple in the last quarter of their life wondering what God has left for them to do? How to make their days count.

Are you young Mary saying yes to a journey you do not understand? Are you Joseph protecting the mystery in Mary you cannot comprehend?

What is God calling you to be, to do? To be faithful and observant like Elizabeth and Zechariah, preparing yourself for whatever God brings. Isaac Watts once paraphrased a line from psalm 147, "to make this duty is our delight." With Zechariah and Elizabeth a lifetime of duty led to undreamed delight.

Is God calling you to hope again, to believe again? To hear the good news of Jesus Christ and let it in despite all your doubts?

And who is your neighbor? The one God is calling you this week to love as yourself? The young mother who has lost a child? A child who needs to be adopted, mentored, coached? The person walking in darkness and in the shadow of death? Will you bring the light of love to them?

And what does our world need more than this: For there to be someone to guide our feet into the way of peace.

Can we be the light of Christ, who taught us to love our enemies, to forgive our harmers, to put down the sword of revenge and to judge not, judge not?

Emmett Till was the young black teenager from Chicago, visiting family in Mississippi, who in 1955 was lynched and brutally, horrifyingly murdered for whistling at a white girl. As thousands passed by his body at his funeral in Chicago his mother said,

"I don’t have one minute to hate. The rest of my life I’m working for justice."

Kathleen Norris writes a poem about a woman in her Dakota church.

Tonight she wants me to come with her
to a Church of God revival meeting.
"Do I look like I need reviving?" I ask,
and she laughs. But then
she gets her confused look,
and I remember that for all the abuse
LaVonne has taken in her life,
she’s the least resentful person I know.¹

Where did these women learn this? In the house of Elizabeth and Zechariah, in the community of Jesus, tender mercy of our God light to our darkness and death, guiding our feet on the path of peace.